Augustine, de dialectica (trans. J. Marchand)It is hard to translate, not because the Latin is hard; it is not. ButSt. Augustine likes to use particles (he is educating his son) and thelike, and I wanted to preserve the flavor. This is not a scientifictreatise. At the same time, I note that the translation I give issometimes too literal, since I also wanted to avoid falsifying St.Augustine and to preserve much of his introtextuality and self-reference. As usual, corrections, complaints and interventions dans le debat arewelcome. (With a later portion of the translation, Marchand supplied somedetailed comments on the task oftranslating this work.) There is also a briefbibliography of editions and scholarship. The Roman numeral atthe beginning of each paragraph is a link to the corresponding paragraphof the Latin text. The Book of St. Augustine on DialecticI. Dialectic is the science of arguing well. As you know, we use wordswhen we argue. Words, you see, are either simple or complex. Simples arethose which signify one thing, as when we say `man, horse, argues, runs'. You should not be surprised that `argues', though it is composed of twothings {argue + s, trans.}, nevertheless is numbered among the simples; forthis is clear from the definition. We said that a word was simple when itsignified one thing. Thus it (argues) is covered by the definition, but itis not covered when I say `loquor' (I speak), for though this is one word,it does not have a simple meaning, since it also designates the person whospeaks. Hence it is from the first subject to being either true or false,since it can be affirmed or denied. Thus, all the verbs of the first andsecond person, although pronounced as one word, nevertheless must be countedamong the complex words, since they do not have a simple meaning. Thus,whoever says `ambulo' (I walk) makes understood both the action of walking(ambulation) and that he himself does it, and anyone who says `ambulas' (youwalk) likewise signifies both the action performed and the person performingit. But when a person says `ambulat' (walking is going on), he signifiesonly the action of walking, whence third person verbs are always numberedamong the simples and can never be affirmed or denied, except when they areverbs such that there is of necessity attached to them the signification ofperson by usage, as when we say `pluit' (it rains) or `ninguit' (it snows),even when we do not add what rains or snows; since it (the subject) isunderstood, they cannot be put under the simples. II. Complex words (coniuncta) are those which signify several things whenput together, e.g. when we say `homo ambulat' (a/the/0 man walks) or `homofestinans in montem ambulat' (a/the/0 man walks, hurrying to the mountain),etc. There are some complex utterances which form sentences, like thosewhich have been cited, and others which do not form sentences, but requiresomething, like those we have just cited when you subtract the verb`ambulat' (walks) which we put there. Although `homo festinans in montem'forms a complex expression, the sentence is left dangling from it. Leavingaside, then, those complex expressions which do not form sentences, we areleft with those which do. There are two species of these: 1. either theyare made into sentences subject to affirmation or denial, e.g. `omnis homoambulat' (all men walk/any man walks) or `omnis homo non ambulat' (no manwalks), or 2. a sentence is formed which, though it presents a proposal tothe mind, can neither be affirmed nor denied, as when we command, wish,curse, etc. E. g., if someone says `perge ad villam' (go to the town) or`utinam pergat ad villam' (I wish he would go to the town) or `Dii illumperduint' (may the gods damn him), it cannot be argued that he is lying orbelieved that he is telling the truth. For he is affirming or denyingnothing. Thus these sentences are not brought into question and do notrequire disputants. III. Those which are subject to disputation are either simple or complex.Those are simple which are pronounced without any connection with anothersentence, e.g. `omnis homo ambulat' (every man walks). They are complexwhen judgment is made concerning their conjunction (Tr. when the truth orfalsity of the connective is the question), e.g. `si ambulat, movetur' (ifhe is walking, he is moving / if walking is going on, movement is going on). But when judgment is given concerning the conjunction of sentences, it mustwait until we come to the culmination (of the syllogism; a Stoiccommonplace, tr.). The `summa' (conclusion) is that which is made up ofconcessions (results from ...) What I am saying is this: Whoever says `siambulat, movetur' (if he is walking, he is moving) wants to prove something,so that when I concede that this is true, he needs only to say what walksand the conclusion will follow and now cannot be denied, that is, that hemoves -- or he simply has to say that it does not move, so that theconclusion again follows and cannot be denied (not not be conceded), namelythat he does not walk. And again in like manner if someone says `this manwalks', it is a simple sentence; if I concede this one and he adds another,`Whoever walks, moves', and I likewise grant this one, from the conjunctionof sentences, though uttered singly and conceded singly, the conclusionfollows, which is now of necessity conceded, namely `Therefore, this manmoves'. IV. Now that these have briefly been set up, let us consider theindividual parts. There are two first ones. 1. simple, as it were thematerial (building blocks) of dialectic; 2. those which are calledconjuncts, where the finished product, as it were, appears. The section onthe simplexes is called `De Loquendo' (on the utterance). The section onthe complexes is divided into three parts: 1. those collocations of wordsbeing set aside which do not make a complete sentence, those which completea sentence, so that a question is not raised or disputation is not calledfor is called `De Eloquendo' (on speaking). 