Categoriae Decem Ex Aristotele Decerpatae

THE TEN CATEGORIES

EXCERPTED FROM ARISTOTLE.

CHAPTER ONE. — On speech: and how far the meaning extends.

Since every science and the teaching of the various arts is treated only by means of speech, yet no one, my son, has been found, however eminent in any field, who wished to treat of the origin and beginning of speech itself. Therefore the diligence of the philosopher Aristotle is to be admired, who, eager to discourse about all things, began from the examination of speech itself, which he knew had been passed over by all and was necessary to all. He therefore taught us that out of these eight which the grammarians call the parts of speech, that one alone is rightly called a part of speech which indicates something and signifies it by a word. And so, according to Aristotle as author, we ought to accept only the noun and the verb as parts of speech; but the rest are made out of these, and ought to be called, as it were, joints of speech rather than its parts. For the noun points out a person, the verb what each one does or suffers. Then too, by his teaching, we ought to notice with what brevity speech, gradually compressed, has through stages enclosed all things that exist under a single word. For since the naming of mortals is diverse and innumerable, and the wide diversity of names cannot be comprehended, yet when you have said "man" with one word, you know all. Similarly also the rest, as "that horse," or "that one," or "that one and that one." And although the comprehension of these names also is infinite, yet when anyone has said "horse," he will point out all.

And if someone should impose names upon lions, as is often done, or upon oxen, the knowledge of each individual extends into the boundless, and the keenness of the mind is dulled: but when you have said 'lion' or 'bull', all that are everywhere fall under one name of nature. Indeed, the power of speech, which had bound together infinite kinds by the variety of generating individual words, seemed to have done too little, unless it should also confine the same, narrowed down, into a single designation. And therefore it called both man and beast and horse 'animal', giving to all a name that would possess everything. Nor did it mark out any less those things which are without soul, by a brief designation from an immense demonstration: for since there are the tree of the nut, and of the chestnut, and of the acorn, and of the apple, and other inexplicable kinds of shrubs; calling them 'shoot', it bound all together with a single and common word. Similarly, it compendiously called the diverse stones of ornaments 'gems'. Finally, although it had abundantly provided for kinds scattered everywhere by reconciling them with a special mark, yet with some vast and capacious name reaching to the infinite, comprehending whatever exists, it said 'thing', beyond which nothing can be found or thought. This is one of the ten categories. And it is established that they are called categories for this reason, because they cannot be known except from subjects. For who can know what a man is, unless he places some man before his eyes, as a subject to man?

But lest, as the treatise proceeds—where many examples are needed—the same names be repeated for the sake of instruction, and it often happen that examples worn out by frequent use, whether of Hortensius or of a higher man, or of a higher animal, or of a higher substance, fall into disgust, he adapted other terms for these things, which the philosophers would use for discussion; and so he called Hortensius, and the nut tree, and the horse Xanthus, and similar things: because they are perceived by touch, because they are divided and cut. For who would believe that Hortensius can be cut into pieces like bread? But if that were done, Hortensius would no longer be Hortensius; just as [it would not be] the number one, just as [it would not be] singular things; for these cannot be doubled in any single thing. Then he calls the higher things, that is, man, horse, lion, tree, or art, as it were parts of a genus and forms of things. Next, the superior things, that is, animals and shrubs and buds and stones, he named genera, from which parts or forms are born. Yet the same genera can also be called species or ideas, because they have something higher, that is, substance, from which they are seen to arise and be born. But substance itself, above which there is nothing, they wished to be called a genus.

CHAPTER I. — On Equivocals and Univocals.

Having settled these matters, Aristotle, about to treat the things that can be signified and demonstrated as conceived in the mind, passed over those inquiries which deal with the rationale of words, since it has come about in the usage of language that many things are called by one name and one thing by many names. To these things which one name embraces, art has given two terms, so that of them some are called homonyms and others synonyms. Homonyms are when indeed several things receive a common name but are separated by the interpretation of that same thing, as a painted man and a true man. For in this case the name is the same; but if you return to the definition or interpretation of man, these are found to be dissimilar. For when you have said that a true man is an animal that is capable of laughter and admits the power of reason, you cannot say the same of the painted one, and so they are necessarily found to be dissimilar. But we ought to take it as a rule that every name, even a proper one, which can be common with others, is called a homonym; as Cicero, not one but several. But if, setting aside the name, you wish rather to demonstrate by signs who that Cicero is, who another, who a third, the signs of one and another must be related, so that you say one is thick-set, another slender; or one is called tall, another short; one of white color, another black. These therefore, since they differ in the thing but are associated by name alone, are called homonyms—joined by the word, distinguished by the interpretation of the thing.

Synonyms, however, are things that are joined both by name and by their own interpretation, as "animal": for this can be said of man, and horse, and beast, and birds. An animal is that which takes food, which is mortal, which is moved by sense. Now let us come to those things which are accustomed to be signified singly by many names. Although Aristotle passed over this part, as is said above, for the reason that he thought the discussion must be about the things that are signified, not about the things that signify. But in these the question turns not on things but on names. These are divided similarly into two parts, and let some be one kind and others another. Polyonyms are when many names signify one thing, and no account is given of the difference of the names; as "ensis," "mucro," "gladius": for why these signify one thing so many times can neither be discerned nor defined. Next, heteronyms hold single things by many names equally. But in these the diversity of names has a rationale, as is "earthly mortal man": man from humanity, earthly from earth, in which all things are born, mortal from the necessity of death. It is clear, therefore, that in these the origin of the names is sought, in the former the origin of things; wherefore, having omitted these, Aristotle preferred to set in motion the treatise of the former. Therefore let us return to homonyms, which are divided into two parts: for they either come about by chance or are born from the will of men.

For they come about by chance when someone, by some accident, takes a name similar to another's; by will, when the likeness of a name is attached by the intention of the one imposing it. Of these, however, which arise by intention or will, there are four kinds, as the Latin language also makes clear: similarity, proportion, from one, to one. Similarity is, as a painted man and a true man are joined in likeness alone. Proportion is what the Greeks call analogy, as in the way we say the principle of an animal is the heart, so we call the principle of water the spring; for proportion seems to be a likeness of a name joined to it. From one is when we say from medicine a medicinal tool, medicinal science, medicinal use, a medicinal precept: from one they all descend. To one is, as that potion is healthful, this doctor is healthful, that tool is healthful. For all these seem to attain one thing, that is, health.

CHAPTER III. — What Aristotle does in the Categories.

But most people are accustomed to raise the question as to which things Aristotle wished to begin his treatise with. First, concerning the things that are; second, concerning the things that are perceived; third, concerning the things that are spoken. First, there are all the things that nature has brought forth; second, those things are perceived whose images we form in the mind by seeing and store away; third, those things are spoken by which the things impressed upon the mind are brought out. For whatever someone conceives in the mind, he declares by means of the tongue following after. But, as it pleases Themistius our learned philosopher of the age, Aristotle begins to treat of those things which are perceived, and which he himself calls by the Greek name, that is, the images of things residing in the mind; yet since he has proposed to dispute concerning things perceived, he will necessarily speak both of the things that are and of the things that are spoken. For things perceived arise from the things that are, which we perceive by their nearness; but the demonstration of things perceived will not be given unless they have been demonstrated with the help of the things that are spoken. Therefore, although afterwards he will define separately the things that are, nevertheless we ought to understand his disputation concerning the three as mixed together.

For the one who speaks about things perceived both traces the origin of things and implores the aids of speech. Therefore, he who says that it ought to be examined why Aristotle in his beginning either wrote or set down homonyms by way of a rule, if he was going to treat of the things that are perceived, raises a superfluous question, since it is clear that nothing can be said unless it has been perceived, nor can anything be perceived unless there is a thing from which an image is grasped by looking upon it.

CHAPTER IV. — On Denominatives. How Denominatives Differ from Homonyms.

With these things therefore known, let us look at denominatives, which are established in the middle between homonyms and synonyms, and which cannot be called denominatives unless they have in themselves the combination of both, that is, unless they seem to have in common both the name of homonyms and the matter of synonyms; as we say "wise" from wisdom, or "medical" from medicine, since in the medical man the same likeness of act and of name seems to be present as in medicine. For this reason it is rightly called a denominative, because it has received its name from elsewhere. But lest those things which are said from one source seem to be both denominatives and homonyms, we ought to recognize this difference: that the denominatives themselves are indeed homonyms among themselves on account of the likeness of the name, yet they are called denominatives of that name from which they have received their name — for example, from wisdom we call a man wise, and a wise man's counsel; these are homonyms among themselves, but they are denominatives of wisdom itself.

