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Sextus Empiricus - Against the Professors (Bury)

Epicurean Focus

Section titled “Epicurean Focus”

Against the Professors (also cited as Adversus Mathematicos I–VI) attacks the six “liberal arts” of the ancient schools: grammar, rhetoric, geometry, arithmetic, astrology and music. Sextus opens by pairing himself with Epicurus. Both attacked the professors of the arts, though “the standpoints they adopt are different.” The work contains a hostile sketch of Epicurus’s education, two Epicurean definitions of body, a report of a lost book of Epicurus, and Sextus’s own defense of Epicurus against the charge of stealing his doctrines from the poets. For the wider picture see the introduction to Sextus Empiricus.

Epicurus and the “Arts and Sciences”

Section titled “Epicurus and the “Arts and Sciences””

Sextus Defends Epicurus

Section titled “Sextus Defends Epicurus”

The most valuable Epicurean passage in the work is in Book I, sections 272–285. The grammarians claimed that “Epicurus has been detected as guilty of having filched the best of his dogmas from the poets”: his limit of pleasure, “the removal of everything painful,” supposedly from a line of Homer, and “death is nothing to us” from Epicharmus. Sextus answers:

That last sentence deserves a place beside the Letter to Menoeceus. A hostile Sceptic insists that, for Epicurus, life is “far preferable” because “the good belongs to the sentient.” Epicurus did not teach indifference to living. He taught that the dead feel nothing, and that the good is felt by the living (Letter to Menoeceus 124–126; PD 2).

Epicurean Physics in Passing

Section titled “Epicurean Physics in Passing”

A Note on This Text

Section titled “A Note on This Text”

Bury’s Volume IV (1949) is the last of his four volumes. The freely available scan lacks about two pages of Against the Grammarians (sections 195–204). They have been supplied from a privately owned copy, so the text is now complete.

Outline Of The Argument

Section titled “Outline Of The Argument”

Editor’s note: The numbers below (1, 2, 3…) are this outline’s own topical numbering. Each entry links to the place in Bury’s translation where that stretch of argument begins, and links inside the entries go to individual numbered sections. Book and section are joined by a hyphen in the link, so section 203 of Book I is #1-203. Each book restarts its section numbering at 1. Entries marked Epicurean note are our own commentary.

Outline - Book I: Against the Professors (General) and Against the Grammarians

Section titled “Outline - Book I: Against the Professors (General) and Against the Grammarians”

1. Epicurus, the Pyrrhonists, and the War on the “Arts and Sciences” (1:1–8)

Section titled “1. Epicurus, the Pyrrhonists, and the War on the “Arts and Sciences” (1:1–8)”

Begins at I.1

  • Sextus opens by noting that the case against the “Professors” of the liberal arts “has been set forth in a general way… both by Epicurus and by the School of Pyrrho, although the standpoints they adopt are different.”
  • Epicurean note: “Epicurus took the ground that the subjects taught are of no help in perfecting wisdom.” Sextus repeats the hostile gossip that Epicurus did so to hide his own lack of culture, out of hostility to the learned Plato and Aristotle, and out of enmity toward his former teacher Nausiphanes, the follower of Pyrrho. He quotes Epicurus’s Letter to the Philosophers in Mytilene mocking Nausiphanes as “the Stockfish” who “exercised himself on matters which cannot possibly lead to wisdom” (see also DL 10.8).
  • Epicurean note: the charge that Epicurus was uncultured is the standard slander. Sextus himself admits a few pages later that Epicurus required the wise man to learn letters. The real Epicurean objection was to learning pursued for display rather than for a pleasant life. Hostile sources quote his advice to Pythocles to “flee from every form of culture” (DL 10.6), and Cicero’s Torquatus explains why Epicurus thought the conventional studies a waste of time (On Ends 1.71–72).
  • The Pyrrhonists attack the arts, Sextus says, not from dogma or ill-will but because they found the same equal arguments there as in philosophy. Arguments against the arts are general (against all) or special (against each).

2. Can Anything Be Taught at All? (1:9–40)

Section titled “2. Can Anything Be Taught at All? (1:9–40)”

Begins at I.9

  • Learning requires a subject taught, a teacher, a learner and a method, and Sextus attacks each.
  • Neither the existent nor the non-existent can be taught, nor “something” nor “nothing.” The corporeal cannot be taught. Epicurean note: Sextus records two Epicurean definitions of body: “a combination of magnitude, shape and solidity massed together,” and “three dimensions plus solidity,” the latter “in order to distinguish it thus from void” (compare Letter to Herodotus 68–69).
  • The incorporeal (Platonic Ideas, the Stoic lekton, place, void, time) is disputed, so it cannot be taught.
  • Neither expert nor non-expert can teach the other, and nothing is taught by showing or by words, which signify only by convention. (Compare Outlines III.252–272.)

3. Against the Grammarians: Elementary Letters Are Useful, “Grammar” Is Not (1:41–56)

Section titled “3. Against the Grammarians: Elementary Letters Are Useful, “Grammar” Is Not (1:41–56)”

Begins at I.41

4. Definitions of Grammar Examined (1:57–90)

Section titled “4. Definitions of Grammar Examined (1:57–90)”

Begins at I.57

  • Epicurean note: Sextus begins with an Epicurean principle: “according to the sage Epicurus, it is not possible either to inquire or to doubt without a preconception” (compare DL 10.33 and Against the Logicians II.337).
  • Dionysius Thrax defines grammar as “expertness regarding the language of poets and composers” (in a fuller form, “most of” that language). Metrodorus is cited for calling philosophy “the only expertness in affairs which perceives its own end.”
  • “Most” is vague and falls to the sorites, and “all” is infinite. The definitions of Asclepiades, Chares and Demetrius Chlorus fare no better, since no art can master an unlimited and changing language.

5. The Parts of Grammar, and the “Elements” (Letters) (1:91–120)

Section titled “5. The Parts of Grammar, and the “Elements” (Letters) (1:91–120)”

Begins at I.91

  • Grammar has three intertwined parts: technical (letters, parts of speech, spelling, idiom), historical (persons, places, myths), and the study of poets and prose writers.
  • Sextus mocks the grammarians who accuse Thucydides, Plato and Demosthenes of barbarisms.
  • The doctrine of the letters collapses on its own terms. “Double” letters cannot be elements. “Dichronous” vowels are never both long and short. Counting accents, there would be sixty letters, or by another argument only five vowels.

6. Syllables, Words, Parts of Speech, and the Noun (1:121–158)

Section titled “6. Syllables, Words, Parts of Speech, and the Noun (1:121–158)”

Begins at I.121

  • There is no minimal “short” time, so no short syllable, and the two “times” of a long syllable never exist together.
  • A sentence is neither something other than its words nor their sum, as shown on the opening of the Iliad, “Sing, O goddess, the wrath…”.
  • Nouns are not masculine or feminine “by nature.” The Athenians and Peloponnesians disagree, and male animals have feminine names. Speech is neither sound nor the incorporeal lekton.
  • Epicurean note: against the incorporeal lekton, Sextus asks “how can there still exist any other incorporeal of the sort beside body and void”: what moves is body, what yields without resistance is void. That is the Epicurean division of all that exists (Letter to Herodotus 39–40, 67).

7. Dividing Verses, Spelling, and “Good Greek” (1:159–193)

Section titled “7. Dividing Verses, Spelling, and “Good Greek” (1:159–193)”

Begins at I.159

  • Dividing a verse into words requires subtraction and addition, which are impossible (compare Outlines III.85–96).
  • Orthography is useless: everyone writes intelligibly despite the grammarians’ quarrels, and a misspelled word means the same thing.
  • “Good Greek”: grammatical “analogy” is like minting one’s own private coinage. Correct speech is learned from common usage, not from grammarians, and “hardly two or three are found” to speak by analogy.
  • Epicurean note: Epicurus too appealed to plain common usage against artificial jargon. He required clarity of speech, and Diogenes Laertius records that “he was clear in expression” and insisted “on clearness above everything” (DL 10.13–14). Sextus’s preference for ordinary usage here agrees with the Epicurean view that language arose naturally and was refined by convention (Letter to Herodotus 75–76).

8. Common Usage Against “Analogy,” and Etymology (1:194–247)

Section titled “8. Common Usage Against “Analogy,” and Etymology (1:194–247)”

Begins at I.194

  • Clarity and propriety are better secured by common usage than by analogy. Even Homer followed the usage of his own day. Barbarism and solecism are themselves defined by reference to common usage.
  • The grammarians’ “universal” rules are drawn from some cases and can be broken by the next, like the unique elephant or the magnet among stones.
  • Usage varies (Athenian, Spartan, rustic, learned), so the speaker adapts to his hearers.
  • Etymology either agrees with usage, and is superfluous, or disagrees, and should be ignored. It also regresses without end.

9. The “Historical” Part of Grammar (1:248–269)

Section titled “9. The “Historical” Part of Grammar (1:248–269)”

Begins at I.248

  • Reciting myths, genealogies, places and dates requires no art. Sextus mocks the grammarians’ trivia, such as the marriages of Aristotle’s daughter Pythias and the six conflicting reasons Asclepius was struck by lightning.
  • History, fiction and legend differ. No art deals with the false, and the grammarians have no criterion for telling true accounts from false ones.

10. Poets, Philosophers and the Uses of Literature: Sextus Defends Epicurus (1:270–320)

Section titled “10. Poets, Philosophers and the Uses of Literature: Sextus Defends Epicurus (1:270–320)”

Begins at I.270

Outline - Book II: Against the Rhetoricians

Section titled “Outline - Book II: Against the Rhetoricians”

11. What Rhetoric Is, and Why It Is No Art (2:1–47)

Section titled “11. What Rhetoric Is, and Why It Is No Art (2:1–47)”

Begins at II.1

  • Sextus reviews the definitions. Plato: “the creator of persuasion by means of words.” Xenocrates and the Stoics: “the science of good speech” (Zeno’s closed fist and open hand for dialectic and rhetoric). Aristotle: “the art of speech.”
  • Rhetoric’s rules (“the judges must be misled,” “one must excite anger or pity”) are false, and there is no art of the false, any more than an art of burglary. It has no fixed end, fine speakers like Demades never studied it, and teachers of rhetoric are “more mute than fishes” in court.
  • Crete and Sparta banished rhetoric (the short straight line and the long crooked one; “This needs barley-meal”). Epicurean note: the reply that cities have banished philosophers too is weak, since they banished only certain sects, “such as the Epicurean, as teaching pleasure, and the Socratic, as slighting the Divinity.”
  • Rhetoric harms its practitioner, who lives among slanderers and enemies, and harms the city, since it undermines the laws on which cities depend. Orpheus’s verse on the age of cannibalism before law shows why laws matter.

12. Rhetoric Has No Subject Matter and No End (2:48–99)

Section titled “12. Rhetoric Has No Subject Matter and No End (2:48–99)”

Begins at II.48

  • Rhetoric deals with speech, which (as shown against the grammarians) does not exist. It does not make speech good. Good speech comes from common usage and knowing one’s subject, and the orators’ periodic style is less clear, not more.
  • Its end is not persuasion. The obvious persuades by itself, the false is no basis for an art, and plain speech wins more goodwill than oratory. Nor is its end the right words, the useful, or victory, since orators lose more often than they win.
  • The parts of rhetoric (forensic, deliberative, encomiastic) yield absurdities. The pupil’s countersuit against his teacher Corax ended in a deadlock: “a bad egg from a bad crow!“

13. Praise and Proof (2:100–113)

Section titled “13. Praise and Proof (2:100–113)”

Begins at II.100

  • Orators praise birth, beauty and wealth, which are not our own achievements. Rhetoric’s proofs fail because proof itself is nothing.

Outline - Book III: Against the Geometers

Section titled “Outline - Book III: Against the Geometers”

14. Against Starting From “Hypothesis” (3:1–17)

Section titled “14. Against Starting From “Hypothesis” (3:1–17)”

Begins at III.1

  • The geometers “beg by hypothesis” their first principles. If assuming something makes it reliable, the opposite assumption is just as reliable. True things need no assuming, and false assumptions are “rotten foundations”: assume three is four and you may conclude that six is eight.

15. Point, Line, Surface and Body Are Inconceivable (3:18–64)

Section titled “15. Point, Line, Surface and Body Are Inconceivable (3:18–64)”

Begins at III.18

  • The point, a “sign without dimensions,” is neither body nor incorporeal. A line made of points either collapses into a point or acquires breadth.
  • “Length without breadth” can be conceived neither from experience nor by transference from experience (likeness, enlargement, diminution, composition).
  • Epicurean note: this list of the ways concepts are formed from the senses is the Epicurean doctrine of concept formation (DL 10.32). Sextus uses it here against the geometers’ abstractions.
  • Aristotle’s reply (we can attend to a wall’s length without its breadth) is rejected. If surfaces touch along their limits, the bodies would fuse or tear.

16. The Theorems Fail on Their Own Assumptions (3:65–116)

Section titled “16. The Theorems Fail on Their Own Assumptions (3:65–116)”

Begins at III.65

  • A line rotating to describe a circle, a side sweeping out a square, a cylinder rolling on a plane: all require lines to have breadth. Body is either something besides its dimensions or merely their sum of incorporeals.
  • Epicurean note: against one definition of the straight line, Sextus cites the Epicureans, who affirm that “the straight line of the void is, indeed, straight,” yet does not move, “because the void itself does not admit of motion either as a whole or in part.”
  • Angles, circles and the bisection of a line all fail, since a line cannot be cut into equal halves without dividing the central point.

Outline - Book IV: Against the Arithmeticians

Section titled “Outline - Book IV: Against the Arithmeticians”

17. Number Does Not Exist (4:1–34)

Section titled “17. Number Does Not Exist (4:1–34)”

Begins at IV.1

  • The Pythagoreans swear by the “Tetraktys,” as if all things were “like unto number.”
  • Plato’s “One… by participation in which each thing is termed one” cannot be shared out among many things. Combining two monads does not produce a dyad, and number cannot arise by addition or subtraction (compare Outlines III.151–167).

Outline - Book V: Against the Astrologers

Section titled “Outline - Book V: Against the Astrologers”

18. The Chaldean System Described (5:1–42)

Section titled “18. The Chaldean System Described (5:1–42)”

Begins at V.1

  • Sextus distinguishes astronomical prediction (Eudoxus, Hipparchus) from the “Chaldean” casting of nativities. He describes the zodiac’s twelve signs, their degrees, the four “centres” (horoscope, mid-heaven, setting, anti-mid-heaven), the “good” and “evil daemon” places, and the benevolent and malevolent planets.
  • The Chaldeans watched from a mountain at night and signalled the moment of birth with a gong.

19. The Horoscope Cannot Be Fixed, and Experience Refutes It (5:43–106)

Section titled “19. The Horoscope Cannot Be Fixed, and Experience Refutes It (5:43–106)”

Begins at V.43

  • Others argue at long range that earthly things do not “sympathize” with heavenly ones. Sextus attacks at close quarters: the moment of conception cannot be known, birth is a process and not an instant, the signal is delayed, and the rising sign is distorted by the dense air at the horizon.
  • The results refute them anyway. People born at roughly the same time live opposite lives. The thousands who died together at Marathon, or in the shipwreck returning from Troy, had different nativities. Ethiopians born under the Virgin are not “straight-haired, bright-eyed, and white-skinned.”
  • Epicurean note: the Epicureans rejected astrology and celestial divinity outright. Epicurus taught that the heavenly bodies are natural and not divine agents directing human lives (Letter to Herodotus 76–77; Letter to Pythocles 115–116, against weather signs taken as divine).

Outline - Book VI: Against the Musicians

Section titled “Outline - Book VI: Against the Musicians”

20. Is Music Useful? The Defense and the Reply (6:1–37)

Section titled “20. Is Music Useful? The Defense and the Reply (6:1–37)”

Begins at VI.1

  • Music’s defenders say it calms drunken youths (Pythagoras and the spondaic tune), leads Spartan armies, soothed the angry Achilles, and guarded Clytaemnestra’s chastity. Plato and Socrates honored it.
  • Epicurean note: the reply begins from an Epicurean argument: “just as a clap of thunder—as the Epicurean fraternity declare—does not betoken the epiphany of a god, though supposed to do so by ignorant and superstitious folk, since a similar clap is produced by other bodies clashing together,” so tunes are not stirring or calming by nature. It is we who suppose them so (compare Lucretius 6.96–159 on the causes of thunder).
  • Music distracts rather than cures, like sleep or wine. Clytaemnestra’s minstrel did not prevent murder.
  • Epicurean note: against Plato’s praise of music, Sextus sets “others who are not inferior to him in trustworthiness,—such as Epicurus,” who “have denied this contention” that music contributes to happiness. Compare Philodemus’s On Music. The Epicurean objection was to music as a road to wisdom and happiness, not to enjoying it: Diogenes Laertius reports of the Epicurean wise man: “He will care more than other men for public spectacles” (DL 10.120, tr. Bailey).

21. Notes, Sound, Rhythm and Time Do Not Exist (6:38–68)

Section titled “21. Notes, Sound, Rhythm and Time Do Not Exist (6:38–68)”

Begins at VI.38

  • Music depends on notes, notes on sound, and sound is disputed. The Cyrenaics admit only feelings, Democritus and Plato abolish sense objects, and the Peripatetics deny that sound is a body.
  • Rhythm consists of “feet” measured in time, and time is nothing (compare Outlines III.136–150). So the science of rhythm is nothing.
  • Sextus closes his “disputation against the Arts and Sciences.”

The Translation (Bury)

Section titled “The Translation (Bury)”

Translated by the Rev. R. G. Bury, Sextus Empiricus, Volume IV, Against the Professors, Loeb Classical Library (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press; London: William Heinemann, 1949). Prepared from the scan at the Internet Archive (sextusempiricus_201912). The two pages of Book I missing from that scan were supplied from a privately owned copy. Bury’s facing Greek text and footnotes are omitted. The chapter headings are Bury’s, and the bold numbers are his section numbers. See the introduction for notes on the text.

Book I — Against the Professors (General Introduction) and Against the Grammarians

Section titled “Book I — Against the Professors (General Introduction) and Against the Grammarians”

(§§ 1–40: Against the Professors; § 41 to the end: Against the Grammarians)

[1] The case against the Mathematici (or Professors of Arts and Sciences) has been set forth in a general way, it would seem, both by Epicurus and by the School of Pyrrho, although the standpoints they adopt are different. Epicurus took the ground that the subjects taught are of no help in perfecting wisdom; and he did this, as some conjecture, because he saw in it a way of covering up his own lack of culture (for in many matters Epicurus stands convicted of ignorance, and even in ordinary converse his speech was not correct). Another reason may have been his hostility towards Plato and Aristotle and their like who were men of wide learning. It is not unlikely, too, that he was moved by his enmity against Nausiphanes, the disciple of Pyrrho, who kept his hold on many of the young men and devoted himself earnestly to the Arts and Sciences, especially Rhetoric. [3] Epicurus, then, though he had been one of this man’s disciples, did his best to deny the fact in order that he might be thought to be a self-taught and original philosopher, and tried hard to blot out the reputation of Nausiphanes, and became a violent opponent of the Arts and Sciences wherein Nausiphanes prided himself. [4] Thus, in his Letter to the Philosophers in Mytilené, Epicurus says, “I quite suppose that ‘the bellowers’ will fancy that I am even a disciple of ‘the Stockfish,’ having sat under him in the company of some crapulous striplings”; where he calls Nausiphanes a “Stockfish,” as being without sense. And again, after proceeding further and abusing the man at length, he hints at his proficiency in Arts and Sciences when he says—“In fact he was a sorry fellow and exercised himself on matters which cannot possibly lead to wisdom,” alluding thereby to Arts and Sciences. [5] Such, in fact,—as we may conjecture—were the sort of motives which decided Epicurus to make war on the Arts and Sciences. The School of Pyrrho, on the other hand, were not moved either by the view that these subjects are of no help to gaining wisdom (for that is a “dogmatic” assertion) or by any lack of culture attaching to themselves; for in addition to their culture and their superiority to all other philosophers in breadth of experience they are also indifferent to the opinion of the multitude. [6] Nor is the reason to be found in ill-will towards any (for that sort of vice is wholly alien to their gentle character), but in the fact that in respect of the Arts and Sciences they have met with the same experience as they did in respect of philosophy as a whole. For just as they approached philosophy with the desire of attaining truth, but, when faced by the equipollent conflict and discord of things, suspended judgement,—so also in the case of the Arts and Solences, when they had set about mastering them with a view to learning here also the truth, they found difficulties no less serious, which they did not conceal. [7] Accordingly, we too will pursue the same method as they and endeavour, in no spirit of controversy, to select and set forth the substantial arguments against the Professors of culture.

Now I deem it superfluous to explain why the “eyclical studies” are so called, and how many of them there are, when our exposition is addressed to those who are already sufficiently instructed in these matters. [8] But it is necessary for our present purpose to indicate this point,—that of the arguments brought against the Arts and Sciences some are of a general character directed against all these subjects, while others are of a special character, being against the subjects taken separately; thus, the argument that no Art or Science exists is of a more “general” character, whereas more “special” is the argument against, say, the Grammarians concerning the elements of speech, and that against the Geometers denying the right to assume the principles, and that against the Musicians which questions the existence of tone and time. First, then, in point of order let us consider the more general refutation.

Chapter I. Does a Subject of Learning Exist?

Section titled “Chapter I. Does a Subject of Learning Exist?”

[9] It is no part of our present task to pronounce upon the long and varied dispute regarding learning which has been carried on by the philosophers. It is sufficient to lay down that if any subject of learning exists, and if it is attainable by man, four things must including astronomy, geometry, music, grammar, and rhetoric.

% borrowing from one another (for dieting does not progress apart from pharmacy and surgery, and pharmacy in turn is involved in the functioning of the other “parts”), so also in the present instance each part of Grammar is not something quite separate and free from admixture with the others. ‘This description we have given beforehand in full detail, not as a side-issue, but so that we may understand that if any one of these parts is proved to have no consistence the others too are virtually destroyed, since neither of them subsists when apart from the one which has been destroyed. We shall not, however, adopt this method, concise though it is, but shall try to refute each part as though it had no need of the presence of the rest. And, ‘pea the order, we must begin with the first part.

Chapter II. Concerning the Subject Taught

Section titled “Chapter II. Concerning the Subject Taught”

While it is right for many other reasons to examine with care the technology of Grammar, it is especially so because it is upon this that the Grammarians plume themselves and give themselves great airs, while they are always running down those who are highly reputed in other sciences as men who do not even understand the common usage of Greek speech; and also for the further reason that whenever they are hard pressed in disputation they frequently find no other resort for the purpose of distracting their opponents than asserting that what they have said is a barbarism or a solecism. And what has no small share in urging us on is our observing the Grammarians, who can hardly even join two sentences together skilfully, wishing to convict of barbarisms first be agreed upon%—the subject taught, the teacher, the learner, the method of learning. But, as we shall show, neither does the subject exist nor the teacher nor the learner nor the method of learning; therefore no subject of learning exists.

Chapter III. Concerning the Corporeal

Section titled “Chapter III. Concerning the Corporeal”

[10] Now in dealing with the first point first we assert that if anything is taught either the existent qua existent is taught or the non-existent qua non-existent.” But, as we shall establish, neither is the existent qua existent taught nor the non-existent qua non-existent; therefore nothing is taught. Now the non-existent qua non-existent will not be taught; for if it is taught it is teachable, and being teachable [11] it will become an existent, and because of this it will be both non-existent and existent. But it is not possible for the same thing to be both existent and non-existent; therefore the non-existent qua non-existent is not taught.—Also, the non-existent has no property, and what has no property will not have the property of being taught; for being taught is one of the properties. Hence, on this ground, too, the [12] non-existent is not capable of being taught.—Moreover, that which is taught comes to be learnt by us through exciting a presentation, but the non-existent being unable to excite a presentation is likewise incapable of being taught.—Further, the non-existent cannot be taught as being true; for neither is the true a non-existent, nor is anything true capable of being taught as a non-existent. But if nothing true can be taught as non-existent (since the true is an existent), then the non-existent is incapable of being 0 taught. [13] And if nothing true is taught, everything that is taught is false, which is most irrational. The ther εἰδχ, is not taught. For what is taught is either false or true. But to say it is false is most irrational, and what is true is existent. Therefore [14] the non-existent is not capable of being taught.—Nor, indeed, is the existent gua existent capable of being taught, for, since existents are equally evident to all men, they will all be incapable of being taught. Wherefrom it will follow that nothing is capable of being taught; for something untaught must be assumed in order that the learning of it may be derived from what is known. Neither, then, is the existent qua existent taught.

[15] The same method of scepticism will be used also against those who will say that either “nothing” is taught or “something.” For if “nothing” should be taught, it will be “something” inasmuch as it is taught, and because of this the same thing will be two opposite things, nothing and something, which is impossible.—Besides, “nothing” has no property, and therefore it has not that of being taught; for this is, in fact, one of the properties. [16] So, then, “nothing” is not taught.—And, by parity of reasonThats oe something” also is one of the things which Cannan be taught. For if it is to be capable of being taught it is “something,” nothing will be untaught; wherefrom it follows that nothing is [17] capable of being taught.—Moreover, if something is taught it will be taught by means either of the “nothings” or of the “somethings”; but it is not possible for it to be taught by means of the “nothings,” for these have no reality for the mind according to the Stoics. It remains, then, that learning takes place by means of the “somethings,” which too is dubious. [18] For just as the thing taught is itself taught qua “something,” so also, since the things from which the learning is derived are “somethings,’ they too will be taught. And thus, since nothing is untaught, learning is abolished.

Chapter IV. Concerning the Teacher and the Learner

Section titled “Chapter IV. Concerning the Teacher and the Learner”

[19] Furthermore, since some of the “somethings” are corporeal, others incorporeal, the things taught, being “somethings,” will have to be either corporeal or incorporeal “7; but, as we shall establish, they cannot be either corporeal or incorporeal; therefore there are no “somethings” which are taught. [20] Now the corporeal—according to the Stoics in special—will not be capable of being taught; for things taught must be “meanings,” but corporeals are not “meanings” and, consequently, are not taught. And if corporeals are neither sensibles nor intelligibles it is plain that they will not be capable of being taught. Now they are not sensibles, as is manifest from our conception of them. [22] For if the corporeal is, as Epicurus says, a combination of magnitude, shape and solidity massed together,—or, as the Mathematicians assert, that which is three-dimensional, that is to say compounded of length, breadth and depth,—or that which has three dimensions plus solidity (another definition of Epicurus: in order to distinguish it thus from void),—or, as others say, a solid mass,—be this as it may, inasmuch as the corporeal is conceived as a combination of a number of separate factors, and the combining of many is not the operation of a simple and irrational sense but of a rational intellect, the corporeal will not be one of the sensibles. [23] And even if we assume that it is sensible, yet even so it is still incapable of being taught. For the sensible also, qua sensible, is not taught; for no one learns to see what is white, or to taste the sweet, or feel the hot, or smell the odorous, but these sensations are untaught and [24] belong to us naturally.—It remains, then, to say that the corporeal is intelligible and thus capable of being taught. But let us consider what is the truth of the matter. If the corporeal is neither length by itself nor breadth nor depth, but that which is conceived as compounded of them all, then, since these are all incorporeal, one must necessarily conceive the compound formed from them as being incorporeal and not corporeal, and therefore incapable of being taught. [25] Besides, the man who conceives the body compounded of these dimensions must first conceive the dimensions themselves, in order that he may also be able to conceive the body. (But these he cannot conceive;) for he will conceive them either by way of sense-experience or by way of transference from sense-experience. Not, however, by way of experience; for they are incorporeals, and we do not apprehend incorporeals by experience, since sensuous apprehension always takes place by way of contact. Nor yet by way of transference from experience, since one possesses no sense-object by transference from which one might form the conception of the dimensions. ‘Thus, since we cannot even conceive the elements which go to form the corporeal, we certainly shall not be able to teach it.

[26] But we have treated more exactly of the conception and reality of the corporeal in our Skeptika; so now let us leave aside these criticisms and proceed to state that the most generic distinction amongst corporeals is twofold; some of them are sensibles, others intelligibles. And if the thing taught is corporeal it must certainly be either an intelligible or a sensible. But it cannot be a sensible, since then it ought to be equally apparent to all men and be pre-evident; nor can it be an intelligible owing to the fact that it is non-evident, and for this very reason there is an unsettled controversy about it amongst all the philosophers, some of them saying that it is indivisible, others that it is divisible; while of those who assert its divisibility some claim that it is divided to infinity, others that the division stops at what is minimal and atomic. Therefore the corporeal is not capable of being taught.

Nor, indeed, is the incorporeal. [28] For in every case, whatever be the incorporeal which one declares to be taught,—whether it be the Platonic Idea, or the “lekton” of the Stoics, or place or void or time or anything else of the kind,—without making any rash assertion about the reality of these things, or pursuing divers inquiries one after another in order to prove the non-reality of each of them, we may say that it is manifest that the problem of their reality is a matter of discussion amongst the Dogmatists, and will be so Long as the waters flow on and the tall trees cease not to

burgeon,?

since some of them stoutly assert that these things exist, others that they do not exist, while still others suspend judgement; thus it is absurd to say that

Τ things which are undecided and subjects of unsettled controversy are taught, as though they were unanimously agreed upon and undisputed.

[29] If, then, of existents some are corporeal, others incorporeal, and it has been shown that neither of these is taught, nothing is taught.

We may also argue thus: If a thing is taught it is either true or false. But neither is the false taught (as the very notion compels us to admit), nor yet the true; for the true is dubious, as has been shown in our Treatise on Scepticism, and of things dubious there is no learning. [30] Therefore there is nothing; which is taught.—Also, in general, if a thing is taught it is either a matter of art or without art. And if it is without art it cannot be taught; while if it is a matter of art, either it is self-evident and consequently no matter of art nor capable of being taught, or else it is non-evident and thus, too, incapable of being taught because of its being non-evident.

This involves also the abolition of the teacher because he will have nothing to teach, and of the learner because he will have nothing to learn. Notwithstanding, we shall proceed to state the difficulties about each of these separately.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter I. Introduction

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter I. Introduction”

[31] For if anyone of these exists either the non-expert will teach him who is similarly non-expert, or the expert him who is similarly expert, or the non-expert the expert, or vice versa.” But the non-expert cannot teach the non-expert (just as the blind cannot lead the blind), nor the expert the similarly expert; for neither of these requires to learn, and this one has no more need of learning than that one, nor that one than this one, both being equally full of knowledge. [32] Nor can the non-expert teach the expert; for that would be like saying that the man who has eyesight is led along by the man who has none. For in fact the non-expert is blind as regards the technical principles, and thus will be unable to teach things of which he knows nothing at all; while the expert, having clear vision of the technical principles and having gained knowledge of them, will not require [33] a teacher.—It remains, then, to say that the expert teaches the non-expert. But this is even more absurd than the former suppositions; for along with the principles of his art the existence of the expert himself has been shown in our Sceptic text-book to be open to doubt, and the non-expert neither can become an expert while he is non-expert, nor when he is an expert does he any longer become an expert, but is one. [34] For if he is non-expert he is like a man blind or deaf from birth, and just as such a man cannot ever form a notion of colours or of sounds, so the non-expert, in so far as he is non-expert, being blind and deaf to the technical principles is incapable of seeing or hearing any of them; and if he has become an expert he is no longer being taught but has been taught.

[35] We may also borrow criticisms from those we have already brought forward in our arguments against the Physicists concerning change and affection and becoming and perishing. For the present let us concede to the Professors that there exists a subject taught and that the instructor exists and likewise the learner, and let us next investigate the method of learning. [36] Now teaching takes place either by means of sense-evidence or by means of speech. But of these sense-evidence is concerned with ostensible things, and the ostensible is apparent, and the apparent, in so far as it appears, is perceptible by all alike, and what is perceptible by all alike is incapable of being taught; therefore what is shown by [37] sense-evidence is not capable of being taught.—And speech either signifies or does not signify something. Now if it signifies nothing, neither does it teach anything; while if it signifies, it signifies a thing either by nature or by convention. But it does not signify by nature since all men do not understand the speech of all,—Greeks that of barbarians and barbarians that of Greeks, or Greeks that of Greeks or barbarians that [38] of barbarians. And if it signifies by convention, it is plain that those who have apprehended beforehand the objects to which the terms are conventionally applied will also understand those terms, not that they are taught by them what they did not know, but rather as reviving what they did know; but those who lack learning about the things not known will fail to do so.