2. When a sentence is completedso that it is judged (evaluated) as a simple sentence, that section iscalled `De Proloquendo' (on the sentence, on the statement). 3. That sectionin which a sentence is made in such a way that we judge concerning theconnective itself until we come to the conclusion is called `De ProloquiorumSumma' (on the conclusion; on the syllogism). Let us more closely examinethe various parts. V. A word is the sign of some thing which can be understood by the hearerwhen pronounced by the speaker. A thing is whatever is felt (sensed) orunderstood or `latet' (is hidden, inapprehensible). A sign is somethingwhich presents itself to the senses and something other than itself to themind. To speak is to give a sign in articulate voice. I call thatarticulate which is capable of being comprised in letters. Whether all thesethings have been defined correctly or whether they should be followed withother definitions, the section which deals with the discipline of definingwill indicate. Now listen attentively to what is coming: Any word `sonat'(sounds; is sounded). Therefore, when it is written it is not a word, butthe sign of a word; when the reader sees them, the letters impinge upon themind, which breaks out in voice. For what else do written letters do butpresent themselves to the eye and beyond themselves voices to the mind, andwe said a little earlier that a sign was something which presented itself tothe senses and something other than itself to the mind. What we read thenare not words but signs of words. But also, since the letter itself is thesmallest part of articulate voice, we misuse this word (letter), when we alsocall it letter when we see something written, though it is totally silent noris it a part of `vox' (voice), but appears as a sign of a part of the `vox'(voice). Likewise, we also call something written a word, although it is asign of a word, that is, appears as the sign of significant `vox' (voice).Thus, as we had just begun to say, every word has sound. But sound (quodsonat) has nothing to do with dialectic. It is a question of the sound of aword when we investigate or pay attention to how vowels are softened in theirdisposition or how they lose hiatus when they come together, likewise, howconsonants cluster by interposition or are made harsh by clustering, and howmany or what kind of syllables (a word) consists of, where the poetic rhythmand accent, a matter for the ears of the grammarian alone, are treated. Butwhen there is dispute concerning these things, that is not beyond dialectic.For it is the science of disputing. But since words concern things, whenthey assert something concerning themselves, it is with words that thedispute is carried on concerning them. Since we cannot speak of words unlesswe use words, and when we speak we necessarily speak concerning something,these words seem to the mind to be signs of things. For when the word goesout of the mouth, if it goes out concerning itself, that is, for example, itargues or asks something concerning itself, it is a thing undoubtedly subjectto disputation and question, and then the thing itself is called `word'.That of the word which is not sensed by the ears but by the mind and is heldenclosed in the mind itself is called `dicibile' (the expressible, thesayable; Stoic lekto/n). When the word is uttered not for its own sake, butto signify something about something, it is called `dictio' (an expression, asaying). That thing which is neither a word nor the conception of a word inthe mind, whether it has a word with which it may be signified or not, iscalled by its proper name nothing other than `thing'. We then have fourdistinct things: `word, dicibile, dictio, thing'. What I have called `word'is both a word and signifies `word'. What I have called `dicibile' is aword, but it doesn't signify `word', but that which is understood in the wordand contained in the mind. What I have called `dictio' is a word, but itsignifies something similar to both the other two, namely, the word itselfand what happens in the mind through the word. When I say `thing' it is aword which signifies that which is left over after those three which havejust been mentioned. Let us see if we can illustrate this by examples: Leta boy be questioned by a schoolteacher in this manner: "What part of speechis `arma' (arms)?" `arma' is here said concerning itself (for its own sake),i.e. is a word concerning a word. The other parts, however, when he says`What part of speech ...' are either felt in the mind or pronounced by thevoice, not for their own sake, but for the sake of `arma'. But since theywere felt in the mind, `dicibilia' (sayables) came before voice; when theybreak out in voice concerning what I said, then they are `dictiones' (thingssaid). `arma' itself, since it is a word, when it was pronounced by Virgil,became a `dictio', for it was not pronounced for its own sake, but that itmight signify either the wars which Aeneas carried on, or the shield, orother arms which Vulcan made for the hero. These very wars or arms whichwere carried on or worn by Aeneas -- the same, I say, which were eithercarried on or existed, if they were now present could either be pointed outor touched with