However, it must be observed that they have a change in the last syllable, and that paronyms are not bounded in the same way as the things from which they take their origin end; for example, medicine and physician: medicine is closed by one set of letters, physician by another. Therefore, unless paronyms have this difference, and unless they are joined with synonyms in respect of function and with homonyms in respect of name, they are called homonyms rather than paronyms. For example, if from malice we call someone vicious, in respect of function it indeed agrees with synonyms, but in respect of name it differs from homonyms. For vicious and malice are not similar, although they are understood by the same meaning. But if from malice someone is called bad, both agree correctly. In the last syllable, however, they are not changed in this way, as if we were to say from wisdom the words wisdom. Here, since no syllable has been changed, the designation of paronym is excluded. Hence it is clear that these and similar words ought rather to be joined with homonyms. We must also know that words are either simple or certainly joined. Joined, as in the horse runs; simple, when these are separated and spoken individually, as horse, runs. But I think enough has now been said about these things that are signified.

CHAPTER V.—Substance and accident.

It remains for us to explain how Aristotle treated of the things that are. Those things, then, are what we either perceive by the senses or gather by the mind and thought. By the senses we hold those things which we know by seeing, or touching, or hearing, or tasting, or smelling. By the mind, as when someone has seen a horse, or a man, or any living being, although he grants that it is one body, he nevertheless understands that it is compounded of many parts. Since one part is of the head, another of the feet, and others of the remaining members, in the head itself the ears have their own parts, the tongue has its own. The individual parts themselves also have many things in them which can be divided and separated: so that flesh is one thing, hide another, veins another, sinews another, hair another. Therefore we gather these things by the mind or intellect, things which our senses cannot penetrate to. We consider also those things, and know by the intention of the mind, either a man or another animal, to grow, to grow old, now to stand, now to move; at one time to be vexed by cares, at another to rest with a secure mind; at one time to enjoy health, at another to endure pain; to be changed from black to white, from white to black; from unskilled to skilled, from unlearned to learned; from tame to wild, from fierce to gentle.

Since, therefore, among the things that exist, some are gathered by the senses and others by the mind, learned men preferred to distinguish these by their own names; and that which is discerned by the senses they wished to be called "being," while that which is gathered by the mind's handling and is often useless, that is, accident, they wished to name. And since those things which happen to exist in permanent substance are known to be in it, they wished substance itself, that is, the underlying subject, to be called "not in a subject," but those things which happen, that is, are in an underlying subject, they called "in a subject." Nevertheless, we must certainly acknowledge this: just as we call substance more important than accidents, so we should judge the more particular—that is, this man or this lion—to be preferable to those things which are common, or called by the common name of animals.

CHAPTER VI.—Things said of a subject, and things in a subject.

Again Aristotle returned to the things that are signified, intending to show in how many ways the things that exist are customarily signified. Of these things, therefore, that exist, some are signified of a subject and are not in a subject, as man. He is indeed signified of a subject, namely some man; for man could not be spoken of unless there were someone of whom it was spoken. But he is in no subject, since he himself is substance, which we said above is never in any underlying subject, inasmuch as it is itself the subject to all other things.

But others are neither in a subject nor are they signified of a subject, as is Cicero; for he is not in a subject, because he is a substance; nor is he signified of any subject, since, holding a name sprung from himself, he cannot be understood from elsewhere. Two things have been said which pertain to substance—how they are signified, of which the former, that is the common, is called the higher, and the latter, that is the singular, the lower. Now it must be said in what way those things which belong to accidents are signified. Of these, then, some are in a subject and are signified of a subject, as is knowledge or color. For they are in some subject, that is, in the mind or the body; for knowledge cannot exist unless there be a soul as the subject by which it is contained; nor could knowledge be signified unless it were of a subject, as grammar; nor could any color exist unless in a subject body; nor could it be signified unless it were of some subject color. Thus it comes about that they are both in a subject and are signified of a subject. But others of these same accidents are indeed in a subject, yet are in no way signified of a subject, as is this grammar, or this white color. They are indeed in a subject, the mind or the body, but they are not signified of a subject. For their name does not depend on anything else, but they are designated by their own and special name. In these too we call the higher accident the common, and the lower, where the thing is now definite, is said to be for a part, that is, it is spoken of.

But lest Aristotle be thought to have passed over anything unclear, and to have given occasion for questions about what "in a subject" is, he wished to treat it more carefully and to define what it is, so that the way might be closed to those who cavil. He defines, therefore, that "in a subject" is what is in another thing, not as a part, nor can it ever be without that in which it is. This definition was added for the reason that it could be said that a finger or a foot is in a subject, that is, in the body; this, therefore, he excluded by a careful definition, saying that to be in a subject is what is not a part of that in which it is; but it is agreed that a finger or a foot is a part of the body. Then it could be said by those who cavil that water or wine is in some cask as in a subject; but a learned definition does not allow this to arise, adding that to be in a subject is what cannot be without a subject; but it cannot be doubted that wine or water can be elsewhere without the cask in which it was. Meanwhile, in this place we ought to notice by what art the definition is set forth. For first it must be extended through the boundless, beginning from the genus; then, running gradually through the parts, it must arrive at that in which alone is that which is being defined. As those who form statues first select a boundless stone, then by gradually diminishing and cutting away the superfluous, they arrive at forming the faces and limbs.

Thus a definition, beginning from the genus and, once the generality of words has been driven off, gradually makes its way toward the proper dwelling-place of the thing to be demonstrated. But let us return to the matter at hand: for the discussion was about things that are, in what way they are signified; and since much has already been said about these, you must hold this as a rule: all things—whether this man, or this horse, or this tree—cannot be signified as of a subject. But if these same things belong to accidents, that is, this color, this discipline, they can be in a subject; for as was shown above, every accident cannot be without a subject. We have therefore been taught in what way we may recognize either a subject or what is in a subject.

CHAPTER VII.—What genus is, what species is.

Next Aristotle teaches us also by what reasoning we may know those things which are signified of a subject. But in these there is this special point, that the same things are found in the subject itself which are in that which is signified of a subject; for just as animal is signified of a subject, man or horse, so also man must be signified of some subject, a particular man; but Cicero is both man and animal. Whatever therefore can be predicated of animal, the same are also predicated of man and of Cicero.

Wherefore those things which are found in that which is signified of a subject must necessarily also be found in that which is the subject: for example, if you say that an animal is that which takes food, that which is mortal, that which is moved by sense; but "animal" is signified of man as of a subject: those same things which have been said of animal must necessarily also be said of man. Then, whatever things have been said of man, the same also of Socrates. For it is certain that Socrates is a subject to man, and man to animal. Whatever, therefore, has been said among those things which are signified of a subject, the same will also be predicated of those things which we call subjects. Now those things are regularly signified of a subject which cannot be known through themselves, just as animal cannot be understood except of a subject, man, and so man cannot be noticed unless he is discerned from some subject, a man. Now since he is about to speak of the genera and species and differences of all the categories, it seems that it must first be considered what genus is, what species is, what difference is. Genus, therefore, is that which is shown and signified, according to many and different things, as to what a species is, as is substance. Indeed, we speak of substance in general; but this common name is separated by species, when we say animal or stone. Thus it comes about that, as if joined under one word, they are separated by species. But difference is that which, according to many and different things, is predicated of a species not as to what it is, but as to what sort it is, as is animal: walking, flying, swimming, two-footed, four-footed.

Therefore genus and difference are signified by species. But what genus is, and of what sort the difference is, can be recognized from the species. A species, however, is what some also call form, which, being divided according to many things, is predicated and known as to what it is in number, as is man. This name "men" embraces all men, and it seems to do what the species does, which is predicated of some man who contains number in himself; as, for example, this one first, that one second, this one third. Yet so that we may show these three by one example: genus is animal; difference, two-footed, four-footed; species, man, horse. But just as there is no genus that does not have a difference, so neither should we understand a difference that will not have a species; as black and white do not have a difference, because they do not produce species from themselves. For what other species of white or black can be found? Since, therefore, what genus is, what difference is, and what species is, has been set apart, let us now come to the things already said by Aristotle. For by his teaching we have learned that of those genera which are diverse among themselves, neither can the differences be the same, nor the species. For one thing is both species and difference when it is asked what it is, another when it is asked of what sort it is, another when it is asked how much it is: as if you wish to state the difference of animal, you may say winged, two-footed, walking; if you wish to state the species, you may say man or bird or horse.