If, then, the subject taught does not exist, nor the teacher, nor the learner, nor the method of learning, it is clear that neither does the subject learnt exist nor he who presides over that subject. [39] But since we undertook not only to construct a general argument against all the Professors but also a special one against each of them, let us assume that a subject of learning exists and that learning is possible, and consider whether the claims made regarding each subject are also possible; and let us take as the matter for our refutation not all the statements made by those whom we are refuting (for this would be unsystematic as well as inor dinate, and probably impossible also), [40] nor yet any random selection out of them all (for this perhaps would fail to reach all of them), but those statements the destruction of which involves the destruction of all. And just as those who are striving to take a city are anxious most of all to make themselves masters of those things the capture of which ensures also their capture of the city—such as breaking down their walls or setting fire to their equipment or cutting off their food-supplies,—so let us, too, in our conflict with the Professors attack those very points upon which all their safety depends, such as their principles, or the general arguments which are derived from the principles, or their conclusions; for by these or from these every art and science is formed.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter II. The Various Meanings of the Term “Art-of-Letters”

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter II. The Various Meanings of the Term “Art-of-Letters””

[41] Let us begin at once with our criticism of the Professors of Letters (or Grammarians), firstly because we are handed over to the study of letters well-nigh from infancy and our first swaddling clothes, and this art is as it were the starting-point for our learning of all the others, and next because it puffs itself up above all the sciences, almost promising the Sirens’ promise. [42] For they, being aware that man is inquisitive by nature and that there is implanted in his breast a great longing for the truth, promise not only to charm those who are sailing by with wondrous

25 music but also to teach them real happenings. Here is what they say “—
Come hither now, Odysseus, far-famed, great pride of
Achaeans:
Stay thy ship on its course and hark to the words we utter.
No man eyer as yet has passed this point in his black ship
Ere he has lent an ear to the honey-sweet sound of our
singing;

So he departs over-joy’d, and richer, to boot, in knowledge, Seeing that we know all that the Argive hosts and the

Trojans
Suffered in broad Troy-land by the dispensation of Heaven;
Nothing, in sooth, is done on the bountiful Earth but we
know it.

[43] So the Art of Letters, by boasting of its dealing systematically with dialects and rules of style and recitations, as well as the logical treatment of the contents of myths and histories, excites in the listeners a great desire for itself. But lest we should seem to be wandering past the door, we must indicate how many Arts of Letters there are and which of them we propose to investigate.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter III. A Description of “the Art of Grammar”

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter III. A Description of “the Art of Grammar””

[44] The term “Art-of-letters” is used, by homonym, both in a general and in a special sense. In the general sense it means the knowledge of letters of any and every kind, either Greek or barbarian, which we customarily call “grammatistic”; in the special sense it is applied to the perfected art as elaborated by Crates of Mallus, Aristophanes and Aristarchus. [45] In both cases the sense is evidently derived from the original meaning of the term “letters”; for the first sense comes from the letters by which we represent the articulate sounds, and the second perhaps, as some have maintained, from the first by extension; for the first is a part of it, and just as iatriké (medical art) was so named in olden times from the extraction of toi (poisons), but is now applied to the curative treatment of all other ailments as well, which is a [46] much higher form of art,—and just as geometry derived its name originally from the mensuration of gé (land), but is at present applied also to theory concerned with more fundamental entities,—so also the perfected Art of letters, after being named originally from the knowledge of letters, was extended so as to comprise acquaintance with the more complex and technical theories about them. [47] But perhaps, as Asclepiades says, this art, too, was named from letters, though not from the same letters as “ grammatistie”; for while the latter takes its name, as said, from the elements, the former takes its name from the compositions with which it deals. For these, too, were called “letters,” just as we speak of “public letters,” and say that a man is skilled in many letters, meaning not the elements but the compositions. [48] Callimachus, too, calling the poem in one place, and in another the prose composition, a letter, says—

Work am I of Crédphylus who welcomed once to his
homestead

Homer, the singer divine. Woeful the tale I relate How fared blond Toleia and Eurytus. But they do call

Homer’s letter! By Jove! fame for the author is this!
29 And again—
Crying “Farewell, O Sun!’ Cleombrotus, born in Ambracia,
Leapt from the lofty wall, down to the house of the
ead;
Naught had befallen him worthy of death,’twas his reading
of Plato
Μ him so—Plato’s letter “Concerning the Soul.”

[49] However, as the Art of Letters is twofold—the one promising to teach the elements and their combinations and being in general an art of writing and reading, and the other being in comparison a more profound faculty and not consisting merely in the bare knowledge of letters but also in the investigation of their discovery and their nature, and in addition the parts of speech composed of letters and all other matters of the same kind—it is not our purpose now to controvert the former; for that it is useful is agreed by all men. And amongst them we must place Epicurus, although he seems to be bitterly hostile to the Professors of Arts and Sciences; certainly in his book On Gifts and Gratitude he definitely tries to prove that it is necessary for the wise to learn letters. [50] Necessary moreover, as we should say, not for the wise only but for all men. For it is plain that the end aimed at by every art is very useful for life. Some arts have been introduced mainly with the object of averting things hurtful, others with that of discovering things beneficial; medicine is an example of the first kind, being a curative and pain-relieving art, and navigation of the second, for all men are very much in need of the assistance of the other nations. [52] Since then “grammatistic by its comprehension of letters cures a most inactive disease, forgetfulness, and contains a most necessary activity, memory, almost everything depends upon it, and without it it is impossible to teach any necessary thing to others, and it will be impossible to learn anything profitable from another. Thus the “grammatistic” is one of the most useful arts. [53] And in any case even if we wished we should not be able to abolish it without upsetting ourselves; for if the arguments which show that “grammatistic” is useless are themselves useful but can neither be remembered nor passed on to posterity without it, then “grammatistic” is useful. Yet it might be thought by some that Timon, the expounder of Pyrrho’s views, is of the contrary opinion when he says—

Grammar’s an art that a man need neither heed nor consider When he is still being taught the Punie symbols of Cadmus. This, however, does not appear to be the case. For the phrase he uses, “he need neither heed nor consider,” is not aimed against the actual “grammatistic” by which the Punic symbols of Cadmus are taught; for if a man is being taught it, how can he have paid no attention to it? What he means is rather this,—“when a man has been taught the Punic symbols of Cadmus he need pay no attention to any further art of letters”; and this does not refer to the uselessness of the art which is found to deal with the elements and with employing them in writing and reading, but of that which is boastful and needlessly inquisitive. [55] For while the handling of the elements contributes to the conduct of life, not to be contented with what is given by the observation of the elements and attempting further to show that some of them are naturally vowels, others consonants, and that of the vowels some are naturally short, others long, others doubtful and indifferently long or short, and in general all the other rules that are taught by the conceited Grammarians are unprofitable proceedings). [56] Hence, while we not only have no fault to find with “Grammatistic” but even owe it the warmest thanks, we bring our critical weapons to bear on the rest of the Art of Letters. Whether we do so rightly or wrongly, we shall learn when we have further explained its character.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter IV. The Parts of Grammar

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter IV. The Parts of Grammar”

[57] Since, according to the sage Epicurus, it is not possible either to inquire or to doubt without a preconception, it will be well first of all to consider what “Grammatic” (or the Art of Grammar) is and whether a systematic and real art or science can be conceived on the lines of the conception put forward by the Grammarians. Now Dionysius “the Thracian” says in his Directions that “Grammar” is mainly expertness regarding the language of poets and composers,’ meaning by “composers” (as is plain from its contrast with “poets.) none others than the writers in prose. [58] For the Grammarian appears to interpret the writings of the poets, such as Homer and Hesiod, Pindar and Euripides and Menander and the rest; and he also investigates those of the composers, such as Herodotus and Thucydides and Plato, as being his proper task. [59] Accordingly, some of their notable figures have dealt with many of the prose-writers, whether historians or orators or even philosophers, seeking to discover which of their writings are correctly and idiomatically expressed and which are faulty, and what, for example, is the meaning in Thucydides of zanklon (“sickle’) and torneuontes (“rounding off’), and in Demosthenes of “he shouted as though from a waggon”; and how we should pronounce the word édos in Plato—whether we should utter the first syllable with or without the aspirate, or the first syllable without and the second with the aspirate, or both without the aspirate or both with it. [60] It is because of such investigations that Grammar has been called “expertness regarding the language of poets and composers.

Such, then, is the view of Dionysius. But Ptolemy the Peripatetic raises the objection that he ought not [61] to have described Grammar as “expertness (for expertness as such is a kind of practice and operation, void of art and reasoning, which consists in mere observation and joint-exercise, whereas Grammar is an art); but he fails to notice that the term is also applied to art (as we have shown in our Empiric Treatise”), since ordinary folk call the same men “experts” and “artists” without distinction; and it was with this notion that Metrodorus said that philosophy is the only expertness in affairs which [62] perceives its own end,” meaning “the only art”; and the term is applied especially to the knowledge of many and various matters, in the way that we speak of old men who have seen much and heard women crying insults from the waggons in which they rode to the Eleusinian Mysteries.

4 ‘This work is no longer extant.

os much as “experienced in life.” So too Euripides “—
Not all is evil that besets old age,
My child Eteocles: experience

Can teach a wisdom which eludes the young. [63] And the Thracian was probably brought to adopt this meaning of the term through wishing the Grammarian to be a man of wide knowledge and wide learning, when he says that grammar is expertness in the language of poets and composers. So that this is rather a small point. But here is an argument more suited to a serious inquiry which one might perhaps [64] bring against him: it belongs to grammar either to be expertness in the language of poets and composers only, or also to be expertness in speech which is not found in either poets or composers. But they will not say that it is expertness in poets’ and composers’ language only, since it is sometimes seen to preside over the current conversation of ordinary and unlearned people, and also to examine and declare what is barbaric and what Hellenic, what is solecistic and what not. [65] And if it is not expertness in the speech of poets and composers only, they ought not to have identified it with a part of its contents.

But without proceeding to split hairs about such matters, let us consider, as we undertook to do, whether, if we are to go by the proposed definition, the Art of Grammar can in the end exist. [66] Now when they describe it as “expertness regarding most of the speech of poets and composers,” they mean either all or some of it. And if they mean “all,” then, in the first place, it is no longer “regarding most of their speech’ but all of it, and if all then endless (for their speech is endless): but of the endless there is no experience: hence no Art of Grammar will exist. But if they mean “some,” then, since even ordinary folk understand some of the speech of the poets and composers though they possess no grammatical expertness, neither in this case can one say that an Art of Grammar exists. [67] Unless they shall say that the words “regarding most” were expressly used for the purpose of suggesting their occasional lack of expertness regarding all their language and their difference from the ordinary man. For the Grammarian differs from the ordinary man in so far as he is expert not in regard to a little, like the other, but to most of the language of the poets and composers; and he is not committed to what is probably impossible, the knowledge of it all, since he does not pretend to know all but most of it. [68] But this is not the conduct of a man making his defence, but of one who piles evils on evils and draws upon himself difficulties to an extent that is no longer moderate but complete. Now in the first place, just as “many” is indefinite and gives rise to the puzzle of “the Heap,” “so also is “most.” Either, then, let them define for us this “most,” showing how far we are to say that this knowledge of the speech of poets and composers extends; or if they abide by their indefinite claim and say that they know “most,” let them submit to being questioned “little by little.”

41 [69] For when a“very large” number is fixed, the number that is less by one is still “very large,” since it is perfectly absurd to call the one number, because of the addition of an unit, “very large” and the other not. Hence, if their “very large” number keeps on always being increased by one it will certainly come to being no longer a “very large” number, so that Grammar too is non-existent; and this is the [70] conclusion of the puzzle of “the Heap.” And surely it is a piece of grammatic obtuseness to speak of “very many” in dealing with an infinite number; for just as “small” is a relative notion and is conceived as in relation to the condition “very large,” so also the notion “very large” will be conceived as relative to the condition “small.” If, then, the Grammarians are expert regarding “very much of the speech of poets and composers,” they are not expert regarding the [71] small quantity which remains over; and if what is included is “very much,” and what is omitted is “rather small,” the total no longer makes up an infinite quantity.—But in any case, not to argue these points too closely, it is false to say that the Grammarian knows “very much of the speech of poets and composers”; for it is really “very little,” since many times more of it remains which he does not know, as I shall prove in the course of our inquiry. [72] But for the moment we must consider another account of the matter.

Asclepiades blames Dionysius “the Thracian” for calling the Art of Grammar “expertness,” and that for the reason stated by Ptolemy, and he also finds fault with his description of it as “expertness for the most part.” Forthisisa feature of arts which are conjectural and subject to accidents such as navigation and medicine; but Grammar is not a conjectural art but akin [73] to Music and Philosophy. “Unless,” he says, “he has some fear of the shortness of life as being insufficient for the comprehension of all, which is absurd; for in that case he will not be defining the Art of Grammar but the Grammarian, since he perchance, being a short-lived creature, is acquainted with a little of the speech of the poets and composers, whereas Grammar is knowledge of it all. [74] Hence, by altering one part and deleting another part of this definition, he presents the concept of Grammar in this form: “Grammar is the art dealing with the speech of poets and composers.” But instead of removing the difficulties, our critic has increased them, and by the very means whereby he intends to magnify Grammar, he makes it less. For let it be granted that it is knowledge of all the speech of poets and composers: then, since knowledge is nothing apart from him who knows, neither is Grammar anything apart from the Grammarian, just as walking is nothing apart from the walker, or standing apart from him who stands, or lying apart from him who lies. But it has been agreed that the Grammarian does not possess knowledge of all; therefore knowledge of all the speech of poets and composers no longer exists; neither, in consequence, does Grammar exist.—Again, if Grammar is an art, being knowledge of all the speech of poets and composers, and art is “a system composed of apprehensions,” then, since no one possesses an apprehension of all the speech of poets and composers, Grammar is of necessity non-existent.

[76] Chares in the first book of his treatise on the Art of Grammar says that perfect Grammar is “a skill derived from art which distinguishes very precisely Greek language and thought, except in so far as these are dealt with by other arts,”—which last addition of his is not superfluous. For since part of the Greek language and thought is dealt with by arts and part not, he holds that Grammar is not an art and skill concerned with what is treated by the arts,—as for instance in Music the dia-tessaron (or “Fourth”) concord and the change of the “systems,” and in Mathematic the eclipse or the position of the spheres. And the same applies, one must suppose, to the rest of the arts: Grammar is not knowledge of any of the subjects the other arts deal with, but it is a methodical treatment of language and meanings not touched [78] on by other arts,—of meanings, as that pisures means tessares (four), and that béssai and ankea mean accessible places; and of language in so far as it concerns dialects, as for example, that such a phrase is Doric and such other Aeolic, but it does not (like the Stoics) regard the signification of the phrase but conversely the signifying phrase itself; for the meaning is [79] derived from the thing signified alone.—But Chares seems to be disputing an argument of Crates. For he used to say that the “Critic” differs from the Grammarian; and, says he, the “Critic’ must be expert in the whole range of linguistic science, but the Grammarian simply capable of expounding dialects and explaining prosodies and skilled in things

2 For Crates see p. 97 n. of that sort; and accordingly the former may be compared to a head-craftsman, and the Grammarian to a subordinate.

[80] Such, then, are the features of this definition, which are in some ways more reasonable than the absurdities of Dionysius, but in others worse. For it is evident at once that he has freed Grammar from the “Heap” difficulty and has set it apart from the alien disciplines of Music and Mathematic, on the ground thay they have no connexion with it; but he has by no means rescued it from the charge of being non-existent, but rather has helped to confirm that it is so. [81] For whereas Dionysius in some degree limited the scope of Grammar by confining it to the speech of poets and composers only, this man (Chares) proposes to make it cover all Greek language and every signification,—a thing which, if one may say so, is not feasible even for gods. For, as we have also said before, no scientific inquiry deals with anything unlimited, such inquiry itself being the chief agent of limitation; for science is what binds down the [82] undefined: but things signifying and things signified are unlimited; therefore the Art of Grammar is not concerned with things signifying and signified. Moreover, as to words, changes of all sorts occur and have occurred in the past el will occur in the future; for Time is a lover of change and that not only in regard [83] to animals and plants but also to words.“But concerning a stationary infinite, not to speak of a changing one, no human knowledge can be found. Neither, then, in this way will Grammar subsist.—Further, either he supposes that the “skill” is artistic or that it is without art. And if it is artistic, why did he

e7GF. Hors ACP. 60) ἘΣ not term it “art’ instead of that wherefrom it is derived? But if it is without art. then, since the artistic cannot be perceived by means of the non-artistic, neither will there be formed any “grammatic skill” which distinguishes by art what things are signifying and what signified in the speech of the Greeks.

[84] Demetrius, surnamed Chlorus, and certain other Grammarians have given this definition: “The Art of Grammar is knowledge of the forms of speech in the poets and also those in common usage.” But for these, too, the same difficulties remain; the Art of Grammar cannot deal either with all the forms of speech in the poets or with some of them. [85] That it should deal with them all is sheerly impossible, since in the poets there is discourse concerning the gods and concerning virtue and the soul, things whereof the Grammarians have no expert knowledge. Nor can it deal with some of them, since a subject such as this falls within the scope not of Grammarians only but also of certain others, such as philosophers and musicians and physicians; for these too have inquired into some of the diction of the poets. [86] Again, in their statement that Grammar is “knowledge of the forms of speech in common usage” as well, if they are taking it as the universal proposition “whatsoever forms of speech are in common usage, of these the Art of Grammar is knowledge,” then they are in error; for the forms of speech in common usage are infinite, and of infinites there is no knowledge. [87] But if they should tend to state it as a particular proposition, equivalent to “there are certain forms of speech in common usage whereof Grammar is knowledge,’ not even so will they make Grammar anything real; for the Athenian has knowledge of the forms of speech commonly used in Attica, and the Dorian of those in Dorian lands, and the orator of those used in rhetoric, and the physician of those in medicine. [88] And if they should mean by this “knowledge of all the forms of speech in common usage,” not that of all the forms taken separately and individually (for this is actually impossible), but knowledge of all those in the dialects which are universal and most widely used, as for instance that it is the practice of the Dorians to use one sort of pitch and the Ionians another, then perhaps what they say will [89] be plausible, yet it will not be true; for neither is there one customary practice in each dialect (for both the Dorian and the Attic dialects are numerous), nor do the rules which they suppose they are handing on extend to every form of speech but only go so far as to apply to a certain number and those with similar pitch, such as oxytones and barytones, and they are unable to include them all.

[90] Let so much, then, be said by way of sample to show the baselessness of the Art of Grammar, judging by the definition of it given by the Grammarians. Next let us investigate and test the most important of its theorems and those from which it mainly derives its constitution.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter V. Concerning the Technical Part of Grammar

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter V. Concerning the Technical Part of Grammar”

[91] Since there exists amongst the Grammarians great and endless dissension concerning the parts of the Art of Grammar, in order that we should not allow side-issues to seem to usurp the place of the main issue, nor be diverted from the more necessary mode of refutation by plunging into matter which is neither pertinent nor useful for our present purpose, it will be sufficient to state without sophistry that one part of Grammar is ‘ historical,” another “technical,” a third “special,” in which last the writings of the poets and prose-writers are dealt with. [92] Of these the “technical” part is that in which they formulate the rules concerning the elements and the parts of speech and orthography and Greek idiom and consequential matters; and the “historical” is that wherein they give instruction regarding persons—divine persons, for example, and human, and heroic,—or else explain about places, such as mountains or rivers, or record fictions or legends, or anything else of that description. [93] The “special” part is that in which they examine the language of the poets and prose-writers, and in it they explain the obscurities in their language, and judge as to which of their expressions are sound and which unsound, and distinguish the genuine works from the spurious. Such then, to describe them in broad outline, are the parts of the Art of [94] Grammar; but one should not conceive of them as “parts” in the precise sense of that term, nor in the way that one speaks of the soul and body as “parts” of the man. For these latter are conceived as being distinct from each other, whereas the parts of Grammar,—the technical and historical and that which deals with poetry and prose,—are each closely [95] interconnected and intermixed with the rest; for the investigation of poetry is not separate from the technical and “historical” parts, nor is each of these devoid of mutual connexion with the other two. So, just as those who describe dieting, surgery and pharmacy as “parts” of the art of medicine, imply thereby that in their precepts there is much mutual every one of the ancients who were supreme masters of correct language and Greek idiom, such as Thucydides, Plato and Demosthenes.- Against their attack one defence will stand for all,—the proof, namely, that their “technology” is non-technical. And first [99] in order we must discuss the “elements,’ wherefrom their whole system is constructed, and the abolition of which will necessarily bring it about that the Grammarians are ungrammatic.

The term “element” being used in three senses,—of the written character or form, and of its “function” (or sound), and also of the name,—let us proceed now in our inquiry to deal mainly with the function; for this is accounted by the Grammarians to be the “element” proper. As, then, there are [100] twenty-four elements of the voice in written form, they lay it down that the nature of these, in respect of their swmma genera, is twofold. The one class they call vowels, the other consonants; and seven are vowels—s € 7) τ w,—the rest being consonants. And of the vowels there are, they say, three distinct sorts: for they say that two of them are long, namely and w, an equal number short, namely and o, and three indifferently long or short, namely a v, which they term “dichronous” (or having two quantities), and “liquid” and “amphibolous” (or ambiguous) and “metabolic” (or changeable); for each of them [101] is naturally capable of being at one time long, at another short, as a in the example,’ Apes “Apes—Ares, Ares, fort-wrecker and murderous slayer of mortals,“—‘and in” [Avov ε tepyjv,—

(So fared she) Eyen to Holy Troy, and Apollo hastened to meet her,’—and the in dev ὕδ—-

» Out of the Sky-god’s clouds pouréd a marvellous flood. [102] Of the consonants some, according to them, are “semi-vocal,” others “non-vocal” (or mute): “semi-vocal” are all those which of themselves naturally produce at their utterance the r-sound or the s-sound or the msound, or some similar sound, for example 4 A p v & p x w, or, as some say, the eight which remain after the omission of and. “Non-vocal” are those which are not able by themselves to form syllables or sounds of their own, they being uttered only along with others, such as B y 7, or, as some say, with the addition of 0 x. [103] Moreover, of the consonants again in general they say that some are naturally “rough” (or aspirated), others “smooth” (or without the aspirate), the “rough” being 0 x, and the “smooth” 7; and p alone, they say, admits of either breathing, the “rough” or the “smooth.” They declare also that some of the consonants are “twofold,” such as; for, they say, is composed of and, € of and, of and.

[104] These, then, being placed first as elements, I assert, firstly, that it is absurd of them to state that some of the elements are “twofold,” for what is twofold is a compound of two things, but the element is not a compound of any things; for it must be simple and not compounded of other things. Therefore a twofold element does not exist. Again, if the components of the twofold element are elements, the twofold compound of those elements will not be an element; but in fact the components of the twofold element are elements; therefore the twofold (compound) is not an element.

[105] Moreover, just as these are destroyed, so also are the “dichronous” elements which, as is claimed, are naturally “common” in respect of length and brevity. For if they are such, either the letter itself in itself and the mere character, of, say, the, 1, and v, are indicative of their “dichronous” nature, and can be now shortened, now lengthened, or the “tension” must be added. [106] But the character is not of itself indicative of an element naturally “common,” for it does not show clearly that it is long or that it is short or that it is at once both long and short; but just as it is not known about the syllable formed by it,—as we said in the case of the word *Apes—whether it is long or

short apart from the added tension, so also the letters avand v taken by themselves will not be “common” and haying either quantity, but will have neither. [107] It remains, then, to say that the letter is “common” when conjoined with tension. But this again is impossible; for when the letter takes the tension it becomes either long, when the tension is long, or short when it is short, but never “common.” Hence, [108] elements “dichronous” by nature do not exist.—And if they should say that these elements are “common by nature inasmuch as they are susceptible of either quantity, length or shortness, they will unwittingly be involving themselves in much the same difficulty. For what is susceptible of a thing will not be that thing whereof it is susceptible; for just as the bronze is susceptible of becoming the statue, but inasmuch as it is susceptible is not the statue, and just as the timber possesses a nature suitable for becoming a ship, but is not as yet a ship, so also elements of this kind are susceptible of both length and shortness but are neither long nor short, nor either of the two, before they have been qualified by tension.— [109] Moreover, in addition to what has been said, shortness and length are contraries and do not exist together; for length exists by the abolition of shortness, and when a long is abolished a short comes into existence. And for this reason it is impossible for a circumflexed letter to be short, since the lengthening necessarily coexists with the circumflex. [110] Consequently, if an element is “dichronous by nature the quality of both shortness and length will subsist in it either both together or one at a time. But it is impossible for both qualities to subsist together, for qualities which are destructive of each other will not subsist in the same utterance simultaneously. It remains, then, to say that they subsist “one at a time.” But this too is incredible; for when the element is short, or when it is long, it is not, at that time, “common” as regards shortness and length, but is solely short or solely long.

[111] Let the same method of attack be employed in the ease of the elements which are “smooth” or “yough,” or “common,” as taking either breathing. We content ourselves here with merely indicating the kind of the attack.

And now that the “common” elements have been destroyed and it has been proved that they are only either shortened or lengthened, it will follow that each of them is twofold, the one sort naturally long, the other naturally short. [112] As then a and v are each twofold, there will no longer be only seven “vocal elements (or vowels), of which two are long, namely and w, and two short, namely and o, and three “dichronous,” namely a and v, but the total will be ten; and of these five will be long, namely 7, and and the long and. and v, and the short will be equal in number, namely and and the short a and and v. [113] But since the School of Grammarians have assumed that there are not only two tensions, the long and the short, but also the acute, the grave, the circumflex, the rough and the smooth, each of the vowels indicated having some one of these tensions peculiar to itself will become an element; and just as we found that an element was never “common” in respect of length and brevity but was either long only, when it had the long tension added, or short when it had the short, so, by the same reasoning, an element will never be “common” in respect of acuteness and gravity, but will be acute only, when it has received the acute added, or grave, when it has received the grave. So also with the others. Since, then, the short elements, being two, admit of five tensions apiece,—the hace the acute, the grave, [114] the rough and the smooth,—they will become fen 1 he long ones, again, which are two, if they receive the further addition of the cir cumflex,—for these elements can naturally take the circumflex as their own special tension as well as the long, the acute, the grave, the rough and the smooth,—will become tw elve: And if the “common,” being three, each admit of the which we call accent, is explained by Demetrius as a musical pitch of about a musical fifth, what we call the acute, all the rest is what we call grave accent. The circumflex is a draw] when a vowel with acute slides into one with an unaccented vowel (e.g. when όο-μ becomes οὔ-μ). seven tensions, they become twenty-one. Hence their total is forty-three; and when to these are added the seventeen consonants, the elements turn ~ out to be sixty and not twenty-four.

[115] There is, on the other hand, a different argument by which it is made out that the vowels are fewer in number than the seven which are so much talked about by the Grammarians. For if the a when long and when short is not, according to them, a different element but one “common” element, and so likewise both the and the v, then it will also follow that and are one “common” element as having the same potency; for in the case of both there is the same potency, and when shortened becomes, while when lengthened becomes. In the same way and will also become one “common” element, differing in length and brevity, since is long o, and o is short w. [116] The Grammarians, then, are blind and fail to perceive the consequence, when they assert that there are seven vowels, whereas in actual fact there are only five.

Contrariwise, some philosophers declare that there will be some more elements which possess a potency different from those which are usually handed down,—at, for instance, ov and every one which is of similar nature. For the “element” must be judged to be an element mainly on the ground that it has a sound which is non-composite and of single quality, such as that of a andeando andthe rest. [117] Since, then, the sound of a: and of is simple and of one kind only, these, too, will be elements. And a proof of the simplicity of their sounds and that they are of one kind only is to be found in the following state69 ment: the composite sound does not naturally remain to the end just the same in quality as when it first strikes the sense-organ, but is altered through its prolongation, whereas the simple sound, which really has the character of “element,” is on the contrary unchanged from beginning to end. Thus, when the sound pa is prolonged in utterance, it is plain that the sense will not perceive it alike at the first impression and at the last, but will be stirred at first by the utterance of the p and afterwards, when this sound has vanished, it will gain the perception of the sound in its purity. Hence, po and all similar vocables will not be elements. [118] But if they should pronounce the sound az, the result will not be at all similar, but its peculiar tone, as heard at the beginning, is just the same at the end, so that avwill be an element. And such being the case in respect of, since the sound and the sound cx are received from beginning to end as of single quality and non-composite and unaltered, these too will be elements.

[119] But letting go this line of inquiry we may state another which is capable of pressing the Grammarians still harder. If the three elements, 1, and v are termed “common” because they are receptive of length and brevity, it will follow that we must say that every element is common, for it is receptive of the four tensions, gravity, acuteness, smoothness, roughness. Else, if they cannot endure to say that every element is common, neither let them term those three common on the ground that they are receptive of length and brevity. our investigation at this point, now that the “elements” of the Art of Grammar have been shown to be doubtful; for what is left for the Grammarians to say about what comes after their principles when they do not possess those principles? None the less, it is not irrelevant to penetrate further and, as a sample, to test also what follows the principles. And since the “syllables” are formed from the “elements,” let us subjoin a discussion of these.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter VI. Concerning the Syllable

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter VI. Concerning the Syllable”

Every syllable is either long or short. [121] It is long, they say, in two ways, by nature and by position: by nature it is long in three cases, either when it has an element which is naturally long, as in the word ἠ, for each of these syllables is long since the one contains 7, the other, which are naturally long; or when it is composed of two vowels, as in the word αἰ, for the two syllables are long since each is made up of two vowels; or when it has its element “common” and pronounced with a long tension, as in the case of “Apys; for the “dichronous” a is now uttered with a long tension. [122] Thus the syllable is long by nature in three ways, but by position in five ways, either when it ends with two of the simple consonants; or when the next syllable begins with two consonants; or when it ends with a consonant and the next begins with a consonant; or when it ends with a double element; or when a double element is inserted after [123] it.—If every syllable is either long or short in the ways indicated in their “technology,” then if we shall establish that neither of these syllables exists, it is plain that the Grammarians will not have a “word” either; for just as when the elements are destroyed the syllables, too, are destroyed with them, so also, if the syllables are non-existent, neither the words will exist nor the parts of speech in general, nor, consequently, speech itself.

[124] In order that a short syllable may exist, it must be settled beforehand that there is a minimal and a short time wherein it exists: but there is not a minimal time, for every period of time is divided to infinity,“as we shall prove later on; and if it is divided to infinity it is not minimal. Hence, there will not exist a short syllable occupying a short time.—And if they should now say that what they are calling a short and minimal syllable is not that which is minimal by nature but that which is minimal for sense, they will be adding to their difficulty. [125] For we shall find that what are termed by them short syllables are divisible for sense,—for example the syllable ep. For in its case we perceive by sense that the sound is uttered before the sound p. And conversely, if we were to say pe, we shall again perceive that the sound p comes first in order and the sound second. [126] Since, then, everything which has for sense a first part and a second is not a minimal for sense, and since the short syllable of the Grammarians evidently has a first part and a second, there will not exist for sense a minimal and short syllable. Musicians perhaps will be able to leave us certain irrational times and extensions of tones; but to those who have no room for such a depth of infinitude, but merely divide the class of syllables into short and long, it is not right to extend pardon. Wherefore the short syllable is non-existent.

[127] Moreover, the long syllable, too, will be non-existent; for they say that it is “dichronous” (or two-timed), but two times do not co-exist with each other. For if they are two, they are distinguished as being two by the fact that the one is in present existence, the other not; but if one is present and the other is not present, they do not co-exist with each other. [128] Consequently, if the long syllable is “dichronous,” it must follow that when its first time is present, then its second is not present, and when the second becomes present, then the first no longer exists. And as its parts are not co-existent the whole syllable does not exist but only a part of it; but the part of it is not itself, since otherwise the long syllable will not differ from the short. [129] Therefore no long syllable exists. And if they should say that the long syllable is perceived through “joint memory” (that is to say, that it is by remembering the sound already uttered and sensing that which is now being uttered that we have perceived the combination of both as a long syllable),—if they should say this, they will simply be confessing that a syllable such as this is non-existent. [130] For if it exists, it exists either in the sound pronounced first or in that pronounced later; but it does not exist either in the sound pronounced first or in that pronounced later: for as neither of these exists by itself, it is not a syllable at all; so that the long syllable does not exist. But if it exists, itis a short, and not a long, syllable. Nor, again, does it

{7 exist in both the sounds; for when the one of them exists the other does not exist, and from an existent and a non-existent it is impossible to conceive anything compounded as though from parts. Hence no long syllable exists.

[131] Analogous to these are the difficulties which ought to be raised regarding the “word” and the “parts of speech.” For in the first place, as we showed a short while ago,“if the syllable does not exist, the “word” cannot exist either; for words derive their substance from syllables. And next, in the same line of attack, it will be possible to employ the same objections directly against the “word” itself. For either it is a syllable or it is composed of syllables; but in either case it will be open to the objections we set forth against the syllable. [132] All the same, lest we should appear to be at a loss for fresh arguments, we must have something to say on this point also to the Grammarians.