the finger, if they were not thought nor made for him, theyare neither words nor `dicibilia' nor `dictiones', but things which areproperly called `res' (thing) by name. We must thus in this part ofdialectic treat words, `dicibilia', `dictiones', things. In all thesethings, where words are partly signified and partly things which are notwords, there is nothing concerning which it is not necessary to dispute usingwords. Thus, we must first discuss these, since it is conceded that we mustdispute concerning the others by use of them.VI. Any word with the exception of its sound -- to dispute well concerningwhich pertains to the faculty of dialectic, not the discipline of dialectic,just as the defenses of Cicero are of the rhetorical faculty, but rhetoricitself is not taught in them -- thus any word beyond its sound brings up fourthings by necessity: origin, power, inflection, order.We investigate the origin of a word when we ask whence it is said, a thingin my opinion of great curiosity and less necessity. Nor is it incumbentupon me to repeat what Cicero said (De nat. deor. 3.24), for who needsauthority in such a clear matter? And even if were of great aid to explainthe origin of a word, it would be silly (ineptum) to embark upon a projectwhich would be impossible (infinite) to complete. For who can find out whensomething is said whence it is said? It amounts to this: Just as in theinterpretation of dreams, the origin of words is judged by each mind(ingenium). `Verbum' (word) itself is sometimes said to be from the factthat it sort of reverberates in the ears. By no means, says another,anything other than air. But who cares? Ours is not a great argument, sinceboth derive it from `verberando' (beating). But unexpectedly we see a thirdwhich causes an argument. For since it is said to be proper for us to speaktruth and that the lie is odious by nature to the judge, `verbum' (word) isso named from `verum' (the true). Nor is a fourth lacking to ingenuity. Forthere are some who derive `verbum' (word) from `verum' (the true), but, thefirst syllable having received enough attention, they think it is wrong toneglect the second. For when we say `verbum' (word), they say, its firstsyllable signifies `verum' (the true), its second `sound'. They want this tobe `bum', whence Ennius calls the sound of the feet `bombum pedum', and theGreeks say {Gk. boe:~sai} `to call out', and Virgil (Georg. 3.223) `reboantsilvae' (the woods resound). Hence `verbum' (word) is something like from`verum boando' (sounding the truth). If this is true, this name forbids usto lie when we use a word, but I tell the truth, lest those who say thesethings lie (I am afraid they may be lying; Augustine likes to pun, Tr.).Thus you must judge whether `verbum' (word) comes from `verberando' (echoing)or from `vero' (the true) alone, or from `verum boando' (sounding the truth)or whether we should not worry about where it comes from, if only weunderstand what it means. This section having been covered briefly (i.e. onthe origin of words), I want you to listen a little, so that no part of thework begun may be overlooked by us. The Stoics affirm, whom Cicero ridiculesin this matter (as Cicero so well could), that there is no word whose origincannot be explained with certainty. And since it was easy to press them inthis matter, if you were to say that it is uncertain by which words you mightinterpret the origin of some word, they would answer you back that you shouldseek the origin until you arrive at the point at which the thing coincidesharmoniously in some similarity with the sound of the word, as when we say`tinnitum aeris' (clinking of brass), the `hinnitum' (whinny) of a horse, the`balatum' (bleating) of sheep, the `clangor' (blare) of a trumpet, the`stridor' (grinding) of chains. For you see that these words make a soundsuch as the very things which are signified by them. But since there arethings which do not make sounds, it is the effect which forms the similarity,e.g. whether they impinge harshly or softly on the senses, the harshness orsoftness of the sound as it affects our hearing gives them names. Forexample, the word `lenis' (soft) itself has a soft sound when we pronounceit. Who would not judge `asperitas' (harshness) by its very name to beharsh? It is soft to the ears when we say `voluptas' (pleasure) and harshwhen we say `crux' (cross). So that the sense of the words (the feel of thewords) and the things themselves have the same effect. `mel' (honey), assweetly as it affects the taste, just as softly does it touch the hearingwith its name. `acer' (acrid, strident) is harsh in both (Tr. taste andhearing). `lana' (wool) and `vepres' (thorn bush) have an effect like thatof the words when they are heard. They (the Stoics) thought this to besomewhat like a `cunabula verborum' (cradle of words), where the sense of thething concorded with the sense of the sound, and that the license of namingproceded from there to the similarity of the things among themselves. E.g.,for the sake of the word itself crux `cross' was said (originated), since theharshness of the word itself concords with the pain which the cross bringsabout, but `crura' (limbs) not because of the harshness of pain, but becausethey, of all the members, are most similar to the wood of the cross in lengthand sturdiness. The go from there to `abusio' (catachresis), where the nameis misused (usurped), not for a similar thing but for a sort of close one.For what do the meanings of `parvus' (small) and `minutus' (minute) have incommon, since a thing can be `parvus' (small), which is in no way `minutus'(minute), but may even grow (Tr. a pun on `minutus', past participle of`minuo' [to diminish, grow smaller]). But this catachresis is in the powerof the speaker, for he has `parvum', so that he does not have to use`minutum'. This has to do more with what we want to take up now: forexample, when `piscina' (pool) is said of baths, in which there are no fishand which have nothing similar to fish, we see that it is named for fishbecause of the water in which fish live. If someone were to say that menwere made for swimming similarly to fish and that `piscina' got its name fromthat, it is stupid to oppose (him), since neither is repulsive(contradictory) to the thing and both are unclear. From this one example, weshould be able to judge as to what distinguishes word- origins deriving fromvicinity from those taken from similitude. From these we go on tocontraries. `lucus' (grove) is said to take its name from the fact thatthere is little light there (minime luceat), and `bellum' (war), because itis not a `bella' (pretty) thing, and the name of `foedus' (treaty), becauseit is not a `foeda' (ugly) thing. But if it is said to be because of thefierce aspect of the `porcus' (battle array) (Tr. play on `porcus' [pig] and`porcus' [caput porci `battle array']), as some would have it, the origin isfrom that type of vicinity by which that which is done is named for that forwhich it was done. Now this vicinity is extensively applied and can bedivided into many parts: either by the cause, as this one by the fearfulaspect of the battle array, by which a truce is effected -- or by the effect,as `puteus' (well), whose effect is potation -- or by that in which it iscontained, as `urbs' (city), which some would derive from `orbis' (circle),since the place was accustomed to be circumscribed by the plow after theauspices were taken, a thing which Virgil (Aen. LV, 755) remembers, whereAeneas lays out the city with a plow -- or that which is contained, e.g. whensomeone affirms that `horreum' (granary) comes from `hordeum' (barley) by thechange of a letter -- or by misuse when we say `horreum' and what is keptthere is wheat -- or the whole from a part, as when we call the sword`mucro', which is the tip of the sword -- or a part from the whole, as`capillus' (hair, scalp) like `capitis pilus' (hair of the head). How muchfurther shall I go? whatever else can be enumerated, you have seen that theorigin of a word can be contained either in the similitude of things andsounds or the similitude of things themselves, or vicinity or contrary. Wecannot pursue this beyond the similitude of sound, but we are not always ableto use even this. For the words are innumerable whose origin or reasoncannot be given, as I believe, because there is none, as the Stoics contend,because it is hidden (escapes us). Just take a glance at the means wherebythey think they can arrive at those cradles or families or even the seed ofwords, beyond which they think it is impossible to go, in case someone thinkshe can find something. No one denies that there are syllables in which theletter `v' has the value of a consonant, e. g. `vafer' (cunning), `velum'(sail), `vinum' (wine), `vomis' (ploughshare), `vulnus' (wound), a thick andrather strong sound. And usage approves our subtracting it from some words,lest they offend our ears. It is because of this that we say `amasti' (youhave loved) more freely than `amavisti', and `nosti' (you knew) rather than`novisti', and `abiit' (he left) and not `abivit', and the like. Thus, whenwe say `vis' (power), the sound of the word when it is pronounced, beingrather strong, is congruent with the thing it signifies. From the vicinityof that which they do, i.e. that they are violent, `vincula' (bonds) may beseen to be derived, and `vimen' (withe) by which something is bound. Hence`vites' (vines), because they hold he stakes to which they are tied withtheir tendrils. Hence because of similitude Terence (Eun. IV, 21) calls thebent old man `vietum' (shriveled, bent). Thus, the earth, which is flexibleand ground by the feet of travelers, is called `via' (way). But if `via'(way) is thought to come more from the fact that it is ground by the `vi'(power) of the feet, then the origin is attributed to that vicinity. But letus say that it is by similitude to `vitis' (vine) or `vimen' (withe) that itis said, because of its winding. Someone will ask of me: Where does `via'(way) come from? I answer: from its winding, as bent old men are called`veteres', whence the rims which go around the wood of a wheel are called`vietos'. He will continue to ask whence `vietus' (rim) is said to beflexible or bent, and I will respond: "By similarity to `vitis' (vine)." Hepersists and asks whence this is the name of vine; I say: "Because itentwines itself around those things which hold it." He now wishes to knowwhence `vincire' (to bind) itself is said, and we say: "From `vis' (power)."He asks whence `vis' (power) is so called, and the reason is given: "Therobust and rather strong sound of the word is congruent with the thing itsignifies." There is nothing else to ask. By how many ways the origin ofwords is varied, then, by the corruption of voices, it is useless to pursue.They are both long and of less necessity than those which have been treated.VII. Let us now briefly consider the power of words, insofar as the thing isopen to investigation. The power of the word is that by which we know howmuch it is worth. Its value is the extent to which it is able to move thehearer. It either moves the hearer by itself or by what it means or by both.When it moves him by itself, it