The Commentary on Cicero’s Topics by Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, otherwise known as In Ciceronis Topica (ICT), is a comprehensive exploration and discussion on Cicero’s Topics. Boethius’s commentary is divided into six books, each comprising different aspects and interpretations of logic, arguments, and various topics addressed by Cicero. The commentary was written around 520–523 AD and it overlaps with De topicis differentiis in content and time period. The version transmitted to us, however, appears to be unfinished, missing the end of the sixth book and the entirety of the seventh book that Boethius claims to have written.
The first four books of ICT delve into the nature of logic and topics, providing commentary on different philosophers’ perspectives, including Stoics, Cicero, Plato, and Aristotle. Boethius explores the meaning of argumentation, the structure and role of propositions, and the concept of maximal propositions. There’s an in-depth exploration of ‘Topics,’ where Boethius discusses the division of Topics and the subdivisions of Topics in relation to the matter at issue. The nature and role of related things in the formation of arguments is addressed extensively, with a specific focus on how these relate to the subject at hand. Books III and IV further delve into definition, partition, designation, and the understanding of related things.
In the fifth and sixth books, Boethius scrutinizes the seven Stoic modes of hypothetical syllogisms, the role of causes in arguments, and presents a critical commentary on Cicero’s representation of these modes. A deep analysis is offered on the nature of argument, question, proposition, and terms. There’s also a discussion on the nature of effects and their role in arguments, as well as a focus on comparisons. Additionally, the division of Topics is reviewed along with the reasoning for believing it complete. Finally, the extrinsic Topic from authority and its role in argumentation is discussed, along with the conditions and circumstances that give rise to authority.
Book One
[Boethius’s Introduction]
[1039D] At your urging, most expert Patricius of the rhetoricians, which is tied to the dignity of this present proposal and the usefulness of future generations [1040D], I have considered nothing more important. I have gladly accepted this task, not because I believed that I was laboring to instruct you by writing commentaries on Cicero’s Topics [1041A] (indeed I would be ridiculous if I wanted to teach Minerva, as they say, letters), but so that something drawn from liberal disciplines, a constant token of our friendship, might remain with you. For what gift can be found more pleasing to those who love with their soul, than that which shapes and instructs parts of the soul itself? For nearly all other things are fleeting, weak, unstable, and if you look at the change of fortune, they are almost always foreign. But the wealth of letters is not diminished by the present age, and their authority, far from being exhausted by age, is instead augmented and strengthened. So receive this work, undertaken not with the confidence of success but with the presumption of friendship, in which I do not know by what agreement it is not unseemly to babble, because when I have presented a gift to you [1041B] and asked for something from your works, you will be unjust if you deny it.
But since Marius Victorinus, the rhetorician, has written many commentaries on the art of discourse in Cicero’s Topics, it would not have been necessary for me to touch on matters perhaps better attempted by others, if there was not something our own effort could also practice and yield. For Victorinus, in the four volumes he wrote on the Topics, spends the first volume merely on explaining the principles of the book.
He also considers, and if anything was to be declared in the same volume, he considers it, so that from the beginning of the volume of the Topics, which is:
[1.01] ‘We have begun to write about larger matters, C. Trebatius…’
to that place which is:
[1.05] ‘...But now it is time to approach what we have begun.’
the exposition of Victorinus' first volume ends.
In the second volume [1041C], he discusses the parts of dialectic concerning judging and finding, and about the place and definition of the argument, so that from that place in the Topics, which is:
[2.06] ‘Since every diligent discourse has two parts, one of finding, the other of judging…’
to that place which is:
[2.08] ‘...Therefore it is allowed to define the place as the seat of the argument. But the argument is the reason which gives faith to a doubtful matter.’
the explanation of the second book stands.
The third and fourth volumes, however, pursue the differentiation of topics among themselves and their various examples. So that the third indeed proposes for itself examples from Tulliana’s law. The fourth, however, shows the same places through other similarities again, from Virgil and Terentius the poets, and from the orators Cicero and Cato, so that what is shown by precepts shines in multiple ways through examples, and the exposition does not progress from that place which is in the Topics but from those places [1041D] in which the arguments are contained, and it passes beyond that place which is:
[4.23] ‘Let fairness prevail, which desires equal laws in equal cases.’
How great the remaining part is, if the magnitude of the volume of the Topics itself shows, which Victorinus neither touched nor could have touched, he was so involved with the smallest matters, unless he would have expanded the work with the plurality of many books.
We, however, will approach both this part itself, which Victorinus touched diligently (as we can), and having progressed further in the exposition, we must stand at the end of the Topics. Therefore, let us take from here a suitable beginning about the whole proposition of the work. But before I discuss the nature of the topical ability [1042A], I will briefly finish the prologue, as far as Cicero uses it for Trebatius.
[Prologue to Cicero’s Topics]
For he says:
[1.01] Your request, G. Trebatius, has diverted me to more significant issues, which are more worthy of these books which we’ve published quite a few in a short time. For when you were with me in my Tusculan villa, and each of us was separately browsing through books in the library according to his interest, you stumbled upon some Topics by Aristotle, which he has explained in many books. Stirred by the title, you immediately asked me for their meaning.
[1.02] When I explained to you that it was a discipline for finding arguments, so that we could arrive at them by a logical and straightforward path without any mistake, which Aristotle introduced in these books, you asked me to teach you these, with the modesty you show in everything, but so eagerly that I could see your burning enthusiasm. But when I urged you, not so much to avoid the effort on my part as because I thought it was in your best interest, to read them yourself or to learn the whole method from a very learned rhetorician, you tried both, as I learned from you.
[1.03] But the books threw you off with their obscurity; and that great rhetorician, I think, admitted that he didn’t know these Aristotelian works. I was not surprised at all that this philosopher was unknown to the rhetorician, who is ignored by the philosophers themselves except for very few; they are all the less to be forgiven because they should not only have been attracted to the things he said and discovered, but also to the incredible richness and charm of his speech.
[1.04] So I couldn’t refuse you any longer, you who asked me this so often and yet were afraid of imposing on me - I could easily see that - for fear of seeming to do a disservice to a legal interpreter himself. For since you have often written many things to me and my friends, I was afraid that if I resisted, it would seem ungrateful or arrogant. But while we were together, you are the best witness to how busy I was.
[1.05] But when I left you to travel to Greece, while my work was of no use to either the state or my friends, and I couldn’t decently be involved in military matters, even if it was safe for me to do so, when I arrived at Velia and saw you and your family, I was reminded by this foreign air and I didn’t want to ignore even your silent request. So I composed these things, which I recalled from memory while I had no books with me, during the very journey and sent them to you on the way, so that my diligence in carrying out your instructions might also remind you of our affairs, even though you do not need reminding. But now it is time to approach what we have begun.
[1042D] Every prologue, as is taught in rhetoric, aims to condition the listener by either capturing goodwill, preparing attention, or effecting teachability: Cicero forms Trebatius with these three parts. Indeed, by directing his attention from the commencement of major affairs to the desires of a friend, he gains the favor of Trebatius, as if a judge, through the means of goodwill. The ‘major affairs’ are those from which he turned his attention to the studies of a friend, that is, treatises on moral philosophy. The consideration of morals is indeed greater than the skill of arguing. We conjecture that this was a time when, due to the turbulent times of the Republic, he retired to leisure and turned to the disciplines of philosophy.
[1043A] But, as our beliefs also engage the minds of the listeners, he also uses parts of preparing goodwill in that. Because by truthfully recounting those things which Trebatius knew, he makes him trust those things which could have later happened and were possibly unknown to Trebatius. These are, namely, that each of them in Tusculum perused books according to his study, and that Trebatius happened upon Aristotle’s Topics by chance, and that, admiring the title of the work, he asked Marcus Tullius for the meaning of the inscription. Also, Cicero himself remembers that he explained to him that these books contained the knowledge of finding arguments, so that without any mistake, one might arrive at the discovery of arguments along a certain path and straight thread and with skill, which, when briefly stated, shows the intention of the work and makes the listener teachable. For in this it seems to be encompassed what the intention of the Topics is, as Cicero says it is a discipline of finding arguments, not so that they may be found (for nature provides that).
But so that without any effort, and without any confusion, not by chance but along a certain path and reason, the mind may arrive at them. After this cultivation of goodwill, he adds the praise of Trebatius, as he remembers his modesty in requesting these things, which if Cicero had granted to his asking friend would both yield the reward of glory and of gratitude, but because he did not concede to Trebatius who asked him to hand over the Topics. He argues that this was done not to avoid his own labor but for Trebatius’s sake, so that also the spirit of Trebatius, perhaps offended then by the refusal, now might not be alienated. It was indeed in Trebatius’s interest that he himself either reading them would become more practiced, or if he had any doubts, a more learned rhetorician would explain them more perfectly. However, he says he heard both things from Trebatius. For he had tried reading them himself, but was repelled by their obscurity, and that rhetorician from whom he asked for an explanation of the Topics, confessed that he was ignorant of these Aristotelian works.
This matter, because of the difficulty of the work, makes the listener attentive. For indeed we inspect with care those things which we suspect are not easy to understand, in which also Cicero remembers that he was not at all surprised that this philosopher was unknown to the rhetorician, who seemed unknown to many philosophers. He also rightfully faults their laziness, because neither the utility of the discoveries nor the brilliance of the speech attracted them to the discipline of Aristotelian philosophy. In this matter, the attention of greater insight grows, because minds are easily turned to study when the laziness of others is faulted, wherever indeed attention might be, there will not be able to be teachability. In these things, some praise of Trebatius is subtly introduced. It is great that this man, even though he was not hindered by his own studies, sought out the secrets of foreign knowledge while philosophers were neglecting their duty.
Now the following things even more clearly seek goodwill, such as this thing that was most elegantly said, that he was afraid that, if he had denied the modest request of the asker, he would seem to be doing an injustice to this interpreter of law, and that he executes the memory of Trebatius’s previous merit in receiving a benefit, which is indeed the thing that he or those whom he defended, caused many things. Therefore, as he says, it was to be feared, that, if he did not want to return the favor, it would seem either ungrateful or arrogant. Ungrateful indeed, if he seemed to esteem the great merits of Trebatius, which he himself had used, as small, when he thought that he had no favor to return to him, but arrogant, if he were to disdain.
The other things return to the same point, that is to goodwill. As he is supported by his own testimony that while he was in the city, he was compelled by the necessity of his duties not to return the owed favor. As soon as he came to Velia, reminded by the gathering of Trebatius’s friends, he did not want to be lacking even in his silent rebuke, and that although no supply of books was available, from the resources of his refreshed memory, he wrote on the very journey and sent them to him from the road, so that speed could also be added to the heap of the favor to be returned. While all these things seem to seek the agreeable approval of Trebatius, however, a certain brief remembrance of the Topics, serving the function of attention, is the thing to be admired, for the very repetition of memory shows the brief thing to be collected. And that Trebatius’s requests were diligently given to him, and that to stimulate his memory, he wanted some pledge and monument to stand out for his friend. To this he adds that, and if you do not need a reminder, he does not want to offend the spirit of his friend with his diligence if he believes he has to remind someone, seeming to accuse him of forgetfulness.
All these things, as I have said, are full of goodwill. But enough has been said about the prologue. Now let us move on to the following things, and if anyone has found these things treated more fully by Victorinus, let him not bind us with the envy of neglected completeness. For we do not want to linger on individual words (as he does), and we hasten to the larger parts of this work.
[2.06] When every diligent method of discoursing has two parts, one for discovery and the other for judging, it seems to me that Aristotle was the master of both. However, the Stoics labored in the latter; for they meticulously pursued the ways of judging with that knowledge they call ‘dialectic,’ but left the art of discovery, which is called ‘topic,’ which was indeed more useful and certainly first by nature’s order.
[2.07] But we, since there is the highest usefulness in both and we plan to pursue both if we have leisure, will begin with that which is first…
As philosophy spends its efforts and enthusiasm on the greatest matters, applying both investigation and speculation to natural matters and action to moral matters, and thus wishes to shape morals as true reason for life has persuaded, it is necessary that there be established, according to what reason has decreed must be held or omitted, done or not done, either judgment or the direction of the exercise of life. Therefore, it will be necessary, either in the speculation of natural things, or in the thought of moral actions, that a certain reason either find what is to be speculated on in things, or consider beforehand what must be led into the act of living. Unless, however, this reason has proceeded by a certain path, it often happens that it falls into many errors. So that this does not happen randomly, and so that our discussion may stand on certain rules, it seemed good to the leaders of ancient philosophy that they first thoroughly examine the nature of those rational processes by which something must be inquired into, so that having been cleansed and composed by them, we may use them either in the speculation of truth or in the exercise of virtues.
Therefore, this is the discipline, almost a certain teacher of discourse, which the ancient Peripatetics called ‘logic,’ this Cicero defining, called diligent reasoning of discourse. This has been treated in various ways by many, and even named by various names. For as has been said, this diligent method of discourse is called logic by the Peripatetics, containing in itself the skill of discovering and judging. But the Stoics have treated this same method of discourse a little more narrowly, for not laboring at all about discovery, they dwell only in judgment, and giving many precepts about this, they named it dialectic. Plato also calls dialectic the faculty which can divide that which is one into many parts, as a genus is usually divided by its proper differences up to its ultimate species, and which can gather those things which are many into one genus by reason. Therefore, Plato calls this dialectic; but Aristotle calls it logic, which (as has been said) Cicero defined as diligent reasoning of discourse.
And indeed there is one tripartite division of this: for the whole force of the logical discipline either defines something, or divides, or gathers. But the faculty of gathering is treated with a threefold diversity: either the argument runs down by true and necessary reasonings, and the discipline is called demonstration; or only by probable reasonings, and it is called dialectic; or by obviously false reasonings, and it is called sophistic, that is, cavilling. Therefore, logic, which is the skill of discoursing, treats either about definition, or about division, or about collection, that is, either about true and necessary, or about probable, that is, likely, or about sophistic, that is, cavilling arguments, for we have said that these are parts of gathering. And this is one division of logic, in which Aristotle calls the faculty of gathering by probability dialectic…
Again, there is another division of this same logic, by which the whole diligent method of discoursing is divided into two parts, one of discovery, and the other of judging. But this also seems to show the very definition of logic itself, for since the logical method is discoursing, it cannot be separated from discovery. For since no one can discourse except through discovery, the method of discoursing is the method of discovery. Again, since logic is diligent reasoning of discoursing, it cannot be separated from judgment, for indeed the diligence of reasoning in discoursing is judgment. For no one can discourse diligently unless they have judged the quality of that which is brought into the argument. But if the diligence of reasoning is applied to the order of discoursing, there is no doubt that this judgment is adapted to the variety of discoveries.
Therefore, with these things thus clarified, it must be seen how these divisions are related to each other. For indeed, discovery is proposed to all the others, as if in the place of material, in this way. For unless there has been discovery, there can neither be definition nor division, since each one of the genera or differences is discovered, or the species are gathered, and we either divide or indeed define. But now if discovery is absent, there can be no gathering. Therefore, there will be neither necessary, nor probable, nor sophistic argumentation: for these three come upon discovery, so that either a necessary, or probable, or cavilling argument is made. For necessity, probability, and cavillation are certain forms, which when they assist discoveries, make arguments either necessary or probable or cavilling. The same reason also embraces partitions and definitions. For indeed, the power of discovery, which is not distinguished, can be called both definitive and divisible, when it is applied to things to be defined or divided. Which things, composed in this way from the material of discovery and the form of the differences placed above, again become material for judgment. For indeed that first division, separated into three parts by logic, so explains the parts, that it has the discovery as the material of each, but it itself provides material for judgment. For when someone defines, or makes a division of the proposed thing, indeed they discover differences suited to division and definition, but whether they define or divide correctly, they consider by judgment. Thus, the first parts of logic join the members of the second division, so that they indeed have discovery as their material, but they themselves become material for judgment.
What happens in the remaining part of gathering also happens, for the part that treats of probable things both has the proposed material of discovery, which finds probable arguments, and judgment considers such arguments. For judgment is this very act of recognizing, which is not a necessary discovery but holds likelihood. Also that part which is suited to necessary arguments has the proposed material of a necessary discovery, and its judgment is such that when the things it discovers are necessary, it also considers them to be necessary. Nor does the cavilling part not contain both, since indeed false things can be discovered, and false things can be distinguished by judgment.
By which it happens that the first division of logic seems to contain the second also: for definition, division, and gathering contain both discovery and judgment, because they can neither exist apart from discovery, nor be recognized apart from judgment. But since every discovery is subject to judgment, and since the parts of the first division cannot exist without both, it happens that the first division joins discovery and judgment. But this second division, by which Cicero also divides logic, separates such faculties, and separates the material of discovery from the part of judgment.
Indeed, judgement, in its process of collection, has its own parts, for every argument, every syllogism is built on propositions, and every compound holds two things within it that seem worth observing. And indeed, it contains one which those things are, from which that which is compound is understood to be connected, but another, in what way is it composed by the conjunction of its parts: like in a wall if you look at the very stones with which the wall is built, as if observing its material; [1047A] but if you consider the order and composition of the joint, as if considering the reason of its form. Thus in the arguments which we have above reported to be held together and connected by propositions, there will be a dual way of speculation and judgement. One which discerns and judges the nature of the propositions themselves, whether they are true and necessary, or plausible, or applied to sophistries, and this is like observing the material. The other part of judgement is what considers the joints and compositions of the propositions among themselves; this is like judging the form of arguments.
Given that things are so, the partition is made in this way in continuous drawing, so that the careful reason of arguing, has one part in discovery, another however in judgement. Then about the very discovery, then about the arrangement of discovery, which is the form of argumentation. [1047B] And that very part which teaches about discovery, supplies some instruments for discoveries, and is called topical: but why it is called by this name, I will say later. But that very part which is situated in pointing out, supplies some rules for discernment, and is called analytic; and if it considers the joint of propositions, it is called prior analytic; but if it discusses the very discoveries, that very part where it is said about discerning necessary arguments, it is called posterior analytic; but that very one which is about false and captious, that is, about sophistic ones, is refutation. But nothing seems to be discussed about the judgement of plausible argumentations, therefore because the reason for judging about the middle is plain and expedient, when someone has known the extremes. For if someone knows how to distinguish necessary [1047C] ones, and the same can have a judgement of false arguments, he does not struggle to discern plausible ones, which are placed in the middle.