When they term certain things “parts of speech,”—such as the name (or noun), the verb, the article, and the rest,—whence do they derive the designation? For they designate them thus either as being the whole of speech or as being parts of it, when neither can speech be conceived as a whole nor these as its parts. [133] Let us take examples which bear on their assumption, so that we may not depart from the theorems of Grammar. Let us suppose, then, that the whole of this verse is a “speech” (or sentence)—μῆν ἄει θ Πηληιάδ ᾿Αχιλῆος

(Sing, O goddess, the wrath of the son of Peleus,
Achilles),’—

and that its parts are these,—pjjviv, which is a noun, and ἄει an imperative verb, and θ also a noun and feminine, and ἸΤηληιϊάδ a patronymic noun, and besides these ᾿Αχιλῆ a proper noun. [134] Then either the sentence is something else than its parts and the parts something else than the sentence, or the aggregate of the parts is assumed to be the sentence. And if the sentence is something else than its parts, then it is plain that when the expressed parts of the sentence are removed the sentence will be left. But the verse we have given above is so far from remaining when all its parts are removed that, if we should remove even any one single part, such as μῆν or ἄει, the verse ceases to exist. [135] But if the aggregate of the parts of the sentence is conceived to be a sentence, then because the aggregation is nothing apart from the parts aggregated, just as distance is nothing apart from the objects which are distant, the sentence of which any parts shall be conceived will not be anything. And when the whole sentence is nothing, neither will any parts of it exist. Thus, just as, if there is no left-hand, neither is there a righthand, so too if a sentence does not exist as a whole, [136] neither will its parts exist.—If, then, they shal] regard the aggregation of the parts of the sentence as the whole sentence, the general consequence will be that they will have to say that the parts of the sentence are parts of one another. For if no whole subsists other than themselves whereof they may be parts, they will be parts of one another. But let us consider how extremely irrational this is. [137] For the parts are certainly included in the wholes of which they are said to be parts, each occupying its own place and having its own reality, but they are not included in one another. For example, the hands are parts of the man, the fingers of the hand, and the nails of the fingers. Hence the hands are included in the man, the fingers in the hand, and the nails in the fingers; but the right hand does not help to fill up the left, nor does the forefinger complete the thumb, nor the head compose the feet, nor the feet the chest. [138] Hence also we must not say that the parts of the sentence are parts of one another, for if so they will have to be included in one another,—piviv in ἄει, ἄει in θ, and in short all in all,—which is impossible. Since, then, the parts of the sentence cannot be parts of one another, because the thing is inconceivable, and since no whole sentence is found other than its own parts, and nothing is found other than the parts themselves whereof we can say that they are the parts, it remains to say that no part of the sentence exists. Consequently, neither does the sentence exist.

We may also make the following attack. [139] If μῆν is a part of the verse, it is either a part of the whole verse or of ἄει θ ΠΠηληιάδ χελῆ. But if it is a part of the whole verse, then, since it is with the inclusion of μῆν itself that the verse is conceived as a whole, μῆν will come to be a supplementary part of itself, and therefore both greater and less than itself; it will be greater than itself inasmuch as it is supplemented by itself (for that which is supplemented by anything is greater than the thing which supplements it), and it will be less inasmuch as it supplements itself (for that which supplements anything is less than the thing supplemented). But these results are by no means credible; therefore μῆν is not a part of the whole verse. [140] Nor, in fact, is it a part of the re140 mainder of the verse,—I mean of ἄει θ Ty Aquddew ᾿Αχιλῆ. For, firstly, the part is included in that whereof it is a part, but μῆν is not included in ἄει θ 1]ηληιϊάδ χιλῆ, so that it will not be a part thereof. And next, the phrase ἄει θ Πηληιάδ ᾿Αχιλῆ does not need supplementing; for it is a complete sentence in itself. But the whole sentence,—I mean the verse,—is not ἄει θ Πηληιάδ ᾿Αχιλῆ. Thus μῆν is not a part of this (remainder) either. But if μῆν is a part neither of the whole verse nor of its remaining part, and nothing else besides these exists, then μῆν is not a part of any sentence.

[141] These are the objections to be stated against the parts of speech (or of the sentence) in general; and when we go on to their particular technical theories regarding them we shall find much idle talk. This we may learn not by roving over the whole field (for it is empty verbiage and full of the old wives’ prattle of the Grammarians), but rather by doing much as the wine-merchants do; for just as they judge of the whole cargo from a little taste, so too we, when we have first dealt with a single part of speech, such as the noun, will gain, from their “technology” concerning this, a general view of the skill of the Grammarians in treating of the other parts.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter VII. Concerning the Noun

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter VII. Concerning the Noun”

[142] When, for instance, they say that some nouns are “naturally” masculine, some feminine and some neuter, and some singular in number, some dual and some plural, and link on to these all their other distinctions, let us inquire what exactly is meant by the designation “naturally.” [143] Either it means that those who first gave utterance to the nouns produced their “natural” sound; and just as crying is natural in pain and shouting in joy or in admiration, so some nouns, they say, are “naturally” of this sort and others of that sort. Or else it means that at the present moment each of them naturally affects us as being masculine, even if we do not consider that it is masculine, or again naturally indicates that it is feminine, even if we are not willing. [144] But they will not declare for the first alternative; for how could the Grammarians’ stupidity decide whether names are due to nature or to convention, or some to the one and some to the other, when even for those who have attained the summit of natural science it is no easy matter to settle because of the equipollence of the arguments on either side? [145] Moreover, this view is confronted by a strong argument to which the Grammarians—even if they could (as men say) stand up against a bolt from a cross-bow—will be unable to discover any fitting reply. If nouns exist “by nature” and are not significant in each instance by reason of convention, then all men ought to understand the speech of all, Greeks that of barbarians and barbarians that of Greeks and barbarians that of (other) barbarians.“But this is not the case; therefore nouns are not “naturally” significant. This, then, [146] they will not assert.—But if it is because each noun “naturally” indicates that it is masculine or feminine or neuter that they assert that some are of this sort and others of that sort, let them know that they are rubbing their collar smoother. [147] For we shall tell them again that what affects us “naturally” affects all men alike, and not some in one way and others in an opposite way.” Fire, for instance, “naturally” warms barbarians and Greeks, unskilled and skilled, and does not warm Greeks but chill barbarians; and snow “naturally” chills, and does not chill some but heat others. Thus, that which affects us “naturally” affects in a similar way those who have their senses unimpaired. [148] But the same nouns are not the same for all, but are masculine for some, feminine for others, and for others neuter. The Athenians, for example, speak of στάμν (“the jar”) in the feminine,’ but the Peloponnesians of στάμν in the masculine, and some of θόλ (‘the rotunda”), others of θόλ, and some of βῶλ [149] (“the lump”), others of βῶλ; and neither the one set nor the other is said to be wrong because of this; for each treats the word as laid down by custom. And even the same people utter the same nouns differently, at one time as masculine, at another as feminine, saying both λιμ (“the hunger’) and λιμ. So it is not “by nature” that some nouns are masculine, others feminine, but it is by conventional usage that some are of one sort and some of the other. [150] Moreover, if some nouns had been masculine and others feminine by nature, male objects ought to have been called always by masculine names and female by feminine names, and objects neither male nor female by neuters. [151] This, however, is not so, but we call male objects by feminine names, and female by masculine, and objects which are neither male nor female by names which are either masculine or feminine, and not by neuters. ‘Thus, even in the case of the female, the masculine name is given to κόρ (Ξ raven)» ἀετ (” eagle in) κών (“gnat yy κάνθαρ (“beetle ), σκόρπι ( scorpion’), μ (“mouse”), and conversely the feminine, even when they are of the male sex, to χελιδ (“swallow”), χελώ (“tortoise”), κορώ (“crow), ἀκρ (“locust”), μυγα (“shrew-mouse), ἐμπ (“mosquito”). [152] So likewise κλί (“couch”) is feminine, though the object itself is neither of the male nor of the female sex, and στῦλ (“pillar”) is masculine, though applied to what is neuter. If, then, no noun is masculine or feminine by nature, I ask how the Grammarian will censure the man who perversely says χελιδ and ἀετ. FKither (he will do so) on the ground that the noun χελιδ. is feminine by nature, whereas the man forces it to become masculine by means of the article, or else on the ground that common usage has ruled it to be feminine and not masculine. [153] But if he takes the ground that it is feminine by nature, then, since none is feminine by nature, as we have established, it is, so far as this goes, a matter of indifference whether it is expressed in this way or in that. If, on the other hand, he assumes that the noun is ruled to be feminine by common usage, the criterion of correct and incorrect speech will not be any technical and grammatical theory but untechnical and simple adherence to actual usage. [154] We may use the same arguments against singular and plural names. Thus ᾿Αθῆν in the plural is the name given to one city, as is Πλαται, and Θή conversely in the singular as well as Θῆβ in the plural, and both Μυκή and Μυκῆν. But with these anomalies we shall deal more carefully as our inquiry proceeds.

For the present, now that by means of examples we have gained an insight into the precision of the Grammarians in regard to these matters, come and before we turn away to another subject let us [155] investigate this point too,—I mean what, in their view, is speech or the parts of speech. Hither they will say that it is the corporeal sound of the voice, or that it is the incorporeal “lekton” (or meaning) which differs from the sound. But they will not say that it is the sound; for when this is uttered all men hear it, Greeks and barbarians, plain people and people of culture, but speech and the parts of speech are heard (and understood) only by the Greeks and those who are skilled therein. [156] So, then, speech and the parts of speech are not the sound.—Neither indeed are they the incorporeal “lekton.” For how can there still exist any other incorporeal of the sort beside body and void, when there has been a great and endless dispute about it amongst the philosophers? For if it moves it is a body; for what moves is corporeal; and if it is stationary, it will be void if it admits the bodies which move into it without resistance (for not to resist is the property of void), but, if it resists the bodies moving into it, it is body, for resistance is the property of [157] body.—Moreover, he who says that an incorporeal “lekton” exists, in saying so relies only on assertion or else adduces a proof. But if he relies on assertion he will be rebutted by a counter-assertion; and if he adduces proof, then, since the proof itself must proceed by means of unquestioned premisses, and the premisses are “lekta,” by begging of the question, as though it were settled, he will be discredited. [158] And for this reason, if neither the sound of the voice is speech, nor yet the incorporeal “lekton” signified by the sound, and no alternative other than these can be conceived, nothing is speech.

But for the present let it be granted that both speech exists and as many parts of it as the Grammarians desire. Yet let them tell us how they divide speech into parts.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter VIII. Concerning Division of Speech into Parts

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter VIII. Concerning Division of Speech into Parts”

[159] Since it happens that the division of metres is mainly into the two most necessary parts, namely, scansion,—that is, the division into feet,—and distinguishing the parts of the sentence, it follows that those who are completely refuting the Grammarians attack each of these,—both the method of scansion, by upsetting all the feet with which they scan as being non-existent, and also their method of distinguishing the parts of the sentence, by showing the impossibility of their distinctions. [160] But seeing that in our treatise Against the Musicians we are specially discussing “feet,’ in order to avoid forestalling what will then be said against them, or saying the same things twice, we shall postpone this difficulty to the proper time and consider now the question of the division of the parts of the sentence.

[161] Now he who divides a verse subtracts some words and adds others: he subtracts, let us say, μῆν, separating it from the whole verse, and likewise ἄει and the rest of the parts; but he adds to words uttered with elision,—a, for example, to αἷ ἐμέ (Γ vomiting blood”), for the full expression is αἷ ἐμέ,” and likewise to ἀκέ (“he went in silence”), for when fully expressed it is axéwy. Since, however, nothing can really be subtracted from anything or added to anything,’ grammatical division becomes impossible. [162] And we may learn the fact that nothing is subtracted from anything in this way: if anything is subtracted from anything, either a whole is subtracted from a whole, or a part from a part, or a whole from a part, or a part from a whole. But a whole is not subtracted from a whole; for when a single verse is set down, if it is the whole that is subtracted we shall be subtracting the whole verse. And thus, if the verse from which the subtraction is made still remains, no subtraction at all will have been made from it; for how is it possible for the whole still to remain when it has been subtracted? And if it does not remain, clearly no subtraction has taken place from what does not exist. [163] Consequently a whole is not subtracted from a whole. Nor, again, is a whole subtracted from a part. For the whole is not included in the part.—pijviv ἄει θ Πηληιάδ ᾿Αχιλῆ, for instance, in pijvey,—but what is subtracted ought to be included in that which suffers the subtraction. It remains, then, to say that either a part is subtracted from a whole or a part from apart. But this too is questionable. For if μῆν is subtracted from the whole verse, it is also subtracted from itself; for the whole verse was conceived as including it. Besides, if it is taken from the whole, and the whole was μῆν ἄει θ Τηληιάδ ᾿Αχιλῆ, then ἄει θ ΠΠηληιάδ ᾿Αχιλῆ ought also to have been diminished and not to have remained unaltered, since nothing which suffers subtraction remains unaltered. [164] And μῆν itself, too, when being subtracted from that whole verse ought to have extracted something from each of the parts of that whole; and that again is false. If, then, it is not possible to divide the whole verse from the whole or a part of the verse from a part or the whole from a part or a part from the whole, and no other operation besides these is feasible, division is impossible for the Grammarian.

[165] Moreover, even in phrases which contain elisions there will be no addition of any letters. And this will be clear if language be treated not as a matter of syllables or elements,—and it is mainly these which the Grammarians use as additions in their divisions,—but as a matter of whole phrases. So if the half-verse ἄει θ Π]Πηληιάδ χιλῆ is set down (for let it be granted for the present that this is a half-verse, and let it have μῆν added to it so that the combination forms a hexameter), to what, we ask, is the addition made? [166] For μῆν is added either to itself or to the half-verse already set down or to the hexameter made up of the two together. But it will not be added to itself; for as it is not other than itself and does not double itself it will not be said to be added to itself. And how can it be added to the half-verse already set down? For as it is added to the whole of it, it too being made equal to the half-verse will become a [167] half-verse, and thus it will follow that we must say that the large half-verse is short, being made equal to the short one, μῆν, and the short one large, as being equal in extent to the larger half-verse, if in fact μῆν is added to the whole half-verse, such as ἄει ete. But if it shall increase ἄει only, the whole will not make a verse. It remains then to assert that

99 μῆν is added to the combination of the two,—of μῆν itself and the previously stated half-verse,— [168] which is the complete hexameter and heroic verse. But this is wholly incredible; for that which receives addition subsists before the addition, but that which results from the addition certainly does not subsist before it. Therefore μῆν is not added to that which results from the addition of μῆν to the hexameter verse; for when the addition is being made, it is not as yet a hexameter, and when it is a hexameter the addition is no longer being made. Howbeit the task we proposed is now concluded, and, as neither addition exists nor subtraction, the method of division stated above is destroyed.

But now that we have again had an insight into the precision of the Grammarians in these matters, come and let us make trial of their power in the matter of writing.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter IX. Concerning Orthography

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter IX. Concerning Orthography”

[169] Orthography, they say, is to be found in three modes,—quantity, quality, division. In quantity when we inquire if 1 should be added to datives and whether εὐχάλιν and εὐώδιν should be written with an only or with. And in quality when we consider whether σμιλί and Σμύρν are to be written with a or with a o. And in division when we question regarding the word ὄβριμ whether the f is the beginning of the second syllable or the end of the first, and in the case of the name ᾿Αρωτί where we should place the o. [170] But here again, not to raise any worse objections, technology of this sort appears to be useless, firstly because of the disagreements about it, and next because of its actual results themselves. Because of the disagreements, inasmuch as the technicians fight and will fight to eternity with one another, some insisting on writing the same word in this way and some in that. [171] Hence we must question them in this wise: If the technology which deals with orthography is profitable for life, both we and each of the Grammarians who dispute about it ought to have been in a tangle as to what we ought to write, seeing that the dispute about it is still unsettled. [172] But neither any of us nor any of them is in a tangle, but we all achieve our purpose without dispute, inasmuch as we set out not from this technology but from more general and undisputed practice, in accordance with which we all—Grammarians and non-Grammarians alike—adopt the elements which necessarily must be adopted for the indication of the noun, while as to such as are not necessary we are indifferent. Therefore the instruction given by the Grammarians regarding orthography is not profitable.

[173] Such, then, is the refutation based on their disagreement, and that based on the actual results is obvious. For we are in no wise injured whether we write the dative case with an. or without one, and whether we write σμιλί and Σμύρν with ao or with a and whether, in the case of the name ᾿Δριστί, we attach the o to the preceding syllable or assign it to that which follows. For if σμιλί, because it is written with a o and not with a no longer is σμιλί (“a scalpel”) but δρέπαν (“a sickle”), and if, because the o in the name’ Apirior is assigned to this syllable rather than to that,’ Δριστί (“the breakfaster’?)—as one of the witty fellows says—becomes Δειπνί (“the diner”), then it would be fitting not to be indifferent. But if, whatever be the form of writing, σμιλί is σμιλί, whether it begins with a o or with a and ᾿Αριστί is always ᾿Αριστί, whether we attach the o to the or to the 7, what is the use of the long, vain and stupid disputation about these points which is carried on by the Grammarians?

[175] And now that we are discussing orthography in rather a summary fashion, in order to complete our confutation of their technical section let us consider whether or not they have any systematic method of dealing with “hellenism” (or “Greek idiom”).

Against the Grammarians, Chapter X. Concerning Greek Idiom

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter X. Concerning Greek Idiom”

[176] That one must preserve with some care purity of speech is at once plain; for the man who is constantly using barbarisms and solecisms is jeered at as one of no culture, whereas he who speaks good Greek is capable of presenting his ideas both clearly and exactly. But now there are two distinct kinds of “hellenism”: one stands apart from our common usage and seems to proceed in accordance with grammatical analogy; the other conforms to the common usage of each of the Greeks and is derived from framing words [177] and from observation in ordinary converse. ‘or example, the man who forms from the nominative Ζε the oblique cases Zeds, Zeit, Zea, frames the declension in accordance with the first kind of “hellenism,” but he who simply says Ζην, Ζη, Ζῆ frames it in accordance with the second, the one more usual with us. Only, as two forms of “hellenism” exist, we declare, for the reasons already stated, that the second is of great use, but the first useless, for reasons now to be stated. [178] For just as in a city where a certain local coinage is current, he who makes use of this is able to carry on his business in that city without hindrances, but he who does not adopt it, but coins for himself some new money and desires to have this passed, is a fool, so also in ordinary intercourse the man who refuses to follow the of converse—like the coinage—which is usually adopted, and cuts out a new way of his own, is near to madness. [179] Wherefore, if the Grammarians promise to present us with an art described as “analogy,” by which they compel us to discourse in accordance with that kind of “hellenism,” one must point out that this art has no foundation, and that those who wish to discourse correctly must cleave to the non-technical, simple and ordinary style and to the observing of the rules which accord with the usage of the majority.

[180] If there does exist any art concerned with “hellenism,” it either has or has not principles upon which it is based. That it has none the Grammarians would deny, for every art must be based on some principle. But if it has some, the principles it has are either technical or non-technical. Jf they are technical, they certainly are constructed either from themselves or from another art, and that again from a third, and the third from a fourth, and so on to infinity, so that the art dealing with “hellenism” is found to have no beginning (or principle) and thus to be no art. [181] And if its principles are untechnical, none will be found other than common usage. Thus common usage becomes the criterion of what is “hellenic” and what is not “hellenic,” and not some other art concerning [182] “hellenism.”—Again, since some arts—such as statuary and painting—are really arts, but others which are claimed as arts—such as astrology and the art of the haruspex—are not wholly and truly arts, in order that we may learn whether the so-called art of “hellenism” is merely a profession or substantial power, it will be necessary for us to possess some criterion by which to test it. [183] Then this criterion, too, is either a technical one and deals with “hellenism”—since it is to test whether the art which judges “hellenism” judges soundly—or it is non-technical. But it will not be a technical one concerning “hellenism’ because of the regress ad infinitum already stated; and if the criterion is to be taken as non-technical, we shall find no other criterion than common usage. Common usage, then, as judging the art of “hellenism” itself, will not need art.

[184] But if it is not possible to speak good Greek otherwise than by learning good Greek from the Art of Grammar, either it is something evident and seen of itself or it is obscure. But it is not evident, since then it would have been agreed upon by all men, like all other evident things. [185] And besides, there is need of no art for the perception of what is evident, any more than for seeing the white object, tasting the sweet, or feeling the hot; but for speaking good Greek there is need, according to the Grammarians, of a certain method and art. Therefore, speaking good Greek [186] is not evident.—But if it is obscure, then again, since what is obscure is revealed by something else, we must either be guided by some natural criterion by means of which it is determined what is good Greek and what is not, or we must employ, in order to grasp it, either the habit of speech of one man, as being pre-eminent in “hellenism,” or that of all men. [187] But we possess no natural criterion regarding what is good Greek and what is not; for when the man of Attica uses τάριχ (“the dried fish”) as being good Greek, while the Peloponnesian enounces τάριχ as being correct, and the one speaks of στάμν (‘the jar’), the other of στάμν, the Grammarian possesses no criterion which is of itself reliable for deciding that one ought to speak in this way rather than in that way, unless indeed it be each man’s practice, and this is neither technical nor natural. [188] And if they shall declare that we must follow the customary practice of a certain person, they will declare this either by mere assertion or by employing methodical proofs. But to their assertion we shall reply by the counter-assertion that one ought to follow the many rather than the one; andif they try to prove methodically that this man speaks good Greek, they will be forced to say that that method by which this man has been proved to speak good Greek is the criterion, and not this man himself. [189] It remains, then, to hold fast by the common usage of all men. And if so, there is no need of analogy but of observing how most men converse and what they adopt as good Greek or avoid as not good.—However, good Greek exists either by nature or by convention. But it does not exist by nature,” since then the same phrase would never have seemed good Greek to some and not good Greek to [190] others; and if it exists by convention and human enactment, the man who speaks good Greek is he who is most practised and versed in common usage, and not he who understands analogy.—By another argument also it is possible to establish the fact that we do not require the Art of Grammar in order to speak good Greek. [191] In familiar intercourse ordinary people will either oppose us about certain phrases or will not oppose us. And if they oppose us, they will at once correct us, so that we have good Greek from those who live ordinary lives and not from the Grammarians. [192] And if they are not vexed but concur in the phrases we use as being clear and correct, we too shall abide by them.—Further, either all men, or most, or many converse in accordance with this “analogy” of theirs; but neither all, nor most, nor many do so; in fact hardly two or three are found to do so, and most men do not even know of it. [193] Since, then, we must necessarily follow the customary usage of the many and not that of the two, one must declare that the observing of the common usage is useful for speaking good Greek, and not analogy. Certainly, in the case of nearly all the things which are of use in » ordinary life, the fact that one is not hindered in “applying one’s needs i is a sufficient criterion. [194] Wherefae 6, if “hellenism has met with acceptance for two main reasons, its clear and agreeable presentation of the things described,“and following on these

qualities and externally joined to them is the employment of metaphor and emphasis and the other figures of speech,—we shall inquire by which of the two are these qualities better secured, by common usage or by analogy, so that we may adhere to it. [195] And we clearly see that they are better secured by common sage than by analogy. So then the former and not he latter must be employed. Now when the nominative case is Zeus the formations Ζην, Ζη, Ζή as the oblique cases,—and κυν, κν, κύ, from the nominative κύ (“dog” )—are clear and also appear to ordinary men unobjectionable; and these are the formations in common use. But to derive Ζε, Ζ, Ζ from the nominative Ζε, and from κύ to form κύων, κύω, κύω, or from the genitive κυν to claim that the nominative is κ, and in the case of the forms of verbs to speak of φερή and βλεπή, like ποιή and θελή, seems to be not only obscure but also deserving of ridicule and objectionable; and these are formations due to analogy. [196] So then, as I have said, we should not employ this, but common usage.

Perhaps they may shift their ground; but whether they wish it or not, they will be forced to employ customary usage and to dismiss analogy. Let us examine what they say by the method of pressing their own argument against themselves. [197] When it is asked whether one should say χρήσθ or χράσθ, they reply χράσθ, and on being asked for a proof of this, they assert that χρήσ and κτήσ are analogous; as then we say κτάσθ and do not say κτήσθ, so we shall say χράσθ and never χρήσθ. [198] But if one should press them further and ask how do we know that this word κτάσθ itself, from which we deduce χράσθ, is a correct form, they will reply that it is the form customarily used. And in so saying they will be granting that one should adopt common usage as the criterion and not analogy. [199] For if one ought to say χράσθ because κτάσθ is the customary form, we ought to give up the art of analogy and go back to customary usage upon which the former depends.

Now analogy, in fact, is the comparison of many similar nouns, and these nouns are taken from customary speech, so that the substance of analogy is derived from customary speech. [200] This being so, one must question them in this way: Either you accept customary usage as reliable for the distinguishing of “hellenism” or you reject it. If you accept it, the problem before us is settled of itself, and there is no need of analogy; but if you reject it, you reject analogy as well, since from it analogy derives its substance.—Again, it is absurd to admit a thing as trustworthy and to dismiss it as untrustworthy. [201] But the Grammarians, in their desire to reject common usage as untrustworthy and contrariwise to accept it as trustworthy, will cause the same thing to be at once trustworthy and untrustworthy. For in order to prove that we should not converse in accordance with common usage, they introduce analogy; but analogy is not made secure unless it has common usage to [202] support it; so by rejecting common usage by means of common usage, they will cause the same thing to be at once trustworthy and untrustworthy. Unless, indeed, they shall declare that they do not accept and reject simultaneously the same common usage, but reject one sort and accept another sort. And that is what is said by the School of Pindarion. Analogy, they say, confessedly sets out from common [203] usage; for it is the consideration of the like and the unlike, and the like and the unlike are derived from approved common usage, and the poetry of Homer is that which is approved and most ancient; for no poem older than his poetry has come down to us. Thus we shall converse following the usage of Homer. [204] But, in the first place, it is not agreed by all that Homer is the most ancient poet; for some say that Hesiod preceded him in time, Linos, too, and Orpheus and Musaeus and a host of others. And, in fact, it is probable that there were some poets before Homer and in his time (since he himself says somewhere “—Surely that song above all by men is most loudly applauded Which to their listening ears as the newest of songs resoundeth),

and that these poets were eclipsed by his own brilliance. [205] And even if it should be agreed that Homer is the most ancient, what Pindarion has asserted is not convincing. For just as we questioned before whether one should adopt common usage or analogy, so, too, now we shall be in doubt whether to adopt common usage or analogy; and if usage, is it to be that of Homer or that of all other men; and as to this Pindarion has said nothing. [206] Further, we should follow that usage above all the adoption of which will not bring ridicule upon us; but if we follow Homer’s, our Greek speech will not escape ridicule, when we say μάρτυρ (for μάρτυρ) ” and σπάρ λέλυντ (for σπάρ λέλυτ), and other things still more absurd. Neither, then, is this argument sound, besides the fact that our contention is conceded, namely, that analogy should not be used. [207] For what’s the odds whether we have recourse to the usage of the many or to that of Homer? For just as there is need of observation, but not of technical analogy, in the case of the usage of the many, so there is also in the case of that of Homer; for when we have observed how he is wont to speak, we ourselves too will converse in the [208] same way. 10 sum up, just as Homer himself made no use of analogy but followed the usage of the men of his age, so too will we by no means cleave to an analogous form which has the authority of Homer, but will conform our speech to the usage of the men of our own age.

[209] So it has just been concluded by the method of pressing the Grammarians’ arguments against themselves, that analogy is superfluous for “hellenism,” whereas the observance of common usage is serviceable; and this will, no doubt, be plain from their own assertions. [210] Thus in defining “barbarism” and “solecism” they say that “barbarism is a blunder in a single word contrary to common usage,’ and “solecism is a blunder contravening common usage in respect of the whole construction, and incoherent.” [211] To this we can at once reply, that if the “barbarism” is ina single word and the “solecism” in a combination of words, and it has been shown above that no simple word nor any combination of words exists, then neither “barbarism” nor “solecism” is anything. [212] Again, if the “barbarism” is perceived in one word and the “solecism” in a combination of words, but not in the underlying objects, how am wrong in saying οὗτ when 1 point to a woman, or att y when I point to a young man? For I have not committed a solecism, since I have not uttered a combination of many incongruous words, but only [213] the single word οὗτ or αὕ; nor have I been guilty of a barbarism, for the word οὗτ contains nothing contrary to common usage, as does the Alexandrians’ ἐλήλυθ and areAjAvOav.

However, it is possible to bring many such arguments against the Grammarians. [214] But lest we should seem to be sceptical about everything, returning to the original theme we shall assert that if a “barbarism” is a blunder contrary to common usage and observed in a single word, and likewise a “solecism” finds its existence in a number of words, and the word τράπε (for τράπε, “΄ ἃ table”) is a barbarism because it is contrary to common usage, and the sentence πολ περιπατήσ κοπ pov σκέ “is solecism because it is a construction not employed in common usage,—then, if so, it is conceded that the art of analogy is an empty name, useless for the avoidance of barbarisms or solecisms, and one ought to observe the rules of common speech, and converse in accordance therewith. [215] For if they were to change their ground and say simply that “barbarism” is a “blunder in a single word,” without adding “contrary to common usage,” and that “solecism is “ἃ blunder in respect of the whole construction and incoherent,” without the addition of “contravening common usage,” they will bring upon themselves a still worse consequence. For “in respect of the whole construction” they will have such “incoherent” sentences as these,—A@jvat κα πόλ, ᾿Ορέστ κα τραγῳδ, βου ot ἑξακόσι,” which they will have to term “᾿ solecisms,’ whereas they are not solecisms because in common use. [216] Hence, the solecism is not to be judged by grammatical concord alone but by common usage.

After our objection based on pressing their arguments and on their rules 5 it would be well also to put them to shame in respect of transition based on analogy. [217] For if they are observant of similarity, inasmuch as ε τ ῥῖ τύπτεσθ (“to be struck on the

” Termed “solecisms because (1) ᾿Αθῆν is plur. in” nose”) and ε τ γαστέ (“on the belly”) are analogous to ε ἀντικνήμι τύπτεσθ (“to be struck on the shin”), and this is expressed by ἀντικνημιάζε, we must also say by analogy γαστρίζε or μυκτηρί(ew. Other examples of the same rule are ἱππάξεσθ (“to be driven”) and κατακρημνίζεσθ (“to be thrown down headlong) and ἡλιάζεσθ (“to sun oneself“). But we do not employ these words since they are contrary to common usage. So, too, we do not use the forms κυή or φερή, or any of the other formations which by analogy ought to be [218] used, because they do not conform to the common usage. If, however, we declare that he talks the best Thracian who talks as is customary with the Thracians, and he the best Latin who talks as is customary with the Romans, then it will follow that he who talks as is customary with the Greeks is talking good Greek, if we are to follow customary usage and not an artificial system. [219] Thus by following common usage and not analogy we shall speak good Greek.—In general, too, analogy either agrees with common usage or disagrees. And if it agrees, then, firstly, since the latter is not a matter of art, so too the former will not be an art; for what agrees with the artless must certainly be artless itself—Further, what is Greek according to common usage will also be Greek according to analogy which agrees therewith, and the Greek commonly used will be of that kind. [220] This being so, we shall not need analogy for distinguishing good Greek, since for this purpose we possess common usage. If, on the other hand, analogy disagrees, then, since it introduces another usage beside the common,—that of barbarians, as it were,—it will be disapproved and, as causing offence, it will be completely useless.

[221] One may argue also from the structure of their Art. For after constructing certain universal rules they desire to judge by these all the particular words, as to whether they are good Greek or not; but this they are unable to do since it is not conceded to them that their “universal” is universal, nor yet that it retains its nature as universal when applied in detail. [222] To make this clear let us take an example from the Grammarians themselves. When an inquiry is made respecting one of the particular words, such as εὐμεν, as to whether one should form the genitive case without the o, and say εὐμενοῖ”, OF with the o, εὐμενο, the Grammarians come forward and propose a universal rule, and by this establish the point in question. T’or they assert that “every simple word ending in 7s and oxytone must necessarily be declined in the genitive with o, as for instance εὐφυ εὐφυο, εὐσεβ εὐσεβο, εὐκλε edxAeots. Hence, as εὐμεν, like these, is pronounced as oxytone, we must decline it in the genitive with o, and say εὐμενο. But our estimable friends failed to notice that, in the first place, he who claims to say εὐμεν will not grant them that their rule is universal: he will assert that this very word εὐμεν, which is a single word and oxytone, is not declined with a o; but they, by taking as settled the point in doubt, [224] “bee the question.”—Furthermore, if the rule is universal, they have constructed it either after surveying all the particular words and noting the analogy they present, or else not all of them. But they have not surveyed all of them, for they are infinite in number, and there is no knowledge of infinites. And if they have surveyed some, how do they know that every word is of a like kind? For that which is a property of some words is not a property of all. [225] But to this there are some who make an absurd reply, saying that the universal rule is based on the majority of cases. For they have failed to see that, firstly, what is “universal” is one thing and what holds good “for the most part” is another, and that which is universally true we never find false, but what is true “for the most part” is false [226] occasionally; nor, secondly, have they seen that even if the universal is composed of many, it is not always the case that the property of the many words: is necessarily the property of all words similarly formed, but just as in many other things nature produces some with a unique form,—as, for instance, the horned “cerastes” among the infinite number of serpents, and amongst quadrupeds the elephant furnished with a proboscis, and amongst fish the viviparous shark, and amongst stones the magnet which attracts iron,—so also it is reasonable that amongst the many words of similar declension there should exist a certain word which is not declined like the many words. [227] Hence, let us forgo any inquiry as to its analogy with the many and consider how it is treated by common usage, whether as analogous to the many or as a peculiar type; and whichever way it is treated, in that way we too will pronounce it.