either pertains to the sense alone or to artor to both. The sense is moved either by nature or by custom. Nature wasviolated, if it is offended when someone names King Artaxerxes, or soothed,if it hears Euryalus. For who, hearing nothing else of these men whose namesthese are, would not notice in the former the great harshness and in thelatter the softness? The sense is moved by custom when it is offended ifsomeone is called for the sake of the word (supposition of the grammarians)Motta, and not offended if it hears Cotta. For this does not depend on thesweetness or non-sweetness of the sound, but they affect the innermost partsof the ear when they hear the sounds going through them as guests who areknown or unknown. The hearer is moved by art when he attends to a wordpronounced to him, as to what part of speech it is, or if he perceivesanything which has to do with the discipline which treats of words (grammar).But words are judged by both, i. e. sense and art, since the reason notesthat which the ears transmit and gives it a name, e.g. when we say `optimus'(best), as soon as the one long and two short syllables of this adjectivestrike the ear, the mind by art immediately recognizes a dactylic foot. Theword moves our knowledge not only by itself, but by that which it signifies,when, the sign having been agreed upon (Stoic commonplace; or: perceived bythe ear), the mind intuits nothing other than the thing itself of which thatsign is perceived. For example, when Augustine is named nothing else than Imyself am thought (a lovely solecism) by the one to whom I am known, or someother man comes to mind if someone perchance hears this name and doesn't knowme or knows someone else who is named Augustine. For when at the same timethe word moves the listener by itself and by that which it means, both thatwhich is enunciated and that which is referred to by it are attended to.Whence is it that the chastity of our ears is not offended when it hears(Sall. Cat. 14) `manu ventre pene bona patria laceverat' (he squandered thegoods of his father by hand, belly, penis)? For it would be offended if theobscene part of the body were called by a sordid and vulgar name, since thething of which both are the vocable is the same, were not the turpitude ofthe thing signified hidden by the seemliness of the signifying word, for thenthe ugliness of both would strike the sense as well as the mind. Just like`meretrix' (prostitute), who looks, however, different in that garb withwhich she is accustomed to stand before the judge and in that in which shelies in her luxurious bedroom. Since the power of words seems to be somanifold, we touch upon it briefly and lightly for the time being. Therearises here a twofold sense upon reflection: partly for the explanation oftruth, partly for the preservation of seemliness. It does not behovedisputation to be inept nor eloquence to be fallacious, but often or almostalways slight notice is taken of the delight of the hearer in one desirous oflearning, whereas the more inexperienced multitude thinks that that which issaid ornately is said truly. Accordingly, though it clear what is proper foreach, it is obvious that the disputant, if he wishes at all to please, mustuse the colors of rhetoric, and the orator, if he wishes to persuade someoneof the truth, must be fortified by dialectic, as by bones and sinew, which bynature cannot be subtracted from our bodies for the sake of bodily firmness,lest it be permitted to lie in offense to the eye.VIII. Now for the judging of truth, let us see what profit there is todialectic from this power of words whose seeds we have just sown, and whatimpediments arise. The listener is hindered from seeing the truth in wordsby obscurity and ambiguity. The difference between the ambiguous and theobscure is that in the ambiguous many things are exhibited, of which one isunsure as to which one to take; in the obscure, however, nothing or notenough appears. But where it is too little which appears, the obscure issimilar to the ambiguous: e.g. as if someone beginning a trip is faced by afork in the road or a three-way road or even a multi-way road, where nothinglights up the road, say, because of the density of a fog. He is first keptfrom continuing by obscurity, but when the fog begins to lift a little,something is seen which may be either the road or the ground itself, sincethe color is not quite clear enough. This is an obscurity which is likeambiguity. When the sky has brightened and it is light enough for the eyeand the view of all the roads is clear, it is not obscurity but ambiguitywhich makes him doubt as to which one to take. Thus, there are three typesof ambiguity: 1. Open to the senses, closed to the mind: If someone sees apicture of a pomegranate who has never seen one before nor heard what one is,it is not the eye, but the mind, which does know what the picture is of. 2.Open to the mind, closed to the senses, e.g. a picture of a man in darkness.When it appears to the eye, the mind does not doubt that a man is pictured.3. Both hidden from the sense and not at all clearer to the mind, thegreatest obscurity of all, e. g. if an inexperienced person were required torecognize that painted pomegranate in the dark.Now turn your mind to the words of which these are similitudes.Constitute in your mind some teacher, his students having been calledtogether and silence having been invoked, who says in a low voice `temetum'(booze). Those sitting close hear well enough, those further removed poorly,the furthest removed are reached by no sound at all. For some reason, thosewho are