Therefore it is clear, as I think, what Cicero says, that the careful reason of arguing has two parts, one of discovery, another of judgement. That also is more carefully explained, what is the reason which the Stoics call dialectic. For that is the one which holds the expertise of judgement, and which Plato by the same name calls the ability to divide by differences, and to recall to genus. And which Aristotle by the same name, not the whole art of arguing, as the Stoics, but only that which he calls which collects plausible arguments about the proposed question, and therefore Aristotle treated logic more perfectly, because he discussed the third out of two, beyond which there is nothing, about discovery namely and judgement, when [1047D] the Stoics, having neglected discovery, handed down only the instruments of judgement.
And therefore Tullius rightly rebukes them, because they especially abandon that which was prior by nature and rather by use: by nature indeed, because it cannot be that judgement is passed on discovery, unless discovery itself had first existed. But by use, because it is far more useful to protect a business often undertaken by a raw, and beyond art uttered natural discovery, than with another person discovering, to turn about silent and defenseless and silent judgement itself. But Tullius gives a verdict about both, and says the highest utility is equally in both, and that he wants to discuss both, if there is leisure. But from that which is prior, that is discovery, [1048A] which we said is called topic, he thinks it should be begun.
[2.07] ...“So then, as the discovery of things which are hidden is easy when the place has been marked out and noted, so, when we want to investigate some argument, we should know the places; for they are called places by Aristotle, those as it were seats, from which arguments are produced. Therefore it is allowed to define a place to be the seat of an argument. But an argument is the reason, which gives credence to a doubtful thing”…
After the division of the discipline of logic, which he defined to be the careful reason of arguing, he contends to explain about the topic, which was predicted to be the art of discovery. And first what are the places, he includes in the term of definition, and by some clarity of an example, he indicates the intention of that art which is called topical. For the intention of topics is, the easy discovery of arguments. Topic does not therefore teach to discover what is of natural genius but to discover more easily: for every art imitates nature, and having taken up material from this, it itself forms the reasons and way, so that what each art promises, happens not only more easily, but also more elegantly, like building a wall is of natural genius but it happens better by art.
But an argument is the reason which gives credence to a doubtful thing. For there are many things which give the same but because they are not reasons, they cannot even be arguments, like vision gives credence to those things which are seen but because vision is not a reason, it cannot even be an argument. But he took up one difference, that which gives credence, for every argument gives credence. Therefore if we have joined genus and difference, and say this to be an argument, which is a reason that gives credence, whether the whole nature of argument [1048C] is shown? Not at all. What if someone wants to give credence to something of that thing, about which no one doubts, by some reason, therefore will that, because it gives credence, be called an argument? Not at all: for an argument is what argues a thing, that is, proves, but nothing can be proved, unless doubtful. Unless therefore there is an ambiguous thing, and a reason giving credence is brought to it, it cannot be an argument. Therefore having added the other difference which is of a doubtful thing, the complete definition of an argument has been made, consisting from genus and two differences, from genus indeed, from reason: but from one difference, that it gives credence; but from the other indeed, that it is of a doubtful thing, so that the whole definition is, that is an argument which is a reason, giving credence to a doubtful thing.
Given these premises, it is not possible that where something is doubtful, there is a question. If an argument could not exist beyond a doubtful matter, in no way could it exist beyond a question. Now, a question is a proposition liable to doubt. A proposition, in turn, is a statement designating truth or falsehood. Therefore, every proposition, whether it be stated assertively and declaratively, as when someone says, “Every man is an animal,” or directed towards a question, as when someone asks, “Do you think every man is an animal?” it retains its proper name and is called a proposition. But if the same proposition is stated as something open to doubt, it becomes a question, such as, “Is every man an animal?” However many ways a question may be divided, now does not seem the appropriate time to explain, but we will speak of this in those books which we are preparing on topical differences.
As for the question, that is, the dubious proposition, every intent of an argument is directed, not indeed to wholly prove the question, but to confirm part of it by reason; for the whole question is not defended, but each of any part of it is strengthened by argumentation. No one defends that the sky is round and not round; for if anyone were to defend it in this way, they would seem to prove the whole question. But when it is considered:
Is the sky round or not?
The defense rests on only one part of the question, whether it affirms or denies. For every question consists of contradictions. For if something is affirmed by one person and denied by another, this is called a contradiction, as if someone says:
The sky is round,
And another denies, saying:
The sky is not round.
It is forbidden to contradict that the sky is round and not round. Now a dubious proposition, which we said is a question, contains both an affirmation and a denial, for insofar as it is dubious, it seems to include a contradiction. For when someone doubts whether the sky is round, whether they add or not, or stay silent, the doubt carries the other part with it. For if a proposition defends one part, it is not dubious, and therefore is not a question.
Since, therefore, every question has two parts, one of affirmation, the other of denial, it is not possible that there is always a defense from one part or another, so that one person defends the part of affirmation, another the denial, and this one looks for arguments that could establish the affirmation, that one to demolish what could be the denial. However, it doesn’t matter whether someone affirms, or destroys a denial, or defends a denial, or attacks an affirmation. For example, let’s assume the question is whether the sky is round. If someone takes for themselves that part of the question which they are defending, to establish it, all the arguments are marshaled, and in this they indeed affirm but destroy the denial. But if someone denies this, and says that the sky is not round, they take for themselves the other part of the question that was left, that is, the denial, they dwell in it, and to approve it, they seek arguments; therefore, he who posits the denial, undermines the affirmation.
Given these things, I believe it has been demonstrated, not the whole question, but some part of it comes to the defense. But whatever each person defends, they also seek arguments for this. Therefore, arguments are taken to establish or demolish a part of the question, and if anyone understands this less, let it not be claimed that we have spoken obscurely. For if they are ignorant of what is spoken in dialectic, or by us in Latin speech, or by the Greeks in writing, it’s a wonder if they can notice any part of those things we are saying, let alone that we are astonished that they do not comprehend everything.
But since we have said that a dubious proposition is a question, it happens that whatever parts a proposition has, a question also seems to retain. Now, every simple proposition has two parts constituted in terms. But a simple proposition is something like:
Every man is an animal.
I call terms the simple parts of speech which contain the proposition, like animal and man. These are the predicate and the subject. The predicate is the larger term placed in the proposition; the subject is the smaller. The larger term is said of the subject, but the smaller in no way is predicated of the larger, like animal, since it is greater than man, is predicated of man: it is said,
Every man is an animal.
But man is not said of an animal, for no one truthfully says:
Every animal is a man.
In this way, we can discern which term in the proposition is larger, and which is smaller. Now, every question, as has been said, since it has dubious parts, and arguments are taken for confirming the same, it is necessary that whatever is proven in questions, is confirmed by the reason of arguments. But an argument, unless it is brought forward in speech, and arranged by the connection of propositions, cannot give faith to a doubt. Therefore, that bringing forward and arranging of an argument through propositions is called argumentation, which is called enthymeme or syllogism, the definition of which we will explain more clearly in topical differences. Now, every syllogism or enthymeme consists of propositions; therefore, every argument is brought forward by syllogism or enthymeme. An enthymeme, however, is an imperfect syllogism, of which some parts, either for the sake of brevity, or due to being well-known, are left out. And so this argumentation also does not depart from the genus of syllogism.
Since all syllogisms are made up of propositions, and propositions are composed of terms, and these terms differ among themselves insofar as one is greater, the other lesser, it’s impossible for a conclusion to arise from propositions unless the propositions, having moved forward through the terms, have joined the extreme terms to the middle term of some third. This is most easily demonstrated by an example. Let there be the question: Is man a substance or not? I take for myself one part of the question to prove, that is, that man is a substance; in this, therefore, there are two terms, substance and man, of which the greater is substance, the lesser man, which can also be shown from the fact that substance is pronounced later in the sentence, or as in this very thing that we say man is a substance, we name man first, substance later. Therefore, in order to join substance and man, let the middle term be found, which connects both terms, let this be animal, and let one proposition be formed:
Every man is an animal
In this proposition, animal is predicated, man is subject. Again, I add:
Every animal is a substance
In this again, animal is supposed, substance is predicated. Therefore, I conclude, every man is therefore a substance; and thus man is always the subject. But animal is predicated in relation to man, subject in relation to substance. Substance itself always remains predicated, hence it happens that man is indeed the lesser, substance greater than man, but the middle term is animal. Since therefore the extreme terms are joined by the intervention of the middle, and in this way the parts of the question agree with each other, and the doubt is resolved by the proof applied, there is nothing other than the discovery of the middle, for this can either join or separate the extremes, if an affirmation is defended, or if a denial is asserted.
Since this is so, of two propositions and a third conclusion, the major proposition is said to be the one that contains the greater term, that is in which the greater is indeed predicated; the middle term is supposed, as “Every animal is a substance”; but the minor proposition is the one that indeed predicates the middle term, but subjects the lesser, as “Every man is an animal”. But since it is not possible for lesser things to descend from greater ones, that conclusion, which arises from two propositions, seems to be the one that is the originator and proper proposition, which is the first; but this is, “Every man is a substance”. Whoever has read our earlier and later Analytics, which we translated from Aristotle, does not doubt this. But even if someone who does not know what is written there, has rushed to read these things, even if he does not understand the things he does not understand, still let him believe that it is as we have said, and think that he will find himself more fully in Aristotle’s Analytics, if he reads them.
Therefore the nature of things is such that where there is something greater and lesser, there must also be something greatest. Therefore, there are some greatest propositions, since we have shown that there are lesser and greater ones, the nature of which must be taken from the division of simple propositions. For every simple proposition is either affirmative or negative. And some of these are universal, as:
Every man is just No man is just
Some are particular, as:
Some man is just
Some are indefinite, as:
Man is just Man is not just
Some are singular, containing something individual, as:
Cato is just Cato is not just
And of all these some are doubtful, others undoubted. Therefore we call the supreme and greatest propositions those that are universal, and so well-known and evident that they do not need proof, but rather prove those that are in doubt. For those that are undoubted, are usually the principles of the demonstration of doubtful things, such as is, every number is either even or odd, and equals remain if equals are subtracted from equals; and the rest about the known truth of which no question is asked.
Therefore, the greatest, that is universal and most well-known propositions, from which the conclusion of syllogisms descends, we have seen to be called places in the Topics written by Aristotle; for because they are greatest, that is universal propositions, they include the others in themselves as it were the bodies of places, but because they are most well-known and evident, they provide confidence to questions, and thus contain the proofs of doubtful things.
But we sometimes see these embedded in the syllogisms and arguments themselves, others however are not contained in the arguments themselves, but still supply force to the arguments: as if we want to show that the kingdom is better than the consulship, we will say:
The kingdom, since it is good, lasts longer than the consulship; but everything that is a good and lasts longer, is better than what is of short duration: therefore the kingdom is better than the consulship.
Here therefore the greatest proposition and universal and known by itself, not needing proof, is inserted into the argument. But this is:
All things which are longer-lasting goods, are better than those which are confined by the brevity of time.
But if we want to show that one who is wise is not envious, we will say:
The envious man is one who grieves at another’s happiness; but the wise man is not one whom another’s happiness saddens: therefore the wise man is not envious.
Here the greatest proposition does not seem to be included in the argument but placed outside, yet it gives strength to the syllogism. But this is:
Things of which the definitions are different, must necessarily have different substances.
Whoever therefore has examined either Aristotle’s Greek or our translations from Aristotle, will find there these propositions called places, which are greatest and universal and either necessary by themselves, or probable and known by themselves. But since these propositions are many and almost innumerable, it still remains how much further the reason of speculation may rise. For we can, by applying careful consideration, weigh the differences of all the greatest and universal propositions, and gather the innumerable multitude of greatest propositions and ones known by themselves into few and universal differences, so that we say some consist in definition, others in genus, and others in another way which I will explain more clearly shortly. Therefore all the greatest propositions, whatever fall under the consideration of definition for example, will be contained under the name of definition. And just as those were said to be the places of the remaining propositions, because they contained them within their ambit, so those differences of the greatest and universal propositions, which we have said to be the places of the lesser propositions, will seem to be places, if not truly, at least in some kind of image, into which they have been reduced by suitable reason.
But these differences of places, that is, of the greatest propositions, which we also call the places themselves, can be named the types of subject propositions. For differences that contain can also be seen as types in general, such as irrational when it diverges from rational as if by a divisible difference; yet a horse or a dog, is a specific difference, and holds the place of a type for them. For the irrational animal is the type of a horse. So too in the greatest propositions. For some are of the whole, some are of parts, these compared with each other are divisible differences, but to the greatest propositions themselves they are as if in the place of a type of containments of differences. For the type of a proposition coming from the whole is the very thing that is called from the whole. Similarly, propositions drawn from parts, although they are well-known and manifest, are a type, that from parts, and the other differences of those propositions which, although they are greatest, nevertheless seem to be included in them, as if some types. But what these differences are I will discuss a little later.
Therefore, Cicero began to deal with these places now, which contain and include the greatest propositions that we mentioned above, that is, those that are known in themselves and universal. But these are the differences of the greatest propositions. Therefore, he discusses the differences of universal and in themselves known statements, as is the whole place of the argument’s seat. For if every argument is led by propositions to the conclusion, and all the other propositions are contained in the first and greatest proposition, and the first and greatest proposition itself, then it is part of the argument, that is, the syllogism, and, placed outside of the argument, it supplies force, so that in both ways, since it completes the argument, it may seem to be a part of the argument, there is no doubt that these differences, which contain the greatest propositions, also contain all arguments, so that the differences of the greatest propositions seem to have the right of places of arguments and as if some ultimate seats.
For from these four meanings of the terms of two things, namely of argumentation and of argument, each one is and is not. For either the utterance and combination itself of the proposition with the greatest propositions, or placed outside of the syllogism, or included in the same, is called argumentation. But the mind and meaning of the syllogism, or the utterance of reasoning with the greatest propositions and the meaning of the syllogism will be said to be an argument, so that the same thing is argumentation that is argument. Or indeed argumentation will be called the whole combination of the syllogism with the meaning but the argument mainly the proposition, or the whole order of reasoning apart from the greatest propositions is argumentation, the meaning however of the argument is an argument. But the remaining greatest proposition, is a place.
But since these things are so, whether someone wants to call the combination of these propositions, and the continuous line to the conclusion with the greatest proposition, or placed outside, or included in the propositions of reasoning, argumentation, and however the argument the meaning and mind of reasoning, we nevertheless understand the differences of the greatest propositions to be places; whether someone calls the whole force and meaning of the entire reasoning with the greatest proposition, or placed within, or placed outside, an argument, there is no doubt that the place of the entire reasoning is that which is the difference of the greatest proposition, for it contains the greatest proposition, in which the other propositions are contained: whether indeed he is pleased to call the whole combination of reasoning argumentation, but the argument the greatest proposition, rightly again the place will be thought to be mainly the difference of the proposition, which contains and includes the argument. But if the argument indeed is understood to be the very sense of the whole reasoning, but argumentation the whole expression of reasoning, but outside and differing in power from both, as if a certain place the greatest proposition is considered, thus also the differences of the greatest propositions will seem to be places. For since the difference itself contains the greatest proposition, and is its place, and the greatest proposition supplies force to argumentation or to an argument, there is no doubt that it seems to be a place for the whole argument, which encloses the whole within the scope of the greatest proposition.
Therefore, it has been demonstrated what are the seats of arguments, that is, where arguments are enclosed (these are the differences of the greatest propositions), which are called places, what also is an argument, since it is that which gives faith to a doubtful thing, what however is a doubtful thing, that is the other part of the question, what is a question, that is a doubtful proposition, what is a simple proposition, that is a statement, which is contained with a predicate and subject term, designating true or false, which all it is necessary to remember. For the differences of the greatest propositions which we have said are places, are called from these terms which are first in the proposition, are considered later in the question, namely the predicate and the subject.
From these also, which have been said above, it appeared what is the difference between Cicero’s Topics and Aristotle’s. For Aristotle discusses the greatest propositions, for he placed these as the places of arguments, as we also mentioned above. But Cicero calls not the greatest propositions, but their containing differences places, and contends to speak about these.
[2.07] “...But from these topics in which arguments are enclosed, some adhere to the subject at hand, others are taken from outside. In the subject itself, sometimes from the whole, sometimes from its parts, sometimes from a note, sometimes from those things which are in some way affected towards the subject of inquiry. However, those brought from outside are things which are distant and far removed.”
After the definition of topics and arguments, he provides a most thorough division of topics. And first, since every division should encompass all aspects, and not insert any superfluous elements, or omit anything necessary, Marcus Tullius clarifies this with the proposed division, saying: “From these topics in which arguments are enclosed, some adhere to the very subject discussed, others are taken from outside.” Indeed, nothing seems to be able to be added or subtracted from this division, as it briefly encompasses everything. The locations for arguments are taken from, either adhere to the subject at hand, or not at all. However, that those not at all adhering are placed from outside, since if among those we say adhere in the subject at hand and those not adhering there is no middle ground. Between affirmation and negation, there is no median. And since the place of the argument does not adhere in the subject at hand, it is taken from outside. It is not doubtful then, that there is no middle ground between those arguments of which the places adhere in this subject at hand, and those which are taken from outside. “However, those brought from outside are things which are distant and far removed.”
But what the subject at hand itself is will be easier to explain if we remember what has been previously said. For when we were speaking about the question, we said the same question is a disputable proposition. But since the proposition consists of a subject and predicate, we also said the question is joined to the subject and predicate. Therefore, the predicate or the subject is this subject at hand. For when one of the parts of the question is doubted, in this ambiguity, it is inquired whether the predicate appears to belong to the subject or not.
For since every question is divided into affirmation and negation, if the predicate belongs to the subject, a true affirmation arises from it; if it does not belong, a true negation arises. But in disputed questions, one defends the affirmation, the other the negation, that is, one defends that the predicate belongs to the subject, the other defends that it does not belong. But what is defended from either side, this is the subject at hand. Therefore, the subject at hand is the predicate term or the subject, about which it is discussed. And to make this clearer by example, let the question be, whether Verres committed theft. Here, Verres is the subject, to commit theft is the predicate; if theft is attributed to Verres, and this is proved by arguments, the affirmation of the question is demonstrated. If theft is separated from Verres, the negation of the question is again proven. Therefore, the subject at hand is nothing else, but either of the terms which are proposed in the question, whether the predicate or even the subject.
These terms in themselves cannot be arguments, nor indeed can they provide arguments in themselves. For if they themselves as they are can be arguments, or provide material for arguments, they would leave no doubt in the question; but since it is still doubted in the question whether their connection can be valid, they themselves can neither be arguments in themselves, nor provide arguments in themselves, but those things which are in them, or are placed outside, supply an abundance of arguments.