The Grammarians, then, being chased around by various means, desire to reverse the Sceptics’ argument. [228] The usages of speech, they say, are many, there is one of the Athenians, another of the Lacedaemonians; and of the Athenians, again, the old usage is of one sort and the present usage of a different sort; and that of country folk is not the same as that of townspeople, so that Aristophanes the comic poet says,“—

Speaking like middle-class citizens all,
Not with the fop’s effeminate drawl,

Nor with the rusties’ vulgar bawl. [229] The usages, then, being many, which of them (they ask) are we to adopt? For it is not possible to follow them all, since they often conflict, nor yet some one of them, unless some one be preferred on grounds of art. But firstly, we shall reply, to inquire which usage should be adopted is equivalent to asserting the existence of an art of “hellenism.” And this art,—I mean ‘analogy,”—is the consideration of the similar and dissimilar’; and you take over the similar and dissimilar from common usage; and if it be a form in current use you employ it, otherwise you do not. [230] So we too shall inquire from which usage do you take over the similar and dissimilar. For usages are many and often conflicting. And the answer you give, in selfdefence, to this question is what you shall hear in turn from us. [231] And again, when you say that “barbarism” is a blunder in a single word contrary to common usage, we shall retort with the question, “Which of the many usages do you mean ἢ” and whichever you mention, that, we will say, is the one we too follow. [232] The doubt, then, being shared by us both, the solution we give of it isnot open to doubt. Of usages in speech some are found in the sciences, some in ordinary converse. Thus in philosophy and in medicine especially certain terms are in favour, and so too in music and geometry. And there is the plain untechnical usage of ordinary folk which differs from one State or Nation to another. [233] Hence, in philosophy we shall fall in with the usage of the philosophers, and in medicine with that proper to that science, and in ordinary intercourse with that which is more usual, free from affectation, and native to the district. [234] Consequently, when the same object is indicated by two names we shall try to suit ourselves to the persons present by employing the name which they do not laugh at, whatever the object’s natural name may be. For instance, the same object is called ἀρτοφόρι (“bread-basket”) and πανάρι or again σταμνί and ὀμίδι (“chamber-pot”), or ἴγδ and Ovia (“mortar”). But, aiming at propriety and clearness and the avoidance of ridicule from our serving lads and ordinary folk, we shall use the terms πανάρι (even if it is barbarous 4), not dprodopis, and σταμνί, not apis, and @via rather than ἴγδ. [235] And again, in serious discussion, having regard to the company present, we shall put aside commonplace phrases and pursue after a more refined and cultured manner of speech; for just as the cultured manner is ridiculed by ordinary folk, so is the ordinary manner by men of culture. Thus, by discreetly adapting our style to suit each occasion, we shall be held to be speaking Greek faultlessly.

[236] Moreover, when they charge common usage with being inconsistent and multiform, we too will make our charge against them on the same grounds. For if “analogy” is “the juxtaposition of the similar,” and the similar is taken from common usage, while common usage is inconsistent and variable, it must follow that analogy, too, has no invariable rules. [237] And one can show this in the case of nouns and verbs and participles and all the other forms without exception. For example, in the case of nouns, inasmuch as those which are analogous and similar in the nominative case are formed dissimilarly and not by analogy in the oblique cases,—for instance “Apys Χάρ χάρτ—“Apews Χάρητ χάρτ, and Μέμν Θέ λέ—- Μέμνον Θέων λέοντ. and Σκόπ μέλ “Αβ —- Σκό μέλαν ΓΑβαντ. [238] And in the case of verbs, many which are of similar formation in the present tense are not formed by analogy in the other tenses, and the conjugations of some are partly defective,—for instance, αὐλ ἀρέσκ—-ηὔληκ ἀρήρεκ. And the form κτείνετ is used, but not ἔκταν, and one may say ἀλήλιπτ, but not ἤλειπτ. In the case of participles we find βο σαρ νο—- βοῶντ σαροῦντ νοοῦντ: and in the case of substantives ἄν ἄβ— ἄνακτ ἄβακ, γρα vats—ypads νη. So too with similar cases. [239] Thus, ἄρχ is used both as a proper name and as meaning the holder of office, but the proper name becomes “Apywvos in the genitive case, whereas the participial becomes ἄρχοντ. And in like manner μέν, θέ, νέ, which are participial and also proper nouns, take different declensions; for the proper noun becomes Mévwvos but the participial μένοντ, and the proper noun Θέων but the participial θέοντ. [240] In short, it is evident from all this that, as common usage is inconsistent, the rules of analogy are not fixed, but we must necessarily depart from them and hold by the forms used in common speech, forsaking analogy.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter XI. Concerning Etymology

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter XI. Concerning Etymology”

[241] We must also use the same arguments against them when they propose to judge “hellenism by “etymology.” Once again, etymology either agrees or disagrees with common usage; and if it agrees it is superfluous, while if it disagrees one should not make use of it, as that would cause more offence than using barbarisms or solecisms. And in general one may transfer and apply counter-arguments similar to those already set forth. [242] But this special objection should be stated:—The word which is adjudged to be “hellenic” by etymology must either have the words which precede it as in all cases its etyma (or “true roots’), or be traced back to some word naturally pronounced. And if it is derived in all cases from etyma, since in this respect there is a regress ad infinitum, the etymology will be without a beginning, and we will not know whether the ultimate word is good Greek, seeing that we do not know the nature of the word from which it is first derived. [243] Thus, if the word λύχν (“lamp”) comes from λύε νύχ (“dissolving the darkness’), we ought to find out whether νύχ comes from a Greek word, and this in turn from another; and as the regress thus goes on ad infinitum and the word first pronounced is indiscoverable, therewith it is rendered impossible to ascertain whether λύχν is a good Greek word. [244] If, on the other hand, the word of which the etymology is sought should be traced back to some words which are without efyma (or “roots”), just as we shall admit the words from which they are derived not because they are etyma but because they are current in common usage, so also we shall admit the word judged to be

137 Greek by etymology not because of its etymology but because it is commonly used. προσκεφάλαι (“pillow”), for instance, is so named from being placed at the κεφα (“head”), but κεφα, and the πρ (“at”) which precedes, are words without elyma (“roots”). [245] So then, as these words are believed to be good Greek apart from etymology, since they are used in common speech, so too προσκεφάλαι will be believed apart from etymology.—Again, the same object is sometimes called by two names, the one admitting of etymology, the other void of etymology, but neither is the etymon said to be good Greek for this reason nor the non-etymon to be barbaric, but as the former is good Greek so also is the latter. [246] For example, that which is called by us ὑποπόδι (“foot-stool’) the Athenians and Coans call χελων: but ὑποπόδι is an etymon, whereas χελων is a non-etymon, yet the Athenians are not said on this account to be using a barbarism, and we to be speaking good Greek, but rather both are said to be speaking good Greek. [247] Since, then, they are said to be speaking good Greek not because the word they employ is an etymon but because it is in common use, so too we shall be speaking good Greek because the word we employ is current in our own customary speech and not because of our trust in etymology.

That the technical section of the Art of Grammar is without foundation has been proved sufficiently by what has now been said. Let us proceed in the next place to deal with the “historical” section.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter XII. Is the Historical Part Consistent?

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter XII. Is the Historical Part Consistent?”

[248] Now it is evident that “history” is regarded as entirely a division of the Art of Grammar. Tauriscus, at least, the disciple of Crates, like the other critics, in subordinating grammar to criticism, declares that of the critical art one part is literary, another [249] practical, and another historical; that which deals with language and the grammatical tropes is literary, that concerned with dialects and the distinctions of formations and characters is practical, and that which treats of readiness in handling unarranged material is historical. [250] And Dionysius the Thracian, in asserting: that there are six parts of grammar,—which we have described above “as three in all,—includes amongst them the historical; for he says that “the parts of grammar are skilled reading according to the seansion, explanation concerning the tropes which the poems contain, exposition of the phrases and histories, the discovery of etymologies, the reckoning of analogy, the judging of compositions,’—thus making absurd divisions and perhaps making out to be parts of grammar what are only certain results and particles of it, [251] and avowedly taking away from the art which treats of poets and composers the skilled reading and the explanation and the judgement of their compositions, and from the technical part etymology and analogy, in opposition to which he sets the historical part which consists of the exposition of phrases and histories. [252] And Asclepiades, after stating in his treatise on grammar that the primary parts of grammar are three, the technical, the historical and the grammatical (which has contact with both, I mean with the historical and the technical), subdivides the historical into three; for he says that “of history one division is true, one false, one as if true: the factual is true, that of fictions and legends is false, and as if true are such forms as comedy and mimes.” [253] And of true

bo history, again, there are three parts: one sort is that about the persons of gods and heroes and notable men, another about places and times, the third about actions. And of false history (that is, the legendary) there is, he says, one kind only, the genealogical. And he says, like Dionysius, that the section dealing with ‘ glosses” (rare or obsolete words) commonly comes under the head of the historical part; for it reports that κρήγυ means “true” or “good.” And so too the section about proverbs and definitions.

From all this it is plain that they wish the “historical” to be a part of the Art of Grammar. [254] Moreover, since the majority of them have agreed that it is non-technical and consists of unmethodical matter, they have relieved us from having to argue further against them; notwithstanding, in order not to pass over the topic and leave it unnoticed, we must argue with them in this wise -—Grammar either is or is not an art. And if it is not an art, the question before us is settled of itself. But if it is an art, since the parts of an art must certainly be technical, and it is agreed that the historical part is without method, the historical will not be a part of the Art of Grammar. [255] And it is almost self-evident that this is really so. For whereas, arguing from a general method and a technical faculty, the physician pronounces that this particular thing is healthy, this other diseased, and the musician that this is in harmony and that out of harmony,—in harmony because of this note, out of harmony because of that note,—it is not so with the Grammarian: he cannot declare, on the ground of any scientific and general consideration, that the shoulder of Pelops, after it was devoured by Ares or by Demeter, was of ivory and that Heracles’ héad became bald as his hair fell off when he was swallowed by the sea-monster which [256] was attacking Hesioné, but in order that he may record these events he must have met with all the particular historians of these events. But to repeat all the particular events by meeting the particular historians is not a technical method. Therefore the historical part is not methodically derived by the Grammarians from any art. Moreover, since one ‘ kind of history deals with places, another with times, another with persons and another with actions, it is plain that if the exposition of places and times is not technical, neither will that of persons and actions be technical; for what difference is there to make you prefer these rather than those? But, in fact, there is nothing technical about recounting a “history” of a place, as when we assert (shall we say?) that Brilesus, and Aracynthus too, is a mountain of Attica, and Acamas a headland of Cyprus; or about a statement of time, as that Xenophanes of Colophon was born in the fortieth Olympiad.” For even the man who is no Grammarian but otherwise occupied will be able to do this. [258] Neither, then, will the making announcements about persons and actions be technical, as for instance that Plato the philosopher was first called Aristocles and that, when a youth, he had an ear pierced and wore an earring, and that Pythias, the daughter of Aristotle, was married to three men, first to Nicanor of Stageira, a connexion of Aristotle, secondly to Procleus, a descendant of Damaratus the Lacedaemonians’ king (who had by her two sons, the Procleus and Damaratus who studied philosophy with Theophrastus), and thirdly to Metrodorus the physician, a disciple of Chrysippus “of Cnidos and teacher of Erasistratus, whose son was Aristotle.’ [259] For these stories and those like them, besides being perfectly useless, evince no technical faculty, so that the recital of histories too is void of art.—lFurthermore, as we have shown above, there is no technical knowledge either of things infinite or of things which vary from hour to hour. [260] But particular histories are both infinite, because of their great number, and without fixity, because the same facts are not recorded by all respecting the same person. For instance (for it is not out of place to use familiar and appropriate examples of the facts), the historians adopting a false assumption say that Asclepius, the founder of our science, was struck by lightning, and not content with this falsehood they invent many variations of [261] it, Stesichorus saying in Eriphylé that it was because he had raised up some of the men who had fallen at Thebes,—Polyanthus of Cyrené, in his work on the origin of the Asclepiades, that it was because he had cured the daughters of Proetus who had become mad owing to the wrath of Hera,—Panyasis,” that it was owing to his raising up the dead body of Tyndareés,—Staphylus, in his book about the Arcadians, that it was because he had healed Hippolytus when he was fleeing from Troezen, according to the reports handed down about him in the tragedies, [262] —Phylarchus, in his ninth book, that it was because he restored their sight to the blinded sons of Phineus, as a favour to their mother Cleopatra, the daughter of Erechtheus,—Telesarchus in his Argolicum, that it was because he set himself to raise up Orion. Thus, of an assumption which begins with a falsehood and is so multiform that it cannot be checked, and changes its shape at each man’s fancy, there can be no technical treatment.

[263] Moreover, since of the subjects of history one part is history, another legend, another fiction,—and_ of these history is the recording of certain things which are true and have happened, as that Alexander died at Babylon through having been poisoned by plotters; and fiction is the narrating things which are not real events but are similar to real events in the telling, such as the hypothetical situations in comedies and [264] mimes; and legend is the narrating of events which have never happened and are false, like the story that the species of venomous spiders and snakes were born alive from the blood of the Titans, and that Pegasus sprang from the head of the Gorgon when her throat was cut,’ and that the companions of Diomede were changed into sea-birds, Odysseus into [265] a horse, and Hecuba into a dog,—such then being the variety in histories, since there exists no art which deals with things false and unreal, and the legends and fictions, which form the main subjects of the historical part with which grammar is concerned, are false and unreal, it will follow that there exists no art which deals with the historical part of grammar. [266] Hence they deserve to be laughed at who assert that even if the subject-matter of history lacks method, yet the judging of it will be a matter of art, by means of which we ascertain what is falsely related and what truly. [267] For, firstly, the Grammarians have not furnished us with a criterion of true history, so that we might determine when it is true and when false. In the next place, as the Grammarians have no history that is true, the criterion of truth is also non-existent 5 for when one man says that Odysseus was killed in ignorance by his son Telegonus, and another that he breathed his last when a sea-gull dropped on his head the spike of a roach, and yet another that he was transformed into a horse, surely it is a hard task to try to discover the truth in such incoherent accounts. For we must establish first which of these dissentient narrators is telling the truth, and then inquire as [268] to the facts; but when all relate what is improbable and false no opening is given for a technical criterion.

Nor yet do the Grammarians instruct us as to how history should rightly be written, so that by a reference to such rules we might declare that with them the historical part is a technical one; for this is the task of the Rhetoricians. [269] So that, if even they themselves confess that history is a chronicle without method and we have confirmed this by logic, and if, moreover, they have provided no technical rule for understanding or constructing it, we must declare that as regards its historical part also the Art of Grammar is without foundation.

Against the Grammarians, Chapter XIII. The Part Dealing with Writers

Section titled “Against the Grammarians, Chapter XIII. The Part Dealing with Writers”

[270] The part of Grammar which deals with poets and prose-writers we have virtually abolished already by showing the impossibility of the technological part and of the historical; for without these no exposition of composition can proceed rightly. Nevertheless, we shall endeavour to examine also what can be said in a general way of this part, especially because the Grammarians are so confident about it that they dare to prove from it the practical usefulness of grammar and its necessity for happiness. They assert, at least, that poetry furnishes many aids to wisdom and a happy life, but without the light of grammar it is not possible to discern clearly what the poets’ sayings really mean; therefore grammar is useful. [271] And that poetry furnishes many aids to happiness is plain from the fact that the best and character-forming philosophy had its original roots in the gnomic sayings of the poets, and on this account the philosophers, when giving exhortations, always stamped, as it were, their injunctions with phrases from the poets. Thus one of them, in exhorting to virtue, says—

Yet virtue doth not perish though one die.” And another, enjoining us to flee coyetousness, proclaims—

Speak not of Wealth: I honour not a god
Whom e’en the basest makes his own with ease.”
What do men need save only these two things,
Earth’s corn and draughts of water from the spring?

These are to hand, our natural nutriment. [272] That the rest of the philosophers do this is not paradoxical, but we shall find even those accusers of grammar, Pyrrho and Epicurus, acknowledging its necessity. Of these it is recorded that Pyrrho was constantly reading Homer’s poetry, which he would never have done unless he knew that it was useful, [273] and that grammar therefore was necessary; and Epicurus has been detected as guilty of having filched the best of his dogmas from the poets. For he has been shown to have taken his definition of the intensity of pleasures,—that it is “the removal of everything painful,”—from this one verse—When they had now put aside all longing for drinking and eating.”

And as to death, that “it is nothing to us,” Epicharmus had already pointed this out to him when he said,—

To die or to be dead concerns me not. So, too, he stole the notion that dead bodies have no feeling from Homer, where he writes,’—Tis dumb clay that he beats with abuse in his violent fury. Moreover, it is evident that it is not only these things [274] which have been happily expressed by the poets, but also notions about the gods, such as that expressed by

Euripides in his Phrixus,—
Whoe’er of mortals, sinning day by day,
Deemeth the gods are blind to his misdeeds,
Thinks wrongly, and in thinking thus is caught

When Justice, haply, has some leisure time. But if these and similar sayings are useful, and are not apprehended without the Art of Grammar, then grammar too will be profitable for life. [275] And it will also contain, they say, some things which are especially necessary for the countries of those who learn it. Thus, when the Lebedians were quarrelling with their neighbours about Camandodus, the Grammarian won the victory by quoting from Hipponax “—

Mutter not to me

Of figs Lebedian from Camandodus. Also, by rendering those who attend to it sociable, in this way too it obviously becomes helpful to their neighbours in many circumstances. [276] The truth of this statement one can judge from the actual results. For when Sostratus, as they say, was sent to Antigonus by Ptolemy to make some request for the king, and the former gave a rather hasty reply, Sostratus gained his point by saying,—

Biddest thou thus, Earth-shaker, whose locks are the blue
of the sea-waves

Shall I bear unto Zeus this harsh and stubborn answer? Wilt thou not alter at all? Yet the minds of the good may

be altered.

For on hearing this Antigonus changed his mind.

[277] Seeing that many such arguments are used to prove that the part of grammar which deals with poets and prose-writers is most useful, let us content ourselves with the samples we have now set forth and reply to each one of them. Thus, the statement that the gnomic sayings of the poets are useful for life and the origin of philosophy, and that grammar is expository of them, is truly worthy of the Grammarians. [278] For, in the first place,—to concur with them in making no charge against poetry,—it is certainly plain that all the sayings in the poets which are found useful for life and necessary,—such as are those of a gnomic and hortatory character,—are expressed by them clearly and have no need of grammar; while all those which have need of it,—such as those which consist of foreign stories or are enigmatically expressed,—are useless; so that the usefulness of grammar both fails to accompany the benefit of the former sayings and spins round with the idle talk of the latter. [279] Secondly, the gnomic sentence is only an assertion, such as this,“—

For one wise head excels a hundred hands,

But crowd-clapp’d folly is a monstrous ill. But reason does not put trust in an assertion, as to whether it is rightly stated or not, but demands proofs. And proofs of fair statements or unfair are matters for philosophy and not for grammar; so that it turns out that in this respect also grammar is superfluous and idle.—Furthermore, if it is because of the many fine and profitable sayings of the poets that grammar, their interpreter, is useful, it will be useless when they utter sentiments, much more numerous than the former, of a perverse character and ruinous for practical life. For just as there is one who declares,?—

Speak not of Wealth; I honour not a god

Whom e’en the basest makes his own with ease; so there is another who asserts the opposite,

Hail, gold, thou boon most fair to mortal men!
For neither mother doth such joys provide
To men, nor children, no, nor father dear,
As thou, and whoso hold thee in their homes.” And again,—
Fare well! The luckless man finds friendship naught. And,—

Sweetest of music is the rich man’s voice. [280] However, as statements so contrary as these are made without proof, men are more prone to choose that which is worse, and for this reason poetry is openly seen to be injurious; and if they are being distinguished, and the one sort set aside and the other preferred, what is useful is not grammar but that which is capable of making the distinction, namely philosophy. Further, it is not the genuine philosophers who make use of testimonies from the poets (for with them the argument is sufficient of itself to carry conviction), but those who humbug the [281] vulgar crowd; for there is no difficulty in showing that the poets are at odds and sing to whatever tune they please, when even the leading philosophers make many conflicting statements. Of the accusers of grammar, Pyrrho used to unroll the poems of Homer one by one, and that not altogether for the reason stated, but possibly because of the pleasure they gave him, as if he were listening to a comedy, and perhaps with an eye to his poetic tropes and [282] characters; for Pyrrho himself, it is said, wrote a poem for Alexander of Macedon and was rewarded with thousands of gold pieces. And it is not unlikely that there were also other reasons which we have discussed in our Pyrrhonea. [283] And Epicurus did not take his definition of the intensity of pleasures from the Homeric poems. For there is a vast difference between saying that certain persons ceased from drinking and eating and satisfying their appetite (for that is the meaning of

When they had now put aside all longing for drinking
and eating’)

and saying that the definition of the intensities of pleasures is “the removal of the painful”; for this is the natural effect not of meats and wine only but also of the simplest foods. [284] Moreover, the poet made his statement about viands only, but Epicurus about all enjoyable things, amongst which is sexual intercourse, and all know what opinion Homer held about it. That “death is nothing to us” was said, no doubt, by Sophron, but was proved by Epicurus, and it is not the saying but the proving that is admirable. [285] Moreover, Epicurus did not assert that “death is nothing to us” in the sense that to be alive or not is a matter of indifference; for it is far preferable to be alive because the good belongs to the sentient; his meaning was that where sense is absent there is nothing evil or good.

And that dead bodies are devoid of sense is a fact known not only to the poet but also to all mankind. Thus, a mother in her frequent laments over her son cries—“But thou perceivest not these things, it is I that am in distress”; and as she gazes at him fixedly she cries—‘ What benefit from these things hast thou [286] still?” Nevertheless, if one searches he will find the poet holding the opposite opinion. For the souls commonly are thirsty for blood,—

Nay, keep away from the trench, from its blood averting
thy sharp sword,
So shall I drink my draught and announce to thee tidings
unerring.

And Tityos, because of his lust, has his liver eaten by vultures, and Tantalus stands in a lake,—

Against his chin was it dashing: Hard strove he in his thirst, but failed to catch any for

drinking.”

[287] Furthermore, as regards what is said by Euripides about the gods, ordinary folk too hold the same opinion. For the sentence “—

Whoe’er of mortals, sinning day by day,
Deemeth the gods are blind to his misdeeds,
Thinks evil thoughts and thinking thus is caught

When Justice, haply, has some leisure time—is matched by the sentence commonly quoted—The mills of God grind slowly, but they grind exceeding

small:

for the difference is only in the metre. [288] And if one investigates one will find that the sentiments of the poets are much worse than the notions of ordinary folk. Yet he who has been proclaimed the philosopher of the Stage seems still rather moderate when he says that he does not know to whom he is praying,—

Thou stay of earth, who hast on earth thy throne,
To see and know thee, who thou art, O Zeus,
Doth baffle wit! Art thou Necessity
Of Nature? Or mankind’s Intelligence?

Howbeit, I invoke thee.: [289] But Homer and Hesiod, according to Xenophanes of Colophon,?—

Tell full many a tale of the lawless deeds of immortals, Thieving and wenching and dealing deceitfully one with

another.

For Cronos, in whose time, they say, was the life of blessedness, castrated his father and swallowed his children; while Zeus, his son, after robbing him of his dominion,—

Under the earth he flung him and under the barren ocean, Far away, under the earth where the pit of destruction is

deepest.

[290] But Zeus’ own brethren conspire against Zeus, and so he is helped by Thetis,—

Whenas the other Olympians all were wishful to bind him, Hera along with Poseidon, with Pallas Athené to aid them. For he is most savage, and when he had hung up his sister and wife like a temple-robber, not satisfied with that he also reviles her, saying /—

Hast thou already forgot how from heav’n thou didst
hang, with two boulders

Tied to thy feet, and about thy hands a chain did I fasten Gold-wrought, not to be broken, and thou wast suspended _ heaven

High in the clouds; and the gods were enraged throughout lofty Olympus?

Crashed in Lemnos, and little of life was remaining within

And he treats his brother with contempt, as—: Having for dwelling Grim halls, dismal and dank, detested e’en by immortals.’ And in addition to his ruthlessness he is given to incontinence, for on beholding Hera finely decked out on Ida he cannot bear waiting to retire to their appointed chamber, but flings himself to the ground on the mountain and rolls over with his wife,—Grass, fresh grass, for their couch did the earth shoot

forth ever kindly,
Hyacinths, too, with the crocus, and lotus besprinkled with
dewdrops.

[292] The varied nature of poetry being thus exposed, grammar becomes useless since it cannot show us which parts of it we should believe as being true, and which we should disbelieve as mythical falsehoods.

[293] Still, they declare that the Art of Grammar is useful for the State, seeing that even for the Lebedians “a testimony from poetry was the cause of victory. But we reply that for the same reason the art of dancing is necessary since Sostratus, the dancer of Antiochus,—when the king had subjugated Priené,’ which was his homeland, and he was being forced at the banquet to dance “the liberty dance,” /—declared that it was not right for him to dance a “liberty-dance” while his country was enslaved; and because of this 7 Daneed at the Feast of “Eleutheria “ἢ (“Liberty”) held at Plataea in memory of the victory over the Persians. his city was set free. [294] Moreover, usefulness for the State is one thing, usefulness for ourselves another thing. Thus the arts of the cobbler and the coppersmith are necessary to the State, but it is not necessary for our happiness that we should become coppersmiths and cobblers. Hence, the Art of Grammar is not necessarily useful to us because it is useful to the State. For the art of conversation is not usually gained from grammar but from a general quickness of [295] wit,—unless, indeed, Demades, the orator, was a Grammarian, who (when he was captured along with many Athenians after the defeat at Chaeronea) said to Philip who was forcing him to join in a feast,—

Was there ever a man with a feeling for justice
Who in his heart could endure to share in eating and
drinking
ire he had freed his companions and seen them standing
before him

[296] Let thus much, then, be said in opposition to the arguments of the Grammarians; but before all it should be stated that if the poets only were useful for life, then perhaps grammar, as occupied with them, had been useful for life, but as it is, seeing that the poets are either useless or of little use, whereas the philosophers and the other prose-writers instruct us in things that are useful, we do not need grammar. [297] And the fact that the prose-writers rather than the poets show what is useful for life is easy to demonstrate. For the former aim at the truth, but the latter seek by every means to attract the soul, and the false attracts more than the true. They, therefore, who expressly pursue what is false must listen to [298] these rather than to those.—Further, to generalize, so far as regards the poets, grammar is not merely useless for life but even most injurious. For poetry is a stronghold of human passions, and as

To ancient men an ancient’s is the tongue most sweet. so too the love-maddened and the wine-bibbers are further inflamed by reading the poems of Alcaeus and Anacreon, while the irascible have for alptae (or “trainers”) in their vice Hipponax and Archilochus.

[299] Such, then, are the things said by the rest, and especially by the Epicureans, regarding this topic; but let us, without decrying poetry at all, set forth our counter-arguments against those who claim that there is an Art of Grammar capable of making distinctions in the statements of poets and prose-writers. [300] Now since every composition and every poem consists of indicating words and things indicated, it will be necessary for the Grammarian, if he possesses an art capable of discriminating among the things said by poets and prose-writers, to understand either the words only or the objects behind them or both. But that they do not understand the objects, even if we do not say so, is evident. For some of these are physical, some mathematical, some medical, some musical, and he who deals with the physical must of course be a physicist, he who deals with the musical a musician, and of course he who deals with the mathematical a mathematician, and similarly with the other sciences. That the Grammarian, however, is not simultaneously all-wise and skilled in every science is proved by the results of experience, besides being obvious of itself. [301] For how can any of the grave Grammarians comprehend Heracleitus or follow the meaning of Plato where he says,—‘ Between the Being which is indivisible and remains always the same and the Being which is divisible in bodies, He blended a third form of Being compounded of the twain, that is to say, out of the Same and the Other,” and the rest of the context, about which all the interpreters of Plato keep silence? Or how will he be able to deal with the dialectical investigations of Chrysippus or the mathematical of Archimedes and Eudoxus? [302] Moreover, as he is blind in respect of these things, so he is also in respect of the poems written about them, as when Empedocles says,—

Hail ye, but I as a deathless god, no longer a mortal,
Walk in your midst and am honoured by all. And again,—
Why do I urge these thing’s, as though it were some great
matter

If I do far surpass all mortals doomed to destruction? [303] For the Grammarian and the ordinary man_ will suppose that the philosopher gave utterance to these sayings out of boastfulness and contempt for the rest of mankind,—a thing alien to one who is even moderately versed in philosophy, not to speak of a man of such eminence. But the man who sets out from physical investigation knows clearly that the dogma “like is known by like” is nothing but an old one which is thought to have come down from Pythagoras and is found also in Plato’s Timaeus; and it was stated much earlier by Empedocles himself,—Verily earth by earth we behold, and water by water, Aether divine by aether, and fire the destructive by fire, Love, moreover, by love, and hate by dolorous hatred. Such a man will understand that Empedocles called himself a god because he alone had kept his mind free from evil and unmuddied and by means of the god within him apprehended the god without. [304] Again, when Aratus writes,?—

Far as the gleam of the ray from the eye doth reach in its
shining,

Full six times such a space would he intercept; of the spaces Each being equal in measure contains two signs of the

star-world,—

it is not the part of the Grammarian to conceive that when the length of the straight line extending from our eye to the sun-rise is taken, six times this length will measure out the circle of the zodiac, so that it cuts off two of its Signs; rather it is the part of the mathematician, who proves by geometry that the sixth part of the circle of the zodiac is formed by the straight line which extends to the sun-rise. Also, when Timon of [305] Phlius compares Pyrrho to the sun, where he says,—Thou, thou alone, art the guide of mankind, most like to

the Sun-god,

Who the whole earth surveys as he revolves in his course, Showing his globe well-turn’d, as a circle all-fiery and

flaming,—

he will seem to the Grammarians to be saying it by way of commendation and on account of the philosopher’s brilliance. But another man will ponder whether the statements made by the man of Phlius about Pyrrho do not conflict with the Sceptics’ doctrine, since the sun exposes things not previously seen by illuminating them with its light, whereas Pyrrho forces the things we have already perceived clearly to revert into obscurity. [306] Yet it is plain to him who considers it more philosophically that this is not the case, but that he is declaring that Pyrrho is suspending judgement like the sun, in so far as that god dims the vision of those who gaze at him intently, and the Sceptics’ argument likewise confuses the eye of the intellect in those who carefully attend to it, so that they fail to apprehend every one of the things postulated by the rash Dogmatists. [307] And if one has to discuss medical doctrine, one can show how an epithet thrown out by a poet often conveys a deep and scientific meaning, as for instance Homer’s βαθύσχοιν λεχεποί (“deep in rushes, with bed of erass”).© For it signifies what the Grammarian is unable to perceive,—namely that the seed of the rush (σχοῖν) is conducive to venery, as the poet gives the name of “bed” (λέχ) to sexual intercourse. [308] Another example is the saying in Euripides? about Deidameia, the daughter of Lycomedes,—Thy daughter’s ill and her condition’s dangerous. Because of what? What sort of plague doth hold her down? Is it a chill which thus torments her side with bile For he is inquiring whether she is suffering from pleurisy, since sufferers from pleurisy bring up bile when they cough. But none of these things is known to the Grammarian.

[309] However, it is perhaps superfluous to put the Grammarians to shame in respect of antiquated, or perhaps of scientific, diction when they are incapable of understanding even any chance epigram, such as that composed by Callimachus referring to Diodorus Cronos,?—

Lo and behold how the daws on the roof-tops tell us by
croaking

What things are conjoined, also how we shall live on. [310] For the fact that Cronos was a great dialectician and taught us how the logical validity of a hypothetical syllogism is to be judged, so that because of the influence of his doctrine even the daws on the houses, from hearing it constantly repeated, croak out his criterion of the valid “syllogism” (or “conjunction”),—all this the Grammarian might relate, and so far he will understand what is common knowledge even to children. [311] But when he comes to “also how we shall live on,’ he will be dumbfounded, through not detecting what is indicated. For it belongs to the philosopher to explain that it is a tenet of Diodorus that nothing moves.’ For that which moves, moves either in the place where it is or in the place where it is not; but neither the first nor the second (is true); therefore nothing moves. [312] And that nothing perishes follows from the fact that nothing moves. For just as nothing moves because a thing moves either in the place where it is or in the place where it is not, so too, since the living creature does not die either during the time in which it lives or during that in which it does not live, consequently it never dies. And if this is so, since we are ever-living, according to him, “we shall live on.”