somewhat remote partly know what `temetum' is, partly do not, andthose who heard the teacher's voice immediately did not know what it was.All were thus hindered by obscurity. Those who were sure about what theyheard are like our first type, i.e. those ignorant of the pomegranate evenwhen painted in the light. Those who knew the word but perceived the voicepoorly or not at all with the ear are of the second type, similar to theimage of a man in an unclear or dark place. Those who were privy neither tothe significance of the word nor the voice of the teacher involve themselvesin the blindness of the third type, which is the worst of all. You can seethat that which has been called obscure is similar to the ambiguous by theexample of those to whom the word was known but who did not perceive thevoice well or with any certainty. For he avoids all kinds of obscure speechwho speaks in a clear enough voice, not kept from the ear, and makes use ofknown words. See now by the example of the same teacher what a distinctionthere is between ambiguity and obscurity in words. Let those who were there(the aforementioned group, Tr.) both perceive well by sense the voice of theteacher and let him pronounce a word known well by all -- e.g. have him say`magnus' (big) and no more. Note what uncertainties are attached to thisnoun (`nomen' is used both for noun and adjective in Latin, Tr.) which hasbeen heard. For example, one might ask: What part of speech is it? Or askconcerning the meter: What foot is it? Or about the story: How many wars did`magnus' (great) Pompey wage? Or if one of his admirers were to say for thesake of the poem: Virgil is a great poet almost without equal. Or someonescolding the negligence of students erupts in these words: A great torpor hasinvaded your study. Do you see after the cloud of obscurity has been liftedthat that which has been said almost clears up the manifold way? For thatone thing which was said, i.e. `magnus' is both a noun (Latin did notdistinguish between noun and adjective, Tr.) and a foot and Pompey and Virgiland the torpor of negligence, etc., or even innumerable things which we didnot mention, which nevertheless can be understood in the pronunciation ofthis word.IX. Thus, it is most correctly said by the dialecticians that any word isambiguous. Do not let it dissuade that Hortensius sneers at them in Cicero:"They say that they dare explain the ambiguous clearly. They also say thatany word is ambiguous. Then how were ambiguous things explained by ambiguousthings? That is like bringing an unlit torch into the darkness." Elegantlyand cleverly said, but in that same Cicero we read that Scaevola said toAntonius (De Orat. I, 10, 44): "So that you may seem to speak well to thewise and truly to the stupid." What indeed did Hortensius do in that placebut gloss over the darkness of the ignorant with sharpness of wit andpleasantness of speech as if with a pure and sweet drink? For when it issaid that any word is ambiguous, this is said of single words. Ambiguousthings are explained to the disputant, and no one disputes by using singlewords. So no one explains ambiguous things by ambiguous words, and, thoughany word is ambiguous, no one explains the ambiguity of words except by wordswhich are joined and (are then) not ambiguous. E.g. if I were to say thatevery soldier was two-footed, it would not follow from that the whole companyof soldiers was two-footed. Just as, when I say that any word is ambiguous,I do not say sentence or disputation, though these are made up of words.Thus any ambiguous word my be explained by non-ambiguous disputation.Let us now look at the types of ambiguity: There are firstly two ofthem, one of which causes doubt concerning that which is spoken, the other inthat which is written. For if anyone hears `acies' (point, dot), and ifanyone reads it, he may be uncertain, unless it is cleared up by a sentence,as to whether it is the point of the army, or of iron, or the pupil of theeye which is written or spoken of. If someone finds the writing of just theword `leporem', and there is no sentence in which it is placed, he isimmediately cast into doubt as to whether the penultimate syllable of thisword is pronounced long because it comes from `lepos' (charm) or shortbecause it is from `lepus' (hare), an ambiguity which certainly is not feltwhen the accusative case of this noun is perceived from the spoken voice.But if someone speaks poorly, it is not by ambiguity but by obscurity thatthe listener is hindered, obscurity of the type which is similar to ambiguitybecause words pronounced badly in Latin do not lead the mind into diversenotions, but impel it toward whatever it seems to be. Therefore, there aremany distinctions between these two types. The first of these is againdivided into two. If something is said and several things can be understood,these several things must be comprised not only in one word but one and thesame definition, or they will have the same vocable in common, but beexplained in various definitions. Those which one definition can contain arecalled univocal (= polylexic, Tr.). Those which, though under onedesignation, must have different definitions are called equivocal (polysemic,Tr.). Let us first consider the univocal, and, since they are clear from thedefinition, let them be illustrated by examples. When we say `man', we sayboy as well as youth, as well as old man, stupid or wise, big or little,citizen or pilgrim, city-dweller or farmer, he was as well as he who is,sitting as well as standing, rich as well as poor, beginning something orending it, being happy as