For what Victorinus asks, and explains more broadly, does not seem to me worthy even of mention. For he asks whether the question itself as the subject at hand has a place, which was least necessary, as has been said. The topic we are discussing now is not the place of any thing, but of an argument, and the argument is what makes the thing doubtful, but the doubtful thing is a part of the question. Therefore, if the argument cannot be the question or a part of the question, and the topic we are discussing is the place of an argument, there is no doubt that it cannot be the place of a question.
Furthermore, every question is disputable, but every argument clarifies the ambiguity of the question. Therefore, the argument is not the same as the question but the topics are places of arguments, not of the question. Therefore, understanding this premise, let us understand that the subject at hand is any term proposed in the question, whether the predicate or the subject, which, while they are things in themselves, cannot be arguments in themselves, but can have certain things in themselves, in which arguments are placed, and which are understood to be seats of arguments. These things, which seem to adhere with the terms about which it is discussed, are not yet arguments but are like places already containing arguments, and are placing them as if in a natural seat. The same should be said about those places which are taken from outside, for they are placed outside and in some way are referred away from the terms of the propositions, and are certain things but within themselves they enclose an abundance of arguments.
And, to sum up in a brief sentence, the subject at hand is nothing else but any term placed in the question. These cannot be arguments, nor can any argument be drawn from these. Therefore, the terms themselves which are placed in the question are neither arguments, nor places but only things. Conversely, those things which adhere to these about which it is discussed, are clearly things in themselves but enclose within themselves an abundance of arguments, so that when it is necessary to derive some argument from these, they perform the function of places. Therefore, if someone observes these things in themselves, they are things; if someone seeks to draw some argument from these, they become places. And these things have been said generally about the main and largest places. These indeed are those which adhere in those about which it is discussed, or which are taken from outside.
Therefore, to make a full division of places, those which he simply and mainly placed as places, he subdivides as it were into certain species, saying: “In the subject itself, sometimes from the whole, sometimes from its parts, sometimes from a note, sometimes from those things which are in some way affected towards the subject of inquiry.” And of the places that are in the subject at hand, a division into four parts is made. Indeed, those which adhere in the subject at hand, are understood to exist either from the whole term about which it is discussed, or from a listing of its parts, or from a note, or from things affected. This will be confirmed by a brief explanation. For it is not the case that any of those terms which are placed in the question, have their own definitions, and parts, and names, and are connected and referred to other things by some relation. Therefore, the place which is said to be from the whole, that is, whenever an argument is handled from the definition of a term which is in the question, whether the subject or predicate. From the listing of parts, whenever an argument is drawn from the parts of that term, which is placed in the question. From a note, whenever an argument arises from the word of the same term. From things affected, whenever an argument originates from those things which are brought back to the proposed term by some relation. I will explain the likenesses of all these things later, when I have treated the examples that Cicero set for explaining these matters.
Now this is to be considered, for Cicero says that from these places in which arguments are enclosed, some stick to the very thing under discussion, others are taken from outside, which seems to be said as though the places that stick to those things under discussion were different, and the very thing itself under discussion. For nothing can stick to itself, and thus that which sticks in something is different from that in which it sticks. But if there are some places that stick in those things under discussion, there is no doubt that these places are different from those under discussion. Again, when he says ‘IN ITSELF BOTH FROM THE WHOLE AND FROM ITS PARTS,’ as if he were not speaking about different things, he says that there are places in itself both from the whole, and from the parts, and from the note, as if the very thing itself were different from the whole, or the very thing itself different from all its parts gathered from every side. For every thing is the same as the whole. Indeed, Rome is the same as the entire city. Again, each thing is the same as its individual parts brought together; just as a human is the same as the head, chest, stomach, and feet, and the other parts joined and linked together. How, then, did he first speak as if about different things, when he said that places stick to these boundaries of the things under discussion, but afterwards as if about the same things, when he proposes that there are places in it, both from the whole and from the parts? For it does not differ to say ‘IN ITSELF BOTH FROM THE WHOLE AND FROM ITS PARTS’ than if he had said ‘in itself both from itself.’ For if the very thing itself is the same as the whole and the parts, it is the same to say that a place sticks in itself, from the whole, or from the parts, as to say that a place sticks in itself, which is from itself, which cannot even be understood, how it can stick in itself, which is the very thing itself, since nothing sticks to itself, as I have explained above.
But, as I just explained a little while ago, each thing both has a definition and parts, if we understand what is the force of the definition and what of the parts, every knot of ambiguity is untied. For a definition is an explanation of a thing forced into itself and complicated, just as when we say that a human is a rational animal, mortal. For what briefly the name designated, and narrowly, that it explained and extended, and somehow through its substantial parts, the definition made known. Therefore, another thing is not to understand a thing which is complicated, in that it is forced and reduced into one, another thing is of the same thing explained and discussed, in that it is set out and spread: for even if the definition of the thing is the same as what the name signifies, nevertheless that very thing which the name designates narrowly and confusedly, the definition discusses more clearly and makes known. Therefore, rightly is one thing the very thing itself, another its definition, even if the subject is one and the same for both. For as has been said, the very thing itself is singular, the definition of the very thing itself through its parts is distribution and enumeration. (Now by parts I mean substantial, not those which join size but those which express the characteristic and reason of the substance.)
But what is said in the definition according to those parts which join the substance, that is to be understood in the parts which link the size, just like a house which is joined by a foundation, walls, and a roof. For although that is nothing other than what is linked by parts, yet it is one thing, and joined, its partition however is distribution through certain members, and therefore although it is one, which is the very thing itself as a whole, and however many are the parts flowing together from every side, yet it is not the same to understand it, when it is considered as a whole, as when it is distributed into the very parts by which it is joined.
However, a place from a note is most clearly different from that boundary which is established in the question. For who would say that the name of any thing is the same as the thing itself, which it designates?
But those things which are affected by the thing under discussion, even if they seem to be placed outside, nevertheless regard the boundary proposed in the question, as it were, from the opposite side, which cannot be divided into many parts. For every thing, that which it is, is one, but it retains many things to itself as adjuncts, which are understood to differ from those things which are entirely outside, in that those things which are affected are placed in relation, as both their proposition and the reason for examples will show. But those things which are outside, are established in no relation, and therefore these are only from outside. But those things which are affected have been named, for they have some kind of kinship to that to which they are referred, that which is referred to something.
But nearly all these places which he now puts forward as simple and undivided, he divides in a later discussion, just as he now also divides those places which are in the thing itself, when he proposes some to be made from the whole, some from the parts, some from the note, some from the affected, and he cuts the affected themselves into their parts. But he confirms that a place from outside is placed in the testimony, and he establishes the force of the testimony in authority, but he leads authority into its own parts, but this will be clear in a later discussion. Now however, he puts forward these places as simple and undivided, and he subjoins examples to the simple.
But there remains now one thing which seems to need to be asked, whether these places which are divided into other places, can be places of those places which they contain within themselves, so that of those which are from the whole, from the parts, from the note, from the affected, that one certain place as it were is the place, which is in the thing itself. Indeed, nothing at all would obstruct thinking of places of places, for it can happen that a larger place contains narrower places within itself, just like a province contains cities, but now this likeness does not fit. For a place is from which is led that in which the argument is placed. But if a place of a place could be, and that which is in the thing itself under discussion, included those which are from the whole, or from the parts, or from the note, or from the affected, as a certain place, they would not be from the whole, from the parts, from the note, or from the affected places, but arguments, since they would stick in that place, which has been foretold to be a place in that very boundary of the thing under discussion; therefore a place will not be able to be a place but rather like genera in species.
So now let the division of places be, nor let this seem to be contrary to the things said above, when we have called both the greatest propositions, and those containing their differences by the common name places. For the greatest propositions, although by the very fact that they are the greatest they include the others and are called places, yet because they are most well known they can provide arguments for doubtful things. Therefore, rightly are their differences called places, which behaves differently in species of places, which certainly cannot be at all arguments: for in the thing itself, the place is divided as it were into certain species into those which are from the whole, from the parts, from the note, from the affected. Each one of these places seems to carry the complete word of the first place, for just as we call a man an animal, so too we call a horse and an ox animals, so is that place which is from the whole said to be in the thing itself, likewise also that which is from the parts and the note, and those which are from the affected are in the thing itself. But it is possible to lead arguments from these places, but for them to be arguments themselves, cannot be done.
[2.09] “But the whole subject under discussion is then applied to a definition, which, as it were, unfolds the question at hand. Here is an example of this type of argument: ‘Civil law is fairness established for those who belong to the same state to maintain their own affairs. However, knowledge of this fairness is useful. Therefore, knowledge of civil law is useful’.”
After the dual division of topics, namely in the subject itself and in those set aside, he divided the topic that is in the subject itself into four parts, namely from the whole, from the enumeration of parts, from the characteristics, from the affected ones. Now, therefore, before dividing the topic he proposed to be from the affected ones, he sets examples of the previous three, which in the first treatment he will not divide but will leave undivided. But these are from the whole, from parts, and from the characteristics.
And indeed, he discussed and disputed about that topic which is from the whole in this way. “Then,” he says, "we talk about the topic of the argument from the whole when we cover the whole of that which is set in question by a definition, which gives credence to the doubtful matter at hand. But every definition, as was also said above, unfolds and explains what is designated implicitly by a term, and therefore, not the term set in the definition, but what is in the term itself, can provide material for arguments. Each has its own specific definitions. For a definition is a statement that signifies the substance of each thing; if a thing does not deviate from its own substance, neither does the definition, therefore, the definition is in the term itself about which it is discussed, which encompasses neither existence nor the term as a whole. It does not show a part of the substance but the substance of the whole term. But since from this definition faith is made for the doubtful matter, an argument is drawn from the definition, which is in the term itself about which it is discussed, and it is the whole of this term. Therefore, the argument which is drawn from the definition, is drawn from that place which is in the term itself, which is placed in the question. But since there are many places in the subject itself, this place is entirely from the whole. For a definition encompasses the whole term, and it unfolds and opens that which is implicitly signified by the term.
An example of this type of argument is as follows. “Civil law is fairness established for those who belong to the same state to maintain their own affairs. However, knowledge of this fairness is useful. Therefore, knowledge of civil law is useful.” Indeed, the question is whether knowledge of civil law is useful. So here, civil law is presupposed, useful knowledge is predicated. The question, then, is whether that which is predicated can truly adhere to the subject. Therefore, I will not be able to call civil law itself as an argument, since the question has been raised about it; I look then at what is inherent in it, I see that since every definition is inseparable from that which it defines, the proper definition of civil law cannot be separated either. Therefore, the definition is civil law, and I say: “Civil law is fairness established for those who belong to the same state to maintain their own affairs”; after this, I consider whether this definition can be connected to the other term, useful knowledge, that is, whether the fairness established for those who belong to the same state to maintain their own affairs can be useful knowledge. I see that knowledge of the aforementioned fairness is useful. I conclude, therefore, that knowledge of civil law is useful.
Therefore, this argument is from that place which is in the subject itself, that is, in civil law, which term is established in the question, it is called from the definition, which definition is the whole of the questions, the argument is from the whole. Indeed, every place from the whole is in the subject itself. And let no doubt disturb us, that civil law and again some useful knowledge are speeches that we place among terms. For not every term is brought forward by a simple part of speech but sometimes whole speeches are constituted in terms. Therefore, in this argument, the greatest and most self-evident proposition is that through which we understand all things that are joined to a definition of something, that they are also necessarily joined to those things of which it is a definition. For it follows that since the definition of civil law can be joined to useful knowledge, useful knowledge can also be joined to civil law; therefore, this argument is drawn from that place which is in the subject itself. For every definition is in the term that it defines, and in the same place that is in the subject itself, and from the whole. For every definition shows and opens up the whole. The greatest proposition is this. To those things to which the definition of some things is joined, those things that are defined are necessarily suited.
[2.10] “Then there is enumeration of parts, which is conducted in this manner: If he has not been made free either by the census, or by manumission, or by testament, he is not free; nor is any of these things true; therefore, he is not free…”
Let the question be whether someone who has been shown to be a slave, is free. For there are three ways of becoming free. One is to be made free by the census, for in the old days only Roman citizens were registered. Therefore, if someone, with the owner’s consent or at his command, had registered his name in the census, he became a Roman citizen and was released from the bond of slavery, and this was being made free by the census, by the owner’s agreement to register the name in the census, and thus becoming a Roman citizen. There was also another way of achieving freedom, which was called manumission: manumission indeed is a certain rod which, placed on the head of the slave by the lictor to manumit him, claimed that slave into freedom, uttering certain solemn words, and hence that rod was called manumission. There is also another way of making someone free, if someone by his final will in the series of his testament writes his slave as free.
Since these are the ways of becoming free, if someone wants to show that someone, who has been proved to be a slave, has not been made free, he will say: if he has not been made free neither by the census, nor by manumission, nor by testament, he is not free. But he has not been made free by any of these means, therefore, he is not free. For if you separate all parts from any such thing, you have necessarily separated the whole. For since the whole consists in its parts, if something is not joined with any part, it is also separated from the whole.
However, we speak of parts in two ways, either as species or as members. A species is that which captures the entire name of the whole, like man and horse of animal, for both are called animals by their own full name. For a man is an animal, and again a horse is an animal. Likewise, members are those which, although they make up the whole, joined together take the name of the whole, but individually in no way, as when the foundation, walls, and roofs are the members of a house, all together are called a house, but the foundations alone are not at all called a house, nor the walls, nor the roofs.
In these things that are species, since they capture the whole name of the whole, if you have individually separated all parts from him about whom there is doubt, you cannot show the whole to be from existence. For it has been said that each part takes the whole name of the whole. As since there are three species of becoming free, census, manumission, testament, if you remove any two, one will still remain, you will necessarily acknowledge as free. Whether he has been made free by census only, or by manumission, or by testament, it is clear that he is free. Therefore, in these things unless you remove all species, you cannot destroy what is proposed in the question. But if you want to affirm and establish, it is enough only to show any one species, like if you want to show someone is free, it is enough to show that he was made free either by manumission, or by census, or by testament; but if you want to destroy, it is not enough to show that he was not made free either by census, or by manumission, or by testament but did not come to freedom in any of these ways. Therefore, with these parts that are species, if you want to destroy, you have to use all; if you want to establish, one will be enough.
But indeed, these parts that are members are in the opposite way: if you want to destroy, it will be enough if you separate one; if you want to establish, you will necessarily prove all to exist. For if you want to show that a house does not exist, it suffices to say either that the foundations do not exist, or the walls, or the roofs; for if any of these things is lacking, it cannot be called a house. But if you want to show a house to exist, unless you join all together, you will not be able to establish what you propose.
All these places are derived from the enumeration of parts, because in these parts that are species, all parts are enumerated in order to destroy; in those, however, which are members, all parts are enumerated in order to establish.
Therefore, the question is in the proposed example of Cicero’s argument, derived from the enumeration of parts: Whether he who has been proved to be a slave, is free; he who has been proved to be a slave, is the subject, free is the predicate; therefore, we cannot derive either of these terms to the argument. For they cannot create trust in the doubt about themselves. I see therefore where it is in one of them. But since all parts are in that of which they are parts, and since freedom, given, has its own parts, I take them and count them, and I inquire whether any of those parts seem to be in the subject but none is present. Therefore, I will conclude that he is not free.
Whence it is more clearly demonstrated, that arguments can be taken not only from that term which is the subject, but also from that which is the predicate. For the first example in which he was showing the knowledge of civil law to be useful, he defined civil law which was the subject, and made the argument derived from there the faith of the doubtful matter. But here the parts of freedom are enumerated, which is the predicate term.
Therefore, as has been said, the question is whether he who has been proved to be a slave, is free. Indeed, the term ‘he who has been proved to be a slave’, is the subject, but ‘free’ is the predicate, in it, that is in the predicate, are the parts, which are enumerated, from which enumeration while the argument is drawn, the argument becomes in it, from the enumeration of parts. The maximum proposition, of which nothing of its parts is joined to the proposed matter, can not even the whole be joined to it.
Here there seems to be a doubt whether the place from the whole and from the parts is the same, since all parts make up the whole, if they are joined.
But it will be replied, since it is an argument from the enumeration of parts, the whole is divided, not joined, for the argument proceeds by dividing. For whoever has taken a part of any kind, seems by the very fact that he has taken a part, to have divided the matter. But he who divides the matter, rather dissipates than completes the whole but there can still remain doubt, for the definition also explains the hidden meaning of the name, through a certain enumeration of substantial parts. But the enumeration of parts is a certain dissipation of the parts themselves.
But it is one thing to enumerate the parts of the same thing, another thing of the definition. For the parts of the thing are always smaller than the thing of which they are parts, as the head, or the thorax, or the other members are smaller than the whole man; but the parts of the definition, if they are substantial, are proven to be greater than the whole thing that is defined, as the animal is greater than the man. Similarly, rational, mortal, the same man, as if they contain more, and are individual parts of his definition which is animal, rational, mortal. Therefore, division always takes smaller parts of the thing it divides. But what the definition takes, are universals in themselves and whole and containing the thing to be defined, although when put in the definition they become parts, as can easily be understood in the examples I proposed above. Hence it is clear that the place from the whole, which is of the definition, and the place from the enumeration of parts, are different.
[2.10] “… Then there is notation, when an argument is derived from the force of a word in this way: when the law commands the continual advocate to be continual, it commands the wealthy to be for the wealthy; for he is continual, as L. Aelius says, called so from giving copper.”
The third of those who are in the subject is constituted by notation. Notation, however, is a certain interpretation of a name. But the name is always in the subject. For just as the definition declares, unfolds and spreads what is involved in the name, so also the name indicates in a convoluted and confused manner what is said from the definition. But if the definition is in the subject, there can be no doubt that the name also is in the subject about which it is argued. However, the place is called from notation, because the name denotes and signifies every thing.