[313] So then, the Grammarians do not understand the objects (behind the words). It only remains, then, that they understand the words. And that again is nonsense. I‘or, firstly, they have no technical means for getting to know terms. For it is not by any art, but by hearing it from others, that they have learnt that when the shepherds in Sophocles say “ia Puddjv” what they say is the Phrygian for βασιλ (“O king”). And there is no difference between interpreting a barbarous word and one which is obsolete, as they sound equally strange to us. [314] And, secondly, even this is impossible, as words are infinite in number and are constructed differently by different people, or applied to objects of which we have no knowledge. For instance, ἐβαρβάρι ὅλ, ἕλ ἔχ χει, where ἐβαρβάρι stands for ἐσύριξ (“piped’), for the Syrians are barbarians,

f pip ἢ

and ὅλ stands for π (“all”), π and ὅλ being synonyms, and ἕλκ ( sore”) for σύρι (“pipe” or “fistula”), for a fistula is a kind of sore. So the whole phrase amounts to this—éovipifev Hav, σύριγyas ἔχ χει ( Pan played the pipe, holding the pipes in his hand”). [315] Further, how do the Grammarians know some of the scientific terms, such as Aristotle’s ἐντελέχε (“entelechy”) or εἶν (“essence”)? Or how will they comprehend the meaning of the Sceptics’ formula οὐδ μᾶλλ (“no more”), whether it is interrogative or declaratory, and to what it refers,—whether to the external object or to our subjective feeling? [316] Or what will they say when a poem is composed of certain obscure expressions?

Under a twofold mountain a twofold lover did perish:

Destiny, nevertheless gave them a strange new form. Set in joints like a serpent’s the crooked limbs of the body

Turn’d and twisted around down to the joints of the
hips;
Dread to behold were the foxes beneath, lax Harmony’s
race-mates,

Down to the secret hold storing the ages to come.” [317] For who the ἐραστ (“lovers”) are, and the ὄ (“mountains”), and ἀσπιδό ἄρθρ (“serpent-like joint”), and τροχαντῆρ (“hip-joints”), and also ὅλμ (“trunk” of the body), and ἀλώπεκ (“foxes” =“loins”), and δοχα (“receptacle,” “storehouse”), and αἰ (“age,” “posterity’), and ἁρμον (“harmony”),—words used neither metaphorically nor as technical terms but in their proper sense, these the Grammarians will not understand though they ponder them ten thousand times.

[318] If, then, they know neither the objects nor the words, and the poem or the treatise is nothing beyond these, they will not possess an art capable of explaining what is said by the poets and prose-writers.—And further, if we have need of the Art of Grammar, we need it to deal with the best poems and not with the bad ones. But, according to them, the clear [319] poem is the best; for the excellence of a poem is its: clearness, and, for the Art of Grammar, want of clearness is bad. Thus grammar is not needed either in the case of the best poem, since it, being clear, requires no explanation, nor in the case of the [320] bad poem because it is obviously bad.—Also, that which is disputed without a decision is non-apprehensible; but the Grammarians, in their explanations regarding the writer’s meaning, still dispute without coming to a decision; the writer’s meaning, therefore, is non-apprehensible, and on this account grammar is useless.

Well then, let thus much be said in reply to those whose studies are based on this branch of learning; and, making a fresh start, let us also consider what we ought to say in reply to the Rhetoricians.

Book II — Against the Rhetoricians

Section titled “Book II — Against the Rhetoricians”

[1] Following on our discussion of the Art of Grammar we shall speak of the art of Rhetoric,—in itself a more manly art, and one which is for the most part tested in the Assembly and the Law-courts. But since the notion of a thing holds of it equally whether it be existent or non-existent, and it is impossible to investigate either of these states without having grasped beforehand what the object of investigation is, come and let us consider first what Rhetoric is by comparing the most notable accounts of it given by the philosophers.

Now Plato in the Gorgias,’ using his method of definition, seems to set forth a composite definition of Rhetoric such as this,—“Rhetoric is the creator of persuasion by means of words, having its efficacy in the words themselves, and being persuasive, not instructive”; and he added the phrase “by means of words” probably because there are many things which effect persuasion in men without speech, such as wealth and glory and pleasure and beauty. [3] Thus the elders of the folk (in the poet Homer), although exhausted by war and wholly estranged from Helen as the cause of their woes, are yet persuaded by her beauty, and at her approach they address one another in this wise,7—

Cause for anger is none that the Trojans and well-greav’d
Achaeans

Suffer for many a year sad woes for a woman so beauteous. [4] Phryné too, as they say, when Hypereides was pleading for her and she was on the point of being condemned, tore asunder her garments and with her breasts bare flung herself at the feet of the judges, and because of her beauty had more power to persuade her judges than the rhetoric of her advocate. The same, too, holds good of money and pleasure and glory; for we shall find each one of these so persuasive as often to make men overstep some of the moral duties. It was not without reason, then, that Plato, having regard to the persuasion they induce, declared that rhetoric is “the creator of persuasion,” not by any means you choose but “by means of words.” [5] It is not, however, always rhetoric when there is persuasion by words (for the art of medicine also and arts similar to it persuade by speech), but only if it is an art which has its efficacy dependent mainly on words alone, and that not like the rest, since geometry, too, and arithmetic and every art classed as theoretical depends for its efficacy mainly on words,—but whenever, in addition, it employs persuasion not in order to instruct, like geometry, but to induce belief; for that is the special mark of rhetoric.;

[6] But Xenocrates, the disciple of Plato, and the Stoic philosophers asserted that rhetoric is “the science of good speech”; though Xenocrates took the word “science” in one sense,—.e. in the old way, as a synonym for “art,”—whereas the Stoics took it in another, as meaning “the holding firm apprehensions,” which is inherent only in the Sage. But both parties assume that “speech” differs in sense from dialectical discussion, since speaking which is concise and consists in giving and receiving an account is the task of dialectic, but to speak on a given subject at length and with detailed exposition is the special characteristic of rhetoric. Hence, Zeno of Citium, when asked what is the difference between dialectic and rhetoric, clenched his fist and then opened it out and said, “This,”—comparing the compact and short character of dialectic to the clenching, and suggesting the breadth of the rhetorical style by the opening and extension of his fingers.“

[8] In the first of his books on The Art of Rhetoric Aristotle describes rhetoric more simply as “the art of speech.” And when it is objected against him that the art of Medicine also is the art of medical speech, some say by way of defence that the medical art directs its speech to another end, such as health, whereas rhetoric is precisely the art of words alone. [9] And Aristotle puts forward other definitions also, which it is unnecessary for us to mention as we are not primarily discussing the description of rhetoric, but only in so far as it enables us to perceive its special character with a view to the refutation we propose to take in hand. And a beginning of this may be made at once from the concepts already stated. For since those who offer a concept of rhetoric assert that it is an art, or a science, of speech, or productive of speech and persuasion, holding fast to these three descriptions we shall endeavour to show its unreality.

[10] Now every art is “a system composed of coexercised apprehensions directed to an end useful for life’ “; but, as we shall establish, rhetoric is not a system of apprehensions; therefore rhetoric does not exist. [11] For of things false there are no apprehensions, but what are said to be the rules of rhetoric are false, being such as these,—‘ The judges must be misled by persuasion in this way,” “One must excite anger or pity,” “One must plead the cause of the adulterer or temple-robber,’—rules which declare the duty of thus misleading the judges and exciting anger or pity; but these are not true and consequently are not apprehensible. So there are no apprehensions of them; whence it follows that [12] neither does rhetoric exist.—As, then, we would not say that burgling is an art which advises—This is the way one ought to burgle a house,” or thieving an art which instructs us that ‘ This is the right way to steal and to cut purses” (for these things are false, and neither duties nor rules), so we must not suppose that rhetoric has any technical foundation when it is based on such shaky injunctions. And in fact Critolaiis the Peripatetic, and Plato long before him, in consideration of this, condemned rhetoric as being [13] a base artifice rather than an art.—Moreover, since every art has an end which is either stable and fixed, like philosophy and grammar, or holds good for the most part, like medicine and piloting, rhetoric too, if it is an art, will have to profess one or other of these. [14] But it has not an end which is always stable (for it does not always avoid being worsted by the opponents, and sometimes the rhetor proposes one [15] end but finds the resultant end to be different); nor does it attain its end for the most part, since every rhetor, when his own experiences are compared, turns out to have been often defeated rather than victorious, because the opponent constantly rebuts his arguments. [16] Rhetoric, therefore, is not an art.—Also, if it is possible to become an orator without being acquainted with the art of rhetoric, there will be no art of rhetoric. But it is possible to make a speech quite successfully and well without having studied rhetoric, as we have been told in the case of Demades; for though he was a boatman, it is agreed that he became a very fine orator; and besides him there are numerous other instances. Hence, rhetoric is not an [17] art.—Moreover, if we do not believe that these men were such as we have described and that they attained to oratory by experience and by practice, yet still we may see many in our daily life who speak admirably in the law-courts and assemblies though they have no knowledge of the technical rules of rhetoric. [18] And conversely, if those who have studied closely and worked hard at the technique of rhetorical speech are incapable of making a speech at the law-courts and assembly, one must deny that rhetoric is a technical method. But in fact, as all the world knows, our lecturers, though they have studied the technology of rhetoric to the utmost point, are seen to be more mute than fishes in open court. [19] Thus none are orators by reason of art. Hence one may well laugh at them when, in defending themselves against this confutation, they assert that just as whetstones are not made to cut but by sharpening the knife enable it to cut, so also they themselves are incapable of making speeches through want of practice, yet they enable other men to do so by helping them to improve by means of art. For our fine gentlemen failed to notice the lack of similarity in this comparison, in that the whetstone is not of a nature to implant its own quality in the iron, whereas they profess, as their primary task, to convey to their neighbour the art which they themselves possess.

[20] And Critolaiis and the men of the Academy, including Cleitomachus and Charmidas, are wont to argue like this,—that the cities do not expel the arts knowing them to be extremely useful for life, just as we do not expel skilled domestics from our houses or cowmen from our herds, but all men in every quarter have hunted down rhetoric as most inimical; for example, the Cretan lawgiver forbade those who prided themselves on their oratory to land on his [21] island, and the Spartan Lycurgus, having become an: admirer of Thales the Cretan, introduced the same law for the Spartans; and for this reason, many years later, the Ephors punished on his return a young man who had studied rhetoric abroad, alleging as the cause of his condemnation that he practised a deceitful mode of speaking in order to lead Sparta astray. And the Spartans themselves continued to loathe rhetoric and to employ speech which is simple and short. Hence, too, the man whom they had elected by vote as ambassador to Tissaphernes in order to oppose the Athenians, while the Athenians were making long and complicated harangues, drew two lines on the ground with his staff, the one straight and short, the other long and crooked, and said “Choose, O king, Reprclionen of these two you please,” with a riddling reference in the long and crooked line to the claptraps of rhetoric, and in the line that was at once both short and straight to simple [23] and concise straightforwardness of speech; and to secure this they aim at speech void of superfluity not only amongst their own people but also amongst foreigners. And when the Chian ambassador made a request for the export of grain, they sent him away out of their assembly empty-handed because he made his request at great length; but when another man was sent who was more concise (for the Chians were hard pressed by necessity), they granted his request; for he held up before them an empt sack and said, “This needs barley-meal.” ΑἹ] the same, they censured this man, too, as a chatterbox; for the showing of the empty sack sufficiently indicated the petition of the Chians. [24] Hence, the tragic poet Ion was moved to say about them,—

The battlements of Sparta are not words;
But when the War-god strikes its host afresh,

The head doth plan and rule, the hand perform,—meaning that they are excellent in planning and detest rhetoric. Consequently, if the cities do not expel the arts but have expelled rhetoric, rhetoric will not be one of the arts. For to reverse the argument and allege that some of the Greek cities have also banished philosophers is stupid. For, firstly, they will not be able to furnish evidence for this, as do those who have come to the opposite conclusion in the case of rhetoric; and secondly, if indeed some of the cities did expel philosophy, they did not expel it all without exception but certain sects such as the Epicurean, as teaching pleasure, and the Socratic, as slighting the Divinity. But the cities mentioned above did not reject one sort of rhetoric and admit another but shunned it all without exception.

[26] In addition to what has been said, if rhetoric is an art at all, it will be of use either to its possessor or to the cities, like the rest of the arts; but it is not of use either to its possessor or to the cities, as we shall establish; therefore it is not an art. [27] Now to its possessor it is not useful, since, firstly, he is compelled—whether he wishes or not—to spend

his time at the assemblies and record offices, and to consort with knavish and double-dealing slanderers by going down to the same places as they; and, secondly, he has to be very sparing of modesty, lest he should seem to the more unscrupulous to be a [28] contemptible fellow; and he has to speak out boldly and thrust his audacity before him like a spear, so as to be terrible in the eyes of his opponents, and to be a cheat and a juggler and reared up amidst the worst kinds of conduct,—adulteries and thefts and acts of ingratitude towards parents,—so as to expose them, when necessary, in a practical way, or again to [29] becloud them; he must also have many enemies and hatred towards them all,—some because they have suffered retaliation, others because they are aware that it is the habit of one who has been hiring, when enticed by a larger fee, to treat themselves in the same way that he has treated others. [30] Besides all this, he must be engaged continually in contests and, like a pirate, now be fleeing and now pursuing, so that he is wearied and worried night and day by those in trouble, and has his life filled with tears and lamentations, as some are led away to prison and others to the whipping-post. Thus rhetoric is injurious to its possessor.

Furthermore, it is not useful to cities either. [31] For the laws are what bind cities together, and as the soul perishes when the body has perished, so the cities are destroyed when the laws are abolished. Hence, the theologian Orpheus“hints at their necessity when he says,—

There was a time when every man liy’d by devouring his
fellow
Cannibal-wise, and the stronger man did feast on the
weaker,

[32] (for when no law was in control each man maintained his right by force of hand, even as it is permitted to Fishes and beasts of the wild and the winged ravens and

vultures,
Each to devour the other, for justice exists not among
them),?

until God in his pity for their misery sent to them lawbearing goddesses, and men admired these for the way they stopped the lawless cannibalism more than for the way they civilized life by means of the fruits of the earth. [33] Hence, too, the shrewd Persians have a law that on the death of their king they must practise lawlessness for the next five days, not in order to be in a state of misery but in order to learn by experience how great an evil lawlessness is, inflicting, as it does, murders and rapine and things which are, if possible, worse,so that they may become more trusty guardians of their kings. [34] But rhetoric was brought to the front in opposition to the laws. A very strong proof of this is the fact that amongst the barbarians, amongst whom there is either no rhetoric at all or very little, the laws remain unmoyed, whereas amongst those who cultivate rhetoric they are altered daily, as is the [35] case with the Athenians, as Plato, the poet of the Old Comedy, affirms. For he says that if a man has been absent abroad for three months he no longer recognizes the city, but on his return (like walkers by night) he goes past the walls, as foreign couriers might do, since so far as regards the laws it is not the same city. [36] And that rhetoric is against the laws is already plain from the statements they make in their mal-artful arts. For at one time they advise us to attend to the ordinance and words of the lawgiver as being clear and needing no explanation, at another time they turn round and advise us to follow neither [37] the ordinance nor the words but the intention; for he who proposes to punish the man who holds an iron instrument over anyone does not propose to punish the man who holds it over him in any and every way, (as, for example, one might hold a ring), or of whatever form if may be (a needle, for instance), but, if we inquire closely as to his intention, it is his desire to take vengeance on the man who has dared to commit murder. [38] And sometimes they bid us cut out bits as we read the laws, and construct a different sense from what remains. Often, too, they make distinctions in ambiguous phrases and support the signification which suits themselves; and they do thousands of other things which tend to the upsetting of the laws. Hence also, the Byzantine orator, when asked “How goes the Byzantians’ law?”, replied “As I choose.” [39] For just as jugglers deceive the eyes of the beholders by their sleight of hand, so the orators by their low cunning blind the minds of the judges to the law and so steal away the votes. [40] Moreover, no one except the orators has dared to publish decrees of a kind contrary to the laws. Yet Demosthenes by his loud shouting and talking marvels snatched away the law which indicted Ctesiphon. Hence Aeschines says—“An evil custom has entered the law-courst; for the accuser defends himself, while the defendant acts as accuser, and the jurors are obliged to cast their votes concerning matters of which they are not judges.” But if 41 rhetoric is against the laws, it is not only of no use but actually harmful.—Furthermore, even the demagogic orators do not come forward for the good of the cities, but the demagogue bears to the statesman the relation which the druggist bears to the physician. [42] For he depraves the crowd by his doctrines, using flattering words, and sets them against the better class by his slanders. By word and in seeming he promises to do everything for the public benefit, but in reality he provides nourishment from no wholesome source, like nurses who offer the babes a morsel of the pap and then swallow the whole themselves. ning it down, so that, if it is useful neither to its possessor nor to his neighbours, it will not be an art. But in reply to all this some assert that as there are two forms of rhetoric, the one refined and in use among the wise, the other in use among inferior people, the accusation is not made against the refined kind but against that of the baser class. [44] Some of them, too, use illustrations: Just as the pancratiast who beats his father is a father-beater not because of his pancratiastic art but because of his bad morals, so the man who has practised rhetoric and then used it against his country and its laws, does so not because of rhetoric but because of his own wickedness. [45] But the first group of these apologists fail to notice that, against their will, they have granted the nullity of rhetoric; for since the wise man is never, or at least rarely, found, it must follow that the rhetoric in use among the wise is likewise either non-existent or rare. [46] And in reply to the second group one must say that their example is not on a par with the matter now in question, for while athleticism does not suggest the employment of it for mischief, such as fatherbeating, rhetoric declares this to be its main task,—how, for instance, we are to make small things great and great things small, or how just things may be made to appear unjust, and the unjust just. [47] And in general, as rhetoric consists of opposite statements, one cannot say that the refined speaker is an orator, but the unrefined no longer an orator. For the orator, of whatever sort he may be, must certainly practise himself in contradictory speeches, and injustice is inherent in contradictions; therefore every orator, being an advocate of injustice, is unjust.

[48] From all this it is plain that we must not call rhetoric an art; and in the next place let us infer its unreality from the matter with which it deals. The sum of our argument, in fact, has been given already in our treatise Against the Grammarians, for if rhetoric has to do with speech, but, as we have shown, neither the word is anything nor the speech composed of words, then, as that object whose parts do not exist is non-existent, it will follow that rhetoric also is non-existent. [49] None the less, we must affirm, firstly, that if rhetoric deals with speech it is not necessarily technical, but only if the speech be beneficial. For just as in the case of drugs, which differ in quality, some being deadly, others salutary, the skill which busies itself with the deadly ones is neither the art of medicine nor any art at all, whereas that which deals with the salutary drugs is both an art and useful for life, so also in the case of speeches, of which some are beneficial, others harmful, if rhetoric is not concerned with the beneficial but with the harmful, besides not being an art it will also be a mischievous artifice. And, in fact, we have already established that it masks itself in most harmful speech; so it is not an art.—Moreover, if sycophancy and mob-courting practise speaking but are not arts, it is evident that rhetoric, when examined, will not be an art by reason of the mere fact that it has gained by practice ability in speaking. But, in fact, sycophancy and mobcourting practise speaking and are not arts; neither, then, is rhetoric an art.—In addition to what has been said, speech is not a property confined to rhetoric but is common to every branch of learning which uses words; for the art of medicine speaks well concerning its own principles, and that of music concerning those of music. Hence, as none of these is rhetoric in virtue of its speech, neither is the subject of our inquiry.

And, to speak succinctly, rhetoric does not create good speech. For it does not suggest to us the technical rules for it, as for instance that the man who uses good speech is, firstly, he who does not pervert the language in common use (as we have pointed out in our book Against the Grammarians),” and secondly, he who is securely master of the subject in mind; for if the subjects are not understood, the language wanders off the point, and so, in view of this, we say that every man is a good orator about his own pursuits. [53] Besides this, the person who has carefully considered which of the words are employed according to common usage, and which have their source in (personal) opinion, attributes its due to each. Thus “a bath” is called ἀνδρεῖ according to common usage from the fact that it washes ἄνδρ (men)—, but when we say that the rich man is “blessed,” or that death is “an evil,” these descriptions have their source in opinion; for that death is one of the evils and wealth one of the goods is non-evident and a matter of opinion. He; too, will make a good use of language who has grasped the reason w hy we substitute one word for another, whether in order to avoid straightforward speech, when the straightforward word causes offence, or in order to make a thing clear, as when we substitute “agent > forse, causes. Olas 1D dication” for “β. Now if, as I said, any tech-: nical rules on these matters were observed by the orators, they might possibly have derived from rhetoric fine speaking and refined phraseology. But as it is, seeing that they do not touch this subject, or if they touch it it is not because of rhetoric, one must declare that fine speech is not peculiar to rhetoric.—Again, language of itself is neither good nor bad. A proof of this is the fact that the same language which offends us when spoken by a cultivated and solemn person does not offend us in the least when spoken by the jester cracking jokes. Hence, when the orator is said to be capable of framing fine speech, it is either for the reason that he frames speech which expresses profitable things, or speech which is a form of good Greek, or speech which indicates objects clearly, concisely and competently. But it is not for the: reason that his speech indicates things of profit; for orators know nothing about those things. Nor is it because his speech is a form of good Greek; for this is also shared by those who keep to customary usage and the liberal arts. Nor is it because his speech indicates objects clearly, concisely and competently; on the contrary, in their desire to give out their wellrounded periods and concluding clauses, and not to let vowel collide with vowel, and to avoid similar sentence-endings, they preclude themselves from expounding things at once clearly and concisely. Therefore it does not belong to rhetoric to produce fine phrasing and good speaking. And, this being granted, no one will choose a style such as theirs, and that because, firstly, it does not fit in with the common practice; for none of us talks as do the orators in the law-courts, since he would be jeered at. And they themselves, when they come away from their business and the trial, always use another mode of expression towards their companions. [59] And secondly, talking in a studied and oratorical manner gives offence, as I have said. And one may transfer what has been said already against the Grammarians who rely on analogy,” and affirm that if we wish to speak well we should pay attention to common usage rather than to any superfluous art.

[60] For the present let us pass on and base our objections on the “end ” of rhetoric. So we must state, once again, that if there is no “end” of rhetoric, rhetoric is nothing, because every technical activity has reference to some end. But, as we shall show, rhetoric has no end; therefore rhetoric is not an art. [61] Now most clever people suppose that the ultimate task of rhetoric is persuasion. For Plato, with an eye to this, has said that it is “the ability to persuade by means of speech,” and Xenocrates that it is “the creator of persuasion,’ and Aristotle that it is “the ability to discern the credible which is possible.” Ariston, also, the friend of Critolatis, declares that the professed aim of rhetoric is persuasion, and its end the securing persuasion. [62] And Hermagoras used to say that the task of the perfect orator is to settle the political question proposed as persuasively as possible. And Athenaeus calls rhetoric a power of speech which aims at the persuasion of the audience; and Isoerates asserts that orators pursue nothing else than the science of persuasion. [63] Hence, we too, following in their steps, affirm straightaway that the term “credible” (or “probable”) is used in three senses,‘—in one sense of that which is plainly true and which, by implanting an impression of truth, draws us on to assent; in another sense of that which is false, but which, by implanting an impression of truth, draws us on to assent (and this the orators are accustomed to call “likely,” from the fact that it is like the truth); and in a third sense of that which shares in truth and falsehood alike. [64] ‘The term “credible,” then, being used in all these ways, it is proper to ask the orators in respect of which of these “credibles” do they suppose that rhetoric aims at persuasion, and to which of them do they claim that it addresses itself as an art,—is it to the obviously true, or to the false which is like the true, or to that which contains both together? [65] But it cannot possibly be to the obviously true; for this persuades of itself and draws us to assent, so that persuasion regarding it produced by rhetoric is superfluous. And just as we need no art to be persuaded that “now it is day” or that “now I am talking,” these being obvious and self-evident facts, so too there is no need of rhetoric to make us assent to the fact that the murderer taken [66] in the act is a murderer.—And besides, if rhetoric has for its object the obviously true, in so far as it is credible, it will certainly be also concerned with the incredible; for these two are conceived as being relative the one to the other, and for the same reason that he who comprehends “left” necessarily conceives also that of which it is “left,’ he who discerns the “credible *’ which is true possesses knowledge also of the “incredible,” from the fact of its not being of the same character. [67] Since, then, everything true, of whatsoever sort it be, is either credible or incredible, it will follow that rhetoric is concerned with everything true. But from its concern with everything true will follow its concern with everything false as well; since, for the reason that he who can discern the credible will necessarily be able to discern also the incredible, for the same reason he who has knowledge of everything true will also perceive therewith everything of the contrary sort, that is to say, false. And if this is so, rhetoric will be the knowledge of things true and false. But this is certainly not so; hence, rhetoric has not the [68] self-evidently true for its object.—Moreoyer, it professes

to advocate opposite causes, but opposites are not (both) true; therefore rhetoric does not aim at the true.—Nor yet at the false; for no art of the false exists, but it is necessary that rhetoric, if it pursues this, must either not be an art or be an evil technique, besides being confronted again with the same difficulties. [69] For if it is concerned with the credible falsehood, it will certainly know also the incredible. Since, then, every falsehood is either credible or incredible, it will be the knowledge of everything false and therefore also of everything true, so that it does not differ from dialectic; and this is in many ways absurd. [70] If, however, it advocates opposites, and opposites are not (both) false, it will not have the false for its object.—Further, if the “likely” is that which furnishes the most numerous grounds for supposing it to be true, and its opposite, the “improbable,” that which furnishes few and rare grounds for supposing it to be true, then rhetoric, since it argues both ways, certainly aims at [71] the “likely” no more than at its opposite—wNor again does it pursue after that which shares in both truth and falsehood; for this implies falsehood. And that an art should employ falsehoods is absurd, besides the fact that—according to our previous demonstration—it becomes in consequence the science of things true and false, which is not the case. But if rhetoric cannot have for its object either the true or the false or that which includes both, and besides these there is no other “credible,” then persuasion will not belong to rhetoric.

[72] These, then, are the objections which we deem it proper to use against the Orators, but others are accustomed to adduce those which shall now be stated, and which anyone who likes will be able to use. They argue thus: Rhetoric either is or is not an art; and if it is not, let us not seek for its “end”; but if it is, how can it have an end which is shared by the non-rhetorician? For it is in the power of many to persuade by means of wealth or beauty or glory, as we previously indicated.’—Moreover, often, when the speeches have been made and the judges in consequence persuaded of the facts, the Orators, none the less, wait on in expectation of gaining some further end, and as they wait they entreat. The end of rhetoric, therefore, is not persuasion but, if anything, that which follows after it.—[74] Again, rhetorical speech is opposed to persuasion. For, firstly, it is superabundant, and most people [75] are offended by its superabundance; and secondly, speech which lacks clarity is not persuasive, but the speech of the Orators, which consists of periods and enthymemes, is inferior in clarity. Therefore the speech derived from rhetoric is not [76] persuasive.—Further, the speech which arouses goodwill in the judges is that which is persuasive; but what arouses goodwill is not the rhetorical speech but that which is simple and reflects the ordinary style. For to the style of the Orator all those who detest airs of superiority are opposed. Vor even if the Orator maintains what is just, they imagine that unjust things seem to them just, not because of the real nature of the things but because of the trickery of the orator. [77] But with the common man’s speech everyone sympathizes, feeling its weakness, and attributes greater justice to that which is less Just because it is maintained by a plain and ordinary person. And for this reason the Athenians, in olden days, were not allowed to have an advocate to support those on trial at the court of the Areopagus, but each man, to the best of his ability, made a speech in his own defence without trickery or verbal jugglery. [78] Moreover, if the Orators believed their own statement that they possess a power of persuasion, they ought not to excite pity or lamentation or indignation, or other feelings of that sort—things which do not persuade at all but pervert the minds of the judges and obscure justice.

Thus it has been shown that the “end” of [79] rhetoric cannot be persuasion; and some say that its end is not this but the discovery of appropriate words; others, that it is to implant in the judges an opinion about the facts such as the speakers wish; others, that it is the advantageous: and some that it is victory. [80] In reply to the first of these we must say that if rhetoric professes to discover words pertinent to the assumptions, it professes to speak either true or possible words. But not such as are true; for they must possess a standard and criterion for distinguishing the true and the false, and that they do not possess; nor yet such as it is possible to speak; for not knowing the true words, neither will they know those which it is possible to speak. [81] Therefore it does not belong to rhetoric to discover words which are pertinent and possible.—Again, rhetoric is nothing else than the discovery of appropriate words; accordingly, he who states this “end” is virtually stating that rhetoric [82] is the end of rhetoric.—Also, that for the sake of which the orator declares that he does everything will be his end; but the orator does not do everything for the sake of the appropriate arguments, but for the sake of that which follows after the arguments; [83] the former, then, will not be his end.—Moreover, the end which the orator needs to attain is that which the private person who hired him also needs; but the private person is not eager to attain the discovery of appropriate words, but something else; this latter, then, and not the discovery of appropriate words, will [84] be the end.—I’urthermore, neither will the end be the implanting in the judges such an opinion regarding the case as the speakers desire; for this does not differ from persuasion, since he that has persuaded has implanted in the judges such an opinion regarding the case as he himself desires. But we have shown? that persuasion is not the end of rhetoric; neither, [85] then, is implanting an opinion.—Nor, again, is “the advantageous, as some have assumed; for that which is the end of a part will not be the end of the whole; but the Orators say that “the advantageous” is the end of the deliberative part of rhetoric; therefore it is not the end of rhetoric as a whole.—Also, that which is the common end of all Art will not be the end of rhetoric alone; but “the advantageous” is the end of all art in our experience; therefore there is no end peculiar to [86] rhetoric.—It remains, then, to say that “victory” is its end; but this again is impossible. For he who often fails to attain the end of the Art of Grammar will not be a grammarian, and he who often fails to attain the end of the Art of Music will not be a musician. So also he who fails often to attain the end of the Art of Rhetoric will not be an orator. [87] But the orator is more often loser than victor, and the more so the more capable he is, as those who have an unjust case join in flocking to him. Therefore the orator is not an orator.—Also, he who fails to attain the end of rhetoric will not be praised; but we sometimes praise an orator when defeated; “victory,” then, is not the end of rhetoric.

[88] Consequently, if rhetoric has neither a subject-matter © which it treats technically nor an end to which it is directed,’ rhetoric will not exist; but, as we have established, it has neither subject-matter nor end; therefore rhetoric does not exist.

One may also raise difficulties for them based on the parts of rhetoric. The parts of rhetoric, they say, are “the juridical, the deliberative and the laudatory,” and of these “the juridical” has justice for its end, “τ deliberative has the advantageous, and “the laudatory” has the noble. But this is at once open to doubt. [90] For if the juridical purpose is one thing, and the deliberative another, and the laudatory something different, certainly the end of the juridical will not also be the end of the deliberative, and the end of the latter will not be that of the laudatory, and vice versa. Since, then, the end of the deliberative is the advantageous, this will not be the end of the juridical. But the end of the juridical is the just; therefore the just is not [91] advantageous.—And again, just as these parts differ, so also the ends will differ; and therefore, inasmuch as the end of the laudatory is the noble and that of the juridical the just, it is possible for the noble not to be just and the just not to be noble; which is [92] absurd.—Moreover, if persuasion is the end of rhetoric _as a whole, but the just of the juridical part, and the advantageous of the deliberative, and the noble of the laudatory, then certainly the just is not persuasive, nor is the advantageous, nor the noble; and this conflicts with the notion that rhetoric aims wholly at persuasion.

[93] Furthermore, in the case of the juridical part, rhetoric will draw the jurors towards its end either by just speeches only or by unjust as well as by just speeches. But if it is by just speeches only, it will be virtue; but what aims at the persuasion of the crowd is not virtue, for it contains much that is rash and misleading; it is not, therefore, of a nature to lead the hearers to its end by just speeches only.—Moreover, if it always pursues justice, no

contrary argument will be forthcoming, and when there exists no contrary speech neither will rhetoric exist, so that on this showing, too, it will not use just speeches only.—Nor, again, w will it use unjust speeches, for if so it will be aint and as the contrary speech is again non-existent, it will be non-existent. It remains, then, to say that it proceeds by means of both. But this is far more absurd than ‘the former suppositions; for it will be at once virtue and vice, which is a thing impossible. One must, then, deny that there is a juridical part of rhetoric which has justice for its end.