Can difference or species be said of discipline as well, for the reason that their genera are different, animal and discipline? For animal is a category of substance, discipline a category of quality. Finally, those genera that are joined to one another by mutual association have the same differences and the same species, as is substance, whose species is animal. But the same animal is a genus of the rest, and therefore it is called both species and genus. Since here, then, two genera hold to one another, which Aristotle also named, they have the same differences, so that if you say that substance is a mortal, two-footed, capable-of-laughter [thing], you can say the same also of animal: animal is a mortal, two-footed, capable-of-laughter man; and you can say the same also of man. It is certain, therefore, that in genera joined to one another, the same differences and species are found. But in different genera this cannot occur.

CHAPTER VIII. — On the categories in general.

Again Aristotle returns to the things that are spoken of, although we said above that the one cannot be treated without the other. For he who says something, says it about that which is; and that which is cannot be understood apart from the other unless it is spoken. Of those things, therefore, which are spoken of without any combination with themselves, whatever single thing has been said either signifies substance, or quantity, or quality, or relation, or position, or action, or passion, or where, or when, or having. These are the ten categories, of which the first is substance, namely that which supports the other nine. The remaining nine, however, are accidents. Of these nine, some are in substance itself, some outside substance, some both within and outside. Quality, quantity, and position are in substance itself: for as soon as we have said substance, whether man or horse, we must necessarily observe two-footed, four-footed; or white, or black; or standing, or lying. These are in substance itself, and without it they cannot exist. Others are outside substance: where, when, having; for place does not pertain to substance, nor time, nor being clothed and armed; but they are separated from substance. Others are common, that is both within and outside substance: relation, and action, and passion: relation, as greater and smaller; for neither can be said unless the other is joined, by which it is greater or smaller; for this reason, then, they have one thing in themselves, another outside themselves.

Likewise "to make": it is outside and within, as when no one can be said to strike unless he strikes another; or "to read," unless the reader himself is one thing and what he reads another. So therefore this too is in substance and outside substance. "To suffer" similarly: for no one can be struck or burned unless he suffers from another; for this reason these also are both in substance and outside substance. These, then, when they are singular, affirm nothing; but when combined they make from themselves a certain expression—either, or, or, or—so that we may show these too in Latin speech: either commanded, or wished, or asked, or called. These, as it were four kinds of speech, are likewise suspended and for the time being simple, and therefore half-full. For it is not yet understood what is imperative, or what is optative, or what is interrogative, or what is vocative, unless the kind has been added, that is, the enunciative, which has in itself a certain force of confirming, which either adds or removes something: which Aristotle also stated, as in "this heaven is revolving," "this heaven is not revolving." Finally, the enunciative itself, which we have mentioned, is either false or true. Wherefore, passing over those four which pertain more to grammarians or orators, Aristotle made mention of this apophantic [kind], which touches on philosophers. CHAPTER IX. — On usia, or substance. Usia properly.

Of the things called second substances.

Having therefore set out all the matters that seemed necessary for those who would dispute, it was fitting that the individual categories be defined. But since substance could not be defined according to the art which prescribes that a definition, so that it may be extended more widely, take its beginning from a genus—yet substance itself has no genus, since it sustains all things—he wished to define it by parts, so that what it is might be known not only by its definition but also by the knowledge of its parts. That, therefore, is substance properly and principally spoken of which is neither in a subject nor is said of a subject, as is this man or this horse. Second substances are said to be genus and species, that is, animal and man. These, then, he says are named second substances, because that one is more powerful which is neither in a subject nor is predicated of a subject. But genus and species are called second substances for this reason, that they alone indicate the first. So that if someone does not wish or does not know how to say Socrates, he may say animal or man, that is, genus or species; and by these words what Socrates is is recognized. But if he says something else, either he runs or he walks, nothing can be recognized. It is manifest moreover that those things which are signified of a subject have both the name and the definition of the name in common with those things which are the subject; as man is signified of some subject, but you will find in the subject not only the name but also the same definition which you will be able to find in that which is signified of the subject.

Next, of the second substances themselves, species is more potent than genus: for species is closer to the primary substance than genus is. For if anyone wishes to show what primary substance is, he will show it more easily if he names the species than if he names the genus. As if someone wishing to name Socrates, omitting his name, would signify him better by saying "man" than by saying "animal." For we can recognize animal, and also horse and eagle. Then, just as primary substances underlie all things and all things are sustained by them, so too species underlies genus, and therefore this is more a substance than the rest. It must also be seen that we not think any species alone to be the same as a genus: as if someone says "animal," he has also named a genus. Then if he says "man," "horse," "fish," "bird," shall we pronounce all these to be species alone? For since man and horse are species, they are manifest; but fish and bird are both genera and species (for there is not one form of birds and of fishes): therefore they are named both species and genera. But those which are species alone, such as man, horse, eagle, bull, are of equal rank as substances. For as man is a substance, so also horse, eagle, and bull in their own genus. Having therefore run through the parts by which substance is defined, he wished in another way to define it, if he showed those things which it is necessary to be found naturally in it. For the things that are in each thing are either in the subject alone and in every case, or in the subject alone and not in every case, or in every case and not in the subject alone, or neither in the subject alone nor in every case.

The Greeks call these [properties] kath' hautou, kai kata pantos, kai kath' hautou kai kata pantos. For example, if someone wishing to define man says that he is capable of laughter; this is both in the sole [subject] and in every [instance]. For man alone laughs, and it is natural for all [men] to laugh. Secondly, in the sole [subject] and not in every [instance], as if someone defining man says he is capable of discipline; this can indeed be found in man alone, yet not in every [man]: for not all have learned any disciplines. Thirdly, in every [instance] and not in the sole [subject], as if someone defining man says that man is that which walks and that which takes food: this is indeed in every man, yet not in the sole [subject]: for beasts also take food, and wild animals run. Fourthly, neither in the sole [subject] nor in every [instance], as if someone in the definition of man says that man is that which is white; it is neither in the sole [subject] nor in every [instance]. For neither is man found to be purely white, and not an ox or a horse, nor is every man white. Two therefore are those which show a certain way for investigation, and two which cannot signify anything certain. That which is neither in the sole [subject] nor in every [instance], we can know nothing from this; for it is general. The other, in every [instance], not in the sole [subject], also has a difference; and for that reason it must similarly be rejected. Two remain, which by certain signs can demonstrate that in which they are, that is, in the sole [subject] and in every [instance]. For it cannot be doubted that when you have found [these], you pronounce what that is in which it is known to be present.

The other [kind of property] is in the sole [subject], not in every [instance], not indeed of the same virtue, yet [it is] something that must necessarily be sought for defining the thing, if the first [kind] could not be found. Now therefore, in order to designate ousia, he begins to argue from the fact that it is not in a sole [subject], when he demonstrates that there are secondary ousiai, which he says are secondary for this reason, because that which is in the primary [ousiai] can be found in them. Finally he says that this is common to any ousia, that it is not in a subject. Since therefore neither genus nor species is found in a subject, it is manifest that these ought to be named secondary ousiai. Then from this too he shows that genus and species are secondary ousiai, because all things that are in a subject, together with those that are subject to them, can sometimes have only the name in common, but not also the definition. But genus and species, together with their subjects, that is, with some particular man, have a certain commonality of name and definition. Having therefore demonstrated the secondary ousiai, that is, genus and species, only difference remained, which, on closer consideration, seems to be, as it were, an accident. Since indeed when "two-footed" or "mortal" or "rational" is said of animal, it is shown not what it is, but rather of what sort it is, and therefore it seems to hold the force of quality. But when the first difference arises from the genus, and thus the species follows, it ought not to be counted among accidents.