Therefore, a vindex is he who undertakes to vindicate another’s cause, like those whom we now call advocates. Therefore, the Aelian law commands the continual advocate to be continual. [1062D] It is asked whether when the Aelian law wishes the vindex to be continual, it wishes the wealthy to be for the wealthy. Therefore, the subject term is indeed the Aelian law wishing the vindex to be continual for the continual, and the predicate is the wealthy for the wealthy, thus I cannot bring these terms to believe the question. For about those about whom there is doubt, no faith can be made. I am therefore asking what is in either of them, and I see one of their terms to be, the Aelian law, which decrees that the continual advocate should be for the continual, that is, the subject, I interpret the part of this speech, which is continual. For what is continual except giving a copper coin? And no one can give a copper coin except the wealthy, therefore the continual is wealthy. Therefore, when the Aelian law establishes the continual advocate to be continual, it commands the wealthy [1063A] to be for the wealthy, for indeed the continual is wealthy, named from giving copper.
Therefore, this argument is drawn from that place which is in the subject, that is, from the interpretation of a name, for the name is in that very one whose name it is, whose interpretation is called notation. But from this interpretation an argument is made. Therefore, this argument is from that place, which is in the subject, that is, from the name, and of those who are in the subject, from notation, that is, from the interpretation of the name. The greatest proposition is, the interpretation of a name is the same as the name.
But a little more confusingly, Cicero’s argumentation causes the greatest error. For it should be said in this way, he is continual who gives copper, but he who gives a copper coin is wealthy, therefore the continual is wealthy. But the Aelian law commands the continual to be for the continual, [1063B] therefore it has prescribed the wealthy to be for the wealthy. But if it were said in this way, the argumentation would have been clearer. But now he said: “When the Aelian law commands the continual advocate to be continual, it commands the wealthy [1064A] to be for the wealthy,” and the rest. He added, to show that the wealthy is continual; this, however, is just as much as saying, the Aelian law, when it commanded the continual advocate to be continual, has prescribed the wealthy to be for the wealthy, as if he were saying, he who is continual is wealthy. For unless he who is continual is wealthy, it does not follow that when the Aelian law commanded the continual advocate to be continual, it commanded the wealthy to be for the wealthy, and he put the conclusion of the argument first and added the proof afterwards. For the conclusion is, when the Aelian law wishes the continual advocate to be continual, it commands the wealthy to be for the wealthy, and he put this forward; but the proof is the reasoning that the continual is wealthy, named from giving copper, and he brought this into the conclusion.
What remains is that place of those who are in the subject [1064B], which is led from the affected. As its exposition, because the division is varied and multiple, let’s defer and set the end of the first volume here.
Book Two
[1063B] In the course of such a difficult work, I am not ignorant, my Patricius, that this labor of ours, which we undertook at your encouragement, while it is either lifted up or brought down by the judgement of the unskilled multitude, is easily bitten by various criticisms. For there are those who dislike this entire type of discussion, as a superfluous pursuit, and [1063C] scorn it with familiar cavilling of corrupted minds, and those who think the greatest benefit of this science is in their own laziness, lying about others, do not believe us to be equal to the task. Yet, if the former do not depreciate the value of another’s work out of envy but agree with criticism and judgement, I think they should not be tolerated in any way. I would much rather deflect the envy of a bad opinion onto myself and let them easily distrust our powers, rather than to trample on the reasoning of such great discipline. But, for the love of divine and human faith, what is this human depravity, what is such an impudence of blindness, that they almost condemn themselves with their own confession! For there is no one who does not wish to appear most proficient in discussion, and yet they all try to counter and resolve objections, even though it would be easy to do, all rush to the knowledge [1063D] of the discipline of logic, as if to some common gains of wisdom. What could be imagined more absurd than trying to prove the uselessness of the study of dialectics with probable arguments, as they themselves believe? For how can it be fitting to pervert the art of argument by arguing, so that you desire the opinion of the one whose truth you despise? However, just as that singer ordered his student to sing for him and the Muses, so I too sing for myself and you, not for the Muses but as if for the Muses' protection, and what I collected with much labor and study, I will present not only with rhetorical ability, but also with dialectical subtlety.
The following matters are of this kind:
[3.11] “Arguments are also drawn from things that are, in some way, related to what is being questioned. But this [1064B] kind is divided into many parts. For we call some related, some from the genus, some from the form, some from similarity, some from difference, some from the contrary, some from things added, some from antecedents, some from consequences, some from conflicting things, some from causes, some from effects, some from comparisons of greater, equal or lesser.”
[1064C] After he has divided the topics from which arguments are drawn into two parts, saying some are inherent in the matter at hand, others are assumed externally, and when he divided the topic that adheres in the matter at hand into four species, that is from the whole, from the parts, from the mark, from related things, he gave examples to the first three, which we explained as diligently as we could in the first volume. There remains that place he put fourth, that is from related things, of which since there are many species, he could not propose an example of the whole and undivided. For those that are to be divided, are better opened by examples arranged in individual members. Therefore, he divides this topic in this way: The place that is from related things, partly comes from related things, partly from the genus, partly descends from the form, from the similarity [1064D] too, or from difference, or from the contrary, and also from things connected, from antecedents, and consequences, and conflicting things, from causes too and from effects of causes, and from comparison of greater, or equal, or lesser, which all Tullius illustrates a little later with suitable resemblances of things.
Now we must say what the nature of related things is, and what property they have. For things that are related can somehow refer something, to that to which they are referred. But all things which regard each other in some relation, either bring friendly or disagreeable things. If friendly, either substantially, like genus, form, antecedents, consequences, cause, effect; or in quality, like related, similar, connected; or in quantity, like equals. But those which bring disagreeable things to themselves, [1065A] are partly only different from themselves, partly adverse; but adverse, partly in quality, like contrary or conflicting, partly in quantity, like greater and lesser. As these things are, it is clear that both friendly things are joined by a relation of kinship, and disagreeable things are compared to each other by this very thing by which they are adverse to each other. For friendly things are friendly to friends, and disagreeable things disagree from disagreeable things. Thus, then, the genus of the form is a genus, and the form of the genus is a form, and antecedents of consequences, and consequences, of antecedents, and the cause of effects is a cause, and the effect of causes is an effect, and related things are related to related things, and the similar to similar is similar, and the connected to the connected is connected, and equals to equals are equal, and differences to differences are different, and the greater to the lesser are greater, [1065B] and the lesser to the greater are lesser, and the contrary to contraries are contrary, and conflicting things to conflicting things are conflicting. Therefore, related things are those which, although they are different from each other, are nevertheless referred to each other.
But in the order that Tullius has previously described the topics, we will append definitions to all of them.
So, things which are said to be related to each other, in M. Tullius' argument, are first conjugates: I call ‘conjugates’ anything that changes through various pronunciation from one name, as from ‘justice’ we get ‘just’, ‘justice’, ‘justly’. These are called ‘conjugates’ with each other and with ‘justice’ itself, from which their name has flowed.
But the ‘genus’ is what is predicated in the ‘what is it?’ about many things differing in species, just as ‘animal’ is said of man and horse, which differ in species, and in ‘what is it?’ it is predicated. For when we ask ‘what is a man?’ or 'what is a horse?’, the answer is ‘animal’. And although what a ‘genus’ is may not be distinct from what it is of which it is the ‘genus’, it is nevertheless related to it, because it is connected to it by the relation of substance.
The ‘species’ is what the ‘genus’ is predicated about above, which Cicero called ‘form’, such as ‘human animal’.
‘Similarity’ is a unity of quality. For two things that are similar to each other, have the same quality, and since something cannot be similar to itself, another thing is considered to be similar. But it could not be another thing unless it was different in some part. Therefore, similar things are different from each other in one thing, but they agree in another. In that thing in which they agree according to quality, they are understood to be similar, which refer to their own similarity by connection.
‘Difference’ is what makes each thing different from another, as man differs from horse by the difference of rationality. Therefore, this is referred in a predication of its own nature to those things of which it is the difference, as rationality is to man; and in the aspect of dissimilarity to those things from which that of which it is the difference, differs, as rationality from a cow.
‘Contraries’ are things that, being placed in the same genus, differ as much as possible from each other, as white and black, which although placed in the same genus of quality, nevertheless recede as far as possible from each other, and no one is ignorant that these also refer to their own. For what they are is one thing, what they are as contraries is another. For what is black, is such. But what is contrary, is very different from white.
‘Conjuncts’ are things that hold a neighbouring nature to each thing, as paleness is joined to fear. These are such things that they often cling to the things joined to them, but they are not forced by necessity to those things which they are close to, to exist. For often paleness assists fear, but not always, as when fear is suppressed by dissimulation, and therefore likely arguments arise from the conjuncts. For whatever things are conjuncts, they are usually evidence of those things which they stick to. But I will discuss these more carefully in a later argument.
‘Antecedents’ are things which, being posited, another thing necessarily follows, as because there is war, there must be hostility. These hold the necessity of order. For consequences cannot be separated from antecedents, and whatever follows what precedes it, is a consequence, as hostilities follow war. For if there is war, there must be hostility, and this point is notable and to be observed, that often what are naturally prior, are themselves consequences. Often what naturally precede, and are prior in the proposition; for hostilities usually exist before wars. But we cannot propose hostilities, so that war follows. For we cannot truly say, if there are hostilities, there is war but we put war first, and the hostilities which are naturally prior, follow, so, if there is war, there are hostilities. Now therefore hostilities which naturally precede war, these same hostilities accompany wars in the proposition; but if I say:
‘If he is proud, he is hateful’
Pride both naturally and in the proposition precedes hatred; for pride usually exists first, but then hatred arising from that same pride follows. Nor does it matter whether any thing naturally precedes something at any time, or whether it will follow, as long as we note in the proposition, that it is the antecedent thing, which whether it be naturally prior or later, nevertheless necessarily brings another thing with it.
‘Repugnancies’ are understood whenever that which is naturally joined to one contrary, is compared to the other contrary, as since friendship and its contrary, hostility, are. But a willingness to harm follows hostility, friendship and a willingness to harm, are repugnant, these too are referred to themselves by the likeness of contrariety.
A ‘cause’ is that by the preceding of which something is effected, as the rising of the sun is the cause of the day.
An ‘effect’ is what the preceding cause accomplishes, as the day which the rising sun brings forth.
The ‘comparison of greater things’ is whenever that which is less is compared to that which is greater, as if no innocent person should be exiled, much more should not Tullius, who was not only innocent, but also a liberator of the country; for it is more to be a liberator of the country than to be innocent. The ‘comparison of equals’ is whenever equals are compared with each other, as if this citizen should not be exiled because he is innocent, then neither should he who is innocent justly be deprived of his country. The ‘comparison of lesser things’ is whenever lesser things are compared with greater ones, as if no one thought Cicero, liberator of the country, worthy of reward, no one should think him worthy of reward who when he was merely innocent, contributed no merits to the republic.
Indeed, no one is ignorant that all these things are related to each other, are referred to each other, and as it were, observe each other from opposite perspectives. Let us first speak of those that are conjoined; justice pertains to what is just, or what can be done justly, and is achieved by the one who is just. The other things also have not only a kinship in terminology to themselves, but also a congruity of a certain nature, albeit they are separate from themselves. Justice is not the same as just. For anything that is influenced by something, is different from that which influences it, and is related to the same thing, from which it is also proven to be influenced. It is also not in doubt that the genus is related to the thing of which it is the genus, that is to the species, which Cicero called ‘form’. For the genus is the genus of the species, and the species is the species of the genus: thus they are referred to each other, although the genus and the species are not the same. It should certainly be noted that what we call species, Cicero calls forms. I will gladly agree to use whichever terms he wishes, as long as I understand what he is saying, but the same concession cannot be made for me. For he who has professed to bring light to explanations should operate in words that are in common use. However, what is posited to the genus as a species has obtained use to be rather called a form. And indeed, a like thing cannot be like anything but a like thing, and what is different cannot differ from anything but an unlike thing. Opposites are also understood to be opposed to opposites, conjoined things adhere to conjoined things. And what are antecedents, precede something that can follow. Even what is consequent follows what precedes it. Every opposing thing is understood to be an enemy to what opposes it. A cause is also the cause of its effect. For whatever cause effects anything, is the cause of the thing it effects; an effect is also the effect of some cause. The comparison of greater things regards lesser things, of lesser things regards greater things, of equal things regards equal things.
And in all these, that nature is discerned to exist, such that although some things by themselves are different from those to which they are referred, they appear to be affected when they are compared; but that they are different from those to which they are referred, is confirmed by the thing itself, since nothing can be referred to itself. Since these things are so, they are rightly called affected.
All these things are the species or forms of this topic which is led from the affected, even Cicero himself testifies, who says: ‘But this kind has been divided into many parts.’ For when he said kind, he marked what he divided from the kind as species. Moreover, all these things receive both the name of the kind and its definition. The affected are towards something, which can be referred to what they are affected towards; the conjoined and the kind, and the form, and the rest, are always referred to those things towards which they are affected. But, as it has been said in the higher places, those who were clinging to the thing itself which is being treated, that is from the whole, from the parts, from the mark, so that from the whole the term is understood which had been proposed in question, likewise from its parts and from its mark. In the same way also in those things which are affected, we will say that the affected are considered towards that term which is posited in the place of the subject or predicate contains the question.
It remains now to say why those things which are affected are said to be in the thing itself which is being treated. Indeed, in the term itself which is being treated, Cicero signified there to be four places, that is from the whole, from the parts, from the mark, from the affected. Of these indeed the three former ones it is obvious cling to the term of the thing being treated. For the definition of any thing which is a whole, is in that very thing which it defines. Parts also are in that very thing which they join together by collection. The mark is also in that which it signifies by name; the affected however seem to be placed externally, for they are referred to that to which they are affected, to that about which they are not referred, unless they were understood to be placed externally. Why therefore he also numbered among us the places those which are affected, to that about which it is inquired, which cling to the term itself of the thing being inquired about, must be said. Since that which is said to adhere, is not the same as that to which it is predicted to adhere.
Although they are different, they are however understood to be joined by a certain kinship, just as the definition is not the same as the thing itself which is described by the definition. For if the definition makes clearer what it defines, but the thing itself can make nothing clearer than it can effect from itself, it is obvious that what is defined is different from the definition. But for this reason we say that the definition clings in what is being defined, because it is related and joined to it, for while it signifies its property, it does not depart from its substance. Parts and marks are also different from what they either join together, or designate. But because those join together the proposed term, those signify, having some kinship with the proposed term, they are said to cling in the thing itself which is being treated. So also in the affected, although they are external, for they are not the same as what they are understood to be affected towards, yet necessarily, since they are considered to have some kinship with these, they are said to cling in those things towards which they are affected.
But what their natural order is, or what difference, or whether there is some other, partition of places, although it is more suitable to be explained in the Topics of Differences, yet when I have set forth the examples of Cicero which he brought forward in explaining these, I will add on.
[3.12] “Words of the same kind are called conjugates. Words of the same kind are those that originate from one and change in various ways, such as wise, wisely, wisdom. This conjugation of words is called ‘syzygy’, from which the argument is as follows: If the field is shared for grazing, it is lawful to share it for grazing.”
The definition of conjugates put forth by Cicero is this: Conjugates are words that are of the same kind, that is, words that change from one word in various ways. For indeed, words are of the same kind, justice, just, justly, justly, and any other words that can change into various forms. For whatever words originate from one in any way, these are called ‘syzygy’ by the Greeks, but ‘conjugates’ by the Latins: for what the Greeks call ‘syzygy’, we call ‘conjugation’. These, however, are such as wise, wisely, wisdom, and whatever are seen to be derived from one certain part of speech, and various inflections.
Therefore, from conjugates, the example of an arising argument is this: let it be doubtful whether I and my neighbor are allowed to graze our cattle in a certain field together, that is, whether it is lawful to graze together: the subject therefore is the field, and the predicate is to graze together. We will therefore make an argument in this way: This field in question is shared for grazing, but in a shared field, it is lawful to graze together, therefore in this field, it is lawful to graze together. Therefore, this argument of the right to graze together is taken from the shared field, namely from a conjugate. For to graze together and a shared field are conjugates. The argument is taken, however, that it is lawful to graze together, because the field is shared, but shared is conjugate to that which is to graze together. Therefore, the argument is taken from the conjugates, which is conjugate in itself from which it is discussed, that is, in grazing together; for all things flow from the same, and contain and regard themselves. Therefore, the argument is made from what is in itself, from the affected, that is, from the conjugates. The highest proposition is:
Conjugates in what they are conjugates, are of one and the same nature
or thus:
To whom something is fitting, to him also his conjugate can be associated.
[3.13] “From the genus thus it is derived: Since all silver bequeathed to a woman, the money which is counted and left at home cannot not be bequeathed; for the form from the genus, while it retains its name, is never separated, and counted money retains the name of silver; therefore, it seems to be bequeathed.”
A genus is what is predicated of any species in its what it is. It is said to be predicated in its what it is, that which is fitting to be answered when asked of any species what it is, and it shows the substance of the species about which it is answered. But always a genus is larger than its proper species, and it includes it within the scope of its predication. This makes it so that, although a genus can be divided into other things, it in no way leaves its own species, just as the word animal is predicated of man, and shows the substance of man; for when asked in what way is a man, the answer is animal. The same however can be derived into other things, such as into a horse and an ox, which are called animals. But it is derived into different things in such a way, that it does not leave any of those species which it contains. For wherever there is a man, it is necessary that he is an animal, for a man is an animal. And the same of an ox and of the others. Therefore, it is clearly shown that the name of the genus is not separated from the species in any way. But if sometimes the word of the genus is universally stated, and it is not to be that all species are designated, as if someone says every animal, and he will designate both man and ox, and all other species placed under the name of animal.
As things are so, a certain man in his will had bequeathed all silver to a woman. It is asked whether also counted money is bequeathed to her: therefore counted money in this question is the subject, and bequeathed is the predicate. I therefore consider in either of them what may be in them, so that I may seek some argument from what is in it. I see the term subject, which is counted money, to have silver as a genus, which is affected, namely to its own species to which it is referred. For those things which refer to each other, are affected; therefore since all silver is bequeathed, and the genus does not leave its proper species, it is necessary that also counted money is bequeathed. For since all the name of the genus is bequeathed, nothing seems to be excepted from the species, as if someone says, every animal lives, not only, I think, does he say that man or an ox, or a horse, or individually the rest, or one, or more live, so that however some things which are animals, are argued to be deprived of the function of life, but he proposes that absolutely everything which is an animal, lives. Therefore since every genus, that is every silver is bequeathed, no species is excepted. But counted money is silver, therefore it happens that also counted money can be included in the word bequeathed.
The question therefore is, as said, whether counted money is bequeathed; the argument is from what is in itself, that is from the genus which is in the proper species, that is from the affected, which is so as it is referred to it; this however is silver, from the affected, that is from the genus. For it is predicated as a genus, silver, of counted money. For when we ask us what is counted money we rightly answer, silver. The highest proposition is:
To whom every genus is fitting, to him also every species is fitting.