[95] In addition to what has been said, if the orator proposes to explain to the judges what is just by the juridical part of rhetoric, the justice which he explains is either evident of itself and agreed or it is disputable. But they will not say that it is evident; for about this no rhetorical speech is composed, since itis undisputed. [96] It remains, then, to say that it is disputable. But this again is open to doubt. For those who argue on opposite sides are so far from settling the dispute that they even intensify it by their contradictions and befog the minds of the. judges. And there is evidence for this in the story commonly told about [97] Corax. A young man seized with a desire for rhetoric went to him and promised that he would pay him the fee he would charge, if he should win his first case. And when the compact was made, and the youth was now displaying sufficient skill, Corax demanded his fee, but the other said “No.’ Both then repaired to the court and had the case tried; and then, it is said, Corax first used an argument of this kind,—that whether he won the case or lost it he ought to receive the fee; if he won, because he had won, and if he lost, in accordance with the terms of the compact; for his opponent had agreed to pay him the fee if he won his first case, so that if he did win it he was thereby bound to discharge the debt. [98] And after the judges had applauded him for speaking justly the young man in turn began his speech and used the same argument, altering nothing: “Whether I win,” he says, “ο whether I am beaten, I am not bound to pay Corax the fee; if I win, because I have won; and if I lose, in accordance with the terms of the compact; for I promised to pay the fee if I should win my first [99] case, but if I should lose I shall not pay.” The judges then, thrown into a state of suspense and perplexity owing to the equipollence of the rhetorical arguments, drove them both out of the court, crying “A bad egg from a bad crow!”

[100] ‘To save a long account we may say that the argument concerning “the deliberative” part will be similar to that concerning the juridical. As to the “laudatory,” or eulogistic, part, besides being subject to the same doubts, it is also lacking in method. [101] For since not all men wish to be euvlogized, nor on the same grounds, he who is going to eulogize well must know the disposition of the person who is being eulogized; but not every emotion in one man is perceptible by another. Moreover, the Orators have not furnished us with any method whereby we may know when and whom we ought to eulogize; it is impossible, therefore, to eulogize properly by means [102] of rhetoric.—Also, the orator will eulogize on account of things that are not good but seem so, or else on account of things which are really good. But he does not do so either on account of things which are not good,—for then he is further corrupting the persons eulogized,—or on account of those which are; for of these he is ignorant, since even for philosophers they are non-apprehensible owing to the unsettled controversy about them. Therefore the Orator is not able [103] to eulogize anyone.—Also, those who do not know on what account one should eulogize are unable to eulogize; but the Orators do not know on what account one ought to eulogize, as we shall demonstrate; hence they will not be able to eulogize. For they assert that one should eulogize on the ground of birth and beauty and wealth and abundance of children, and the like; and conversely one should blame on the ground of low birth and ugliness and poverty. [104] But this is silly; for we ought to attract praise and blame from things inherent in ourselves, but noble birth and good fortune and beauty and abundance of children and things of that sort are not inherent in ourselves, so that we should not be praised on account of them; for, to be sure, if we are to praise unconditionally noble birth and abundance of children and everything of that kind, we must praise those slayers of guests, Busiris“and Amycus and Antaeus, because they were sons of Poseidon, and also praise Niobé because she abounded in children. [105] Conversely, if ugliness and penury are to be blamed, Odysseus is to be blamed because he took the form of a beggar when

He entered the foemen’s city, and Perseus, the son of Zeus, is to be blamed because he walked through waterless Libya with a wallet hung round him, and Heracles because he took with him on his labours a lion’s skin and a club. [106] To speak briefly, then, let it be granted that these are the parts of rhetoric. But since the fact that the just is just and that the advantageous is advantageous and that the noble is noble is established by proof, and proof is nothing, neither will rhetoric, which is composed of these parts, be anything. That proof is nothing is shown more precisely in our Notes on Scepticism, and we shall now establish it more by way of a note or reminder. [107] If speech is nothing, neither does proof exist, being a kind of speech; but speech is nothing, as we have established,” because it subsists neither in utterance nor in incorporeal /ehta; [108] therefore proof does not exist.—Further, if it exists it is either evident or non-evident. But it is not evident; for it contains something non-evident, and because of this is disputable, as everything in dispute is non-evident. [109] It remains then to say that it is non-evident. But if so, it will be perceived either of itself or after proof. But it isnot perceptible of itself (for it is non-evident, and the non-evident, if perceived of itself, is not to be trusted), nor after proof, because of the regress ad infinitum; therefore no proof exists.— [110] Further, as generic proof 7 does not exist, no specific proof will exist, just as if “animal” does not exist neither does “man” exist; but generic proof does not exist, as we shall establish; so no other, specific, proof will exist. For since it is non-evident, as we previously argued, it must be confirmed by something. By what then? Hither by a generic or by a specific proof. [111] Not by a specific, since the existence of the generic is as yet unconfirmed; nor yet by a generic; for that is the matter in dispute. So then, no generic proof exists. From this it follows that neither does the specific proof exist.—And besides, if the generic proof has premisses and a conclusion it is not generic, and if it does not it will not prove anything, and what is much worse, it will not even prove [112] its own existence.—Also, the proof which confirms the proof is either questioned or unquestioned. But, for the reasons stated above, it will not be unquestioned, and if questioned it must be proved by another proof, and this again by another, and so on ad infinitum. Therefore no proof exists.

[113] So, now that we have refuted the main doctrines of Rhetoric, let us make a fresh start and deal with the objections to be raised against the Geometers and the Arithmeticians.

Book III — Against the Geometers

Section titled “Book III — Against the Geometers”

[1] Since the Geometers, perceiving the multitude of difficulties which beset them, take refuge in a method which seems to be free from danger and safe, namely, to beg by “hypothesis” the principles of geometry, it will be well for us, too, to begin our attack against them with the argument about “hypothesis.” [2] For Timon, in his book Against the Physicists, assumed that one ought to raise this question first of all, 1 mean, whether anything should be accepted from “hypothesis.” Hence it is proper for us, in conformity with him, to do likewise in our treatise against these Mathematicians. [3] And, for the sake of due order, one must premise that the word “hypotheses” is used in a number of different senses; but it will be enough now to mention three: in one sense it means the peripeteia (or “argument” or “plot”) of a drama, as we say that there is a tragic or a comic “hypothesis,” and certain “hypotheses” of Dicaearchus of the stories of Euripides and Sophocles, meaning by “hypothesis” nothing else than the peripetera of the drama. [4] And ‘hypothesis” is used with another signification in rhetoric, as investigation of particulars, in which sense the sophists are wont to say often in their discourses, “One must posit the hypothesis.” Moreover, in a third application we term the starting-point of proofs “hypothesis,” it being the postulating something for the purpose of proving something. [5] ‘Thus we say that Asclepiades “o made use of three “hypotheses” to demonstrate the initial condition which produces fever,—the first, that there exist in us certain intelligible (or “nonperceptible”) passages, differing from one another in size; the second, that particles of moisture and air are collected from all sides out of corpuscles perceived by reason and eternally in motion; the third, that certain unceasing effluvia are emitted from within us to the outside air, these being now more, now less, in number according to the condition prevailing at the moment.

[6] Well then, “hypothesis” being now conceived in these three ways, we certainly do not now propose to inquire about the arrangement in dramas, nor about oratorical questionings, but about the “hypothesis in the sense mentioned last, which was “the starting-point of proof”; for this is the “hypothesis” which the Geometers adopt when they wish to prove anything geometrically. Consequently, we must state at once that since those who assume a thing by hypothesis are satisfied with mere assertion, without proof, for its confirmation, one will interrogate them, employing some such reasoning as this:—Assuming a thing by hypothesis is either a strong and firm confirmation or unreliable and weak.’ But if it is strong, its contrary, when assumed by hypothesis, will also be reliable and firm, so that we shall be positing conflicting things simultaneously. But if the hypothesis is unreliable in the case of the man who assumes the contrary by hypothesis without proof, it will also be unreliable in the case of the other man, so that we shall posit neither of the things. Nothing, [9] then, must be assumed by hypothesis.—Moreover, the thing which is assumed is either true and such as we assume it to be, or false. But if it is true, let us not postulate it, fleeing for refuge to a thing which is highly suspicious—namely, hypothesis,—but let us

accept it straightaway, for no one assumes ea hypothesi things true and actual, such as “Now it is day,” or “T am talking and breathing”; for the very obviousness of these facts does of itself make the statement firm and the assumption undisputed. So that if the thing is true, let us not postulate it as though it were not true. [10] But if it is not true but is false, no help will emerge from the hypothesis; for though we assume it a myriad times, on rotten foundations, as the saying goes, will follow the conclusion of the inquiry which starts from non-existent principles. [11] Moreover, if anyone shall maintain that the conclusions which follow from whatever assumptions are made are trustworthy, it is to be feared that he is destroying all inquiry. For example, each of us will assume that three is four, and, this being granted, will infer also that six is eight; for if three is four, six will be eight; but in fact, as the hypothesis grants, three is four; therefore six is eight. [12] Again, we shall postulate that what moves is at rest, and this being agreed we shail infer that the flame is stationary; for if what moves is at rest, the flame is stationary; but what moves is at rest; therefore the flame is stationary. But just as the Geometers will say that these hypotheses are absurd (for the foundation must be firm in order that the inference which follows may be agreed), so too we shall refuse to accept any of their hypothetical assumptions without proof. [13] Moreover, if the assumption, as assumed, is firm and trustworthy, let them not assume the things from which they will prove something, but the thing proved itself,—that is, not the premisses of the proof but its conclusion; for the power for confirmation which their hypothesis possesses in the case of the things which reveal, the same power it will possess in the case of the things revealed by the proof. But if the conclusion of the proof without proof is untrustworthy, though it be assumed many times over, that which is assumed in order to demonstrate it will also be untrustworthy unless it be taught by means [14] of proof.—But in Heaven’s name, they say, if what follows the hypotheses is found to be true, certainly the things assumed—that is, the things which it has followed—will be true. But this again is silly; for how do we know that that which follows certain things in a proof is in all cases true? For they will assert this as having learnt it either from the thing itself or from the premisses which it followed. [15] But they will not assert it from itself. [For it is non-evident, and the non-evident is not of itself trustworthy; at any rate they essay to prove it, as though it were not of itself convincing. Nor yet from the premisses; for the whole controversy is about these, and while they are still unconfirmed the thing which is being proved [16] by means of them cannot be firm.—Further, even if the consequent is true, the antecedent is not inevitably true. For as the true naturally follows the true, and the false the false, so it is maintained that the true is a consequence of the false,—for example, that “the earth exists,” which is true, follows “the earth flies,” which is false. [17] Hence, if the consequent is true, the antecedent is not in all cases true, but when the consequent is true it is possible for the antecedent to be false.

So now, by these arguments it has been sufficiently established that the Mathematicians do no good by assuming ea hypothesi the principles of proof and of each theorem, repeating the formula “Let it be granted.” [18] Passing on, let us show in the next place that the principles of their art are in fact false and incredible. Now many arguments can be used to prove this, as we said when commencing our exposition, but our doubts shall be cast on those principles the destruction of which will involve that of the rest. So, since their particular proofs cannot go forward when the principles are under suspicion, let us state suitable arguments against the principles.

[19] To start with they tell us, as a primary and most fundamental fact, that “body” is that which has three dimensions,“—length, breadth, depth,—and of these the first dimension, that of length, is up and down, the second, that of breadth, is from right to left, the third, that of depth, from before to behind. Thus there are six extensions of these three, two in each case,—up and down of the first, right and left of the second, before and behind of the third. For they assert that the line is produced by the flow of the point, the surface by that of the line, and the solid body by that of the surface. [20] So in describing these they say that “the point is a sign without parts or dimensions,” or “the limit of a line,” “the line is length without = breadth,” or “the limit of a surface,” ancl “the surface is the limit of a body,” or “breadth without depth.” [21] Taking these, then, in order, let us speak first about the point, next about the line, and after that about the surface and body; for if these are destroyed Geometry will not be an Art, as not possessing the conditions upon which success in its construction seems to depend.

[23] Now the point, which they say is “a sign without dimensions,” is conceived as either a body or incorporeal.4 And according to them it will not be a body; for things which have no dimension are not bodies. It remains, then, to say that it is incorporeal; but this again is incredible. For the incorporeal, as being impalpable, is conceived as generative of nothing, but the point is conceived as generative of the line; so the point is not a sign without dimensions.—Moreover, if apparent things are “the vision of things non-evident,’ then, since in apparent things it is impossible to perceive a limit of anything or sign which is without dimensions, it is plain that no such thing will be perceived in intelligible things either. But in fact, as I shall establish, it is impossible to perceive in things sensible anything without dimensions; so that it is also impossible in intelligibles. [24] Now everything which is perceived in sensibles as the limit and sign of something is apprehended as being likewise the extremity of something, and also as being part of that whereof it is the extremity; if, then, we take it away, that from which it is taken will be diminished. And that which is part of a thing clearly helps to complete that thing, and that which helps to complete a thing will certainly increase its magnitude, and what serves to complete a magnitude necessarily possesses magnitude. [25] Therefore every sign or extremity of anything in sensibles, as possessing magnitude, is not without dimensions. Hence, if we conceive the intelligible by transference from the sensible, we shall conceive it as being the sign and limit of the line, and also as helping to complete it, so that it too will certainly possess a dimension since it is productive of a dimension. [26] Furthermore, they say that the straight line drawn from the centre when it revolves describes a circle in the plane with its limit. Since then, the extremity of this straight line is a sign, and this by revolving measures out the circumference, it will help to complete the circumference; but the circumference possesses a dimension; so the sign, too, which helps to complete it will possess a dimension.—Moreover, it is held that the sphere touches the plane at one sign, and by rolling forward makes a line, the signs which make contact successively composing, as is evident, the whole line. Then, if the sign helps to complete the magnitude of the line, it too will possess magnitude. But it has been agreed that it does help to complete the magnitude of the line; therefore it too will possess magnitude and will not be without dimensions. [28] But in answer to these objections Eratosthenes “is accustomed to say that the sign neither occupies any space nor measures out the interval of the line, but by flowing makes the line. But this is inconceivable. For flowing is conceived as extension from a place to a place, as water extends. And if we shall imagine the sign to be something of that sort, it will follow that it is not like a thing without parts, but of the opposite sort, abounding in parts.

So much, then, concerning the point: in the next place let us see what ought to be said concerning the line; for this comes next in order after the point. Now even though it be granted that a point exists, the line will not exist. For if it is “a flux of the sign” and “length without breadth,” it is either a single sign extended in length or a number of signs placed [30] in a row without intervals; but it is neither a single sign extended in length, as we shall establish, nor a number of signs placed in a row, as we shall also show; therefore line does not exist. Vor if it is a single sign, this sign either occupies one place only or moves on from place to place, or is extended from a place to aplace. [31] But if it is contained in one place, it will not be a line but a point; for the line was conceived as the result of flux. And if it moves from place to place, either it moves—as I said before—by quitting one place and occupying another, or by keeping to one place and extending to another. But if it is by quitting one place and occupying another, again it [32] will not be a line but a point; for as it was conceived as a point but not a line when it occupied the first place, so, by the same reasoning, it will be conceived as a point when it occupies the second place. And if it is keeping to one place and extending to another, it extends over place which is either divisible or indivisible. [33] But if it extends over indivisible place, once again it will not be a line but a point or sign, for that which occupies indivisible place is indivisible, and that which is indivisible is a point and not a line. And if it extends over divisible place, then,—since (that which extends over) the divisible has parts,—since it is extended over all the place, and that which has parts wherewith it extends over the parts of the place is body, the sign will certainly be both divisible and corporeal; which is absurd. [34] Consequently, the line is not one single sign.—Nor yet is it a number of signs placed in a row. T’or these signs are conceived either as touching one another or as not touching. If as not touching one another, being intercepted they will be separated by certain spaces, and being separated by spaces they will no longer form one line. And if they are conceived as touching one another, they will either touch wholes as wholes or parts with parts. But if they shall touch parts with parts, they will no longer be without dimensions and without parts; for the sign which is conceived—shall we say?—as midway between two signs will touch the sign in front with one part, and that behind with another, and the plane with a different part, and the other place with yet another, so that in very truth it is no longer without parts but with many parts. [36] And if the signs as wholes should touch wholes, it is plain that signs will be contained in signs and will occupy the same place; and thus they will not be placed in a row, so as to form a line, but if they occupy the same place they will form one point. If, then, in order that the line may be conceived it is necessary that the sign, from which the notion of it is derived, should first be conceived, and it has been shown that the line is neither a sign nor composed of signs, then the line will be nothing.

[37] Moreover, leaving aside the notion of the sign we can destroy the line directly and show its inconceivability. For the line, as one may learn from the Geometers themselves, is “length without breadth,” but when we have examined the matter closely, we shall not find either amongst intelligibles or amongst sensibles anything that is capable of being perceived as length without breadth. [38] Not amongst sensibles, since whatever sensible length we perceive we shall in every case perceive it as combined with a certain [39] amount of breadth; nor amongst intelligibles, inasmuch as we can conceive one length as narrower than another, but when we keep the same length invariably and in thought cut slices from its breadth and keep doing this up to a point, we shall conceive the breadth as growing less and less, but when we reach the point of finally depriving the length of breadth we shall no longer be imagining even length, but even the notion of length will be destroyed. [40] In general, also, everything conceived is conceived in two main ways, either by way of clear impression or by way of transference from things clear, and this way is threefold,—by similarity, or by composition, or by analogy. Thus, by clear impression are conceived the white, the black, the sweet and the bitter, and by transference from things clear are concepts due to similarity,—such as Socrates himself from a likeness of Socrates, [41] and those due to composition,—such as the hippocentaur from horse and man, for by mixing the limbs of horse and man we have imagined the hippocentaur which is neither man nor horse but a compound of both. [42] And a thing is conceived by way of analogy also in two ways, sometimes by way of increase, sometimes by decrease; for instance, from ordinary men—

Such mortals as now we see—we conceive by way of increase the Cyclops who was Less like a corn-eating man than a forest-clad peak of the

mountains “;

and by way of decrease we conceive the pygmy whom we have not perceived through sense-impressions. [43] Now the modes of conception being so many, if length without breadth is conceived it must nec essarily be conceived either by way of clear sense-impression or by way of transference from clear things; but it will not be conceived by way of clear sense-impression; for we have had no impression of any length without breadth. [44] It remains, then, to say that it is conceived by way of transference ron clear things; but this again is most impossible. For if it was conceived in this way, it was certainly conceived either through similarity or through composition or through analogy; but in none of ihede ways can it naturally be conceived, as we shall establish;; therefore no length without breadth is conceived. [45] For it is obviously impossible to conceive a length without breadth by way of similarity. For we have no length without breadth amongst things apparent by means of which we might conceive a similar length without breadth. [46] For what is similar to anything is certainly similar to a thing known, and it is impossible to find a thing similar to what is not known. Since, then, we possess no clear impression of a length without breadth, we shall not [47] be able to conceive anything similar to it.—Nor yet is it possible for the Geometers to get the notion of it by way of composition; for let them tell us which of the things clearly known from sense-impression are we to compound with which so as to conceive length without breadth, as we did before, in the case of man and horse, when we imagined the hippocentaur. [48] It remains, then, for them to take refuge in the third mode of conception, that of analogy, by way of increase or decrease; but this again is seen to be hopeless. [49] For things conceived by analogy have something in common with the things wherefrom they are conceived, as for instance from the common size of men we conceived by way of increase the Cyclops and by way of decrease the pygmy, so that things conceived by analogy have something in common with the things wherefrom they are conceived. But we find nothing in common between the length that is without breadth and that conceived along with breadth, so that by setting out from the latter we might conceive length without breadth. [50] But if we find nothing common to them both we shall not be able to form the conception of length without breadth by analogy. Hence, if each of the concepts is conceived according to the modes described, and it has been shown that length without breadth is conceived according to none of them, then length without breadth is inconceivable.

[53] Notwithstanding, even to arguments so clear as! these the Geometers manfully endeavour to reply, as best they can, saying that length without breadth is conceived by way of “intension.”“Thus, when we have taken any given length along with a certain amount of breadth, they say that we diminish this breadth by “intension,” intensifying ever more and more its narrowness, and so in the end we say that what is thus conceived by way of intension is length without breadth; for if the breadth is lessened little by little by being narrowed through intension, at some time it will come to be a length without breadth, the conception ending up in this. But surely, someone will say, we have proved that complete privation of breadth is also the abolition of length.’ Also, that which is conceived through the intension of something is not different from the thing preconceived but just that thing intensified. Since, then, we desire to conceive a thing by way of intension of its narrowness from that which has a certain amount of breadth, we shall not conceive length which is entirely without breadth (for that is different in kind), but we shall apprehend a narrow breadth, so that the conception ends up in the very least amount of breadth, but still breadth all the same, and after this the notion in the mind passes into something different in nature, which is neither length nor breadth. [55] And if it is possible to apprehend length without breadth by privation of the breadth when we have conceived a certain length along with a certain amount of breadth, then it will be feasible in like manner when we have conceived flesh with the quality of vulnerability to conceive invulnerable and impassive flesh by privation of the [56] quality of vulnerability; and it will be possible by conceiving body with the quality of solidity, and by privation of the solidity, to perceive a non-solid body. But this is perfectly impossible and contrary to the common notion of mankind. For that which we conceive as invulnerable is no longer flesh, for flesh includes the quality of vulnerability when conceived as flesh, and the non-solid body is no longer conceived as body, for body, qua body, is conceived as including the quality of solidity. Hence, the length conceived without breadth will not be length, for length, as length, is conceived as including the quality of having a certain amount of breadth.

[57] But although the inconceivability of the thing has been established in a variety of ways, and the Geometers are in a state of no little confusion, yet Aristotle affirms that the length without breadth they talk of is not inconceivable but can come into our minds without any difficulty.” He bases his argument on an obvious and clear example. [58] Thus we perceive the length of a wall, he says, without thinking simultaneously of its breadth, and therefore it will be possible also to conceive of the “length without any breadth” talked of by the Geometers, seeing that “things evident are the vision of things non-evident’; but he is in error, or perhaps humbugging us. For whenever we conceive the length of the wall without breadth, we do not conceive it as wholly without breadth but without the breadth which belongs to the wall. [59] And thus it is possible for us by combining the length of the wall with a certain amount, however small, of breadth to form a conception of it; so that in this case the length is perceived not without any breadth at all, as the Mathematicians claim, but without this particular breadth. But Aristotle’s problem was to prove not that the length talked of by the Geometers is devoid of a certain breadth, but that it is wholly deprived of breadth; and this he has not proved.

[60] So much then, concerning these matters; and seeing that the Geometers declare that the nes which

“length without breadth,” is also “the limit of the come and let us raise doubts in a more general way concerning both lines and planes; for thus the statement about body will become easy to refute. [61] If, then, the line, being length without breadth, is the limit of the plane, it is evident that when a plane is set beside a plane “either the two lines will be parallel or both will become one. And if the two lines become one, since the line is the limit of the plane, and the plane the limit of the body, as the two lines become one the two planes also will simultaneously become one plane, and when the two planes have become one plane the two bodies also will necessarily be one body, and when the two bodies have become one, the juxtaposition will not be juxtaposition but unification.” But this is impossible. [62] For while juxtaposition can become unification in some cases, as in that of water and things like it, in some cases it cannot; for when stone is set beside stone and iron beside iron and adamant beside adamant they are not unified in respect of their lines. Consequently, the two lines will not become one line.—Moreover, if there is unification of the two lines which have become one and natural junction of the bodies, the separation ought to take place when they are pulled asunder, not at the same limits but now at one part and now at another, so that as a result they perish. This, however, is not found to occur, but the limits of the bodies both before the juxtaposition and after the separation are just the same as they originally appeared to be during the juxtaposition. So the [63] two lines do not become one.—If, however, the two lines do become one, the bodies set beside each other will have to be less by one extremity; for the two have become one, and this must have one limit and extremity. But the bodies set beside each other do not become less by one extremity, so that the two [64] lines will not become one line.—And if the two lines are parallel in the juxtaposition of two bodies, that which results from the two lines will be greater than the one line. But if that which results from the two lines is greater than the one line, one of the two will have breadth, which along with the other will make the dimension greater, ord thus the line is not length without br breadth:—Of two things one, then,—we mist either do away with the evidence of the senses, or, if this remains unshaken, we must disallow the notion of the Geometers which leads them to suppose that the line is “length without breadth.”

[65] This, then, is what we have primarily had to say against the Geometers’ principles; so now let us pass on and show that on their own assumptions it is not possible for their investigation to go forward. Thus, they are fain to believe, as we said above,” that the straight line by revolving describes circles with all its parts; but the view that the line is length without breadth is in conflict with this most convincing theorem. Let us probe the matter in this way. [66] If, as they say, every part of the line has a sign, and the sign as it revolves describes a circle, then, whenever the straight line by revolving and describing circles with all its parts measures off the distance from the centre to the outermost circumference of the plane, it will be necessary, according to them, that the circles described should be either continuous with one another or separate from one another. But if they are separate from one another it will follow that there is a certain part of the plane which is not encircled, and a part of the straight line which moves over this interval but does not describe a circle. But this is absurd. Vor either the straight line has no sign in this part, or having one does not describe a circle; but each of these alternatives is contrary to geometrical doctrine; for they assert that every part of the line has a sign, and also that every sign when revolving describes a circle. [68] And if they suppose that the circles are continuous with one another, they are continuous either in such a way as to occupy the same place or so as to be ranged in order one beside another with no sign falling between; for every sign which is conceived as falling between must of itself describe a circle. But if they all occupy the same place, there will be one circle, and therefore the circle which is greater and outermost and inclusive of them all will be equal to the smallest circle which is at

277 [69] the centre; for if the outermost circle, that which is on the very circumference, occupies a greater distance, and the innermost circle at the centre occupies a little distance, and all the circles occupy the same place, then that which occupies the greater distance will be equal to that which occupies the least distance,—which is absurd. So, then, the circles are not continuous in such a way as to occupy the same place. [70] And if they are parallel so that no indivisible sign falls between, they will fill up the breadth from the centre to the circumference. But if they fill it up, they occupy some breadth. Yet these circles are lines. Lines, therefore, possess a certain breadth and are not ‘ without breadth.”

[71] Starting with the same theory we shall construct a confutation similar to that already stated. Since they assert that the straight line which describes a circle describes the circle of itself, we shall reply with the objection,—if the straight line which describes a circle is by nature such as to describe the circle of itself, the line is not length without breadth; but in fact, as they assert, the straight line which describes a circle does describe the circle of itself; therefore the line is not length without breadth, this being the consequence of their theory, as we shall show. [72] For when the straight line drawn from the centre revolves and of itself describes a circle, the straight line then either moyes over all the parts of the breadth within the circumference, or not over all but oyer some. And if it moves over some, it does not describe a circle, as it moves over some parts but not over others.

279 And if it moves over all, it will measure out all the [73] breadth of the circumference, and measuring out breadth it will possess breadth; for that which is capable of measuring out breadth must possess breadth wherewith it measures. Therefore, if the straight line in describing a circle measures out all the breadth and possesses breadth, the line is not “length without breadth.”

[74] The same thing will be shown more clearly when the Geometers state that when the downward side of the square is drawn it measures out the plane bounded by the parallel lines. For if it is length without breadth, the downward side of the square when drawn will not of itself measure out the plane surface of the square bounded by the parallel lines: for that which is capable of measuring out a breadth must possess breadth. And if it measures out, it certainly possesses breadth. So that, once again, either this theorem of the Geometers is false, or the concept “length without breadth” is nothing.

[75] Also, they say that the cylinder touches the plane along a straight line and when rolling forward, by the placing of straight lines in turn, one after another, measures out the plane. But if the cylinder touches the plane along a straight line and when rolling measures out the plane by placing its straight lines in turn, one after another, the plane certainly is composed of straight lines and the surface of the cylinder, too, is made up of straight lines. [76] Hence, since the plane possesses breadth, and the surface of the cylinder likewise is not without breadth, and what is productive of breadth must itself possess breadth, it is plain that the straight lines too, as they serve to fill up the breadth, necessarily possess breadth, so that no “length without breadth” exists, and consequently no line.

[77] And even if we should grant that the line is “length without breadth,” the consequences of this will be even more hopeless than those stated. For as the sign when it has flowed makes the line, so also the line when it has flowed makes, according to them, the plane, which is, they say, “the limit of the body,” possessing two dimensions, length and breadth. [78] If, then, the plane is the limit of the body, the body certainly is limited; and if so, when two bodies are set beside each other, then either the limits will touch the limits or the things limited the things limited, or the things limited will touch the things limited and also the Ἰρτηί the limits,—as though, in the case of a jar, we were to conceive the earthenware as the limit, and the wine within it as the thing limited. [79] When, then, two jars are set beside each other, either the ware will touch the ware or the wine the w ine, or the ware will ‘touch the ware and also the wine the wine. But if the limits touch the limits the things limited (that is, the bodies) will not touch each other, which is absurd. And if the things limited (that is, the bodies) shall touch each other, and the limits shall not touch each other, the bodies will be outside their own limits. [80] And if both the limits touch the limits and the things limited the things limited, we shall be multiplying the difficulties; for where the limits touch each other, the things limited will not touch each other, and where the things limited touch, the bodies will be outside their own limits, since the surface is the limit [81] and the body the thing limited.—Also, the limits are either bodies or incorporeal. But if they are bodies, the Geometers will find that it is false that the surface is without depth. For if it is corporeal, it will of necessity have depth; for every body must have depth. Then, too, it will not touch anything but will all be infinite in magnitude. For if it is body, since every body has a limit; that limit too, being a body, will have a limit, and eewaae this last one, and so on ad infinitum. [82] And if the limit is incorporeal, since the incorporeal cannot touch or be touched by anything,” the limits will not touch each other, and as they do not touch neither will the things limited touch each other. So, even if we grant that the line is “length without breadth,” the, account given of the plane surface is dubious. And these things being dubious, along with them doubt is cast—even if we do not affirm it—on the solid body, seeing it is composed of these.

[83] Let us also consider the matter in this way:—If body is, as the Geometers assert, that which has the three dimensions, length, breadth and depth, either the body is separable from these, so that the body is one thing and the length, breadth and depth of the body something different, or else the aggregation of these is the body. But that the body should be separated from these is not credible; for where neither length nor breadth nor depth exists, there it [84] is impossible to conceive body; and if the aggregation of these is conceived as body, and there is nothing else besides these, then, since each of these is incorporeal, the united assemblage of these incorporeals will necessarily be incorporeal. For just as the combination of the points and the conjunction of the lines, which are by nature incorporeal, do not make a solid and resistant body, so too the union of breadth and length, and depth as well, being incorporeal, will not make a solid and resistant body. But if the body is neither separate from these nor identical with these, the body is—so far as the [85] Geometers’ account goes—inconceivable.—Furthermore, if the conjunction of length and breadth and depth makes body, either each of these is conceived as containing in itself corporeality and what we may call “the corporeal reasons” before the conjunction, or else body is constructed after these have come together. But if each of these is conceived as containing corporeality before the conjunction, each of these will be body, and body will not come into being [86] . after the conjunction.—Moreover, since body is not length alone, nor breadth by itself, nor exclusively depth, but the three together, length and breadth and depth, and each of these includes corporeality, each of them will possess the three, and the length will be not length only but also breadth and depth, and the breadth will be not breadth only but also length and depth, and similarly the depth will also be length and breadth. But this is most completely illogical.—[87] And if the composition of body is conceived as taking place after these have come together, then either the original nature of those things which have come together remains,—that of length as length, of breadth as breadth, of depth as depth,—or it is [88] changed to corporeality. But if their original nature remains, since they are incorporeal they will not form a different body, but even after their conjunction they will remain incorporeal, being incorporeal by nature. [89] And if after coming together they change to corporeality, then, since that which admits of change is zpso facto corporeal, each of these will be body even before their coming together, and thus too the incorporeal will be body.—Also, just as the body when it has changed exchanges one property for another, but none the less remains body,—for example, white to become black, and sweet to become bitter, and wine to become vinegar, and lead to become white lead, and bronze to become rust, exchange one property for another yet do not cease to [90] be bodies, but the black, when from being white it has become black, and the bitter, when from being sweet it has become bitter, and the vinegar, when from being wine it has become vinegar, all remain bodies,—so these dimensions also, if they change, will change from one sort of incorporeal to another, but none the less (will remain) incorporeal; for they will not go out of their own proper nature.—If, then, it is not possible to conceive the body either before the coming together of these dimensions or after their coming together, and besides these no other [91] alternative can be conceived, body is nothing—dAnd further, if neither length is anything, nor breadth, nor depth, that which is conceived as participating in these will not be body; but length is not anything, nor is breadth, nor depth, as we have already pointed out“; therefore that which is conceived as participating in these will not be body.