And therefore Aristotle said that it [is] mixed in signification, but by virtue he decreed it is to be counted among substances: for he declares that the same things are found in it which are found in the other substances; that is, to be present in a subject, so as to have a name and a definition of like kind. For when we say "a rational man," we can find in a subject both the same term and the same definition of it: for Socrates is both a man and rational. In like manner he proceeds by arguing through the rest, varied, demonstrating that certain things are in substance which it alone and every [substance] has, certain which it alone and not every [substance has], certain which every [substance has] and not alone, certain which neither alone nor every. Since these things are manifest in Aristotle himself, it seemed superfluous to open them up: especially since he decided in this work not to transfer all things that were written by the Philosopher, but to set forth more plainly those things which seemed obscure to the unlearned.

CHAPTER X. — On quantity. Nothing is contrary to quantity. What things are called contrary.

Therefore, since substance has been described, because it could not be defined for the reasons which I enumerated above, the order of things required more pressingly a definition of accidents. The first of these is quantity, not without reason: for when we have seen something, it is necessary to estimate how great it is. But how great it is cannot be discovered unless a measure has been applied and it has been collected. If, therefore, breadth being omitted, one wishes to measure only length, length without breadth is said to be subject to measure. Not that there is any length which lacks breadth; but because one who measures only length is said to measure length. But when breadth has been measured together with length, it is called [measured] by length and breadth. But if height also has been joined to the measure, they complete a body in all respects. Yet we do not understand this in the way we are accustomed to understand a natural body, lest we seem to return to substance. Then we also measure place, in which something has been established. Time also is subject to measure: for when something is moved, by that very motion it is necessary to have a measure of time, when we say that it arrived in the first, or second, or third year, or month, or day, or hour, or moment. In this way, therefore, how great each thing is is gathered. But of quantity itself, one kind is continuous, another separate. Continuous is a line, a surface, a body, place, and time. For in these the measure cannot have limits of individual parts.

For at the same time, as if you fix a point in the middle of a line, you will have given, as it were, a fixed boundary of measure; that boundary becomes common to both parts which are made by the divided line, so that it is uncertain to which part the boundary seems attached: to such a degree is each part joined and connected to the other. For a similar reason a surface is also said to be connected and coherent. Finally, if anyone wishes to divide it, he must place a line in its middle: since this line, which divides the surface, has made two parts from it, this line itself begins to be the common boundary of those two parts; for it is so connected to itself that it does not appear to which part the boundary seems fixed. Similarly, if anyone wishes to cut a body, the boundary of the body being divided must be a line or a surface; for the very cutting, which the line makes with the surface, must descend into the body: and therefore it is uncertain, whether by the line or the surface, to which part they have given a boundary, since when the body is divided a surface must be found in each part. And for this reason a body is coherent in that the common boundary of the two parts to be made is in it. The same reasoning applies to time, if we wish to give a boundary to it when dividing it, let us say "now." But "now" is so confounded between past and future time that it is uncertain where it ought to be separated.

But place, in the way that it surrounds any body whatsoever, is also occupied by the parts of the body; it is divided by a common boundary, just as the body is also divided: and for that reason it must be called continuous, like the rest. But number and speech are separate. For who would not notice that one is separate from two, and two from three, by their own boundaries? And in speech the individual syllables are separate: for they are segregated by nature and by number, when we call one short, another long, and one or two. Surely it is evident that the things we have said both pertain to quantity and must be called separate. There is also another difference among these quantities: for some of them are those whose parts have position, from which it can be recognized which part is joined to which; but others are those whose parts cannot have position. Now I call it position when we see the right, left, upper, lower, before, behind, far, and near of each thing. Therefore those whose parts are joined to one another by manifest position are these: line, surface, body, place. For whether you make parts of a line, or of a surface, or of any of these by fixing boundaries, although they seem to cohere and be conjoined, nevertheless it can be noticed in a bodily way which part is where, which is next to which, and to which it is joined. But those whose parts do not have position are these: time, number, speech.

For we call "one" this very number alone, saying it is number only, not some bodily thing; and in counting we see neither its right nor its left, since it exists only in a word, in sound, and is in no body, it cannot demonstrate the position of its parts, unless perhaps we call order a position, because two follow one; but position cannot be found in these things at all. Similarly also in time and speech, especially since these seem to slip away at once, when you have said it, and time runs; and speech, when it has not yet been spoken, does not exist; and when it has been spoken, it does not appear. It is evident, therefore, that these three do not have position of diverse parts. Rightly, then, these alone which have been mentioned are called quantities; but if any others besides these can be found, they ought to be set down as accidents. For there are certain things which happen to the accidents themselves, as if we say "much white"; for this reason it is called much white, not because the white itself is immense, but because the appearance in which it is white is discerned as much. It is evident, therefore, that when we say "much white," the quantity of the white is estimated from the appearance, which happens to it. Similarly, when we say "long acts," they are called long not because the acts are immense, but from the measure of time in which the acts are contained, the quantity of the acts is estimated. Yet we ought to recognize this as special, that nothing is contrary to quantity. For to an appearance, whether of a gramma, or of two cubits, or of three, nothing is contrary.

Unless perhaps through some error we think that "much" and "little" are contraries, not noticing that these ought to be transferred into the number of those things which are said in relation to something. For nothing is called much or little unless it has been compared to another. For when we say a mountain is short, we indicate that another is greater, to which it has been compared. Or when we say a grain of millet is large, we show that it is greater by comparison with its own kind, in which something shorter is found. And therefore it is manifest that "much" and "little," "great" and "short," find their name when compared with something. Nor does he err in this alone, who thinks that "much" and "little" ought to be joined with quantity, but also if he considers them to be contraries; which can by no means happen. For if, deceived by some error, we call these contraries, it will come about that contraries seem to fall upon one thing at one and the same time. For one thing can be called both greater than a smaller and short compared with a greater, at one and the same time: which neither the nature of things permits to happen nor reason itself allows. And therefore the opinion of those who believe these to be contraries must be rejected. Nor can contrariety be seen more in quantity than in a circle. For the ancients said that above and below are contraries to each other because of the distance between heaven and earth, asserting that in every direction the earth is beneath and the heaven above.

For when we contemplate the nature of things, the earth, which appears in the middle, is everywhere below: for even our antipodes, who are said to plant their footsteps opposite to ours, have the heaven above them. It is clear, therefore, that the earth is always situated in the lower position. Then that argument of the natural philosophers is also brought forward, that for this reason, from the diversity of places, the earth is contrary to heaven—that is, the one is always up, the other down—because all heavy things that belong to heaven are borne naturally to the earth, while those things that appear lighter must necessarily be raised toward heaven. Hence, therefore, they said that heaven and earth are contrary to each other, because natural necessity placed the latter below and the former above. From this reasoning, then, the definition of all contraries appears to be established. For those things are said to be contraries which, although they are from one and the same genus, are nevertheless separated from each other by a great distance. But those who assert this ought to notice that these things should rather be joined to things said in relation to something. For "above" cannot be said unless "below" has also been designated. But if anyone wishes to quibble, "above" and "below" can be seen to belong rather to the category of where. For when we say "above" and "below," it is recognized where something is being done. But these things, as we have said, belong to babblers; we, however, ought not to believe that a contrary is admitted in quantity. In the meantime, on the occasion of this discussion, one may notice that "above" and "below" in the natural sense are one thing, but that which is around us is another.

For the natural cannot be changed, but our [position] is changed by the migration of men: so that if someone, when he has been in lower places, ascends to higher, or wishes to descend from higher to lower, all things that were before are changed for him, since for one descending, the things that were lower are seen as higher. This also, insofar as it is present, is in every [quantity], yet not in it alone, so that it does not admit of more and less, which in Greek is called [poson]. For when we say two-footed, we cannot call another two-footed more or less. For in like manner the two-footed is second, just as the first. But if one thing is larger than another, it no longer receives the name of two-footed, but of another measure. Nor does number admit of more or less, since to name three more or less than three is madness. And time cannot be more or less than time. It is clear therefore, these things having been set forth, that more and less cannot be found in quantity. But the proper [mark] of quantity, and that which is found in every [quantity] and in it alone, is this, that all its [members] are called equal or unequal. As number is even and odd; a number is not called equal, if it is even; or if it is odd, not unequal. And similarly all its [members] are called not equal or unequal, but even or odd. But other things that do not pertain to quantity, we call similar to themselves rather than equal: as white is called similar to white, or not similar. For this word seems specially fixed in those things that are in quantity.

CHAPTER XI. — Relation. When "relative" is said. Opposites.