well as mourning, or neither. But in all these`dictiones' there is nothing which receives the name of man which is notincluded in the definition of man. The definition of `man' is rationalmortal animal. Now who can say that a youth, not at the same time a boy andan old man, not both wise and stupid, is not a rational mortal animal? Theseand all the others which were set down above are contained in the name `man'and the same definition. If there is anything which is a boy or stupid orpoor or even sleeping, if it is not a rational mortal animal, it is not aman, for that is what a man is. They must be contained in the samedefinition, and there is nothing ambiguous about the rest of them. One maybe in doubt concerning a little boy, or a stupid or fatuous person, or asleeping person or a drunk or a madman as to whether they are rationalanimals. This can be defended, but it takes a long time for anybody who isin a hurry. As far as that is concerned, this definition of man is thoughtby some to be incorrect and ill thought out, unless all men are contained init and nothing except man. Well, these are the `univoca' which are includedboth in one designation and one definition, although among them they _can_ bedistinguished by proper names and definitions. For the names of boy andadolescent, rich and poor, free and slave, are diverse, as are other kinds ofdistinctions. So diverse things have proper definitions, but their onecommon name is `man', just as the definition `rational mortal animal' iscommon to all.X. Now let us take up the `equivoca', in which the perplexity of ambiguitygrows like wild flowers into infinity. I shall try to divide them intocertain genera. Whether my faculties are sufficient to the attempt, youshall judge. There are first three types of ambiguity which come fromequivocation: 1. by art, 2. by use, 3. by both. I say art for the sake ofthe names which are imposed upon words in the discipline of words. What isequivocal is defined one way by the grammarian, another by the dialectician.The single utterance which I make, `Tullius' (Cicero), is a name and adactylic foot and an equivocal. And if someone presses me to define what`Tullius' is, I shall answer with an explanation of any of these notions.For I can say correctly: "Tullius is a name by which a man is signified, agreat orator who as a consul suppressed the Catiline Conspiracy." Watchclosely now as I define the name. If I could point out that very Tullius, ifhe were living, with my finger, and if I then had to define him, I would notsay: "Tullius is a name which signifies a man"; I would rather say: "That manis Tullius", and then I would add the other things. I can also answer inthis way: "Tullius is a dactylic foot consisting of these letters ... (forwhat need is there to enumerate the letters?)" Perhaps one might say:"Tullius is a word by which all those things mentioned above are equivocaland any other similar ones you can make up." Since I then have to define`Tullius' in so many ways according to the terminology of the arts, how canwe doubt that this type of ambiguity comes from equivocation, which isproperly said to occur by art. For we say that those things are equivocalwhich can be contained in one name and not one definition. Now look at thenext type, which, as you remember, comes from usage. We call that usagethrough which we know words. For who seeks out and collects words for thesake of words? Let someone hear something who knows nothing of the parts ofspeech nor is interested in meter or any kind of verbal discipline.Nevertheless, he can be disturbed by the ambiguity of equivocation when`Tullius' is said, for by this name the great orator and his picture orstatue and the codex in which his letters are contained and whatever is leftof his body in the tomb may be signified. For we say in diverse sentences:"Tullius saved the fatherland from ruin" "A golden Tullius stands in theCapitol" "All of Tullius is to be read" "Tullius is buried in this place".For the name is one, but all these are to be explained in differentdefinitions. For this is the type of equivocation in which the ambiguitydoes not originate from the discipline of words, but from the very thingswhich are signified. But if it either confounds the hearer or the reader, ifit is either from art or usage that it comes, what happened to the third typewhich was named? Its example will appear more clearly in a sentence: "Manywrote in the dactylic meter, e. g. Tullius." Here it is uncertain as towhether `Tullius' is cited as an example of a dactylic foot or a dactylicpoet, of which the first is perceived by art, the second by usage. But insimple words it happens when the teacher pronounces the word to his students,as we have shown above.These three types differ among themselves by manifest reasons. Thefirst is again divided into two parts. Whatever makes an ambiguity throughthe art of words can partly be an example and partly not. When I define whata noun is, I can cite (supponere) it itself as an example (idempotency, Tr.).For the `nomen' (noun) which I pronounce is itself a noun, and is soinflected, when we say: `nomen, nominis, nomini', etc. Likewise when Idefine what a `dactylus' is, it itself can be an example. For when we say`dactylus', we pronounce one long syllable and then two short ones. But whenwe say what `adverb' means, we cannot cite it as an example. When we say`adverb' this very enunciation is a noun. Thus, according to one way ofunderstanding it is adverb and a noun is a noun, according to another`adverb' is not an adverb, since it is noun. Also `creticus' (a type