[92] Thus, as regards the principles of geometry, the result is that they are unfounded; and as these are abolished no other geometrical theorem can subsist. For the theorem, of whatever sort it be, must be proved by a diagram, but we have shown that the generic line is nothing, and from this it follows that none of the specific lines exist, whether one assumes a straight one, or a curved one, or one of some other form. [93] Hence, it might, no doubt, have sufticed to finish at this point our confutation of the Geometers; however, we shall contend against them further and try to show that, even if we disregard the principles of geometry, the Geometers are unable to construct or prove a theorem. [94] Before this, however, no little can be said against their underlying principles,—as, for instance, when they declare that “a straight line is that which is equally placed with its parts.” For, to pass over all other objections, this one is obvious,—that the generic line being non-existent, the straight line will not exist; for just as “man” does not exist if “animal” is non-existent, and “Socrates”? does not exist if “man” is non-existent, so if the generic line is destroyed the plane straight line is destroyed [95] along with it.—Moreover, the term “equal” is used in two senses, in one sense as “equal in magnitude” and neither exceeding nor being exceeded by that to which it is said to be equal (as we say that the staff of a cubit’s length is equal to a cubit’s length), in another sense of “that which has its parts placed equally,’ that is to say, “the even 72> thus; tor instance, we call a pavement “equal” instead of “even” (or “level”). [96] The term “equal,’ then, being applied in two ways, when the Geometers in describing the straight line say that “a straight line is that which lies equally with its parts,” they are taking the term “equal” either in the first signification or in the second. But if it is in the first, they are perfectly senseless; for there is no sense in saying that the straight line is of equal magnitude with its parts, neither exceeding these nor being exceeded by these. [97] And if it is in the second sense, they will be proving the matter in question by means of itself, seeing that they establish the fact that it is straight from the fact that it has its parts lying evenly and in a straight line, whereas it is not possible to learn that a thing lies in a straight line without having sensed the straight line. [98] But they are far more absurd when they give the following definition,—“A straight line is that which revolves equally with its limits,” or this—‘ which in revolving round its limits touches the plane with all its For, firstly, these descriptions are subject to the doubts already expressed by us; and secondly, as the Epicureans affirm, the straight line of the void is, indeed, straight, but does not because the void itself does not admit of motion either as a whole or in part. [99] And the last deser iption falls also into the vice of circular reasoning,” which is most unsound. For they both explain the plane by means of the straight line and the straight line by means of the plane;; for they say that the straight line is that which touches the plane with all its parts, and the plane is that which, when the straight line is drawn over it, it touches it with all its parts, so that in order to get to know the straight line we must first get to know the plane, and in order to do this, we must necessarily know beforehand the straight line; which is absurd. And, in sum, he who explains the straight line by means of the plane is doing nothing else than establishing the straight line by means of the straight line, since, according to them, the plane is many straight lines.

[100] The argument about the angle will be of much the same kind as that about the straight line. For again, when in describing the angle they say that the angle is “the minimum under the inclination of two lines which do not lie parallel,” they mean by “minimum” either the indivisible body or what they call the sign or point. [101] But they will not mean the indivisible body, since this cannot be divided into two parts, whereas, according to them, the angle is divided to infinity. And besides, in the case of the angle, one, they say, is greater, another lesser; but nothing is smaller than the minimal body, for if so it, and not the body, would be the minimum. [102] It remains then to say that it is what they call the sign; but this itself is also dubious. For if the sign is in every way wholly without dimensions, the angle will not be divided.—Moreover, no angle will be greater or lesser; for in things which have no dimension there will be no difference in respect of magnitude. [103] Besides, if the sign falls between the straight lines, it divides the straight lines, and as dividing it will not [104] be without dimensions.—But, in sooth, some of them are wont to say that the angle is “the first interval under the inclination.” Against whom

By nature simple is the tale which truth doth tell. For this interval is either without parts or with parts. But if it is without parts, they will find themselves beset in consequence with the difficulties already stated; and if it has parts, none of them will be “first”; for another will be found to be prior to that assumed to be “first” because of the division of existents ad inJinitum which is approved by them. [105] I forbear to argue that such a notion of the angles is in conflict with another piece of their technology. For in their classification they say that one class of angle is “right,” another “obtuse,” another “acute’; and that, of the obtuse angles, some are more obtuse than others, and so likewise with the acute angles. [106] But if we affirm that the angle is “the least interval under the inclination,” such differences in angles will not be preserved, in so far as they both exceed one another and are exceeded by one another. Or, if they are preserved, the angle is destroyed, not possessing a fixed standard by which it can be distinguished.

Such, then, are the arguments we must use against them with respect to the straight line and the angle; [107] and in defining the circle they say “The circle is a plane figure enclosed by one line, and the straight lines from the centre which fall on this are equal to one another,” talking idly; for when the sign and the line and the straight line, and the plane, too, and the angle are destroyed, the circle cannot be conceived.

[108] But in order that we may not seem to be sophistical people and to expend all the reasoning in our refutation on the principles of geometry alone, come and let us pass on, as we previously promised,“and investigate the theorems which come after their principles. [109] When, then, they say that they will “bisect the given straight line,” they mean that they are bisecting either that given on the board or that which is conceived by transference from it. But they will not mean that they are bisecting that given on the board; for this appears to possess sensible length and breadth, whereas, according to them, the straight line is “length without breadth,” so that the line-on the board, not being a line according to them, will not be bisected like a line. [110] Nor, indeed, will the line which is conceived by transference from that on the broad. For let us assume, for the sake of argument, that it is composed of nine points, four being numbered from the one extremity and four from the other and one point occupying the middle place between the two sets of four. ‘Then, if the whole line is bisected, the secant will strike either between this fifth point and one of the sets of four or on the fifth point itself so as to divide it in two. [111] That the secant should strike between the fifth point and one of the sets of four is, however, illogical; for the sections will be unequal, one being made up of four points and the other of five. But the dividing the point itself into two is much more illogical than the former alternative; for they will no longer be leaving the sign without dimensions,’ as it is divided into two by the secant.—And the argument is the same when they say they are cutting the circle into equal parts. For if the circle is cut into equal parts, then, since it has the centre (which itself is a point), in the very middle, the centre will certainly be annexed either to this section or to that, or else it will itself be cut in two. But the fact of its being annexed to this section or that makes the bisection unequal; and that it should itself be bisected is in conflict with the fact that the [113] sign is without dimensions and without parts.—Also, the secant which cuts the line is either a body or incorporeal. But it cannot be a body; for, if so, it will not cut a thing without parts and incorporeal and on which it cannot strike; nor yet can it be incorporeal. For this, again, if it is a point, will not cut owing to its being without parts and striking on what is without parts; and if it is a line, again it does not cut since it must cut with its limit, and its limit is without parts.— [114] Besides, the limit which cuts bisects the line either by falling between the two points, or by striking on the middle of the sign. But that it should strike on the middle of the sign is a thing impossible. For, as we said before, that on which it strikes will have to possess parts and be no longer without dimensions. [115] And that it should strike between the two points is much more irrational. For, firstly, no limit can fall in the middle of what is continuous; and secondly, even if we allow that such a thing is possible, it must move apart the things between which it posts itself, if they are continuous; but these are immovable. So then, the account given of the secant is dubious. [116] —Moreover, even if we grant them that subtractions are made in the case of these sensible lines, even so they will be unable to make progress. For the subtraction will either be from the whole line or from a part, and the part subtracted will be either an equal part from an equal, or an unequal from an unequal; but none of these is feasible, as we have established in our treatise Against the Grammarians and in that Against the Physicists; therefore it is not possible for the Geometers to subtract or cut off anything from the line.

Book IV — Against the Arithmeticians

Section titled “Book IV — Against the Arithmeticians”

[1] Since one kind of quantity, which is called “magnitude,” and which is the chief concern of geometry, belongs to continuous bodies, and another kind, which is number, the subject of arithmetic, belongs to discontinuous, let us pass on from the principles and theorems of geometry and examine also those which deal with number; for if this is destroyed, the art which is constructed to handle it will not exist.

[2] Now, speaking generally, the mathematical Pythagoreans“ascribe great power to numbers, as though the nature of all things was governed in conformity with them. Hence, they constantly kept repeating—

All things, too, are like unto number.’ And they swear not only by number but also by Pythagoras, the man who showed it to them, as though he were a god because of the power of arithmetic, saying,—

Nay, by the man I swear who bequeathed to our soul the
Tetraktys,

Fount containing the roots of Nature ever-enduring. [3] And “tetraktys” was the name given by them to the number ten, it being composed of the first four numbers. For one and two and three and four make up ten; and this is the most perfect number, since, when we have reached it, we revert again to the one and make our numerations afresh. And they have called it the “fount containing the roots of Nature ever-enduring” because, according to them, the reason of the structure of all things resides in it, as for instance that of the body and the soul; for it will suffice to mention these by way of example. [4] Now the monad (or one) is an underlying principle which produces the structure of all the other numbers, and. the dyad (or two) is productive of length. For as in the case of the geometrical principles we explained first what the point is, and next, after it, the line which is length without breadth,. similarly, in the case before us, the monad corresponds to the point and the dyad to the line and length; for thought in conceiving this moves from some place to some place, and this is length. [5] And the triad (or three) is set over breadth and the plane; for the mind has moved from here to there (and on again to some other place), and when the distance in breadth is added to the distance in length the plane is conceived. But if, in addition to the triad one imagines a fourth monad, that is, a fourth sign, the pyramid is formed, a solid body and figure; for it possesses length and breadth and depth; so that the formula of the body is comprised in the number four. [6] And so also is that of the soul; for they declare that as the whole Universe is governed according to harmony, so too the living creature is ensouled. And the perfect harmony is held to consist in three symphonies “—that of the “By-Fours” and that of the “By-Fives” and that of the “By-Alls.” Now the “By-Fours” symphony consists of the “epitrite’ (4:3 ratio), and that of the “By-Fives” in the ratio 3:2, and the “By-Alls” in the ratio 2:1. The number called “epitrite’ is that composed of a certain number taken as a whole plus its third part—which is the ratio of eight to six; for the eight includes the six plus the third part of it, that is the dyad. And a number is said to be in the ratio 3: 2 when the number includes a number plus its half,—the relation of nine to six; for the nine is composed of the six plus its half, that is, three. And that called “double” is that which is equal to two (equal) numbers,—the relation of four to two; for it includes the same number twice. [8] Such, then, being the facts, and there being, according to the original assumption, four numbers—one, two, three and four—in which is included, as we said, the form of the soul according to the harmonical formula, the four is double the two and the two double the monad, and therein consists the “By-Alls” symphony; and the three is to the two in the 3: 2 ratio (for it includes the two itself plus its half, and thus it supplies the “By-Fives” symphony): and the four is to the three in the “epitrite” or 4:38 ratio, on which is based the “By-Fours” symphony. So that naturally the number four is called by the Pythagoreans the “fount containing the roots of Nature ever-enduring.”

[10] From what has been said by way of brief illustration it is clear that they ascribed much power to numbers; for the account they give of numbers is voluminous, but forbearing for the present to dwell on it, let us take up the confutation, beginning our argument with the monad, which is the principle of all number and with the destruction of which number ceases to exist.

[11] Now Plato, in formulating in rather Pythagorean fashion the concept of the one, declares that “One is that without which nothing is termed one,” or “by participation in which each thing is termed one or many. For the plant, let us say, or the animal, or the stone is called one, yet is not one according to its own proper description, but is conceived as one by participation in the One, none of them being actually the One. For neither plant nor animal nor stone nor any other numerable object is the essential One. For if a plant or an animal is the One, what is not a plant or an animal will certainly not be termed one “; but a plant is termed one, as is an animal and countless other things; therefore none of the numerables is the One. [13] But that by participation in which each thing is by itself each one thing, and a plurality by aggregation, is the One and Many of the individual things. But. this Plurality, again, is none of the many things, such as plants, animals, stones; for it is by participation in it that these things are termed “many,” but the Plurality itself is not one of them.— Such, then, is the Idea of the One as conceived by Plato; so let us subjoin our argument. Hither the Idea of the One is different from the particular numerables, or it is conceived along with those things which participate in it. But it does not subsist by itself, since no One other than the particular numerables is conceived as subsisting.—It remains, then, to say that it is conceived as included in those things which partake of it, which, again, is dubious. [15] For if the numerable log is one by participation in the Monad, what is not a log will not be termed one; but, as has been shown above, it is so termed; therefore the Monad, by participation in which each of the particular numerables is called a monad, does [16] not exist.—Further, that in which many participate is Many and not One, and the numerables are both many and infinite; each of the numerables, therefore, is not one by participation in the Monad. [17] So, just as the generic Man “—whom some conceive as “a mortal animal”’—is not Socrates or Plato (for, if so, nobody else will be termed man), and does not subsist of himself nor together with Plato and Socrates (for then he would have been observed as a man), so likewise the One, not being conceived either as subsisting by itself or along with the particular numerables, is pso facto inconceivable. [18] And the same must be said of the Two and the Three, and in general—not to make a long story of it—of every number.—One may also propound the following argument: The Idea of the One, by participation in which a thing is termed one, either is one Idea, or there are several Ideas of the One.’ But if it is one, many do not participate in it; for (to explain the point clearly) if A possesses the whole of the Idea of the One, B, which does not participate in it, will no longer be one. [19] —Nor yet is it multipartite, so that the things participating in it might be many; for, firstly, each thing will be participating not in the Idea of the One but in a part of it; and secondly, the Monad, according to them, is conceived as indivisible and without parts. And if there are several Ideas of the One, each of the numerables ranked as unities (whether it be a one or a two, both taken singly) participates in a certain common Idea, or it does not participate. [20] But if it does not participate, all things, apart from participating in an Idea, will have to be ranked as unities,—a conclusion which they reject. And if they participate, the original difficulty will recur; for how will the twos participate in one Idea?

So much, then, concerning the monad, and if it is [21] destroyed all number is destroyed; all the same, let us subjoin an attack on the dyad. For it is formed in a doubtful way by the conjunction of the monads, even as Plato formerly expressed doubts about it in his book On the Soul.’ For when a monad is set beside another monad, either something is added by the juxtaposition or something is subtracted, or nothing is either added or subtracted. [22] But if nothing is either added or subtracted, the dyad will not exist through the juxtaposition of the one monad with the other. And if something is subtracted through the juxtaposition, there will be a diminution of the one and one, and a dyad will not be formed. And if something is added, the two will become not two but four; for the additional dyad plus the monad and the second monad make up the number four. Therefore nothing will be a dyad. And the same difficulty will exist in the case of every number, so that owing to this number is nothing.

[23] Since, however, number is conceived as a result of the addition or subtraction of the monad, it is plain that if we shall establish that each of these two processes is impossible, the reality of number, too, will be abolished. Let us, for instance, deal first with subtraction, using the method of demonstration by examples. [24] The monad, then, which is being subtracted from the decad assumed is subtracted either from the whole decad or from the nine left over; but it is not subtracted from the whole, as we shall establish, nor from the nine, as we shall demonstrate; nothing, therefore, is subtracted from the decad assumed. For if the monad is subtracted from this as a whole, either the decad is other than the particular monads or the aggregate of these is termed a decad. [25] But the decad is not other than the particular monads; for if these are destroyed the decad does not exist, and similarly if the decad is destroyed the monads no longer exist. And if the decad is the same as the monads,—that is to say, if the particular monads are the decad,—it is plain that if the subtraction of the monad is from the decad, it will be subtracted from each monad (for the particular monads are the decad), and thus it will no longer be a subtraction of the monad but of the decad. Consequently, the monad is not subtracted from the whole decad. [26] Nor, indeed, is it subtracted from the nine left over; for how will the assumed nine be still preserved after the subtraction? But if the monad is not subtracted either from the decad as a whole or from the nine left over, no number subsists through subtraction.—Besides, if the monad is subtracted: from the nine, it is subtracted either from the whole or from its last monad. But if the monad is subtracted from the whole nine, there will be a subtraction of the nine; for that which is subtracted from each monad makes up the number of the nine, as the particular monads are nine. [28] And if the subtraction is from the last monad, then, firstly, the last monad, which is indivisible, will be shown to be divisible, which is absurd; and secondly, if the monad is subtracted from the last monad, the nine will no longer be able to remain complete—Further, if the subtraction of the monad is from the decad, it is from the decad either as existent or as non-existent; but it will not be from the existent (for so long as the decad remains a decad nothing can be subtracted from it as a decad, for if so it will no longer be a decad), nor [30] from the non-existent decad; for from what is non-existent nothing can be subtracted. And of course it is impossible to conceive anything other than existence and non-existence; therefore nothing is subtracted from the dead. ᾿

Now by these arguments it has been shown that it is not feasible to conceive any number by subtraction; [31] and that it is not feasible by addition either is easy to show by continuing to raise difficulties of a like kind. For, again, if the monad is added to the decad, one must say that the addition is made either to the whole decad or to the last part of the decad. But if the monad is added to the whole decad, then, since the whole decad is conceived along with all the particular monads, the addition which is being made of the monad will have to be an addition to all the [32] particular monads of the dead, which is absurd; for it will follow that by the addition of the monad the decad becomes twenty, which is a thing impossible. We must say, then, that the monad is not added to the whole decad. Nor yet to the last part of the decad, since the decad will not be increased owing to the fact that the increase of the one part is not ipso facto [33] an increase of the whole decad.—Generally, too, and finally, the monad is added to the decad either remaining as it is or not remaining. But it will never be added to it while it remains, since in that case it will no longer remain a decad; nor yet while it does not remain, for it is absolutely impossible for an addition to be made to it if it does not remain.

[34] But if number is conceived as subsisting through addition, as I said, and subtraction, and we have shown that neither of these exists, one must declare that number is nothing. Hence, now that we have stated at length all these sceptical arguments against the Geometers and Arithmeticians, let us start afresh and deliver our attack on the Mathematict (or “Astrologers”).

Book V — Against the Astrologers

Section titled “Book V — Against the Astrologers”

The task before us is to inquire concerning astrology or the “Mathematical Art”—not the complete Art as composed of arithmetic and geometry (for” we have confuted the professors of these subjects); nor yet that of prediction practised by Eudoxus and Hipparchus “and men of their kind, which some [2] also call “astronomy” (for this, like Agriculture and Navigation, consists in the observation of phenomena, from which it is possible to forecast droughts and rainstorms and plagues and earthquakes and other changes in the surrounding vault of a similar character); it is rather the casting of nativities, which the Chaldeans adorn with more high-sounding titles, describing themselves as “mathematicians” and “astrologers,” treating ordinary folk with insolence in various ways, building a great bulwark of superstition against us, and allowing us to do nothing according to right reason. [3] This we shall understand after we have first traced back a little the things which contribute to their method of speculation; but our exposition will be somewhat cursory and summary; for the exact details may be left to those who specialize in this branch of study, and it is enough for us to call attention to those points without which it is impossible to set about making our attack on the Chaldeans.

[4] It being previously assumed, then, that things on earth “sympathize” with those in the heavens, and that the former are always newly affected by the effluences of the latter

(As is the day brought on by the Sire of gods and of
mortals,
So are the thoughts of the hearts of us earth-inhabiting
creatures),’—

[5] on this assumption the Chaldeans, having too curiously gazed up into the surrounding vault, declare that the seven stars © stand in the relation of efficient causes for the bringing about of everything which occurs in life, and that with them the parts of the zodiac co-operate. Now, as we have been informed, they divide the circle of the zodiac into twelve ‘sodia” (or “Signs”), and each sign into thirty degrees (let this be near enough to their theories, for the present), and each degree into sixty lepta (or “minutes”),—for so they call what is minimal and without parts. [6] And of the Signs some they term masculine, some feminine, and some bi-corporal and some not, and some “tropical” and others fixed. [7] Masculine and feminine are those which possess nature which aids the birth of males or females; thus the Ram is a masculine Sign, but the Bull, they say, is feminine, the Twins masculine, and the rest alternate in a similar proportion, some masculine, others femi je. Sun, Moon, Mars, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn and Mercury. nine. [8] And by them, I suppose, the Pythagoreans were moved to call the monad “male,” and the dyad “female,” and the triad again “male,” and the rest of the even and odd numbers according to the same rule. [9] Some, too, divide each Sign into twelve parts and use much the same method; 85, for instance, in the case of the Ram, the first twelfth part of it they describe as the Ram and male, the second as the Bull and female, the third as the Twins and male; and the same rule holds for the other portions. [10] And they say that the Twins, and the Archer diametrically opposite to it, and the Virgin and the Fishes are bi-corporal Signs, but the rest are not bi-corporal. [11] And “tropical” Signs are those which when the sun enters it changes its course and produces “tropes (or “turnings”) in the surrounding vault; such a Sign is the Ram and its diametrically opposite, that is the Scales, and Capricorn and the Crab. For the spring “trope” (or “solstice’) occurs in the Ram, and the winter one in Capricorn, the summer one in the Crab, and the autumn one in the Scales. But they have assumed that the Bull and the Sign diametrically opposite—that is, Scorpio, Leo and Aquarius—are fixed Signs.

[12] However, of all these Signs those which are dominant at each geniture for the production of effective influences and from which they principally frame their prognostications are, they say, four in number; and to these they give the generic name of “Centres,’ and more specifically they call them “horoscope,” “mid-heaven,” “setting, subter22 ranean,” and “anti-mid-heaven,” this last being itself [13] also “mid-heaven.” Now the “horoscope” is the Sign which happens to arise at the time when the birth is completed; the “mid-heaven” is the fourth Sign therefrom, it being included; the “setting” Sign is that diametrically opposite to the “horoscope’; and the “subterranean” or “anti-midheaven” is that diametrically opposite to the “mid-heaven”: thus (for an example will make it clear), when the Crab is the “horoscope” the Ram is the “mid-heaven,” and Capricorn is the “setting,” and the Scales is the “subterranean.” [14] Moreover, in the case of each of these “Centres” they call the preceding Sign “declination” and the following one

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daemon,’—and that which comes to the “subterranean” is “good fortune,” being diametrically [17] opposite to the “good daemon,” and that which comes next after the “anti-mid-heaven,” towards the orient, is “goddess,” being diametrically opposite to the “god,” and that which comes next to the “horoscope” is “ineffective,” and it again is diametrically opposite to the “ineffective.” [18] Or, to speak more concisely, the “declination” of the Sign of the “horoscope” is called the “evil daemon,” and its “ascension’ “ineffective”; similarly the [19] declination of the “mid-heaven” is “god,” and its ascension “good daemon”; and in the same way the declination of the “anti-mid-heaven” is “goddess,” and its ascension “good fortune”; likewise the declination of the “setting” is “ill fortune,” and its ascension “ineffective.” [20] And they think that their searching out of these things is no mere by-play; for they believe that the stars have not the same power of doing, or not doing, harm when observed at the “centres” or at their ascensions and declinations, but their power is more effective in one position and less effective in another. [21] And there have been some Chaldeans who have referred each part of the human body to one of the Signs as “sympathizing” therewith; thus they call the head the Ram, the neck the Bull, the shoulders the Twins, the breast the Crab, the sides the Lion, the buttocks | [22] the Virgin, the flanks the Scales, the pudenda and womb the Scorpion, the thighs the Archer, the knees Capricorn, the shins Aquarius, the feet the Fishes. And this again is not done at random, but for the reason that if any one of the stars which are maleficent at the time of nativity is in any of these Signs it produces an imperfection in the part which bears the same name.

Let this then serve as a rather summary account of the nature of the things within the circle of the [23] zodiac; and, next, it is not out of place to explain the division of them. Being halted in their observations, because the Signs were not being viewed according to their own proper determinations but by keeping watch on seven dispersed stars, it occurred to them to divide up the whole circle into twelve portions. [24] For: in indicating the method of their approach they say that the ancients, after observing the rising of some particular bright star in the circle of the zodiac, proceeded next to fill with water a jar which had holes in it and then let the water flow into another receptacle placed underneath until the same star had arisen again; and as they conjectured that the revolution of the circle was from the same Sign to the same Sign, they next took the twelfth part of the water which had flowed through and calculated how long a time it took in flowing; for that, they said, was the length of time taken in covering the twelfth part of the circle, and the part of the circle covered bears to the whole circle the same ratio as the part of the water which has flowed bears to the whole of the water. [25] [26] From this proportion—that of the twelfth part, 1 mean—they marked off the final limit from some one conspicuous star observed at the time or from one of the more northerly or southerly stars which rise simultaneously. And they did the same in the case of the other twelfth portions.

Such, then, is the method of approach which led them to divide the circle of the zodiac into this [27] number of portions; and analogous to it seems to be the method by which, as they say, they originally came to observe the horoscope at each nativity. For by night, they say, the Chaldean sat on a high peak watching the stars, while another man sat beside the woman in [28] labour till she should be delivered, and when she had been delivered he signified the fact immediately to the man on the peak by means of a gong; and he, when he heard it, noted the rising Sign as that of the horoscope. But during the day he studied the horologes (or sun-dials) and the motions of the sun.

[29] So much, then, for the Signs: as to the stars,” they say that some of them are “beneficent,” some “maleficent,’ and some “common”; thus Jupiter and Venus are beneficent, but Mars and Saturn maleficent, while Mercury is “common” since it is beneficent when with beneficent stars, but maleficent when with maleficent. [30] But others believe that the same stars are at one time beneficent and at another maleficent according to their varying positions for either by reason of the Sign, or by reason of the configurations of the other stars, the maleficent star is not entirely maleficent, nor is the beneficent entirely beneficent. [31] They suppose, however, that the Sun and the Moon are the principal stars of the seven, and that the other five have less power than these for the issues of the “effects’; and for this reason the Egyptians liken the Sun to the king and the right eye, and the Moon to the queen and the left eye, and the five stars to lictors, and the other fixed stars to the rest of the people. [32] And they say that, of the five, Saturn and Jupiter and Mercury are in accord with and join in aiding the Sun, and that these stars are called “diurnal” because the Sun, with which they co-operate, governs those born by day, (and that Mars and Venus aid the Moon). [33] ‘They say also that the same stars have increased power owing to their being in their proper “houses” or “elevations” or ‘ boundaries,” or owing to*the fact that some are “guarded” by others, or because they “look towards” one another or are in a certain “configuration” one [34] with another, or because they are at the “centres.” And, according to them, the Lion is the house of 3the Sun, the Crab of the Moon, Capricorn and Aquarius of Saturn, the Archer and the Fishes of Jupiter, the Ram and the Scorpion of Mars, the Bull and the Scales of Venus, and the Twins and the Virgin [35] of Mereury.—And they term the positions in which the stars rejoice or in which they have little power “elevations” and “depressions” respectively; for they rejoice in their “elevations” but in their “depressions” they possess little power. [36] Thus the Ram is the “elevation” of the Sun (or, to be exact, the nineteenth part of it), and its “depression” is the Sign diametrically opposite; and of the Moon, again, the “elevation” is the Bull and the “depression” the Sign diametrically opposite; and the elevation of Saturn is the Seales, of Jupiter the Crab, of Mars Capricorn, of Venus the Fishes, of Mercury the Virgin. And the depressions of these, as I said, are the Signs diametrically opposite the elevations. [37] And_ the “boundaries” of the stars, as they call them, in each Sign are those within which, from a certain portion to a certain portion, they possess most power; and about these there is no little disagreement amongst them and in their tablets too. [38] And they say that the stars are “guarded” when they are in the middle of other stars and in continuity with the Signs; thus if in the same Sign one star occupies the first portions and another the last and another the midmost, then the star in the middle is said to be “guarded” by those occupying the extreme portions. [39] And they are said to “look towards” one another and to “agree with” one another, as in the case of those which appear in a triangular or quadrangular figure. Now the stars which occupy the middle interval of three Signs form a triangular figure and look towards one another, and those between two Signs form a quadrangular figure. [40] And it is thought that when a maleficent star is in opposition to a beneficent in a triangular figure it is “well-disposed” and much more beneficent, and that a kindly in opposition to a beneficent is just “kindly,” and so with a maleficent in opposition to a maleficent; but the reverse is the case when the figure is quadrangular. And they are called “epicentric” when they are observed at one of the “centres,” either at the ‘ horoscope,” or at the “mid-heaven,” or at the “setting,” or at the “anti-mid-heaven.”

[41] But now that these matters have thus been ex- 4] pounded by us in outline and summarily, it must first be grasped that the Chaldeans start from them in making their forecasts of the “effects.” And in these there is a difference, since some are more simple, others more exact; more simple are those which occur by reason of the Sign or the simple power of a star,—as, for instance, that “this particular star when it is in this particular Sign produces men of such [42] and such a kind’; and more exact are those which occur through concurrence and, as they say, through the blending of several factors,—as, for instance, “Pit this star is in the horoscope, and that in mid-heaven, and that other in anti-mid-heaven, and the rest are in certain other positions, then the effects will be as follows.”

[43] Such then, it seems, is the main outline of the Chaldean doctrine; and now that this has been expounded it is easy to follow intelligently the counter-arguments which are brought forward. Some people, indeed, try to argue quite bluntly that terrestrial things do not “sympathize” altogether [44] with things celestial; for the surrounding vault is not unified in the same way as the human body, so that things on earth should “sympathize’ with things in the heavens in the same way as the lower parts of the body sympathize with the head, and the head with the lower parts, but in respect of the former there exists a difference and want of sympathy, as they have not one and the same unification. [45] —And others raise the argument concerning destiny; for unless all things happen according to destiny, astrology, which maintains this, does not exist.—And there have been not a few who propound the following argument: [46] Since some events occur by necessity, some by chance, and some by our action, if the Chaldeans aim at a possible prophecy, they will certainly make their forecasts about events which result either from necessity or from chance or from our action. [47] But if they do so about necessary events, their forecasts are useless in practice; for it is impossible to avert what happens by necessity, for that must take effect whether we like it or dislike it. And the prophecy would have been useful only if it had had reference to the means of averting it. And if it is about chance events, they profess what is impossible; for chance events are irregular, and of things which are irregular and turn out differently at different times it is not feasible to form a reliable forecast. [48] It remains, then, to say that they make their prophecies about things which occur through our own action. But this again is impossible; for that which depends on me as to whether it occurs or not, and which has no original predetermined cause, no one can possibly predict. Therefore the Chaldeans do not aim at a prophecy that is possible.

[49] The majority, then, try to abolish the Astrologers’ doctrine by this sort of long range fire; but we shall adopt a method of attack at close quarters, and when we have overthrown its principles and elements, so to call them, along with them we shall also find the structure of the rest of their theories demolished.

[50] The principle and foundation, as it were, of astrology is the setting up of the “horoscope”; for the rest of the “centres” are taken from this, also the declina343 tions and the ascensions, and the triangular and quadrangular figures, and the resultant configurations of the stars, and the prognostications derived from all these. Hence, if the “horoscope” is abolished, in-: evitably the “mid-heaven” is not known either, nor the “setting,” nor the “anti-mid-heaven”; and these being non-apprehensible, therewith the whole astrological doctrine disappears. That the Sign of the horo-; scope is indiscoverable by them one may show in many ways. For in order that it may be apprehended, in the first place the time of birth of the subject of investigation must be firmly apprehended, and secondly the “horologe” which signifies this must be unerring, and thirdly the “ascension” of the Sign must have been observed accurately. For at the time of birth the ascension of the Sign which is rising in the heavens is observed, the Chaldeans using it as a minister for the observation of the horoscope; and after the ascension, the configuration of the rest of the stars, which they call the “disposition’; and after the disposition, the predictions. [54] But, as we shall establish, it is not possible to perceive the time of birth of the subjects of the investigation, nor is the horologe unerring, nor is the rising Sign apprehended accurately. The doctrine, then, of the Chaldeans is without substance. [55] Let us deal with the first point first.

They take the time of birth of those who are to be the subjects of the investigation, in a rather primitive way, either from that of the depositing of the seed and conception, or from that of the parturition. But they will not say that it is from the depositing of the seed and conception, for the exact time of this is not determinable. [56] And naturally so; for we have no means of saying whether the conception takes place at the same time as the depositing of the seed or not. For this can occur quick as thought—like the dough that is put in very hot ovens, for this coalesces at once,—but it can also occur after an interval, seeing; that the seeds deposited in the earth do not at once strike root and become entangled with the underlying soil: And as there is some distance between the mouth of the womb and its base (where, as the medical fraternity say, conceptions take place), the substance of the seed deposited will certainly occupy some time in covering this distance. And as they! are ignorant of the length of this time the Chaldeans will never apprehend precisely the moment of conception. For since at one time the seed is shot straight and falls all together on the very parts of the womb which are naturally suited for conception, while at another time it is dispersed in its fall, yet can be collected into a single place by the womb’s own power, there is no knowing when the first process takes place and when the second, or how much time is spent over the former conception or how much over the latter. And when these things are unknown, accurate apprehension of the conception vanishes.—Also if, as some of the physiologists affirm, the seed is first cooked and altered beforehand in the womb, and then enters those vessels of it which are gaping to receive it, as they do not know the amount of time consumed in the process of alteration, neither, of course, will they know the moment of conception. [60] —Moreover, as women differ from one another in all the other parts of the body in respect of the activities of those parts, so it is likely that they differ in respect of the activity of the womb, some conceiving more quickly, others more slowly. Nor is this hard to believe, when, compared with themselves, women are seen to conceive easily at one time and by no means easily at another. [61] And this being so, it is impossible to state precisely when the deposited seed is conceived, so that (by calculating) from this time the Chaldeans might set up the [62] horoscope of the nativity.—Nor yet can one say that the time of conception may naturally be apprehended by means of certain signs,—for example, from the drying up of the uterine folds after the intercourse, and, if it should so happen, the closing of the mouth of the womb, and the cessation of the menses, and the occurrence of longings peculiar to pregnancy. [63] For, in the first place, these signs are shared by those who have not conceived; and, secondly, even if not thus shared, they indicate that conception has taken place when already, roughly speaking, several days have elapsed, and the time of it is not fixed precisely and closely and within the space of hours. [64] But for their diagnosis of the different lives what the Chaldeans need is not a rough and loose estimate of the time of conception, but an exact one.