The third of the categories is the one called in Latin ad aliquid, in Greek pros ti. And indeed this third category was made necessary not by order but by the needs of the treatment; for after quantity, quality followed. But since in the category of quantity certain things of the same kind seemed capable of being transferred to relation, he wished necessarily to arrange this category, which had been fourth, as third, so that, once all things had been discussed and shown—which things belonged to each category—the frequent confusion that had arisen might be resolved. Moreover, Aristotle does not begin from his own definitions, but from the terms of those who before him wished to define relation incorrectly. Yet we ought to hear these things as though it were not a treatise of his own. For the philosopher both cunningly gives them assistance and seeks a remedy for badly posited terms, intending afterward, by the utterance of his own opinion, to refute all the things that have been improperly defined. We therefore call that category "relation" which says that a thing is [what it is] from another, without whose association it cannot exist, and whose whole force descends from conjunction with another: as double is called double of a simple, greater is called greater of a lesser, like is called like of a like. It is clear, therefore, that relation consists not by its own force but by conjunction with another. In the same way the rest must be understood which are known to belong to the same category, as is habit, affection, discipline, position, sense. These Aristotle named. And these too depend on another.

For a habit is called the habit of some thing, and an affection is the affection of something in relation to something, and knowledge and position and perception are understood by a similar principle. But let it not disturb us that certain things are said to belong to this category which also appear to be joined to quality. For habit and affection and knowledge and the rest that have been mentioned with these seem most of all to agree with quality. But we ought to notice the difference by which these two categories—that is, quality and relation (ad aliquid)—are separated from each other. For whenever knowledge is called the knowledge of any thing whatsoever that is knowable, and perception is called the perception of that thing which is perceptible, then we ought to take it as relation; but when knowledge or discipline is said not of any thing whatsoever but of a man, we ought to recognize quality. This for the present is the difference, although if we wish to define this category, which is called relation, in its own proper terms, so that it may be separated from the rest (for it seems to run into them all), we must define it in another way, lest error always arise for the less attentive. Then, therefore, a thing is both truly and properly called relative, when at one and the same rising and setting both that which is joined and that to which it is joined are found: for example, slave and master—either both exist at the same time, or both do not exist at the same time. For when you have said master, a slave will necessarily also exist; but when you have removed the master, neither does the slave appear.

Similarly, double and simple either destroy or reveal each other: for when the double appears, the simple is born; when the double perishes, the simple cannot remain either. And likewise, if the simple does not exist, neither is there a double; but if the simple exists, the double will necessarily appear. Yet specifically and according to rule, so that this category may be more clearly distinguished, this is the path by which we ought to observe that a thing is not correctly said to be "in relation to something" unless it is referred, that is, singular to singular. For when we say "double," without doubt we say this double not generally but specifically, and we say it is the double of this simple thing. And therefore it is truly the category of relation whenever, for example, we say that Socrates is similar in face to Chrysippus. But how, or who, or to whom someone is similar, shall we demonstrate, unless we personally indicate both who is similar and to whom he is similar? But there are some who wish to raise a superfluous question against this definition, asserting that something can be found said to be in relation to something which exists beforehand, and afterward is born that which ought to be named from it; so that these two now seem to be joined together neither by origin nor by setting. And they give examples of the knowable and knowledge, asserting that the knowable existed beforehand, and afterward its knowledge followed. For example, among geometers, the circle existed beforehand, but their knowledge of it was afterward comprehended by the wise; and for that reason the knowable existed beforehand, in which knowledge could be found.

By this argument, therefore, they show that many things belong to this category to which birth and death do not appear to be common. For they contend that the sensible and the sense-perception stand by a similar reasoning: since sensible things existed before. For the elements of which every body consists existed before any body was born from them, in which sense-perception would exist. By these arguments, therefore, they show that the definition of the category which is called "in relation to something" is not correctly established. Those who look into the nature of things with too little care are accustomed to assert these things. For all things that exist are said to exist either by natural power or by the operation of making, which the Greeks call [energeia]. If anyone wishes to separate these and not confound them in any association, he will understand that what is said "in relation to something" cannot exist without the other, of which it is said to be. For to the knowable, or the circle, in the very origin of its nature, knowledge is joined. For as soon as the knowable began to be, it had knowledge of itself, but not yet, that is, it was shown by operation. Therefore its knowledge did not then begin to be when it began to operate, but it was born together with the knowable itself; the operation followed afterward. For we ought to distinguish the beginning of operation: for then we can notice that knowledge was brought forth together with the knowable, but that its operation appeared afterward through the investigation of the wise. These having been refuted, the best definition of things related to something is that they always either perish or are born together.

We must certainly hold in memory that not all things said in relation to something are referred to those things to which they are joined by the same cases; but some are linked by the genitive case, others by the dative, and very many by the ablative. By the genitive, indeed, as a slave of a master, double of a simple. By the dative, like to like, equal to equal. By the ablative, however, sensible by sense, knowable by knowledge, and other things of this kind, which are joined by various cases through association with another. It belongs, moreover, to this category and to it alone and universally that, between two conjoined things which depend on each other, there is a reciprocal conversion, which in Greek is called. As double is said of simple, and simple of double, and slave of master, and master of slave. It appears, therefore, that these conjoined things are converted by a reciprocal replication upon themselves, provided that this conversion is made knowingly and prudently. For if these terms are converted unskillfully, great confusion arises: as if someone unskillfully said a bird's feather, that is a foolish conversion. For not every feather is a bird's: indeed there are certain feathers which are not of birds, as of cicadas, flies, and other animals which nature has formed similarly. But if someone said a feather of a feathered creature, it is, as it were, a valid conversion. At this point it is pleasing to open up certain shadows which are accustomed to emerge from the similarity of the categories. Since, when we say a feather of a feathered creature, and a head of a headed creature, we seem to place parts of substance among accidents.

For a wing is undoubtedly a part of substance, or a head or a hand; and if these are referred to something, there will appear to be no distinction between substances and relatives. Therefore, so that all confusion may be removed, we ought to notice in what way "relative to something" has been defined truly and properly. For its definition is as follows: that is said to be relative to something whose very being depends on another, and which it is necessary to convert reciprocally, that is, by a vicarious change in knowledge. When anyone has considered this, he will find that neither the wing of a winged creature nor the head of a headed creature can rightly be called relative to something; for we cannot say, as we say the wing of a winged creature, "the winged creature of a wing," or "the headed creature of a head"; for whoever says this will be laughed at. For being winged does not descend from the wing, nor does the wing consist of the winged creature. And similarly the headed creature does not consist of the head, nor does the head appear to consist of the headed creature. But what is truly said to be relative to something can be converted in turn, as we said above: the master of a slave is a master, and the slave of a master is a slave; and again, when the slave is removed, the master is not, and when the master is removed, neither does the slave appear. But a winged creature can exist even when the wing perishes; and again, a wing can exist when the winged creature perishes. Therefore, once the definition of this category has been considered, a distinction can also be found for the confusion arising from similarity. In the same way we can also separate this category from the similarity of opposites. For also opposites.

Aristotle calls this, and they render a certain likeness of this category: since hot and cold seem joined to one another by the association of opposition; but we say that hot is not the hot of cold, but is opposed to cold; and we name just not the just of unjust, but contrary to unjust. Aristotle indeed, as we said at the beginning of this category, sets forth many examples which seem not to belong to this category under a fixed form, wishing from the consequences to censure the faults of the others who wished to define it otherwise. Finally, he also placed virtue as relative to malice, and knowledge to ignorance, as if to something, and said that these can receive a contrary, not because the matter itself demands it, but so that he might show the faults of those who argued by way of introduction. For these, as we explained above, are to be judged opposites rather than things said in relation to something. But to me, as also pleases Aristotle himself, this category seems able to receive more and less—not all of it indeed, nor alone. For we can call something like anything, and more like, and less like. But this cannot be found in all things that are relative, as I said. For neither can one be called more father nor less father; nor less son or more son; nor less double or more double.

But let us not be deceived into thinking that things are "in relation to something" whenever, for example, we say "whose horse," or "whose wood," or "whose estate"; for these, indicating a master or the person of a possessor, are not to be judged as spoken in relation to something. On this category, as far as we could, we have explained; although there seems to be such a great mingling of it with the others that even Aristotle himself did not easily discover its distinction, whose long and lasting reconsideration of it is not unfitting.

CHAPTER XII.—On quality. Four species of quality. Habit. Affection. Natural power. Passive qualities.