Which Marcus Tullius also proposed in different words but with the same meaning saying: “For the form from the genus, while it retains its name, is never separated. But counted money retains the name of silver; therefore, it seems to be bequeathed.”
[3.14] From the form of the genus, which sometimes, for clearer understanding, can be called part in this way: “If such a legacy of money was left to Fabia by the man, if she were the head of his household; if she had not entered into his control, nothing is owed.” For the genus is ‘wife’; its two forms: one is the head of the household, [those are the ones who have entered into control;] the other is those who are merely considered wives. In whichever part Fabia was, the legacy [to her] does not seem valid.
A species is that which, shaped by its own differences, is placed under the genus in a statement. But the proper differences separate it from other species and set it apart, as a man, being a species of animal, is shaped by the differences [1070D] of rationality and mortality, and is separated from those animals that are eternal, like the sun is believed to be by the Platonists, and from those animals which are devoid of reason. Therefore, since all species differ from one another by their own differences, and what is said of one species cannot be transferred to another, as what is said of a man specifically, the same cannot be understood of a horse or an ox. Yet it is led by the species whenever the genus itself is, as it were, contracted into a certain portion. For example, if someone says that they should be given that animal which is rational and mortal, it is clearly understood to be said only of a man, not of a horse, or an ox, or any of the others. Therefore, just as the genus generally said includes all species [1071A] when someone says every animal, so does any designated animal make a species.
Given these circumstances, from the form of the genus, that is, from the species of the genus, such an argument is made, which form of the genus Cicero often calls part, so that what is said can be made clearer. For the name of part is more familiar than that of form; but we have strictly spoken above about how the form differs from the parts, and Cicero himself will explain it more broadly a little later. Let’s now see about the proposed example. There are two species of wife, one is the head of the household, the other is in use; but by the common name of the genus they are called wives. But it often happens that species are named with the same names as the genera; but a woman could not be the head of a household unless she had entered into control; this was a specific species of marriage. [1071B] For a wife was had in three ways: by use, by religious ceremony, by purchase; but religious ceremony only suited priests. But those who had entered into control by purchase, these were called heads of households. But those by use or religious ceremony, not at all. But purchase was carried out with certain ceremonies, and they would ask each other during the purchase, the man this way: whether the woman wanted to be the head of his household. She would answer that she wanted. Again, the woman would ask whether the man wanted to be the head of her household, he would answer that he wanted. Thus the woman, she would enter under the control of the man, and these marriages were called by purchase, and the woman was the head of the household for the man, in the place of a daughter. Ulpian explains this ceremony in his Institutes.
Therefore, a certain man, by his final testament, left all his money to Fabia his wife, if indeed Fabia was to him [1071C] not only a wife, but also a specific species of wife, that is, the head of his household, it is asked whether the legacy of money was left to Fabia the wife. Fabia the wife, is the subject; the legacy of money, the predicate. I ask, therefore, from these which argument I can take, which are put in question, and I see two forms in the wife, one of which is merely a wife, the other is the head of the household, which is completed by entering into control. But if Fabia did not enter into control, nor was she the head of the household, that is, she was not that species of wife, to whom all the money was left. Therefore, since what is said of one species, it is not fitting to be said of another, and since Fabia is besides that species, who would have entered into control, that is, who would be the head of the household, and the man left all the money to the head of the household, it does not seem to be left to Fabia.
So the question, as has been said, is whether all the money was left to Fabia the wife: the subject, Fabia the wife; but the predicate, the legacy of money. The argument from that which is in the subject of the question, that is from that which is in the wife about whom we ask. But in the wife about whom we ask, there is a species of wife, namely that which did not enter into control which is attached to her. For every species refers to its own genus, that is, form; thus an argument is made from that which is in the subject, from the things that are attached, from the form of the genus. The major proposition is:
That which is said of one species, does not fit into another.
[3.15] From similarity in this way: “If those buildings have collapsed or are causing a defect whose use of fruit has been bequeathed, [1072A] the heir should not restore nor repair, no more than to restore a slave, if his use of fruit was bequeathed had perished.”
Similar things are said to be of the same quality, from which an argument is taken in this way: A certain man in his will bequeathed the use and fruit of houses, that is, he granted houses for another to use while they lived; these began to either cause a defect, that is, threaten ruin, or even collapse. Therefore, the person to whom the use and fruit of the houses was bequeathed asks from the heir to compensate him for the damages of the houses which were bequeathed by the testator, and to restore the houses which have caused a defect or have collapsed. It is asked whether the heir is forced to restore the defect or ruin of those houses whose use and fruit were bequeathed. Therefore, in this case the subject of the discussion is indeed, as a certain limit, the houses whose use and fruit were bequeathed, their ruin or defect. The predicate of the discussion, however, is the restoration by the heir, constituted as a limit.
Therefore, I take an argument from a similar case, in this way: Since if someone bequeathed the use and fruit of a slave, and that slave somehow perished, the heir is not forced to restore the slave, so now neither should the heir be forced to restore the houses, which were bequeathed in usufruct, that have fallen into ruin or caused a defect. For the bequest of a slave’s usufruct is similar to the bequest of houses' usufruct. It is also similar that a slave bequeathed in usufruct, if he perished, is not restored by the heir, and houses bequeathed in usufruct, if they have caused ruin or a defect, are not repaired by the heir. Therefore, the question is indeed whether the heir is forced to restore the ruin or defect of houses bequeathed in usufruct. The term [1072C] is the subject indeed, of houses bequeathed in usufruct. their ruin or defect, the predicate however is the restoration by the heir.
But the argument is from that which is in the subject, that is from that which is present, or the ruin, or the defect of houses bequeathed in usufruct. But that is affected, that is, the similarity. For every similarity is considered to be in that which is similar, but the similarity is of a bequeathed slave’s usufruct perishing, whom the heir is not forced to restore. The major proposition, however, is:
The same things should apply to similar situations.
[3.16] Regarding difference: Just because a husband willed all of his silver to his wife, it doesn’t mean that what was owed in IOUs has been willed too. Whether the silver is stored in a chest or owed in IOUs makes a significant difference.
In matters that significantly differ, what is said about one of them does not seem to apply to the other.
Given this, someone willed all of his silver to his wife. She also claimed the money that was owed in IOUs as hers, because all money is called silver by name. The question arises whether the silver that was owed in IOUs has been willed as well. So the term at hand is silver owed in IOUs, and the predicate is whether it has been willed. Therefore, we will construct an argument from difference in this way: The same cannot be understood of things that differ significantly.
Silver stored in a chest or owed in IOUs indeed differs significantly. For money placed in a chest is rightfully ours, while money owed in IOUs is not ours; because what is loaned becomes the property of the receiver, and that’s why a debtor isn’t obliged to return the exact money borrowed to the creditor, but rather an equal amount. Money stored in a chest and money owed in IOUs aren’t types of silver or money, but differences; for types of silver are said to be minted or not minted. The quality of money, whether it is in one’s possession or not, but not completely alien in all ways, consists of these differences, like some being stored in a chest, the rest being owed in IOUs; and this is said so that nobody would think the argument is derived from types rather than from differences. For substantial quality is counted among differences, not types.
Therefore, when a man has willed all of his silver to his wife, and it’s clear that what was his to will, that is, what was stored in his chest, belongs to her, the same cannot be understood of what was owed in IOUs, because, as was said, what is owed in IOUs differs significantly from what is stored in a chest. So, an argument was made from what was inherent, which was in question. The question was indeed about silver owed in IOUs. This indeed had its proper difference, by which it differed from other silver, specifically, that which was stored in a chest. This indeed is affected, that is, it’s a difference. The major premise is that the same cannot be understood of things that significantly differ.
[3.17] From the contrary, however, thus: A woman to whom her husband has willed the usufruct of his goods should not think that full wine and oil cellars pertain to her. For the usufruct, not abuse, has been willed. These are contrary to each other.
What is said about something cannot apply to its opposite. The same cannot be understood of two contrary things in any way. So, someone by the choice of his last will willed the usufruct of his goods to his wife; the woman claimed the full wine and oil cellars for her own usufruct. The question is whether the pantry’s usufruct has also been willed; therefore, the pantry’s usufruct is the subject, and whether it has been willed is the predicate. The argument is thus drawn from the contrary: We use those things which remain for us while we use them, but we abuse those things which perish while we use them; therefore, since remaining and perishing are contrary, so too are use and abuse considered contrary. If other things remain by using them, but wine and oil cellars are consumed by using them, the usufruct can exist for other things; but for the pantry, use cannot exist but rather abuse. Therefore, since a man has willed the usufruct of his goods to his wife, he could not will the contrary, which is abuse; and indeed, the abuse of wine and oil, so the wine and oil cannot pertain to the woman’s usufruct.
The argument is from what is inherent in the subject in question, that is, from the bequest of usufruct, and from the affected, that is, the contrary; contraries, however, are not in their opposites as a definition is in that which is defined, but as a relation. For every relation is in relatives, and all contraries are said to be not what they are, that is, qualities, but that they are contrary, in their opposites, because they are not conferred according to their proper quality but according to their greatest difference from each other. The major premise is that what applies to something does not apply to its opposite.
[4.18] From the adjuncts: “If the woman who never reduced her legal status made a will, it does not seem that possession can be given according to her tablets based on the praetor’s edict.” It is added, as if possession appears to be given according to the tablets of slaves, exiles, and children, based on the praetor’s edict.
Adjuncts are those which occupy a nearby and adjacent place, so if one of them has been in any way, the other also seems to have been, or to be, or will be: these indeed are as if neighboring to each other. But those which are closest in existence either want to precede the matter, as love often precedes sexual intercourse, or to be simultaneous, as paleness and fear, or to come afterwards, as murder follows anger. And this is the nature of adjuncts, that they may indeed be separated, yet they show themselves mutually. For he who loved did not necessarily possess, and often he who possessed did not love. Nor he who is pale necessarily fears, and often he who does not fear is pale. Nor out of necessity does an angry man kill, and often someone kills who is not angry. But yet if it is inquired about each of these, it is likely that he who loved had sexual intercourse, and he who fears is pale, and he who was angry has killed, not because this cannot be otherwise but because we gather neighboring things from neighbors.
As for the example of this argument, the likeness is this. A reduction of legal status is a change of a prior state. This usually happens in many ways, either maximal, medium, or minimal. The maximal is when both freedom and citizenship are lost, like deportation. The medium, in which citizenship is lost but freedom is retained, like migration to Latin colonies. The minimal, when neither citizenship nor freedom is lost but the quality of the previous state is reduced, like adoption, or in any other ways the prior state could be changed, while citizenship remains.
Women, however, were held in perpetual guardianship by ancient law. They were removed from the power of a guardian if they were married into a man’s hand, thus changing the prior status, and she who was married into a man’s hand was reduced in legal status. Therefore, some woman who never reduced her legal status, that is, who least of all married into a man’s hand, made a will without the authorization of a guardian. The question is whether possession should be given according to her tablets based on the praetor’s edict. Here indeed the subject term is the tablets of a woman never reduced in legal status, the predicate is the granting of possession.
So, the argument is taken from the adjuncts, in this way. For if possession is given according to the tablets of a woman who never reduced her legal status, there is no reason why possession should not also be permitted according to the tablets of children and slaves based on the praetor’s edict. For what can prevent possession from being deferred according to the tablets of a woman who never reduced her legal status? Clearly that she who made the will was not of her own legal right, which can also be said of children and slaves. For their age, their condition, is in the power of another.
So, it is added: If possession is given according to the tablets of a woman, who is not in her own right, also according to the tablets of children and slaves should possession be given, who are least of all of their own right, because indeed the former are under a guardian, the latter are under the power of a master. For closest to the thing in question is what is consequential, and subsequently existing, as if possession to avoid congestion and improve readability. See previous messages for full translation.
[4.19] From antecedents and consequents and discrepancies this way; from antecedents: “If the divorce was due to the man’s fault, even if the woman sent the message, there should be no need to maintain anything for the children.”
Antecedents are those, once set, something else necessarily follows, even though what precedes is lesser than what follows. Lesser indeed, as if he is a man, he is an animal; for a man is lesser than an animal, and yet given the man, it follows that he is an animal. What comes after, as if she has given birth, she has slept with a man; for giving birth is later than sleeping with a man. Sometimes what is equal, and what is simultaneous, and what is earlier is set as the antecedent. Equal indeed, as:
“If he is a man, he is capable of laughter.”
Simultaneously, as:
“If the earth is interposed, the moon is in eclipse.”
And these things turn to each other, so that the consequences become the antecedents, as if he is capable of laughter, he is a man, and if the light has failed, let the earth’s objection be present. [1075D] However, the antecedent is earlier, as if he is arrogant, he is hated. For arrogance is earlier, being hated is later. However, in all of these it remains that, given the antecedents, the consequences are necessarily drawn.
The explanation of an example is such: In the Roman state, by law, children remain in the power of their fathers until they are released by a third emancipation. Therefore, if a divorce ever occurred due to the fault of the woman, she was fined a portion of the dowry according to the number of children. Regarding this, Paulus, in the second book of the Institutes, titled On Dowries, discussed as follows: “If there is a divorce, and this has happened without the fault of the woman, the dowry will be fully refunded; however, if the divorce has been caused by the woman’s fault, one-sixth of the dowry is retained by the husband for each child, only up to half the dowry in total. Therefore, since what is acquired from the dowry is for the children, who are under the father’s power, it should not stay with the man.”
Therefore, upon divorce, it is argued whether a part of the dowry for the children should remain with the man. The subject here indeed is, the divorce announced by the woman; and the predicate is, the retention of one-sixth of the dowry after the divorce by the man. The question is whether, after the divorce has taken place, with the woman sending notice, the man should keep one-sixth of the dowry. I then ask, if an argument is to be made from the preceding points, what should precede, what should follow. However, if the divorce happened due to the man’s fault, I see that the woman cannot be fined a part of her dowry, even if she sent the first divorce notice. For what came before, that the divorce happened due to the man’s fault, does not permit that the woman loses a part of her dowry, even if she sends the first divorce notice. Indeed, she is not to be fined a part of the dowry because she sent the divorce notice first but rather, she should be absolved of damage, which did not occur due to her actions, but rather due to the man’s fault in divorce. Therefore, what precedes is the divorce caused by the man’s fault, and what follows is that a part of the dowry is not retained. For if this is so, then that is so.
But I will make the argument this way: If the divorce happened due to the man’s fault, even if the woman sent the divorce notice, she should in no way be fined a part of her dowry. But the divorce happened due to the man’s fault. Therefore, the woman should not rightfully be fined a part of her dowry. If she is not fined a part of her dowry, nothing for the sake of the children, in the name of the dowry, will be left in the man’s house but she will not be fined a part of the dowry; therefore, nothing of the dowry will remain with the man for the children. The conclusion of both parts of the syllogism is this: therefore, if the divorce happened due to the man’s fault, nothing should remain for the children. The argument, from that which is in the very thing which is at issue: indeed the intention revolves around the part of the dowry, and its retention by the man, after the divorce that she first announced; this indeed precedes, the man’s fault, which being what comes before, is affected, for everything that comes before, to that which follows, indeed, is referred. The major premise is: “Where there is a preceding factor, there will be a following one.” But in this question, there is a preceding factor, that is, the divorce caused by the man’s fault; therefore, the following factor will be, not to retain the sixth. But why I have woven the argument above into the conclusions, when I will have treated these with M. Tullius speaking at greater length, will become more apparent.
[4.20] From the consequences: If a woman, after she was married with someone with whom there was no lawful marriage, sent a notice; because those who are born do not follow their father, nothing needs to remain for the children.
The consequences are what, when the antecedents are put in place, follow, like if we say: “If it is a man, it is an animal”, animal is the consequence. But in the proposed example, the argument from the consequences is not apparent enough but rather from the antecedents, which will soon become clear.
The children were not lawfully under the power of the fathers but rather followed their mothers. Not everyone had a lawful marriage with Romans, nor were marriages contracted lawfully, which were not entered into by a Roman citizen and a Roman citizen, or to whom the prince or the people had not granted citizenship or marriage, in this way, that children could be reduced to the power of their parents. It should also be noted that those born from an unequal marriage, do not follow the father but the mother.
So a Roman woman married a Latin, or a foreigner, or a slave, with whom there was no right of marriage, made a contribution of the dowry, and a divorce having been made between them, it is disputed whether the part of the dowry of the married woman with whom there was no right of marriage should remain with the man after the divorce. The subject here indeed is, the woman who married with whom there was no marriage, the predicate is the right of the man to retain a part of the dowry after the divorce. The argument is therefore drawn from the consequences in this way. For because she married with him with whom there was no right of marriage, it follows that the children do not follow the father. If however the children do not follow the father, they are not in the father’s power, and if they are not in the father’s power, and adhere to the mother, a part of the dowry cannot remain with the man. Here therefore the antecedent is, the marriage with whom there was no right of marriage; the consequence is, nothing should remain for the children in the name of the dowry. Let’s conclude the argument: Because, with no marriage permitted, the children who are born do not follow the father, even the part of the dowry should not remain with the father for the children, since the children do not follow the father but the mother.
It has therefore been proven that nothing should remain for the children, from the fact that the woman married with him with whom there was no right of marriage; this was indeed the antecedent. Therefore, the argument is discovered not from the consequent but rather from the antecedent. But if by means of which nothing of the dowry should remain, it was proven that she married him with whom there was no right of marriage, it would be rightly said that the argument was made from the consequences. An argument would indeed be made from the consequences, if it were put like this: if something from the dowry should remain for the children, it is proven, because the children are equal to the father, that the woman was married with him with whom there was a right of marriage. I assume what is the consequence: But the woman did not marry with whom there was a right of marriage. I conclude the antecedent: Therefore, nothing of the dowry should remain for the children, because the children do not follow the father. The argument, from that which is in the very thing which is being sought: For it is sought about those marriages, of which there was no lawful marriage. From the affected: for every consequent is referred to that which precedes. The major premise is: “Where there is no consequent, there cannot even be an antecedent.”
And there will be another place to discuss this more extensively.
[4.21] From Contraries: If a head of the household bequeaths to his wife the use and enjoyment of slaves, by his son, and does not bequeath it by his second heir, when the son is dead the woman will not lose the use and enjoyment. For whatever has once been given to someone in a will cannot be taken away from them against their will. It is contrary to reason to receive rightly and to return it against one’s will.