Well then, from this it is quite plain that it is not possible for a horoscope to be set up from the time of conception. Nor yet from that of birth. [65] For, firstly, the moment when birth should be said to take place is a matter of doubt,—is it when the child begins to emerge into the cold air, or when it has emerged a little, or when it is deposited on the ground? [66] Secondly, not even in each of these cases is it possible to determine the exact time of the birth; for owing to the present state of the soul and the fitness of the body and the predisposition of the parts and the skill of the midwife and countless other causes, the time at which, after the bursting of the caul, the child is emerging, or has emerged a little, or is deposited on the ground, is not the same but different in different cases. [67] And as the Chaldeans are again unable to measure this time definitely and precisely they will fail to determine correctly the hour of birth.

From this it is evident that in so far as it depends on the times of birth, though the Chaldeans profess that they know the horoscope, they do not know it. [68] And one may argue in like manner that their “horologe” is not unerring. For when they say that the man who is sitting beside the woman in labour signifies the time of birth by means of a gong to the Chaldean who is on a peak watching the stars, and that he gazing at the heaven notes the rising Sign, we shall point out to them, firstly, that the time of birth being undetermined—as we proved a moment ago,“—it is [69] not easy to signify it by means of a gong.—Next, let it be granted that the time of birth is discoverable, still it is not possible to transmit it by sign at the exact time. For the fact is that in moving up to the peak the sound of the gong takes a considerable amount of time which perceptibly admits of division into parts. And what is observed in the case of those who fell trees on a mountain-side is a proof of this; for the sound of the blow is heard a considerable time after the fall of the axe, so that it takes some time to reach the listener. [70] So because of this it is not possible for the Chaldeans to take the time of the rising Sign which is the exact horoscope with accuracy.—Moreover, not only does a considerable time elapse after the birth, during which the sound passes from the man seated beside the woman in travail to the man who is watching the stars; but also, while the latter is gazing upward and looking round to discover in which of the Signs the Moon lies and each of the other stars, the “disposition” of the stars changes, as the Universe in its motion revolves at an incredible speed, before he has described after observation the things seen in the heavens at the [71] child’s natal hour.—Furthermore, the Chaldeans can, perhaps, have some success with this sort of observation by night, when the objects within the circle of the zodiac are seen and the configurations of the stars are plain to view. Since, however, some are born in the daytime, when none of the objects mentioned above can be noted, but only, if anything, the motions of the sun, one must declare that the Chaldeans’ method is possible in some cases, impossible in others. [72] But beware lest even at night sometimes they are unable to make observations of celestial objects that are entirely correct; for the nights are often clouded over and misty, and one might be well satisfied if, with all such occasions eliminated, one could find in this science substantial truth; but when there exists some obstacle to the accurate perception of celestial objects, it is far otherwise.

[73] And now that we have demolished the “horologe” of the Chaldeans and have shown concisely that it, together with the times of nativity, is beyond their grasp, let us proceed to the remaining part of our undertaking. What remains was to discuss the rising in the circle of the Zodiac without touching on the criticisms we have stated above. [74] We assert, then, that the portions of the Signs are hard to mark off from one another, or rather cannot possibly be defined with accuracy; indeed it is likely that a Sign which has already ascended should appear not to have risen as yet, and conversely that a Sign which has not yet risen should appear to have already ascended. [or the scheme of the waterpots, mentioned above,” is of no avail to rescue the Chaldeans, since owing to the flow of the water, and owing to the mixture of the air, the flow itself and the times parallel to the flow do not correspond. For as regards the motion of the water, it is likely that it is not the same at the beginning, when the flowing water is clear, and later on, [76] when it is turbid and flows less easily; and as to the mixture of the air, it probably opposes the outflow, acting as a kind of block, when it is misty and rather dense, and gives it more aid when it is pellucid and of fine texture. The jar itself, too, will not leak equally when it is full and when it is half-empty or nearly emptied, but more rapidly at one time and more slowly at another, and at yet another time at a medium pace, whereas the celestial motion continues constantly at an even speed. And most important of all, each of the Signs is not a continuous body, nor is it connected, as though by joints, with the one which precedes it and the one which follows it, with no space intervening, but it is composed of scattered stars which have certain interspaces and intervals, this one at the centre and that one at the limits. [79] Hence, as the Signs in the circle are circumscribed by numerable portions, it is certainly necessary that those who are observing from the earth should fall into error, since they cannot tell whether the interval under observation is the limit of the preceding Sign or the commencement of that which comes next. [80] And the peaks upon which the watchings of the stars take place do not remain always the same, but, as the Universe alters and changes as fate decrees, either by floods caused by rain, or by earthquakes, or by some other accidents of a similar kind, they are disturbed, so that owing to their alteration the observations of the stars do not remain the same, bat the observation taken by those on the height is of one kind and that taken by those who are gazing from the plain is of a different kind, and what is seen by the former is not in all cases visible to the others. [81] And here one may also take account of the differences in the senses; for some are more keen of sight than others, and just as an object which is not as yet seen by us owing to its great distance is perceived as a very large object by eagles and hawks owing to their excessively keen sight, so it is probable that the Sign which has already ascended and is the horoscope should appear as not yet risen to the Chaldean, who is not keen of sight but by comparison short-sighted, because of its vast distance. [82] And to these we must add, as the clearest disproof of astrology, the differ1 (rots) addidi.

iY ence of the air at the horizon, for as it is of the greatest possible density, it is likely that, owing to the reflexion of the visual stream, the Sign which is still below the earth will appear to be already above the earth,—the sort of phenomenon which also occurs in the case of the solar ray which is reflected on water; for, though we do not behold the sun itself, we [83] often imagine it to be the sun.—But the most conclusive argument of all is this: If each twelfth portion of the zodiac appeared at the same time to all those in the world who are observing the celestial objects, and was seen in the same straight line, then perhaps the Chadean fraternity might have been able to perceive with certainty the Sign ascending at the horizon. [84] But as it is, since it does not appear to all at the same time, but more quickly to some and more slowly to others, and to some obliquely but vertically to others, it follows that the same Sign does not seem to all to form the horoscope, but that which to one party seems to have risen already appears to others to be quite beneath the earth, and that which to some appears in the declination of the Sign of the horoscope is by others viewed as the Sign of the horoscope. [85] And that this is the case is quite evident from the fact that the fixed stars, such as Arcturus and Canis, do not appear to the dwellers in every region at the same time, but at different times to different people.

So now we have established by proofs sufficient in themselves that it is not possible to determine accurately the Sign of the horoscope, nor, consequently, any one of the other “centres”? from which the Chaldeans derive their predictions. [86] But over and above the foregoing we should add the argument that even if the exact time of the ascent of these Signs is apprehensible, yet it is plain that none of the ordinary persons who apply to the Chaldeans has observed for himself the exact time before applying; for the task calls for much expertness, as we have shown above,“and seems beyond the capacity of the ordinary man. [87] Since, then, the Chaldean did not observe the exact time of the birth in the case of a particular ordinary person, but hears it from the person himself, and this ordinary person again, partly through want of skill and partly through not taking very much trouble about the matter, does not know the exact time, the result is that men gain from astrology no valid prediction whatsoever but error and deception.

[88] And if they turn round and say that the time is determined not exactly but roughly and approximately, the results themselves will be enough to refute them; for those who were born at what is roughly the same time have not lived the same life, but some, for example, have been kings while others have grown old in chains. [89] Thus, though many throughout the world were born at the same time as he, none was equal to Alexander of Macedon, nor to the philosopher Plato. So that if the Chaldean considers what is roughly the time of birth, he will not be able to state definitely that he who was born at this time will have good fortune, for many who were born at the same time as he have had ill fortune; or conversely, that this particular man will be ill off; for not a few of those who shared in the same “disposition’ have been exceedingly well off in their old [90] age.—Moreover, the argument thus turned round to meet the attack mentioned appears to confute the Chaldeans very completely. For if those who have the same “disposition” at birth meet with the same results during life, then certainly those whose births are different become different. [91] But this is false; for we see many, who differ as to age and bodily shape and countless other peculiar affections, yet meeting with a similar end,—either perishing in war or being crushed by the collapse of houses or drowned in shipwrecks; and if these had lived, one may well be puzzled to know how the Chaldean would have foretold what the conclusion of their life was to be. [92] For if the man who was born in the arrow’s point of the Archer is doomed

according to the astrological theory—to be slain,

how is it that all those myriads of barbarians who fought against the Greeks at Marathon were all slain at one time? For the horoscope was not the same for them all. And again, if he who was born in the pitcher of Aquarius is doomed to suffer shipwreck, how is it that the Greeks who were being brought back from Troy were all drowned together round the “Hollows” of Euboea? [93] For that all these men, who differed greatly from one another, could have been born in the pitcher of Aquarius is impossible. Nor yet is it possible to say that because of one man who was. for instance, destined to perish at sea all those in the ship perish along with him; for what reason is there why this man’s destiny overmasters the destinies of them all, rather than that they should all be saved because of one man whose destiny it is to die on dry [94] land?>—And some other person will raise a doubt regarding the irrational animals. For if the effects in life naturally result from the configurations of the stars, then, when a pack-ass and a man are both born in this same portion of the Sign, the same kind of life ought to have followed as a result in both cases, instead of the man being, for example, conspicuous as a statesman and admired by the citizens, while the pack-ass is continually laden with burdens or led away to the mill-houses. [95] So it is not reasonable that life is ordered according to the motions of the stars; or if it is reasonable, certainly it is beyond our comprehension.

Starting from the same standpoint we shall also put them to shame when they propose to associate the shapes and characters of men with the figures of the Signs, as, for instance, when they say that the man born in Leo will be brave, and the man born in the Virgin will be straight-haired, bright-eyed, [96] whiteskinned, childless, and modest. [or this and suchlike notions are deserving of ridicule rather than serious attention. For, in the first place, if they assert that the man born in Leo is brave because the lion is a valiant and manly beast, how is it that they reckon the Bull, which is on a par with the Lion, to be a womanish beast? [97] And, secondly, it is nonsense to suppose that the Lion in the heavens, that most beautiful Sign, bears any analogy to the earthly lion; for it is probable that the ancients gave them names of this sort merely because of the similarity of their figures, and perhaps not even for this reason, but just for the sake of clearness in exposition. [98] For what resemblance have the seven stars to a bear, separated as they are from one another? Or the five to a dragon’s head,—the five stars whereof Aratus says But ne sit on the temples and two on the eyes, and below

One has its seat on the base of the jaw of the terrible
monster.

[99] Nor, in fact, as we said above,” are those born in the same Sign of the same shape or of similar character, unless they shall say that the sections and subsections into which each Sign is divided are capable of producing differences of the sort. But this again is impossible; for we have proved that accuracy as regards the identical times of the birth and of the [100] horoscope-taking is not to be had.—Also, of two things one: either the man born is brave because the Sign is called the Lion, or because, when the air under the celestial Lion is changed, dispositions of that sort are brought about in the man who is being born. But it is not credible that he should be brave because the Sign of his horoscope is called the Lion; for by this reasoning those who were born or reared along with the earthly lion ought also to have been brave, inasmuch as the animal along with which they were reared is called a lion. [101] And if it is because of the change of the air, what has this to do with a difference in the life? For though a certain blend of the air possibly contributes to the bodily strength and beast-like character of the creature born, yet the air does not seem to co-operate at all in causing the creature to be involved in debt or to be a king or to be put in gaol or to be lacking in children or brethren. [102] —And again, if he who has the Virgin for horoscope is straight-haired, bright-eyed, and white-skinned,“it must follow that none of the Ethiopians has the Virgin for horoscope, else they will be granting that an Ethiopian is white, bright-eyed and _ [103] straight-haired, which is of all things the most absurd—And in general, since they declare that it is not the stars that inform them of the differences in men’s lives but they themselves observe them together with the positions of the stars, I affirm that if the prediction is to be reliable, the same position of the stars ought not to be observed once only in connexion with the life of some one person, but a second time with a second life, and a third time with a third, so that from the equality of the resultant effects in all the cases we might learn that when the stars have assumed a certain configuration the result will certainly be of one particular [104] kind; and just as in medicine we have observed that a puncture of the heart is the cause of death, after having observed together with it not only the death of Dion but also of Theon and Socrates and many others, so also in astrology, if it is credible that this particular configuration of the stars is indicative of that particular kind of life, then it certainly has been observed not once only in one single case but many times in many cases. [105] Since, then, the same configuration of the stars is seen, as they say, at long intervals—the recurrence of “The Great Year” taking place after 9977 years,—human observation will not succeed in traversing so many centuries even in the case of one nativity, and that, too, when it is interrupted not once but oftentimes, either by the destruction of the Universe, as some have declared, or certainly by a partial upheaval which wholly does away with the continuity of historical tradition.

[106] Such, then, are the many valid objections which can be brought against the Chaldeans. After which, making a fresh start, we shall set out our criticism—which is brief—of the Musicians.

Book VI — Against the Musicians

Section titled “Book VI — Against the Musicians”

The term “Music’ is used in three senses; in one as a science dealing with melodies and notes and rhythm-making and similar things, in which sense we say that Aristoxenus, son of Spintharus, was a musician; in another sense it connotes instrumental skill, as when we describe those who use flutes and harps as musicians and female harp-players as musicians. [2] It is with these significations that the term “Music” is properly and generally used. But it is sometimes our habit to apply the same name in a loose sense to correctness in some performance. Thus we speak of a work as “musical,” even though it be a piece of painting, and of the painter who has achieved therein correctness as “musical.” [3] While music, then, is conceived in all these ways, it is certainly not our present purpose to frame our refutation of it if conceived in any other way than that first signified; for Music in this sense, as compared with the other kinds, seems to be the most perfect. [4] And, as in the case of Grammar, the refutation is of two kinds. Some have tried in a dogmatical way to show that Music is a subject not necessary for happiness, but harmful rather, and to prove this both by finding fault with the statements made by the Musicians and by claiming to refute [5] their leading arguments; whereas others, avoiding all that sort of refutation, have held, in more sceptical fashion, that through the wrecking of the principal assumptions of the Musicians the whole of Music is likewise destroyed. [6] Accordingly, in order to avoid the appearance of cutting down at all our debt of exposition, we shall discuss in summary fashion the character of each of these dogmas or operations, neither divagating into long disquisitions regarding irrelevant matters, nor, as regards such as are relevant, failing to give a full account of the pressing points, but making our exposition as moderate and measured as possible.

First in order, let us state the views commonly expressed concerning Musie by the majority of people. If, they say, we welcome Philosophy as regulating human life and repressing the passions of the soul, much more shall we welcome Music because it produces the same results as Philosophy not by commanding us in a violent manner but by means of a seductive persuasiveness. [8] Thus Pythagoras, having noticed on one occasion that the youths who were in a state of Bacchie frenzy from drunkenness differed not at all from madmen, advised the flute-player who was with then in their revels to play them the “spondean” tune; and when he had done as instructed, they The sort of slow, solemn melodies used at spondai ‘libations”). suddenly changed and became sober just as if they had been sober from the beginning. [9] The Spartans, too, the leaders of Hellas and renowned for their bravery, always had music to lead their army when they went to war. And those“who followed the counsels of Solon formed up their ranks to the sound of the flute and the lyre and made their movements under arms rhythmical. [10] Moreover, as Music gives sober sense to those lacking in sense and incites the cowards to courage, so also it calms down those who are burning with anger. ‘Thus we see how Achilles in his rage (as the poet describes him) is found by the messengers who had been sent to him ‘—Giving delight to his soul with the tuneful notes of his

zither;
Goodly and cunningly wrought it was, with its cross-bar
of silver,
Which he did choose from the spoils when he sack’d
Eétion’s city.

With this now he was soothing his soul,—as if he knew full well that the practice of music was the thing best able to overcome his state of [11] mind. lurthermore, it was customary for the other heroes, whenever they left home and set out ona long voyage, to leave the musicians behind as being the most trusty guardians and controllers of their wives. Thus Clytaemnestra was accompanied by a minstrel, to whom Agamemnon gave strict orders regarding the chastity of his wife. [12] But Aegisthus, who was a crafty rascal, straightway took this minstrel

Unto a desolate island, There did he leave him a prey to become and a spoil to the

vultures; and then he took Clytaemnestra, who was now without a protector, and seduced her, having urged her to seize Agamemnon’s dominion. [13] Those also who have been men of great ability in philosophy, such as Plato, say that the sage resembles the musician as he has his soul “harmonized.” Accordingly, Socrates, though he was already far gone in years, was not ashamed of going to get lessons from Lampon the lyre-player, and in reply to one who jeered at him for this he said that it was better to be accused of being late-learned [14] than unlearned.—Nor indeed, they say, ought we to run down the ancient music because the presentday music is hackneyed and effeminate, when the Athenians, who devote great care to temperance, appreciating the dignity of music have handed it down to their descendants as a most necessary branch of learning. [15] A witness to this is the poet of the Old Comedy,’ who says—

I will now relate from the start the life which I have provided for mortals.

The first rule was that none should hear from an urchin
the sound of a mutter,
Next, they must walk in order good on their way to their
master of music.

Hence, even if music now weakens the mind by its effeminate tunes and womanish rhythms, this is no argument against the ancient and virile music.— [16] Also, if poetry is useful for life, and music appears to adorn it by its melodies and and by making it fit for singing, then music will be beneficial. And, of course, the poets are called “tune-makers,” and of old the verses of Homer were sung to the lyre. [17] So likewise were the songs and choral odes of the tragic poets, preserving a natural relation, such as are those in verses like these—

Mightiest Earth and Aether of Heaven,—He of mortal
men and of gods is the Sire,
She takes to her bosom the drippings of rain, And she
bears as her offspring mortal men,
And food does she bear, herds too of wild-beasts;

Wherefore not without cause Mother of all is she deeméd. [18] For, in sum, music is not only a sound of rejoicing, but is heard also in sacred hymns and feasts and sacrifices to the gods; and because of this it incites the mind to emulate the good. It is, too, a consolation to those in grief; and for this reason those who are trying to lighten the grief of mourners sing for them to the flute.

[19] Such are the arguments in defence of music; but in reply to these it is argued, firstly, that it is not conceded off-hand that some tunes are in their nature stimulating, others repressive. For such a thing is contrary to our belief. For just as a clap of thunder—as the Epicurean fraternity declare—does not betoken the epiphany of a god, though supposed to do so by ignorant and superstitious folk, [20] since a similar clap is produced by other bodies clashing together in the same way, as by a mill-stone revolving or the clapping of hands, so likewise in the case of musical tunes it is not by nature that some are of this kind and others of that kind, but it is we ourselves who suppose them to be such. Thus the same tune serves to excite horses, but not at all to excite men who hear it in a theatre. And even to horses it [21] may prove not exciting but disturbing.—Secondly, even if the tunes of music are of the kind stated, music is not on that account useful for life. For it does not repress the mental state because it possesses a moderating influence, but because its influence is distracting; consequently, when tunes of that sort have ceased to sound, the mind, as though not cured by them, reverts to its original state. [22] Thus, just as sleep or wine does not banish grief but puts it off by inducing torpor and languor and oblivion, so a certain kind of tune does not repress a soul in grief or a mind that is shaken by anger but, if anything, distracts it. [23] And, as to Pythagoras,“in the first place he was foolish in desiring to render drunkards sober at the wrong moment, instead of quitting the place; and secondly, by trying to reform them in this way he confesses that flute-players have more influence than philosophers for the reforming of morals. [24] Also, the fact that the Spartans make war to the sound of flute and lyre is a proof of what was said a little while ago, but not of the usefulness for life of music. And just as men carrying loads or rowing a boat or doing any other toilsome work make rhythmical calls in order to divert their minds from the distress caused by their work, so also when men make use of flutes or trumpets in war, it is not because the tune has any power to excite the mind, or because it produces a courageous spirit, that they have employed this device, but through anxiety to divert themselves from the struggle and turmoil, seeing that some barbarians blow the trumpet with conches and beat drums as they make war; but none of these practices impels men to bravery. [25] And of Achilles in his anger the same may be said; although for one who was amorous and incontinent it is not surprising that he was devoted to music. [26] Yet (say they) the heroes entrusted their wives, as did Agamemnon Clytaemnestra, to minstrels, thinking them to be sober-minded guardians. But these, of course, are the fictions of story-tellers who at the next moment confute themselves; for, if music was trusted as a means of rectifying the passions, how was it that Clytaemnestra slew Agamemnon on his own hearth-stone “like an ox at the stall,” and that Penelope admits into the halls of Odysseus a crowd of dissolute youths and by constantly luring on and strengthening their desires by false hopes raised up for her husband the war in Ithaca which was more grievous and bitter than the campaign against Troy? [27] Moreover, if Plato admitted music, we should not therefore assert that music contributes to happiness, since others who are not inferior to him in trustworthiness,—such as Epicurus,—have denied this contention, and declared on the contrary that music is unprofitable and

Wine-loving, idle, having no regard for wealth. [28] Simple-minded, too, are those who link with it the profit derived from poetry to prove its utility, since—as we stated in our book Against the Grammarians “—one can argue that poetry is useless, and prove equally well that while music, being concerned with melody only, naturally serves to give pleasure, poetry which is concerned with thoughts as well, is able to be of benefit and teach prudence.

[29] Such, then, is the line of reasoning against the attempts at defence; but the principal argument against music is that if it is useful it is alleged to be useful on the ground that he who has practised music compared with ordinary people gets more pleasure from hearing musical performances; or on the ground that it is not possible for men to be good unless they [30] have already been trained by musicians; or because the elements of music are the same as those of the science of the subject-matter of philosophy, (which is much like what we previously said about grammar); or because the Universe is ordered according to harmony,” as the Pythagorean fraternity declare, and we need the theorems of Music in order to understand the Whole of things; or because tunes of a certain kind affect the character of the soul. [31] But it will not be stated that music is useful because musicians as compared with ordinary people get more pleasure from listening to performances. For, firstly, the pleasure felt by ordinary people is not inevitable as are those caused by food, drink and warmth after [32] hunger, thirst and cold; and secondly, even if they are inevitable we can enjoy them without musical skill; infants, certainly, are lulled to sleep by listening to a tuneful cradle-song, and irrational animals are charmed by the sound of the flute and pipe, seeing that dolphins, as we are told, swim up to ships as they are being rowed along because of the pleasure they take in the tunes played by flutes“; yet neither the infants nor the animals are likely to have skill in music or understanding of it. And for this reason it 3: may be that, just as we enjoy tasting food or wine though without the art of cooking food or that of wine-tasting, so also, though without the art of music, we take pleasure in hearing a delightful melody; for though the expert musician understands that it is artistically performed better than the ordinary man, he gets from it no greater feeling of pleasure. [33] So that music is not choiceworthy on the ground that those who understand it receive in consequence more pleasure.—Nor yet because it prepares and leads on the soul to wisdom; for, on the contrary, it resists and opposes the striving after virtue, making young people easily led into incontinence and debauchery, seeing that he who cultivates music’—[35] In songs delighting makes this always his pursuit. Whene’er a man is master’d by sweet pleasure’s charm At home he will be idle, idle too in town, To friends no friend, he speeds away and disappears.—[36] In the same way, the usefulness of music must not be inferred (as is obvious at once) from the fact that it and philosophy are derived from the same elements.—It only remains, then, to say that it is useful for happiness because the Universe is ordered according to harmony, or because it employs tunes which form character. But the last of these reasons has already [37] been denounced as not being true, and that the Universe is ordered according to harmony is shown to be false by a variety of proofs; and further, even if it be true, a thing of this kind can be of no help towards felicity, just as the harmony in instruments is of no help.

Such, then, is the first kind of argumentation [38] against the Musicians: the second kind, which deals with the principles of music, involves an inquiry of a more practical nature. ‘Thus, since Music is a science of what is “in tune” and “out-of-tune,” “in rhythm” and “out-of-rhythm,” if we shall prove that neither are tunes existent nor rhythms realities, then we shall certainly have established that Music is non-existent. And first let us discuss tunes and their existence, starting with some preliminary matters.

[39] Now sound, as one will grant without dispute, is the sense-object peculiar to hearing; for as it is the task of vision alone to perceive colours, and of smell alone to apprehend odours good and bad, and of taste to sense sweet things and bitter, so sound will be the proper sense-object of hearing. [40] And of sound one kind is “sharp,” another “grave,” each of these deriving its name by transference from the sense-objects of touch; for just as custom has given the name of “sharp” to what pricks or cuts the sense of touch, and “grave’ to that which causes crushing and compresses, in the same way it calls the sound which cuts, as it were, the hearing “sharp,” and that which crushes it, as it were, “grave.” [41] Nor is it strange if, just as we describe sounds as grey or black or white, calling them after the sense-objects of vision, so also we employ names derived by transference from those of touch. Whenever, then, the sound is expelled evenly and at one “tension” (or “pitch”), so that there is no diversion of the sense towards the “grave’ or the “sharp,” then such a [42] sound is called a “note,’ and so the Musicians say in their definitions “A note is the fall under one tension of a musical sound.” And of notes some are “homophonous” (or “in unison”), others not “homophonous”?; “homophonous” being those which do not differ from one another in respect of “sharpness”? or “gravity,’ and not “homophonous” those which are not of this character. [43] And of the “homophonous,’—as also of the not ‘homophonous,”—some are termed “sharp,” others ‘grave’; and of the not “homophonous,” again, some are called “dissonant,’ others “consonant,” “dissonant” being such as affect the hearing unevenly and intermittedly, and “consonant” such as affect it evenly and continuously. [44] But the special character of each kind will be more clear if we make use of a comparison with the qualities relating to taste. Thus, just as some of the objects of taste are of such a blend as to affect the sense uniformly and smoothly, like honey-wine and honey-water, whereas others affect it in distinct and dissimilar ways, as for instance honey-vinegar (for each of these constituents stamps its own quality on the sense of taste),—so also with notes, those which affect the hearing unevenly and intermittedly are “dissonant,” and those which are even are ‘consonant.’ Such, then, is the distinction as to “notes” as laid down by the Musicians. [45] —And by these, certain “intervals” are determined within which the sound moves, either ascending towards the “sharp” or descending towards the “grave.” And because of this some of these intervals are, by analogy, called “consonant,” others [46] “dissonant”; and “consonant” are all those contained by consonant notes, and “dissonant” all those contained by dissonant notes. Of consonant intervals the first and least is termed by the Musicians “By-Fours” (or “The Fourth’), the greater one which comes next to this “By-Fives” (or “The Fifth’), and the one which is greater than the By-Fives the “By-Alls” (or “The Octave”).“Also, [47] of the dissonant intervals, again, the least and first is what is called by them “Diesis” (or “Quartertone”); second is the “Semi-tone,” which is double the “Diesis”; third, the “Tone,” which is [48] double the “Semi-tone.”—Moreover, just as every interval in music consists of notes, so also does every “Bthos” (or “character”); and it is a certain “Genus” of melody. For just as of human characters some are gloomy and stubborn, such as those of the ancients are reported to have been, while others yield easily to lusts and debauchery and lamentations and groanings, so a certain kind of melody produces in the soul stately and refined motions, another kind motions that are base and ignoble. [49] Melody of this sort is called, in general, by the Musicians “Ethos” from the fact that it is productive of “character,” just as fear is called “pallid” for “pallor-causing,” and South-winds “deaf” and “foggy” and “headachey” and“dull” and “relaxing,” instead of being said to be causes of these effects. [50] And of this general type of melody one kind is called “Chroma” (or ‘Colour,’ Chromatic), another “Harmony” (or “Enharmonic”), another “Diatonic; and of these the Enharmonic is of an austere Ethos and productive of solemnity, while the Chromatic is shrill and dirgelike, and the Diatonic somewhat rough and [51] dnrefned And further, the Enharmonic ‘ane is inseparable from the songs that are being sung, but the Diatonic and the Chromatic have certain distinct sub-species, the Diatonic two,—that of the so-called “Lax Diatonic” and that of the “Tense Diatonic,”—and the Chromatic three, called respectiv ely the “Tonic,” the “Semi-tonic” and the “Lax.”

[52] Now from this it is evident that the whole of the Musicians’ theory of melody is based on nothing else than notes. And, because of this, if hese are destroyed Music Sal be nothing. How, then, can one assert that notes do not exist? From the fact, we shall say, that they come under the genus “sound,” and that sound is non-existent has been proved by us, in our Sceptic Commentaries, from the evidence of the Dogmatists. Vor the Cyrenaic philosophers assert that only the feelings exist, and nothing else; and hence that sound, not being a feeling but productive of feeling, is not an existent. Democritus, indeed, and Plato, by destroying every sense-object, destroy therewith sound, which is held to be an object of sense.—Furthermore, if sound exists it is either corporeal or incorporeal; but it is not corporeal, as the Peripatetics demonstrate by numerous arguments: nor is it incorporeal, as the Stoics prove’; therefore sound does not exist.—And some other person will attempt to argue thus: If the soul does not exist, neither do the senses; for they are parts of the soul. And if the senses do not exist, neither do the sense-objects; for their existence is conceived as relative to the senses. And if sense-objects do not exist, neither does sound; for it is a species of sense-object. But, in fact, soul is nothing, as we have shown in our treatise concerning it; therefore sound does not exist.—Moreover, if sound is neither short nor long, sound does not exist; but sound is neither short nor long, as we have shown in our treatise Against the Grammarians, when questioning their theory of the syllable and the word: therefore sound does not exist.—In addition, sound is conceived neither as a completed thing nor as a substantial thing, but as a thing which comes into being and has extension in time; but that which is conceived as coming into being is coming into being, but does not as yet exist,—just as a house which is coming into being, or a ship or a multitude of other things, is not said to exist. So, then, sound is nothing. There are also many other arguments one might use to prove this point, such as those with which, as I said, we have dealt fully in our comments in Pyrrhonea.4—Now, then, as sound does not exist, neither does the note, for it was described as “the fall of a sound under one tension; and when the note does not exist, neither does the musical interval exist, nor symphony, nor melody, nor the Genera formed from these.’ Therefore, Music does not exist either; for it was described as “the Science of things in tune and out of tune.” 5

[59] Hence, making a fresh start, we must show that, even if we lay aside these considerations, Music is non-existent owing to the doubt regarding rhythm-making which is now to be raised. For if rhythm is nothing, no science of rhythm will exist; but, in fact, rhythm is nothing, as we shall establish; therefore no science of rhythm exists. [60] For as we have frequently stated, rhythm is a system composed of “feet,’ and a ‘foot’ is that which consists of “arsis ” and “thesis’ 4; and“arsis” and “thesis”” are seen in quantity of time, for the “thesis” occupies certain periods of time and the “arsis certain other periods. For just as syllables are composed of elements, and words of syllables, so feet are composed of times, and rhythms of feet. [61] If, then, we shall show that time is nothing, we shall have shown therewith that feet also do not exist, nor, consequently, rhythms, as they derive their consistence from feet. And from this it will follow that no science of rhythms exists. How then? That time is nothing we have already established in our Pyrrhonea,’ but none the less we shall also establish it now, up to a point.—For if time is anything, it is either limited or unlimited. But it is not limited, since, if so, we shall be saying that there was once a time when time did not exist, and that there will sometime be a time when time will not exist. Nor is it unlimited; for a part of it is past, a part future, and if each of these does not exist time is limited, and if each does exist, then both the past and the future will exist in the present, which is absurd. [63] Therefore time does not exist.—Also, that which is composed of non-existents is non-existent; and time being composed of the past, which no longer exists, and of the future, which does not yet exist, will be [64] non-existent.—Again, if time is indivisible, how is it that we call a part of it “past,” a part “present,” and a part “future”? And if it is divisible, since everything divisible is measured by some part of itself,—as the cubit by the palm, and the palm by the finger,—time, too, will have to be measured by one of its own parts. [65] But it is not possible to measure the other times by the present, since, according to them, the same instant and present time will be both past and future,—past because it measures the past time, and future because it measures the future; which is absurd. Nor yet can one measure the present by one of the two remaining times. And, because of this, one must declare that thus, too, no time exists.—[66] Furthermore, time is tripartite,“and one part is past, one present, and one future; and of these the past no longer exists, the future does not yet exist, and the present is either indivisible or divisible. But it will not be indivisible; for, as Timon asserts, no divisible thing, such as becoming and perishing, can become [67] in indivisible time.—Again, if the present part of time is indivisible, it has neither a beginning from which it begins, nor an end at which it ceases, nor, in consequence, a middle, and thus present time will not exist. And if it is divisible, then, if it is divided into the non-existing times, time will not exist; while if it is divided into the existing times, time will not exist as a whole, but some of its parts will exist and others will not exist. So, then, time is nothing; and, consequently, feet, too, and rhythms, and the science of rhythms are nothing.

[68] Having said thus much by way of effective argument against the principles of Music, we here bring to a close our disputation against the Arts and Sciences.