offoot), when we define it, cannot be given as an example (of itself). When wepronounce it, `creticus' consists of one long syllable followed by two shortones, but what it signifies is a long, a short, and a long. Thus, accordingto one way of understanding `creticus' is nothing other than a creticus,according to another, it is not a creticus, because it is a dactylus. The second type, which pertains not to verbal discipline, but to usage,has two forms. Equivoca are either of the same origin or of differentorigins. I mention those of the same origin which are contained in one name(designation), but not one definition, but derive as it were from one source,e.g. when `Tullius' can be understood as a man and a statue and a codex and acadaver. For these cannot be contained in one definition, but they have onesingle source, i.e. the real man himself, whose statue, books, cadaver theyare. But when we say `nepos', it signifies from a quite diverse origin, boththe son of the son and the spendthrift (Tr.: According to Isidore `nepos'(spendthrift) comes from a kind of scorpion). Let us keep this distinct andlook at that type which I call of the same origin, which is again divided.It is divided into two, one of which occurs in `translatio' (usual Latin wordfor metaphor; the examples given are of metonymy, Tr.), the other ininflection. I call that `translatio' when either because of similitude onename is give to many things, e.g. `Tullius' means both a great orator and hisstatue -- or when the part is called by the whole, e.g. when his body iscalled `Tullius' -- or the whole by one of its part, e.g. when a house iscalled `roof' -- or a species by a genus. Words are in general all thingsspoken, but those things are properly called `verba' (words, verbs) which weinflect for mood or tense -- or the genus by the species: `scholasticus'(schoolboy, scholar) was not only properly but first applied to those whowere in school, but this name is now corrupted for all who live by letters --or the effect from the cause, as `Cicero' for Cicero's work -- or the personcausing it from the effect, e. g. `terror' for the person who causes terror-- or the thing contained from the container, e.g. `house' for those who arein the house -- or vice versa, e.g. when we call the tree a `chestnut' -- oranything else of a like kind which you can find called from the same originby a kind of transfer. You see, I think, what an ambiguity it brings aboutin words. Things of the same origin, but ambiguous because of inflection arelike this: Let someone give this as an example: `pluit' (it rains), and letit be diversely defined. Likewise if someone says `scribere' (write) it isuncertain as to whether it is an active infinitive or a passive imperative.`homo' (man), though it is one noun and one utterance, is either thenominative or the vocative, like `doctus' (learned) and `docte' (O learnedone), where the utterance is different. `doctius' (more learned) isdifferent when we say `doctius mancipium' (a more sensible contract' or whenwe say `doctius illo iste disputavit (this one argued more learnedly thanthat one). The ambiguity arose thus from inflection. We call thatinflection which occurs either by voice or signification in inflecting aword. `hic doctus' (this learned man) and `o docte' (O learned man!) areinflected by the voice, `hic homo' and `o homo' solely by meaning. But tofollow this type of ambiguity minutely is almost infinite. It is sufficientfor you to note this section for now, especially for your mind. Now look atthose which come from diverse origins. They are also divided into twoprincipal forms, one of which comes about because of the diversity oflanguages, e.g. if we say `tu' it means one thing to the Greeks (gen. sg.masc. article), another to us (you, 2d sg. pers. pron.). This type shouldhave been taken into consideration a great deal; it is not prescribed foranyone, however, how many languages he knows or in how many languages hemight argue. Another form is that which makes ambiguities in the samelanguage, but of diverse origin; they are signified by one term, similar towhat we said above concerning `nepos'. Again, this is divided into two: 1.it is either the same part of speech - - `nepos' is a noun when it means sonof a son and when it means spendthrift -- or under different ones: for it isnot only different when we say `qui' (rel. pron. & interrogative), as it issaid (Ter. Andr. III, 3, 33) `qui scis ergo istuc nisi periculum feceris'(how can you tell if you don't make the trial?), for that is a pronoun, thisis an adverb.By both, i.e. by art and usage, which we have set up as a third type ofequivoca, as many forms of ambiguity may exist as we have named in these two.There remains the type of ambiguity which is found in writing alone, ofwhich there are three types. Such an ambiguity is made either by the lengthof a syllable or by its accent, or by both, e.g. when `venit' (comes, came)appears, its length is uncertain because of the unknown nature of the firstsyllable; by accent, as when `pone' (place, behind) is written either from`pono' (I put) or as is said (Virgil Georg.IV, 487): `pone sequens namquehanc dederat Proserpina legem' (following behind, for Proserpina had imposedthat condition), where it is uncertain because of the hidden place of theaccent, or it happens because of both, e.g. as we mentioned above in the caseof `lepore', for not only is the penultimate syllable of this word to belengthened, but also to be accented if it is derived from `lepos' (charm),not from `lepus' (hare). |
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