A second heir is called one who is appointed as a substitute to the heir, as, for example, if someone appoints his son as heir and writes that if the son dies before reaching adulthood, his grandson or any other person should be the heir; therefore, the grandson or any other person is called the second heir.
Contraries are things which, as has been said, follow contrary paths when compared with each other.
Now, someone wrote in a will that his son should be the heir, and he appointed someone else as the second heir. He bequeathed to his wife the use and enjoyment of slaves from his son and stated that his son should allow his wife to have the use and enjoyment of the slaves, but he did not add that the second heir should also grant the same use and enjoyment to the woman. The son succeeded, and he granted the use and enjoyment of the slaves to the woman. After his death while still underage, the second heir comes forward and tries to extort the use and enjoyment of the slaves from the woman, claiming that it was bequeathed to her by the son, not by the father-in-law.
The question is whether that woman can lose the bequest she received in the will against her will. Therefore, the subject is the bequest which she rightfully received according to the law. The predicate, on the other hand, is that she can lose it against her will. So, I will present the argument from contraries. The contrary is if that which is consequent to the contrary is compared to another contrary, as is evident in this very case we are discussing: to receive rightly and not to receive rightly are contrary, but not receiving rightly is accompanied by returning against one’s will. For one who receives it wrongly returns it against his will, which he did not receive rightly. Therefore, it is contrary to return against one’s will that which is received rightly. Therefore, I will construct the argument as follows: One who receives it in a will receives it rightly, but that which is received rightly cannot be taken away against the will of the one who received it rightly. However, the woman received the use and enjoyment of the slaves in the will, so it cannot be taken away from her against her will. The argument is based on the matter at hand, that is, on that which is received rightly. And in this matter, there is an element of contrariety, as mentioned earlier. And the argument is from contraries. The greatest proposition is:
Contraries cannot coexist.
[4.22] From Efficient Causes in this Manner: Everyone has the right to join either a solid or an arched wall to a common wall. But if someone, while demolishing the common wall, promises to compensate for any damage caused, he should not be held accountable for the defects of the arch. For the damage was not caused by his act of demolition but by the defect in the construction that prevented the arch from being suspended.
There are indeed many types of causes, as Cicero divides them a little later. But now he discusses efficient causes as an argument. An efficient cause is one by which some effect is brought about, not in terms of time but by the nature of the property, as is evident in the example we are explaining now.
A promise of compensation for potential damage is made whenever someone promises that if any damage occurs due to his actions, he will bear the cost of restitution.
Now, the right is to connect another wall, either solid or arched, to the common wall. Therefore, someone joined an external wall to the common wall, and he sufficiently compensated for any potential damage. The common wall, however, was arched, meaning it had an arch or supported a vaulted structure. Therefore, when he connected the external wall, and in order to make the connection hold, he caused a defect in the common wall. The question is whether the promise of compensation for potential damage compels him to restore the damage. The subject term is the promise of compensation for potential damage, and the predicate is the restoration of the defect.
So, I will present the argument from causes as follows: If the person who promised compensation for potential damage was the cause of that defect, he must restore the defect that occurred due to his fault. But if the nature of the wall was such that it could not be suspended and supported (for an arched wall is not of a nature to be suspended), then it seems that the defect was caused by the nature of the wall itself rather than the fault of the demolisher, and thus he is not compelled to restore the defect who has bound himself by the promise of compensation for potential damage. Therefore, the argument proceeds as follows: If someone made the shape of the wall in such a way that by connecting the wall, which he promised compensation for potential damage, a defect would arise, he is not obliged to fulfill that defect. However, the wall’s nature was such that it could not be suspended and supported. Therefore, someone who promised compensation for potential damage for the defect caused by the arch should not be obliged to fulfill it. The argument is based on the matter at hand, that is, on the restoration of the defect, from the effect, that is, from the cause. For the cause of the defect is the shape of the wall, not the fault of the one who connected the wall. Thus, it happened that the arch caused the defect, and since the cause of the defect is absent from the one who connected the wall, the restoration of the same defect is also absent. The greatest proposition is:
Every matter should be considered based on its causes.
[4.23] Regarding the Effects: When a woman enters into marriage, everything that was hers as a woman becomes the husband’s, under the name of dowry…
Effects are things that come about through certain causes, not by preceding time, but by nature, as, for example, if it is asked whether, after the death of a wife who entered into the husband’s control, her property belongs to the husband. In this question, the property of the deceased wife who entered into the husband’s control is the subject, and belonging to the husband is the predicate. Therefore, I inquire into the argument from the effect, and examine what the very act of entering into the husband’s control has accomplished, and from that I draw the argument. And the argument is this: the act of entering into the husband’s control makes everything that was the woman’s become the husband’s, under the name of dowry, regardless of the order of time, but immediately by the force of its own nature. For whatever she has entered into the husband’s control, the goods of dowry immediately follow him.
Therefore, I make the argument as follows:
If a woman who has died entered into marriage, and everything that was hers as a woman became the husband’s under the name of dowry, then the goods in question also belong to the husband.
The argument is contained within the matter itself that is being discussed. For the question at hand concerns the goods of the woman who entered into the husband’s control, namely, the effects, that is, the effects of the cause. For the effect is that by entering into the husband’s control, everything that belongs to the woman becomes the husband’s under the name of dowry, although here also the argument is shown not to be based on the effects themselves, but on the dowry. But it is not necessary for an argument from effects to prove anything other than the cause.
Indeed, it would be an argument from effects if the cause were to be proved in the following way: If the question were whether a woman had entered into the husband’s control, and it were unquestionably established that everything that had been hers as a woman became the husband’s under the name of dowry, then it would be stated as follows: If everything that had been hers as a woman became the husband’s under the name of dowry, then the woman entered into the husband’s control; but everything that had been hers as a woman became the husband’s under the name of dowry, therefore the woman entered into the husband’s control. This is the major proposition:
Causes are not separated from their effects.
[4.23] ...In a comparison, everything that holds in a greater thing holds also in a smaller thing, such as if the boundaries are not governed in a city, nor is water kept out of the city. Likewise, the opposite holds true: what holds in a smaller thing also holds in a greater thing. The same example can be reversed. Also, what holds in a similar thing holds in this thing that is similar; for example, since the use of the land is established by authority for a two-year period, it should also be the case for buildings. However, in the law, buildings are not mentioned, and they are among all the other things for which there is an annual use. Equity should prevail, which requires equal rights in equal cases.
The topic of comparison, which is called “paradeigma,” is divided into three parts: either it arises from the comparison of greater things, or from the comparison of smaller things, or it arises from the comparison of similar things. Therefore, the comparison of greater things occurs whenever greater things are compared to smaller things in this way, so that what holds in a greater thing also holds in a smaller thing.
For example, let us suppose the question is whether it is lawful to keep water out of a city. In this case, the subject is “water in the city,” and the predicate is “the right to keep it out.” The boundaries are said to be governed when each field is delimited by its own boundaries. The one who keeps the water out is the one who does not allow it to flow through his own property. Let us therefore form the argument as follows: Since the boundaries of the city are greater, and the right to keep water out is less, if the boundaries are not governed in the city, which is greater, then not even the lesser thing, namely, keeping water out of the city, will happen. Here, therefore, the argument is derived from what directly concerns the matter under consideration. The question at hand is indeed about the right to keep water out, which belongs to the one who lays claim to it, that is, the greater thing, which is referred to the lesser thing. It should be noted that Cicero has enclosed the major proposition of the argument in the following way:
What holds in a greater thing also holds in a smaller thing.
And relying on this, he has developed the argument to make it more evident, so that it clearly appears, as is more explicitly attested in the previous volume, that he has established these major propositions. Sometimes they are indeed included in arguments, as demonstrated in the present example, and at other times they give strength to arguments, as in the previous examples of topics.
Now, if we reverse the same example, we would say:
What holds in a smaller thing also holds in a greater thing. But water is kept out of the city; therefore, the boundaries should be governed.
However, in this case, the question is reformulated as follows: The question is whether the boundaries of the city ought to be governed. But the argument is derived from the smaller thing, namely, the act of keeping water out, so that the argument also derives from what directly concerns it, that is, from what is involved in governing the boundaries, which is the effect, namely, the smaller thing. For the smaller thing is affected, as it refers to what is being compared. Cicero also puts forth the following major proposition, which is as follows:
What holds in a smaller thing also holds in a greater thing.
Similarly, a comparison is made from similar things. It is not the case that equity, which requires equal rights in equal cases, should hold.
Therefore, the prescription of many things is based on a one-year period, such as if someone has used them continuously for a year, they possess them by the firm authority of the law, like movable property. However, the prescription of land is defined within a two-year period, and nothing is written about buildings in the law. Therefore, the question arises whether the use of buildings is acquired within one year or two. Let us make the argument from similar things, and since the possession of immovable things is equal, and buildings are also immovable, just as land is acquired through a two-year prescription, so buildings must also be acquired by the possessor through a two-year period. For equity requires equal rights in equal cases.
Cicero has indeed expressed this major proposition very clearly, but the example he gave is more restricted and not immediately obvious to understand. He says as follows: “Since the use of the land is established by authority for a two-year period, it should also be the case for buildings.” Here, therefore, he indicates that the use of buildings acquires authority within a two-year period, but he adds: “But in the law, buildings are not mentioned, and they belong to all the other things for which there is an annual use.” Here, again, it seems that buildings are included among those things that are acquired by an annual prescription, and he concludes without specifying anything except that equity, which requires equal rights in equal cases, should prevail.
However, it seems that he stated this because buildings are immovable just like land, and land is acquired through a two-year prescription, so buildings should also be acquired through a two-year period. And he opposes himself by saying that in the Twelve Tables, nothing is written about buildings, and they are included among those things for which there is an annual use due to the silence of the law. But he resolves the objection as follows: “But equity requires equal rights in equal cases.” Therefore, since land and buildings are equally immovable, they should be acquired in the same manner within a two-year period.
This argument is also made here from what is inherent in the subject of the inquiry, that is, from the affected part, that is, the equal part. For when the ownership of a building is in question, the argument is taken from the usurpation of lands.
Having therefore explained these topics which are inherent in the subject of the inquiry, he now introduces the example of a topic that he said is extrinsic. This, indeed, is a topic taken from the authority of judgment, highly probable, even if not of the utmost necessity. For what is necessary is considered from its own nature. But what is probable awaits the judgment of many. For these are things probable, which seem true to either all, or the majority, or the most renowned and important, or according to each art and knowledge, to the experts, such as what is true to a doctor in medicine, a geometer in geometry, and so on, in their respective fields of studies. Of this extrinsic topic he speaks as follows:
[4.24] “What is assumed from outside, primarily proceeds from authority. Thus, the Greeks call such arguments ‘atechnous’, that is, ‘lacking in artistry’...”
Indeed, there are other arguments, which the orator himself draws out, and somehow prepares for himself from designated topics, and acquires through his own ability. There are others, which are placed externally, not found by him, but he uses what is at hand and prepared, such as testimonies, documents, reputation, and others about which Marcus Tullius will speak more broadly. For the orator does not prepare his own testimonies, but uses what is prepared, nor does he himself judge, but uses the already established and spontaneous rumor coming to his cause. And for this reason, the Greeks call these places ‘atechnous’, that is, lacking in artifice, or as Tullius said, lacking in artistry. For those things which are not obtained by the orator’s own artifice, but are supplied from outside, are rightly called lacking in artistry. An example of this is:
[4.24] "...For example, if you respond in this way: ‘Since P. Scaevola said that the only thing that constitutes encroachment of a building is if a roof is extended for the purpose of covering a common wall, and from which roof water would flow down onto his property who extended the roof, this seems to be the law to you.’ "
The only encroachment of a building is as much as the building’s encroachment confines. Scaevola, therefore, said that the sole encroachment of a building is what is covered by the extension of a roof. For it is clear that roofs extend wider than the foundation, and do not match the walls, so that the drip falls further.
Given these circumstances, someone was trying to cover a common wall, the question is whether there is any right to cover. “You respond,” he says, "Trebati, that the right is to angle the common wall, so that on his roof, who covers, not any other roof is founded by the water of the drip, otherwise there is no right for anyone to cover the wall, with the drip flowing down onto the neighbor’s roofs. For this new servitude of the drip, unless the neighbor consents, has no right.
But if this response is countered, not even in this way is there a right to cover, since the sole extent of the building is only as much as each wall confines, and he who covers, extends the roof further, “you,” he says, "will fortify your response by the authority of Scaevola, saying that Scaevola responded this is the only encroachment of a building, as much as the roof is extended, not as much as the walls surround. It is therefore lawful to extend the roof, which still covers within the confines of his building but so that the water flows down onto his roof, and does not harm the neighbor with a new servitude.
In this question, neither from the subject nor from the predicate term is an argument derived, which is the custom to be considered in these topics, which adhere in the terms about which it is inquired, as has been most carefully demonstrated in all examples. But because the argument is taken from outside, the judgment of any uncertainty is opposed, as now to Scaevola, by whose authority the response was given, and therefore the argument is said to be taken from the topic that is called extrinsic.
[4.25] “Therefore, these topics that are presented for finding any argument, like certain elements, provide signification and demonstration for finding. So, is it enough so far? Indeed, I think it is for you, so sharp and so busy.”
[5.25] “But since I have welcomed a keen man to this feast of learning, I will receive you in such a way that there will be something left rather than letting you leave here unsatisfied.”
Every element is a principle of the thing of which it is considered to be an element. For the things that are made from elements, the elements themselves cannot but be in the place of the principle; therefore, since these topics previously designated are like certain principles of arguments (for they themselves are those which contain arguments; and everything that contains, is the principle of what is contained), therefore Cicero says that these topics which he previously put forth seem like certain elements of arguments. And he very cautiously added, like certain elements; for they are not fully elements but are like in the likeness of elements, these topics that are taken in creating arguments. Therefore, since they seem to be certain principles of arguments, otherwise every element, the smallest part of it is the element of which it is, and that which is made from elements, connects the parts to each other, like letters to speech. But indeed, the topic is not a part of the argument but the whole. For a certain signification and demonstration for finding the argument is given, so that if you look at the topic, you may know where it is stored, whence the argument should be led.
But the remaining things are most expeditiously said to Trebatius, and he even flatters him that a short amount may be sufficient due to the privilege of sharpness, especially since he is busied by legal occupation, and does not have time to read more. But since, as he says, he has received the most eager for study to these feasts of teachings, he does not want to leave him tasting but satisfied, so that not something is lacking but even more is left from the full amount, and thus a most delightful shift has been made to dining.
Therefore, having explained all the topics, and their examples carefully laid out, I will discuss a few things about the force and order of the topics, having expounded on these in the most thorough discussion, I will proceed to explain the remaining things. But this must be done in the third volume, since the second book has its own way.
Book Three
Before tackling the wider division of M. Tullius, which he enumerated earlier, it seems to me that I must discuss, as I promised, a few points about the nature and order of topics so that, once their nature is better understood, a larger supply of arguments might be more easily provided.
First, since all topics are divided into those that pertain to the subject matter itself and those that are taken from outside, we must consider what these topics are that pertain to the subject matter itself and how they differ from the things themselves in which they are said to be inherent. The answer to this question is very clear: they are those terms that revolve in the inquiry; one of them is the predicate, the other the subject, as a previous discussion made clear.
So, what differs the topic from the whole when it comes to the term in question? Since to be and to be whole is the same, for there is no other way for any term in the proposed inquiry to be than to be the whole term that is set in the inquiry. We say the same about equals. For if all parts make up that of which they are parts, and the term proposed in the inquiry makes up its parts, there is no doubt that all the corresponding parts are rightly understood as the same as what is proposed in the inquiry. And notation, in the same way, is that which is proposed in the inquiry. For every term designates and denotes the subject matter in the inquiry. Thus, it happens that the whole, the parts, and the note seem to be the same as what is being inquired about. In such great similarity of things, a distinction must be given. For, as said, if a topic is inherent in the very thing that is in question, and it cannot be taken from the thing that is in question, an argument cannot be made that you, the topic, can be the same as what is being inquired about.
But this difference itself is that which is understood vaguely and singularly, such as man, where his whole essence resides in him, which is his definition. Therefore, the whole, from that which it is itself, is separated by understanding, in that the former is understood singularly, and this latter is shown under an enumeration of genus and differences. For definition divides and distributes, and reveals the whole which was understood singularly in the thing itself. The same principle applies to parts. For if you refer the understanding of a singular term to a multitude of members or to an enumeration of all species, you will immediately comprehend the differences of it and its parts. It is also easy to distinguish a note from what it denotes, because the former is a voice and signification, the latter is a thing subjected to signification, and the differences of those things which are affected are not doubtful from those things which are shown to be affected. For who would say that a spouse is the same thing as that to which it is a spouse? Who would say that just is the same as justice? Who would say that a genus is the same as form? who contraries? who similarities? For neither can a contrary be contrary to itself, nor can a similar thing be similar to itself; nor can a genus be a genus to itself; and the same principle applies to the rest.
Now it is necessary to say this, for which we have prefaced these things; for whenever arguments are taken from those three places which have been first proposed, that is from the whole, from equals, from a note, it happens that the term itself, for whose belief an argument is sought, is contained within any of those things which, when led to an argument, are shown to be places. For example, when an argument is made from the whole, the term itself, to which faith is given, is contained within the whole; but the whole itself, which is definition, is a thing if indeed you please to call a speech a thing. But if from this an argument is taken, it becomes a place. Therefore the thing itself about which it is, is enclosed within the whole, from which whole when an argument is made, the whole itself becomes a place; which whole, since it encloses the term which is in question, seems to cling to the same term. And so it happens, that the place also which is from the whole, adheres to the same term, about which a question is in doubt. The enumeration of parts also encloses the same term, which the collection of parts joins together. And this enumeration of parts itself is a certain thing, to which speech must be added to things. But if from this an argument is drawn, it becomes a place. But since the multitude of parts is in the same term, which the gathering of parts joins together, it must also be the case that the place itself, which is from the conjunction of parts, adheres to the same term about which a question is asked. A note also designates a thing, and in some way comprehends it by signification, from which if an argument is drawn, it becomes a place, and since every name seems to exist, which signifies the understanding of existence, the place also which is from notation, adheres in the same thing about which intention is turned.