Now let us treat of quality, according to which existing things are called such-and-such. But many ask what quality is, and what "such-and-such" is, whose separation is easy. For we call sweetness, harshness, whiteness, blackness a quality. But "such-and-such" is understood whenever we say that something is white, or sweet, or harsh, or black. Although Aristotle indifferently put "such-and-such" for quality, and quality for "such-and-such," and for that reason we too, following him, have held similar views.

They want this category to be more difficult than the others for the very reason that it seems to run more easily than the others into all of them: for example, it is found in substance, when we say "a grammatical man"; in quantity, "a white or black epiphany"; in relation, "a prudent father, an excellent son"; in action, "he dances harshly"; in passion, "he bears wounds bravely"; in place, "a dark place"; in time, "a hot month, or a cold one"; in position, "he lies prone or supine"; in having, "decently armed." It will therefore be no small mark of prudence to separate by the liveliness of the mind quality, which is nearly confused with the others. Its species are four in number, which Aristotle set down in place of genera, namely for the reason that each of them also has its own species. But when this happens, they are called subaltern, which the Greeks named. So the first genus is habit and affection; the second, natural power; the third, passive qualities or passions; the fourth, forms and figures. These Aristotle spoke of. Habit is an affection of the mind persisting over a long time, as is virtue and discipline, which are estimated by their own perseverance and perpetuity of time, unless perhaps some languor of the body and a weakness brought on by chance has cut them off. But affection is a changeable impulse of the mind, or a light desire, which is destroyed in a short time. Habit therefore and affection can be seen; for it begins from this, and if it itself has persisted, habit is born.

But affection cannot be seen to be a habit; for if it has reached the point of habit, it will not keep its own name. At this point it is not inappropriate to resolve in a brief treatment, and to teach, what has often been asked: what distinguishes virtue from discipline. This, in fact, because discipline dwells only in that part of the soul which is called rational; but virtue embraces all the parts of the soul, and governs and rules the whole soul by its own command: so that it tames even anger, and removes desires from the mind, which discipline is by no means able to do. Natural power is, whenever someone seems either to be able or not to be able to do something by nature: for example, for the most part, when the bodies of boys have been seen and their limbs contemplated, we pronounce something about the future, and we say that they will be either boxers or runners: not because they are already held by this art or study, but because they seem about to fulfill these things more easily by the position of the body. Similarly we call healthy or weak those who either easily or not easily receive sickness. For in the same way natural power is also noticed in these things, which makes them either subject to illness more readily, or retain perpetual health. Also when hard and soft are said, it shows natural power. For hard is that which by firmness of nature does not easily admit its own corruption; but soft is that in which the nature is looser, and not sufficient for repelling contraries.

The third genus or species of quality is passive qualities and affections, of which this kind are: harshness, heating and cooling; for thus it pleases us to speak, and also whiteness and blackness: these are not called passive qualities for the reason that they undergo something, but because they produce an affection. For honey, in order that it be sweet, has not undergone something from sweetness, but it produces a sweet affection in those who taste it. But whiteness and blackness, and the intermediates of these, that is, redness and pallor, are more rightly called passive qualities: for these are born only from an affection of the soul or the body. For that someone become black is an affection of the body; that he grow pale or red is of the soul, which, when it has been unable to bear the shame of disgrace, pours out a supply of blood into the outer parts of the body, as it were for its own protection, and by this it comes about that we blush from excessive shame. Pallor likewise consists in a similar affection of the soul, when, struck by excessive fear, it flees to the inner parts of the heart, and the blood follows it, so that the body, deprived of blood, which is in view, grows white. This affection of the soul is so firmly established by the philosophers to be true that, even if pallor or redness should persist continually in the body, they assert that it came about from a similar affection. These qualities, therefore, if they persist in the body, because according to them we are called such, are themselves also reckoned passive qualities: but if they have existed for a short time, so that they quickly depart, we rather call them affections.

For if someone has been angry for a time, or has blushed, or grown hot, or grown cold, and is soon to return again to his natural state, he cannot be called ruddy or irascible or hot or cold, if he has suffered something only for a time. There will therefore be this distinction between passive qualities and affections: affections, having arisen for a time, are easily changed; but passive qualities, according to which we are said to be of such a sort, persist perpetually. Let us now consider the fourth species of quality, in which are forms and figures: and figures are assigned to inanimate things, forms to animate things. For we designate figures when we say triangle, or quadrilateral, or cone, or cylinder, or sphere; but forms when we assert that some are beautiful or ugly. In the same genus of quality are curvedness and straightness. For we dare to turn even this in the same way. For from these we are said to be something straight or curved; smoothness too, and roughness, and rarity and density, from which we designate rare, dense, smooth, and rough things, are indeed associated with the number of qualities, but have another interpretation of themselves.

Indeed, "dense" seems to indicate an excessive compression of the parts joined together; "rare," by contrast, is that in which the conjunction of parts seems looser through frequent intervals; moreover, "smooth" is properly seen to indicate that in which the position of the parts is so aptly and evenly arranged that none of them stands out beyond the measure of another; on the other hand, "rough" is produced by the discrepancy of the parts joined together: for inequality of parts does not engender roughness unless one part is longer and another lower. And for this reason some wish to associate these with another category, which among the Greeks is called keisthai, and among us "to lie," or, as Algorius—whom I consider among the most learned—wished, "position." For it is clear that each of those parts which make up a body consists in position; yet when we say "smooth" or "rough" or "dense" or "rare," we show of what sort they are, and all those things which were explained above concerning these seem to pertain to the interpretation not of the word but of the nature. For this reason, reason compels us to number these too among the "qualia." Therefore, from the qualities we have enumerated, things are named as "qualia," as "smooth" from smoothness, "dense" from density, and the rest similar to these. But it happens for the most part, though rarely, that "qualia" do not derive from their own quality, as from virtue one cannot be called "virtuous," but "moderate" and "industrious." Nor indeed in Greek is it said, but [it is omitted]. Hence it appears that "qualia" also generally stand even when the derivation of paronyms is neglected.

We have explained these matters thus far; now let us examine the consequences and the property of this quality whose diverse species we have set forth. And first, there is no doubt that qualities admit of contrariety. For who doubts that sickness is contrary to health, injustice to justice, heat to cold, evil to good, the unlettered to the lettered? But you will not find this in every quality; for nothing can be contrary to pale, or dark, or square, or triangle. It will therefore be no inconvenience to give a certain rule by which it may be noticed which qualities do not admit of contrariety. It will therefore be known to the learned that those qualities which are intermediate between contraries, and those which arise from shapes and figures, wholly exclude contrariety. Now I have called those intermediate between contraries, as dark and pale are: for these two arise from whiteness and blackness, and are intermediate between them; but whiteness itself and blackness are contrary to each other; yet nothing is contrary to dark and pale. It is clear, therefore, that the intermediates of contraries have no contrary. Moreover, a quality that consists in shape or figure is ignorant of contrariety. For what would one set against square or triangle, what against circle or cone or cylinder? Let us therefore hold as a rule that the quality which admits of contrariety can neither be every quality, nor only quality.

Nor should this be omitted, that we may know that in contraries of qualities, the one belongs to the same category as the other is found in: for injustice is contrary to justice; justice is a quality; therefore injustice is also a quality. Likewise whiteness is a quality; wherefore blackness must also be a quality. Hence it comes about that contrary qualities are regularly bound together in the same category. Since we are asking what is the property of quality, because to admit contrariety belongs neither to it alone nor to the whole of it, let us examine another. For I see that quality admits of more and less, that is, in itself. For we can say more white, or more black, or more musical, or less musical. But this too can be found neither in every quality nor in it alone. For who could call prudence more prudent than prudence, or whiteness clearer than whiteness, or doctrine more learned than doctrine, or a triangle more triangle, or a square more square? For if it is a triangle, it cannot be more than a triangle; or if it is more or less, it will no longer be a triangle. Nevertheless it pleases us to separate and distinguish those qualities which admit of more and less from those which are exempt from this degree of comparison. Let this, then, be the rule, that qualities themselves cannot admit of more and less.