But in those things which are affected, which are divided into thirteen parts, it is not the same. For since they are in some manner looking towards the term, and are, as it were, established externally, they do not seem to be joined in the same manner with the term, as those places which are joined, which were predicted to be from the whole, from the enumeration of parts, from a note. But nevertheless, that which is affected, is said to belong to something. But this something is always joined to that, to whose relation it is drawn, and without it, it can never exist, because it is born with it, and in some manner one is understood to be said by another. For if you weigh the thing about which a question is asked, and its affected things, you will consider those things which are said to be affected, to be situated beyond that about which a doubt is raised, for none of those things which are towards something, can exist from itself, but always from another: as is shown in predicaments, all things which are said to be towards something, are opposed, but are not so disjoined as to be altogether separated but since they are joined by relative predication, they must not exist in any manner in that to which they appear to be affected. For every thing affected, receives form from that to which it is affected, and without it, it cannot exist, and when one thing is said, the understanding immediately subjects itself to another, as when I have said half, double is understood, and when I have named father, son comes to understanding. And all things whatsoever are towards something, depend on themselves, and do not desert each other. Therefore, every thing affected, and looks back to that to which it is referred, and is in the same. It looks back indeed to the same, since it refers its affection, as it were to something by the method of relative predication; but it is in the same, because it is the nature of affections to exist one from another, and to possess themselves, since also that which is called affected, is of that term to which it is considered to be affected, and the term proposed in question is understood to be connected with its affection.
Given that these are the circumstances, when an argument is taken from a pair of linked ideas, since what is linked is connected to what it is linked to from the other side, indeed, what is asked about in the linked idea located on the other side sticks. But the place from which the argument is drawn is taken from the other linked idea, just as if a shared field exists, there is a right to pasture. Therefore, to pasture and a shared pasture are linked; but it was asked whether there was a right to pasture, and the argument was indeed drawn from the shared pasture; thus, the term about which the question was raised is found in the other linked term, that is, in pasturing; but the place from which the argument is drawn is in the other, that is, in the shared pasture.
Similarly, whenever an argument is drawn from a general category, what is asked about in the form remains and does not exist, as when it is shown that legacies are counted money, because all silver was a legacy. For the question is about counted money, which is a type of silver, and the argument is drawn from silver, that is from the category. Therefore, what was asked about was in form, that is in species. But the argument was drawn from what was affected, that is, from the category. However, if an argument is made from the form of the category, it is the other way around, indeed what is asked about is shown to exist in the category, but what the argument was taken from is considered to be in the form. For when it is asked whether the silver is bequeathed to a wife, it is shown not to be a legacy, because it was not for the wife only: the legacy is to the wife as head of the family. But the wife is the general category of the head of the family’s wife. Therefore, the question is about the wife, that is, about the category. The argument was made from the head of the family, that is, from the form.
But whenever an argument is drawn from a similarity, because what is similar is considered to be similar not to itself but to another, indeed, the thing that is asked about is positioned in one of those things that are similar; but the place is in the other, just as when it is asked whether an heir should restore the defect or the collapse of a house left in usufruct. In this, therefore, is the question, but the place is from similarity, because it is not necessary for the heir to restore the house, just as it is not necessary for the possession, if it perishes for any reason. Therefore, since the usufruct of the house and the possession are similar, what is asked about is placed in the usufruct of the house, but the place is in the usufruct of the possession.
The same applies to a difference: of those things that are different, in one is placed what is asked about, and in the other that by which what is uncertain is verified, as when it is asked whether the silver which is due in names should also be a legacy. Here, therefore, is what is doubted. But in that which is different from this, is the place from which it is shown that the silver which is due in names should be the least legacy, because it differs a lot whether it is placed in the chest, or written in the names.
The same applies to the opposite, as in what is asked about whether the usufruct of the pantry has been bequeathed. In the usufruct, therefore, is the question but it is proved that it should not be a legacy, because there cannot be use of those things which perish by using but rather abuse; therefore, the place is in abuse, that is, in the other of the opposites, when the question was in the use.
Even from what is added, the place is separated from what is asked in the same way, as in one addition is the question, but in the other is the place. For when it is asked whether the possession should be given according to a woman’s tablets never reduced in capital, in this is the question whether it should be given, but in its addition, the place. For it is shown that possession should not be given at all, because it is likely that possession of goods will also be granted according to the tablets of boys and slaves.
From antecedents, however, the place is such that the question is in the consequences. For when it is asked whether something in the name of a dowry should remain for the children, the argument is taken that it should not remain at all from the antecedents, that it is the man’s fault that the divorce was made; therefore, the place is in the antecedent, but the question is in the consequence. It followed from the man’s fault that the divorce was made, nothing remains with the father for the children, since the man’s fault preceded.
From the consequents, if there is an argument, the doubtful matter is discovered in the antecedents, such as when it is asked whether, after divorce, the woman who was married to the man with whom she had no marital rights, should something remain for the children in the name of dowry. The argument goes like this: If something from the dowry should remain for the children because children follow their father, and the woman was married to the man who had marital rights, this is the antecedent, if something from the dowry should remain for the children, and in this the question is whether something should remain. The consequent, however, is the woman who was married to the man who had marital rights, from which the argument is taken, that is, from the consequent. For when it is clear that she was not married to the man who had marital rights, it is shown that the children hardly follow the father, and therefore nothing should remain for the children. Therefore, the matter that is in doubt is in the antecedent, that is, whether something from the dowry should remain for the children, but the argument is in the place which is in the consequents, that is, in the woman who was married to the man with whom there were no marital rights.
From the contradictories, when arguments are taken, the doubtful matter is in one of the contradictories, while the place of the argument is in the opposite, as when it is asked whether a woman can return a legacy against her will, which she once rightly accepted by testament. The place is from the contradictory, that she can hardly return what she rightly accepted against her will. Therefore, the question is in what is understood as unwilling return, but the argument is in the other contradictory, that is, in what is understood as right acceptance. For unwilling return and right acceptance are in conflict, but the question is in one of them, the place in the other.
Whenever the argument is drawn from efficient causes, the question is about the effects, whether they are or are not, as in the example where it is asked whether one who has given enough for the damage incurred, is obliged to make good the defect of the wall. Therefore, in this, that is, the defect of the wall, the question is, but the argument is drawn from the cause. For it is said that he should not be obliged to make good, since the nature of the wall was the cause of the defect, not the one who had given enough for making good the defect. Therefore, the defect of the wall was the effect of the cause. So the question is in the effect, but the place is considered from the cause. But if something is approved from the effects, the place is in the effect, the question is established in the cause, as when it is asked whether a certain woman, whose goods have been made the husband’s, has agreed in the name of dowry into the husband’s control. Therefore, since it is perfected into control by agreement, so that the woman’s goods after her death the husband acquires, the argument is drawn from the effects. For it is effected through the agreement into control, that whatever things are the woman’s, become the man’s in the name of dowry; therefore when those things which were the woman’s, the husband acquires in the name of dowry, it is not fitting that the woman agree into the husband’s control. So the question is about the woman, whether she has agreed into the husband’s control. But the argument is from the effect of the cause, that is, the agreement into control. But this is that which the man acquires in the name of dowry, which were the woman’s, by which it happens that what is asked, is in the cause, but the place is in the effects.
From the comparison of greater things, if there is an argument, the question will be in lesser things, as if it is asked whether water should be kept out of the city, and it is defended that it should not, for the boundaries are not governed; thus in keeping out the water, which is the lesser, the question is, but the place is in governing the boundaries, which is the greater. On the contrary, if the argument is drawn from the lesser, what is doubtful will be in the greater thing, as if it is doubted whether boundaries should be governed in the city, we respond not at all, since not even the water is kept out. Thus what is doubtful is in the greater matter, but that from which the argument is drawn, is in the lesser. And in the comparison of equals the ratio is similar: in one of those things which are equal, the question consists, in the other the place of the argument is understood, as when it is asked whether the use of houses is acquired in two years, we approve this, since also of farms. Therefore, since a farm and a house are equal, the question indeed is about the house, but the argument is drawn from the farm.
And about the power of places, by which the questions and places of arguments are not separated from themselves, let these things be said. Now I will very briefly recall their order. From this, therefore, arises all judgement, which place is prior, which should be considered posterior, if we consider those terms which revolve around the proposed question. For whatever things are closer to these terms, these are most rightly numbered as prior. But those things which recede furthest from the proposed, are posterior. However, this will become clear by such a reason.
For first, there is a divided multitude of places into those which are in the thing itself which is at stake, and into those which are taken from outside, in which we understand those places to be put before, which are in the thing itself, these places which are drawn from outside. But this place which is in the thing itself, is divided into the first four parts, of which the first is definition, which place is called from the whole. But for this reason the first place is put from the whole, because nothing is so close to something, as its own definition. Following this is the enumeration of parts, because after definition the parts should hold the next place, which unite that whole which they are said to be parts of. To these is added a note, which is almost the reverse of definition. For just as definition explains what implicitly the note designates, so the note involves and confusingly indicates what the definition reveals and unravels. But the note is third for this reason, because definition holds the substance; the enumeration of parts enumerates those which join the whole composed; but the note does nothing but only designates.
After these things, which primarily stick to the very terms, those things that are affected are enumerated, which are no longer inherent in the terms themselves, but as if placed outside, they follow them. And for this reason, they are said to exist only in them, because they cannot exist without them.
First among these are the conjugates. For among the affected, nothing is so close as that which participates both in reality and in name, unless it is separated by a small inflection of the name. For what is just, participates in justice, and is named with the inflected name of justice, [1089A] and in the other conjugates it is the same.
After this, genus is enumerated. A genus, however, is that which universally shows the substance of any given thing, and that which, in the case of many different species, is a substantial similarity. Which is separated from the proposed terms further than the conjugates, because although it shows substance, yet not even with an inflected word is it joined with the name of the term but widely and extensively different. To this is added the species (which Tullius called form), because nothing is so close to the genus as the species. But the species is a substantial similarity of individuals, and that which is placed under the genus.
After this, similarity is established. For indeed, after that same thing which is understood in substances, that same thing is correctly posited which is considered to exist in quality. [1089B] Gradually, however, the thing begins to recede from similarity, and does not immediately come to the contrary but first establishes a place from difference. For with similarity removed, nothing else first comes up, except difference.
After this, it draws a place from the contrary, that is, from the greatest difference.
Again, it turns to things that are friendly to itself. But not in the way that friends are similar, for it proposes the adjuncts, which are not of complete similarity but of judgment among themselves, and as if of a certain proximity of things now coherent to itself. After the adjuncts, however, Tullius placed the antecedents. For after something that is somehow joined, something is understood to be either non-existent or preceding or following. Therefore, first the antecedent, later the consequent is placed.
After these, he said repugnant things, so that a kind of double order of contrarieties and similarities would be born. For he first proposed from the similar, from the difference, from the contrary, and this is the entire order of the similar and the contrary. Again from the adjuncts, from the antecedents, from the consequences, from the repugnant. Here again the second order of similarities and contraries is found. But the first is much more evident than the second; for it is more to be similar than to be joined, it is more to differ than to precede or follow, and it is also more contrary than repugnant. And each in its own order retains a full form, for example because similarity should hold some kind of proximity: it is indeed more similar to that which it is considered to be similar than that which is joined to it by natural vicinity. Again, because difference is the author of similarity, [1089D] it is more dissimilar to differ from something than to follow or precede. Again, because the contrary should recede farthest from what is contrary, the contrary recedes further than the repugnant.
After these, what else could remain but to seek the causes of effects? Or after the causes of effects, what else but to seek the effects of those causes? Moreover, they hold the last order from the comparison of places, because whether similarity or dissimilarity, they only hold in quantity. And enough has been said about the order of places.
In addition, I think it should be considered whether those places of argument which stick to the very thing being questioned, should rightly be counted among the affected. Since those things which are affected are therefore said to be affected, because they are towards something, and are connected by the relationship of the proposed terms. For both the definition of something is a definition, and the whole of parts is a whole, and the mark of a signified is a mark. But the nature of each must be examined, and it must be seen whether these refer to something in the same way as the others. For a definition in a certain way explains and conforms the thing it defines. Similarly, the parts touch the thing of which they are parts with their own conjunction. A mark, however, commonly holds its understanding, and since these do not do the other things which are called affected, rightly these are not put among the affected but are said to exist in the very thing which they as it were make up and conform. But since enough has been said about the power and order of places, let us now move on to the following things.
Besides all the things said above, [1090B] it should especially be noticed that not everything taken in arguments is to be said to be the place of those arguments, unless it not only is in the arguments, but also arguments are born from it. What I say, will be clearer by a plain example. For if there were an argument in which a genus or species is taken, that argument is not immediately said to be drawn from a genus or species, unless the argument is supported by the quality of the genus or species. For example, let the question be whether to be and to live are the same thing for an animal, and let the argument be thus: to be and to live are not the same thing for an animal, because not even for the inanimate is to be the same thing as to die, for there are many inanimate things, and they do not die. For it is clear that those things which never lived, also cannot die. This, therefore, the genus of inanimate things [1090C] is stones, and of fusible metals, and is taken in the argument but the argument is not made from the genus, although the genus seems included in it, but rather from the contrary. For contrary to life is death, to animals the inanimate; but the inanimate does not follow to die, therefore not even an animal to live. Therefore, this place should not be drawn from the genus but rather from the contrary, even though the genus contains this kind of argument; for the place would be from the genus, if the reasoning of the argument were drawn from the genus of animal or of living, like if the argument were made thus: to be for an animal is to be for a substance; but living itself is not a substance but comes into a substance. Therefore, living is not the same thing as being for an animal. From substance, therefore, the argument is drawn, namely from the genus of animal. [1090D] This, therefore, argument both contains a genus, and is drawn from a genus; in the previous one, although it contains a genus, it is considered to be drawn from the contrary. For it must always be looked at, not what is in the argument, but from what the argument is drawn.
And in other cases, the same principle should be followed; for there is no need to dwell on each individual instance. Indeed, if someone has diligently studied the exposition set out above, they will easily deduce in the remaining cases what is demonstrated by a single example:
“When, therefore, each one of the topics I have set out has certain parts, let us pursue these as subtly as possible, and let the first be about definition itself. Definition is a discourse which explains what the thing being defined is…”
Having thus briefly laid out the places of argument, he more subtly and clearly determines to divide them through their parts and appropriate segments. For indeed, the nature of all the topics will be more carefully considered if they are understood not only in a confused way, but also distributed, and in the property of their parts. This method provides a great abundance of arguments to be discovered: for example, if someone recognises all parts of definitions, they can seek arguments from all these, and will be more plentiful in finding arguments than one who does not know how many types of definitions there are. They will produce as many arguments from all these parts of definitions as they recognize parts of definitions to exist. He will have the greatest power over such topics, who is not ignorant of the diversity of definitions. For this reason, M. Tullius, who confusingly and in a disordered way set down the topics, now divides them with a more careful method.
And the first point that should be dealt with more in-depth consideration is this: that, as has been said, the topics themselves are a kind of thing, but they are understood to be topics when an argument is derived from them. Therefore, now Cicero does not primarily divide the topics but the things themselves, which, led to the argument, assume the form of topics. For definition, part, and sign are kinds of things, but when an argument is derived from them, they become topics. Therefore, when M. Tullius divides things themselves as they are naturally, he also divides the topics along with the things. For if there is one thing from which an argument can be drawn, there is also one topic; but if that thing is divided, as many parts as there are of that thing, there will be as many topics of the same kind from which arguments arise.
Since [1091C] this is the case, and since the first of all topics is from the whole, that is from definition; he first defines what a definition is by definition, so that once the nature of the thing has been revealed, its types or parts may be divided in an appropriate order. “Definition,” he says, “is a discourse which explains what the thing being defined is, such as the definition of a man, a rational mortal animal.” He explains this very carefully. For what a name indicates in a confused way, a definition spreads out through certain substantial parts. For what is declared in a confused way by the name of man, a definition reveals and explains, saying that a man is a rational and mortal animal. For unless it had said so, it could have been a common definition for a kind also, in this way: a definition is what shows what the thing being defined is. But a kind also shows what the thing about which it is predicated is, but does not explain what it is. Only a definition explains what is completed by a discourse; a kind, and the rest which are usually proclaimed by single names, do not at all.
The definition explains what is defined, not in any way whatsoever, that is, not in what kind of quality or quantity it is, not in any of the other predicaments, but what it is, that is, it shows the substance of what it defines. Indeed, this definition unfolds the substance, which consists of genus and differences; these signify the substance of each and every thing, as has been said when discussing genus, species, difference, property, and accident. Therefore, every definition explains what the thing defined is. Meanwhile, Aristotle nearly identically determines the definition, saying: A definition is a statement indicating what it is to be.
Marcus Tullius divides it this way:
He says, “There are two primary kinds of definitions: one of things that exist, the other of things that are understood. By those that exist, I mean those that can be seen and touched, such as land, buildings, walls, dripping water, animals that are property, household goods, food supplies, and the rest; you sometimes have to define things of this sort. By those that do not exist, I mean those that cannot be touched and physically demonstrated, but can be seen with the mind and understood, such as if you were to define ownership, guardianship, a nation, kinship; none of these things has a body, as it were, but there is some configuration imprinted and marked by intelligence, which I call a concept. This often needs to be explained in a definition during a debate.”
Every definition is clearly said with reference to something, for there is always a definition of something. However, those things that are said with reference to something take a certain property from those things from which they are derived. Therefore, it happens that from these things which a definition determines, a certain property is transferred into the definitions themselves; but since what is referred to something cannot be the same as that to which it is said, that which is referred to something else itself cannot possess its form. Hence, it happens that in definitions, both their own form is inherent, and that which they receive from the things they define is considered. Seeing this, Marcus Tullius first divided the definitions according to the things that are defined.
He proposes that there are two types of these: one of things that exist, the other of things that are understood. Therefore, he seems to have taken these differences of definitions from the things shown in the definition. For all things that are defined are either corporeal or incorporeal. Indeed, all things are initially divided into these. Those which are corporeal, he calls existing; those which are incorporeal, he calls non-existing, not because things that are incorporeal do not exist at all, otherwise they could not accept a definition. For if a definition is by which what is defined is explained to be what it is, then there cannot be any explanation of what something is, of that thing, which does not exist at all. But since the human race lives by the senses, it considers that to be most existent which is subjected to the apprehension of the senses. For who does not seem to know a stone or a man more than justice, or an inheritance, or anything else that is comprehended not by the senses but by understanding? Hence, it happens that because of the evidence of knowledge, those things which are subjected to the senses seem to exist more, and those things least which are grasped by the reason of understanding.