But those things which are made from these, when compared, can receive more or less: for one can call eloquence more or less eloquence, or no eloquence at all; but we can call the one who is said to be eloquent more or less eloquent than the rest. It is clear, therefore, that more and less can be found in qualities, but can never fall under qualities. Figures also, as was explained above, do not admit more and less: since if you add or subtract anything to a circle, it will no longer keep the name of a circle, and will pass over to the name of another figure. It has therefore been clearly shown which qualities of this kind receive degrees of comparison, and which seem to be alien to them. It remains for us to investigate the property of quality, which among the Greeks is. For usia has this property, that being singular and one in number, it receives contraries in itself: but I said it receives, not that it has contraries. But we ought to remember that when we were treating of usia, we said that nothing is contrary to it. Therefore, just as it is its property to receive contraries, that is, now health, now sickness; and of quantity, that is, that it be called even or odd; and of relation, that they be, that is, that they be turned toward each other, as if joined by nature there: so also it is the property of quality that all things which are of such a sort are called similar or dissimilar. For by sweet, sweet; and by white, white; and by foolish, foolish; and by gentle, gentle; and by warm, warm, things are properly called similar or dissimilar.

For otherwise, if they had been spoken differently, they would have their own designation. Lest some people be confused in reading because affection, habit, and discipline, which are among the things said in relation to something—that is, placed in the category of relation—are also connected to the same quality, we give this distinction: that then they are associated with relation when they are genera, but when they are species, with quality. For example, if you say "discipline," which is the genus of the others, it must be referred to something: for discipline is said to be the discipline of a learnable thing. But if you say "music," music is a species of discipline, not its genus; it must be connected to quality: for we cannot say that music is of the musician, but the discipline of the musician. Similarly, affection and habit, according to genera and species, are now referred to something, now connected to quality. For if you say "affection" or "habit"—that is, of the genus, that is, of discipline—they are referred to something; but if you say that affection or habit is of a species, that is, of music or grammar, we ought to recognize them as qualities. Although Aristotle himself, great in genius, conceded to this mixture throughout, and said that it can happen that what was of quality is the same thing referred to something; and that it is not inappropriate if one thing is encompassed by the name of two categories.

CHAPTER XIII. — On Doing and Undergoing.

All the matters that pertained to the four greatest and difficult categories have now been stated; now the order of treatment reminds us that after quality the discussion of doing and undergoing should be taken up. These two seem to descend from the fountain of quality: for that which makes something hot must itself be hot; and we recognize hot as a quality. Similarly, that which becomes hot receives a quality through being acted upon; and the one who teaches, when he teaches, is a teacher and makes a pupil; yet each, whether teacher or pupil, is of some quality; and the rest of similar considerations, when examined, rightly show that these two categories are treated after quality has been set forth. But many have said that these two, doing and undergoing, cannot occur except in things that are contrary. For that which is sweet does not make something sweet unless it is that which was not sweet. For if that which is acted upon were sweet, by its own nature it would have no capacity to receive the sweetness of another; it is necessary, therefore, that what is acted upon not be sweet, in order to receive an alien sweetness; and for this reason, since that which acts is sweet and that which is acted upon is not sweet, they are necessarily said to appear contrary. Some have held a different view, asserting that these cannot be found except in things that are similar and established under the same genus; and that nothing can act or be acted upon unless it acts upon a similar thing or is acted upon by a similar thing.

For sweet and bitter, or hot and cold, although they seem to be contraries, yet when they fall under the same sense, they are confirmed to be similar. Finally, they say that the account of undergoing or doing cannot consist in things wholly distinct from one another: for example, what will number do in something bitter, or how can whiteness undergo anything from number? But let this be the conflict of others; for us, that rule should suffice, that we know doing and undergoing are joined in genus but separated by quality. For the hot, which surpasses the cold by its own heat, is in the same genus as the cold; but it differs in quality because it is hot: and when the learned teaches the unlearned, he is in the same genus; but he is distinguished by quality. It is clear, therefore, that doing and undergoing are similar in genus, contrary in quality. But these two, as we said above, seem so closely joined to quality not only in order but also in reason, that they receive the same things which we said quality receives. For they do not reject contrariety, which quality receives; and they admit more and less, of which we also said quality is receptive. But the property of these categories, which is in Greek, since Aristotle himself also omitted it, let not the reader inquire of us.

CHAPTER XIV. — On lying, or situation.

Next we must speak of lying, or situation, as some think; this category seems already to have been treated among things referred to something else. For what lies, lies as placed; but what is placed belongs to position, and position belongs to what is placed. For this reason, as Aristotle himself, whom we follow, also did, let us pass on to other things.

CHAPTER XV. — On where and when.

Where and when seem to be place and time, although they are not; but they are in place and time: as, at Rome, in the senate, before the third hour, after the month of March. These, as we said, are in place and in time, not place and time. Finally, as being clear and needing no treatise, Aristotle also passed over these categories; which we too shall do. For concerning time and place there is an ancient and great question among the greatest philosophers, some wishing these to be corporeal, while others judge them to be without bodies.

CHAPTER XVI. — On having.

It is not in one way only that we are said to have something. For as far as we can gather by treating of it, under this word there are, as it were, eight species. The first is whenever we have something in the mind, such as justice, chastity, injustice, or lust. The second is whenever we are said to have something in the body, such as whiteness and blackness, variety of color, or the other things that settle upon the body through quality. The third descends from quantity, whenever we are said to have a length of four or five feet. The fourth is when we are affirmed to have something not in the whole body but in a part of the body, as a ring on the finger, shoes or boots on the foot. The fifth species is when we are said to have something not in the body but around the body, as a garment and all clothing. The sixth is whenever we are told that we have the very parts of the body, such as hands, feet, head, or the rest that are in the framework of the members. The seventh place is whenever a vessel is said to have grain or wine. The eighth degree of having is that which seems to show our possession or ownership, when someone is said to have a house or a country estate, or the tombs of his ancestors. These are the modes of having that we have comprised in the assigned number; if anyone could find one outside it, it will not be the fault of our sloth, since the Philosopher himself left the freedom of inquiry to those who seek.

Indeed, many of the learned reject that word, and affirm that it is used improperly when a woman is said to have a husband freely, or a man a wife, or a father a son, or a son a father; because they assert that what the haver has cannot be had: but they think it is more correct to say that a husband is to a woman, or a wife is to a man, a father is to a son, a master to servants. Since they contend that the force of this word is such that it cannot signify both that someone has and is had.

CHAPTER XVII. — On the post-predicaments.

At last, as if we had crossed the straits of a great sea, we have finished the number of the categories, as I think not unpersuasively for the learned, but clearly enough for those willing to learn: but certain things remain which deny that we have touched the end of this book. For in each of the categories there has been discussion of contrariety, when we said which things receive a contrary and which reject it. Yet what the contrary itself is, no treatment has yet shown: and still certain words remain, whose force and propriety ought to be explained. For this reason let us pass to the necessary treatment of opposites.

CHAPTER XVIII.—On Opposites. The Three Species of Contraries.

There are four species of opposites: for one thing is opposed to another; first, either by the figure of that category which is called relation; second, either by way of contraries; third, either of those whose habit or privation is said to be about us (we ought here to take "habit" from "having," not as we defined it above, that a habit is a certain everlasting affection of the mind); in a fourth way, when we either affirm something or deny it: as, for example, let us set forth an example from those things which are said in relation. The first opposite seems to be double to simple, or father to son. But let the second example of contraries be evil to good. Let the third be of those also which are said through habit and privation, like blindness and sight. The fourth of those also in which there is negation and affirmation, like "runs," "does not run." But the distinction of contraries and of those which are said in relation is manifest to those who consider it: for things said in relation are named from their opposites; for simple is the opposite of double, and double the opposite of simple: but contraries have what they are called from themselves, nor do they need another. For who would call evil the good of good, or who would call good the evil of evil? This, then, is the clear and evident distinction of these two species which come from opposites. But the contraries themselves are divided into three species: for either they are mediate, that is,

have some mean between them, or without a mean; or, as reason finds in certain cases, they have a mean indeed, but its name does not appear, except as it is established by the negation of both opposites. Those, then, that are mediate are these: white and black, between which, when it can arise, pale or tawny; these opposites are called mediate. But those that are mediate—it is not necessary that one of the two opposites be found in a body: for if black is not present, tawny can be; or if white is absent, pale can be found. But from those opposites that are not mediate, it is necessary that one of the two occur, as is health and sickness. Their mean is nothing, because it is necessary that human bodies retain either health or sickness. But those that have a mean indeed, but lack a name, unless it is formed by the negation of the opposite, are these: just and unjust. There is something in the middle, but it has no name; and therefore the negation of both opposites creates a name for it, so that we call that which is the mean neither just nor unjust. Now let us examine more carefully those opposites that come about through habit and privation: for in these it must be observed that both be in the same matter, in the same place, at the appropriate time. They are in the same matter: blindness and sight; for they consist in seeing and in not seeing. These are also in the same place; for both blindness and sight have their place in the eyes.

But especially in these cases what is sought is the opportunity of time: for no one is rightly called bald unless at the time when he ought to have hair he does not have it; nor can anyone call toothless—which the Greeks call an infant—one whom the small age has as yet denied teeth. For privation, which in Greek is called στέρησις, has this force, that it shows that anyone has had something by nature and does not have it. Among these things it is fitting for us to remember that a sight and blindness are one thing, and to have sight and to be deprived of it another; lest, if we judge these same things to be the same, the reasoning seem confused. But if anyone thinks this doubtful or insufficiently certain, let him note what follows what. For if the blind man and blindness were the same, both would be said of one; but we say a blind man, yet a man cannot be called blindness. It is clear, therefore, that to be blind is one thing, and blindness another. Nor is affirmation and negation the same as the things that fall under affirmation and negation. For affirmation or negation is a word confirming or denying something; but other things are those which are found under these, as Socrates converses, Socrates does not converse. Similarly, however, all opposites are related to one another. Sometimes, moreover, evils are opposed to evils, whenever the means of contraries are good, as are deficiency and excess, which the Greeks call ὑπερβολή and ἔλλειψις. For when these two evils are opposed to one another, the mean is sought as a middle course.

Following this reasoning, the Peripatetics said that the virtues are means, so that they spoke of a more than just and a less than just; among these evils they placed hunger and justice. Similarly, between cunning and dullness they placed prudence; between lust and insensibility, which the Greeks call [apatheia], temperance was established; between timidity and boldness, courage. Thus a certain hidden kind of opposites is discovered by searching reason, so that sometimes evils are found to be contrary to evils. But Aristotle explained the properties and differences of these four species, which come from opposites, more broadly and in many ways; but for us it may suffice to have set out both the genus and the species, lest, occupied with more minute matters, we wear out the necessary things with disgust.

CHAPTER XIX. — On the Prior.

In five ways one thing is said to be prior to another: the first of these is when we say that someone is older in time. The second mode is that in which something is born from a prior thing; but when the prior perishes, the second perishes, while when the second perishes the prior remains unharmed; as one is naturally prior to two: for from it two are born, but without one two cannot exist, while without two the state of one remains; and when two exist, one must exist, but when one appears, no necessity compels two to exist.

In the third mode, a certain order makes one thing prior to another, as we find in the disciplines and liberal arts. For in grammar, it is prior to learn the forms and names of the individual letters, then to know the combinations of syllables, then to take up the notion of words; last for us is the use of speech to be assumed, on account of which we learn all its members, as it were running ahead. And in rhetoric the place of the prior is similarly arranged: for first we speak the prooemium, then the narration, after the refutation, then the confirmation; last the epilogue is placed. By these examples, then, let it suffice to have demonstrated the third mode of the prior. But the fourth mode is not altogether probable; and it is set forth as disapproved by Aristotle himself, as when the common crowd is accustomed to call those prior who are better or more distinguished by fortune. But in my judgment, the force of this prior is exploded. These are the four modes of that which is called prior; but a certain more hidden fifth is added, whenever from two things which are converted into each other, that one is rather which makes the other be: as for example, if a man exists, we rightly call him a rational, mortal animal, capable of laughter. And if this definition of man is true, it is true that he is a man. Thus each is converted into itself, that is, both that the definition of man is true, and that the man of the definition is true; since the definition could not be true unless the nature of man appeared first; therefore from these two.

...which we said are converted to themselves, man holds the place of the prior, whose existence expresses the truth of its definition.

CHAPTER XX — On "together."

It follows that we express the property of the word by which we say certain things are "together." For reason seems to demand that, after the treatise on the prior, we dispute concerning those things which are affirmed to be together. Therefore things are said to be "together" in three modes: when any things exist together at one time or appear together, such that neither of the two is prior, nor does one follow the other, but the origin of both seems to be common, as heat and splendor in the sun. The second mode is of those things which are naturally together, yet neither of them excels the other: for example, if we posit the simple and the double, they must be naturally together, but neither does the double make the simple to be, nor does the simple bring about the double. In this place we ought not to confuse ourselves, lest—since when we were treating of things said in relation to something, we said that to be in relation to something is what depends on another—we now seem to speak against our earlier definition. For we have argued that all things said in relation to something are said from another, not that they exist from another; nor is there any error, if anyone examines the weight of our words more carefully. The third mode is whenever things flowing from the same genus are seen to be together by nature, but are distinguished by species; nor indeed do they excel one another in that which is predicated of them, as is the case with animal: it is one genus, but its species are far distinct.

Nor indeed does it assign anything winged to the footed, or the footed to the winged, or in general does one thing supply any substance to another in respect of what it is; and no one thing is prior to another, but all things are born together from the animal, that is, from one genus.

CHAPTER XXI — On Motion.

Every change, which in Greek is κίνησις, comes about in three ways: either from a non-subject into a subject, as is origin or birth, which the Greeks call γένεσις; or from a subject into a non-subject, as is destruction or corruption, which the Greeks called φθορά; or from a subject into a subject, as is motion, which in Greek is called κίνησις. But motion itself also has three species, that is, increase, diminution, and change of quality or of place. These were called by the Greeks αὔξησις, φθίσις, and ἀλλοίωσις, or μεταβολὴ κατὰ τόπον. For they wished change in respect of place to be called μεταβολὴ κατὰ τόπον, which we too have preferred to call transgression, following the Greeks. But this order, which we have set out in the present work with careful exposition, as though differing from that book which is called the Categories, Aristotle himself also set forth in the books of Natural Philosophy; in the Categories, however, following a compendium of teaching, he did not hesitate to take the species for the genus, that is, motion for change: so that he said motion, as though six species were subject to it as to a genus: origin, destruction, increase, diminution, change of quality, transgression of place. These we have called in Latin speech origin, destruction, increase, diminution, change of quality, transgression of place.

These six species are distinguished from every account of themselves, unless perhaps to someone who understands too little, the change of quality—that is, even when other things exist—seems to happen, so that when something is born, or perishes, or grows, or diminishes, then a change is said also to have been made. But reason teaches that this is false: for things that grow or diminish are changed in quantity, not changed in quality. For change is properly of quality. But we must remember that alteration is one thing, and change another. For alteration is the genus, change the species subject to motion, which we have called a species of alteration. Finally, so that the distinction between these may be clear, let us set out a geometric example. If you divide a larger square, which is drawn within, by lines running through the middle into small squares, and afterward remove one small square from it, you have diminished the larger square; but if in place of the removed square you add a gnomon, which is placed in the form of a semicircle, you have restored to the larger square more than you removed: and this is of quantity, not of quality, and is attributed to alteration rather than to change, and by this they differ very much from each other. But the difference of all things comes about in three ways: either by material, or by workmanship, or by both. By material, if two rings are similar, and one is gold, the other silver; by workmanship, if dissimilar rings are fashioned from gold; by both, if one ring is gold and another silver.

It is clear, therefore, that these species of change are joined neither by their subject matter, nor by their operation, nor by both; indeed they are so separated that some of them even appear to be contrary to one another. For who would doubt that birth is contrary to death, and increase to decrease? Change itself, whether of quality or of place, although not from the same number of species, nevertheless has that which appears contrary to itself. For there is change of quality when something becomes black from white, or white from black, which are manifestly contrary to one another. Change of place also, which we have called transition, undergoes the contrariety of higher and lower things, and for that reason it appears to have contraries as well.

CHAPTER XXII. — Conclusion of the work.

These are the things, dearest son, which we have attained by continual labor, since the teaching of Themistius, a philosopher of our time held in high esteem, was not lacking to us, and which we have translated from Greek into Latin for your benefit; namely, that from these things too you may receive good fruit of the study that has come from us, if the desire for other things, which are slippery and vain, does not tempt you to be unlike us. For we have omitted nothing in this book that could either delight the already learned or more clearly instruct the unlearned.