But it should be known that Marcus Tullius has set forth the opinion of people, not the truth. For as it is established among the best philosophers, those things are most that are far separated from the senses, those less, which supply opinions to the senses. Hence, Cicero himself also says in Plato’s Timaeus: What is it that always is, and has no origin, and what is it that is born, but never is? Of these, the former is comprehended by the reason of understanding, the latter brings forth opinion devoid of reason to the senses. Thus, he adds what always is to reason, and what never is, he connects with the senses.
But, as has been said, that corporeal things exist, and incorporeal things do not exist, is not speaking to the truth but is from the common opinion of any people. Therefore, he provides examples of the things that exist, certain forms of corporeal things, such as land, buildings, walls, dripping water, and the like, which he shows to be corporeal in this way, because they can be seen and touched; but he provided examples of the things that do not exist, such as ownership, guardianship, a nation, and the rest which are incorporeal; he showed these to be incorporeal from this, that he said, “they cannot be touched and physically demonstrated but comprehended by intelligence and with the mind”. But why he said they do not exist, he gave the reason saying, there is no body as it were of these things, nor any bulk that strikes the senses. For what body can ownership have? For the things themselves which are owned are corporeal, but the ownership itself is not corporeal. Indeed, through the custom of using it, the firmness of possession, what body can it have? Likewise, what someone governs by guardianship is corporeal, for it is a human being. But the care itself of guardianship, and the very right of guarding another, can have nothing of a body at all. The people who are in the same clan are corporeal. But the clan itself, that is the community of a free name, like the Scipios, Valerii, and Brutii, is certainly incorporeal; but there is some concept of these incorporeal things of the mind and understanding, which he called a notion. For the very image of ownership or guardianship and the understanding of the concept of an incorporeal thing is called a notion, which the Greeks call ennoia.
Therefore, he divided the definition into these two parts, namely according to the differences of the subject, so that he would indeed say that there are definitions of those things that exist, that is, corporeal, but there are also definitions of those things that do not exist, that is, incorporeal.
From this, it can be asked, which I also briefly mentioned above, in what way is the definition not counted among the affections, since every definition seems to be with reference to something? For this reason, likeness, contrary, and the rest are said to be affections, because they are always referred to something. But if the definition also refers to something and is not of absolute and proper consideration, it also must be placed among the affections.
However, it is noted that those things which have been affected, as if they were certain shadows of a body, thus placed externally cannot leave that which they are proven to affect, and either they do not at all signify the substance of those things which they have affected, such as contrary, similarity, etc., or if they occasionally indicate, a certain part is understood to be of the substance, such as genus, species, difference. For the genus is not the entire substance of the species, since not only the genus forms the species but also the difference; nor does the difference contain the entire form of the substance, since the species is perfected not only by the difference but also by the genus. However, the species itself is a certain part of the genus, but indeed the definition, although it relates to something, still demonstrates the entire substance and achieves the substance of that thing which it defines, so that it is neither situated externally, like similarity and contrary, nor is it a part of the substance which it defines but rather the substance itself. And enough has been said about this matter.
The same thing can be said about parts. For joined parts accomplish the whole of which they are parts. A sign also securely signifies that which it indicates, so that all things are equalized, and the defined to the definition, and parts to the whole, and the sign to the thing which it declares by signification if it is not equivocal, or if the thing which is indicated is not multivocal. Indeed, it can rightly be doubted why, when he had said that there are two kinds of definitions, he did not divide the definitions themselves but what are defined, that is, the corporeal and the incorporeal. This seems to have been said because the definition, as has been said, seizes something from those things, the substance of which it determines, their quality.
“Also, some definitions are of partitions, others of divisions; partitions, when the thing which is proposed is dissected as if into members, for example, if someone were to say that civil law is that which consists in laws, senatorial decrees, adjudicated matters, the authority of experts in law, edicts of magistrates, custom, and equity. However, the definition of divisions comprehends all forms which are under that genus which is defined in this way: alienation is of that thing which is under ownership or the transfer to another by obligation or by legal cession among those who can do this by civil law.”
Since the definition, thus derived from the thing which it defines, takes on a characteristic, yet does not leave its own form, therefore after those differences of definitions, which have been drawn from these things which were being defined, it now passes on differences from the proper form of definitions. However, the proper form of each composite consists in its parts; therefore from the parts of definitions, it teaches such differences, that some definitions are made by division, others by partition. For any thing is defined either by enumerating all its species or its parts. How, however, parts differ from species, I will say a little later.
From this, I think, the examples of Cicero should be explained; for he gives this example of partition: “Suppose it is proposed to define what civil law is, we will say thus: Civil law is that which consists in laws, senatorial decrees, adjudicated matters, the authority of experts in law, edicts of magistrates, custom, and equity. A law, therefore, is that which the people enact in an assembly divided by centuries. Senatorial decrees are those which have been decreed by the authority of the Senate. Adjudicated matters are those which have been established by the sentence of judges among those who dispute about some matter, by the example of which the rest are also judged. The authority of experts in law is of those who have interpreted civil law from the twelve tables, or from the edicts of magistrates, approved by the judgments of the citizens, and trusted sentences. The edicts of magistrates are those which the urban or foreign praetors, or curule aediles have pronounced the laws. Custom is that which it is accustomed to be done in the city alone. Equity is that which natural reason has persuaded. Therefore, all these things constitute one form of law, as parts, just like a man, head, arms, chest, belly, legs and feet. For partition, as he himself says, is that which dissects each thing which is proposed, as if into members.”
On the other hand, he demonstrates the other part of the definition, which is by the division of species, with such an example. For he defines what is the alienation of that thing which is under ownership, saying: “Alienation is of that thing which is under ownership, either the transfer to another by obligation, or cession in law, among those who can do this by civil law.” For something to be done by civil law does not occur among others, unless it can occur among Roman citizens, of whom is also civil law, which is contained in the twelve tables. However, all things which can be alienated, that is, which can pass from our possession to that of another, are either under ownership or not under ownership. The ancients called things under ownership those which were alienated in such a way that this alienation was made by a certain solemnity of obligation. However, an obligation is a certain solemnity of law, which was made in the way which Gaius explains in the Institutes. However, these are the words of the same Gaius in the first book of the Institutes about making an obligation:
However, mancipation, as we have also indicated above, is a certain imaginary sale, which is the very proper right of Roman citizens, and this matter is carried out, with no fewer than five Roman citizen witnesses of pubescent age, and in addition, another of the same condition who holds a bronze scale, who is called a balance holder. He who receives the mancipation, holding bronze, thus says: This man, therefore, I claim to be mine by the right of the Quirites, and he has been bought by me with this bronze and bronze scale. Then he strikes the scale with the bronze, and from there gives the bronze to him from whom he receives the mancipation, as if in place of the price.
Therefore, whatever thing, by the law of the twelve tables, could not be alienated otherwise than by this solemnity. However, the rest of the things which were of their own right were not called under ownership, the same were also ceded in law. However, the cession was made in such a way as the same Gaius explained in the second commentary.
In law, however, the cession is made in this way: in the presence of a magistrate of the Roman people, or in the presence of a praetor, or in the presence of a governor of a province, he to whom the thing is ceded in law, holding the thing, thus claims: This man, I claim to be mine by the right of the Quirites. Then after he has claimed, the praetor asks him who cedes whether he counter-claims; with him denying, or remaining silent, then he assigns that thing to him who claimed, this was called the action of the law.
Therefore, things which are under ownership, as it was said, were alienated either by obligation, or by cession in law. However, these certain solemnities of law were shown to be from the previous words of Gaius. But if that thing which is under ownership is transferred with no solemnity interposed, it will not be able to be alienated, unless it is acquired by possession from him to whom it is transferred. Since things are thus, the alienation of the thing under ownership is correctly defined according to division, namely that which is either perfected by the tradition of obligation, or by cession in law. For by pure tradition, the alienation of the thing under ownership is not explained. However, these are understood to be species, not parts, because if anyone alienates a thing under ownership by obligation, that which was his, he has transferred into the full right of another. What if he also cedes it in law, it was full right of alienation. Where, however, the full name of that which they divide, receives parts, that genre, and these species anyone, even slightly imbued with dialectical cognition, understands.
Given these conditions, Cicero divided the definition into two parts: one that would be achieved by the enumeration of parts, and another by the division of parts. However, each type of definition enumerates parts. The difference lies in that the former kind arranges kinds, whereas the latter arranges parts. A very difficult question arises here. For if a definition is also a division, it may seem strange how one topic can come from a definition, while another from an enumeration of parts. This issue causes a great deal of confusion. Indeed, as we have proposed previously that one topic comes from a definition, while another from an enumeration of parts, and now we affirm that the enumeration of parts, or division, is a kind of definition, there is no doubt that the enumeration of parts, which is a definition (for the kind is the same as the genus), is the same topic as the definition.
The answer to this very difficult question is easier if we gather the forms and differences of definitions themselves. A definition can be made in many ways. Among these, there is one true and complete way of defining, also called a substantial definition; the others are called definitions only by abuse of the term. I will later provide a full division of all these. For now, let’s discuss generally: because every definition explains what the thing being defined is. This explanation happens in two ways: one when something clearer is offered instead of a thing that is least known; another when there is a certain enumeration of parts. We will talk about the first way later. Now, concerning the enumeration of parts, it should be said that every definition that is made by the enumeration of parts is rightly understood as a kind of partition. It has been said that what is signified confusedly in the name is opened and explained in the definition made by the enumeration of parts, and this cannot happen except through the naming of certain parts; for while something is being explained in speech, everything cannot be said at once. Given these conditions, and since every such definition is a certain distribution of parts, it can be made in four ways. Either substantial parts are explained, or parts of a property are mentioned, or the members of a whole are enumerated, or the kinds are divided.
Substantial parts are explained when the definition is constituted from the genus and differences. For the genus that is predicated singularly is the whole of the species. When this genus is used in a definition, it becomes a certain part. It does not only complete the species, unless differences are also added, in which the same ratio is as in the genus. For since the differences, when stated singularly, enclose the entire species, when taken in a definition, they are parts of the species, because they not only designate the species to be but also the genus. An example of this is:
“A human is a rational, mortal animal.”
Therefore, when the whole definition equates to a human, and the parts of the whole definition are the soul, the rational, and the mortal, these appear to be parts of the human, which are parts of the same definition. Therefore, this is rightly called a definition.
Likewise, there is that definition when accidents are gathered into one, and one thing is made out of these, and it is as if a certain enumeration of parts, not in substance but in a certain collection of accidents. An example of this:
“An animal is that which can move by its own will.”
For an animal, both movement and will and possibility are accidents, but these joined together make up an animal, not constituting it substantially but designating through certain accidents that they are as parts of an animal, and this is called a description.
But if we do not say accidents of a thing but rather certain members from which it is composed and joined, and then we attempt to make a definition, we say in this way:
“A house is that which consists of a foundation, walls, and a roof.”
Here, certain members are taken for a definition, with which the whole thing is joined, and this is called a definition by enumeration of parts.
But if anyone defines in such a way that he does not put members in the definition but kinds, the definition is called a division of kinds, as if someone should pronounce in this manner:
“An animal is a substance that either only senses or strives by sense and reason.”
Therefore, it is clear these four differ from each other. For in that definition which is made by substantial parts, each part seems to be larger and universally substantial, from that which they define, as animal is larger than human. Even mortal and rational, individually exceed the nature of the human, which when they come together, equate to the same thing they individually exceed. But accidents which are put in the definition, are altogether distinct from the substance in reason. But in that definition which is made from the enumeration of parts, those are such things that are enumerated, as each individually cannot take the name of the whole defined, and therefore they are smaller than it, as foundations cannot be called a house: for foundations are smaller than a house, and so are the other parts. But in that definition which is made through division, indeed each individual part is smaller than the whole that is defined, yet they all together take the name of the defined thing. As rational takes the name of animal, in the same way, irrational.
When these are thus distinguished, whenever argumentation is made from that definition which is made by substantial parts, or from that which is gathered by the enumeration of accidents, the argument is said to be derived from the definition, that is from the whole. However, whenever argumentation is made from that definition which is either made by the enumeration of members, or by the division of kinds, the argument is said to have been derived from the enumeration of parts. But Cicero, because he had already entered into the division of definitions, also interposed this, which pertains not to the definition but to the topic of the enumeration of parts. The argument of this matter is that, because later, when discussing more widely about the same topics, when he spoke about the enumeration of parts, he placed no other enumeration of parts except that which he now said is a kind of definition.
However, it should not be thought that every division can obtain the place of a definition, as if someone should say, the foundation, walls, and roof are a house, this is not and cannot be so. For it can be a public portico intended for public uses, it can also be anything else, as a theater which is usually covered for exhibiting larger sounds. But we must understand now, that something can often be defined by division, when that collection of parts can only make up one thing, as if there was nothing else that could have a foundation, walls, and a roof, except a house, it would seem to be a rightly made definition, that a house is that which the foundation, walls, and roof complete.
[6.28] There are also other types of definitions, but they have no relevance to the purpose of this book; the only thing to be said is what the nature of a definition is.
Victorinus began to expound this passage in the sequence of a single volume and to enumerate all the differences in definitions, many of which he inserted, which are almost universally objected to as being definitions. For among definitions, it is regrettable that names are included, which is not seen as special to Aristotle, the most skilled in every kind of doctrine; and he outright denies in the Topics that a definition is made by a name, as if someone says:
“What is to be silent?”
and it is answered:
“To be quiet!”
These are in no way to be considered definitions. This can also be confirmed from M. Tullius’s own definition, through which he showed what a definition would be; for he said a definition is a speech which explains what the thing being defined is. But since a name is not speech, it is clear that a definition cannot be constituted by a name, especially since not even all the things that are put forward by speech and demonstrate something are designated by the proper name of a definition, like descriptions, and any other speech which is not made up of substantial parts but is made in any other way.
Even Victorinus himself does not ignore this. But it seems that Victorinus himself took up the task of discussing something that he considered a definition, in any way that could show the subject matter. For this reason, he also admitted a name among the number of definitions, because often what was previously expressed in an unknown word is made clearer by a more familiar word. For this reason, we also said above that an explanation is made in two ways: one when something clearer is brought forward for a thing that is least known; another when it is made through a certain enumeration of parts: so that that explanation which brings forward something more familiar, is of a name; but that which is made through the enumeration of parts is of speech, although even in the speeches themselves something clearer is always brought forward by which that which is discussed becomes more familiar.
So that our exposition may leave nothing out, and the property of a definition may appear, and all things may be brought into knowledge, so that neither the true definition may be unknown, and what is not properly a true definition may fall under knowledge, such a difference of definitions must be made. For some definitions are properly definitions, others are called definitions in an abusive manner. And indeed, proper definitions are those which consist of a genus and differences, like this:
“A human is a rational mortal animal.”
For in this, ‘animal’ is the genus, and ‘rational’ and ‘mortal’ are the differences. But of those definitions which are not properly called definitions but are called so by misuse, some are those which are signified by single names, others are those which speech explicates and brings out.
And of those definitions which are designated by name alone, some are made kata lexin, that is, word for word, when a name is returned for a name, as if someone says:
“What is to be silent?”
and it is answered:
“To be quiet!”
or:
“What is to strike?”
“To hit!”
Others are those which are put as an example, as when we wish to designate what substance is, for example, we say:
“Like a human.”
This is called in Greek typos, which, as we said, is placed among definitions, because it in some way designates something of what is designated, and although not properly, still in some way seems to be a definition.
But of those definitions which consist in speech, and yet are not proper, there are many varieties. Of these, the common name of all is description. Some of these are made by partition, others by division, about which we have said above. But others indeed take substantial differences but do not add a genus, and this is called ennoematike by Victorinus, as if containing some common notion, as if someone says:
“A human is what flourishes by rational conception and is subject to mortality.”
Here, therefore, a genus is not put but substantial differences are.
But others are those which are designated by several qualities but with accidents so that each of the qualities, even if they do not unite, can still bring about what is demonstrated, as:
“A human is where piety is, where justice is, and again where malice and cunning can be.”
For even if the rest is not joined by anyone, it is enough to show a human by saying:
“Where piety can be, or where justice, or the rest.”
This is called poiotes. But others are those which are made by several accidents being united into one, as if someone wants to define a luxurious person, saying:
“A luxurious person is one who indulges in unnecessary expenses for pleasure, and is carried away by unrestrained desire.”
For all united seem to make a luxurious person, single ones however do not: this is called hypographike.
Others are also made in such a way that to signify a difference, they are proposed in those things which are united in a discrete end, as if someone doubts whether Nero was an emperor or a tyrant, says that he was a tyrant, because he was cruel and intemperate. For this difference joined separates a tyrant from an emperor. Or also if it is doubted what each of the same tyrant and king is, the joined difference designates both, as if it is said that temperance or piety suits a king, but intemperance and cruelty suit a tyrant: this is called kata diaphoran.
Another which is said by transference, as:
“Adolescence is the flower of age.”
Also that definition is said to be, which is made from the deprivation of the contrary, as:
“Good is what evil is not.”
Also, Victorinus places as a definition, which can only be suited to proper names, which is also called hypotyposis, as:
“Aeneas is the son of Venus and Anchises.”
Besides these, there is also that which is made through the need of the full, as a quarter is that which lacks three-quarters to be an as.
Victorinus also places among the differences of definitions, that which can be made through a certain praise, as:
“Law is the mind, and soul, and counsel, and sentence of a city.”
Which is lacking in reason. For the measure of praise will not make a difference for him. For those things should be considered which are placed in the definition, not with what intention they are constituted. But if the will to praise was to be received among the differences of definitions, why should not the will to blame also make another difference of definition? But this seems clearly inconsistent and contrary to the truth.
Definitions are also made through proportions, as if someone says:
“A human is a microcosm.”
Just as the world is governed by reason, so also because a human, joined with many parts, still has reason as a guide in all things, can be called a microcosm. Definitions are also made from relations, when it is said:
“What is a father?”
it is answered:
“To whom there is a son.”
Cause also usually makes a definition, as when we say:
“What is a day?”
it is answered:
“The sun above the earth”
For we have interposed the cause, that is the sun, for the thing itself which is the cause, and thus we have shown the definition of a day.
These are the distinctions of definitions which Victorinus counted in the book that he published about definitions, and which M. Tullius (Cicero) skipped over, on the grounds that he considered them to be of minimal necessity. However, we, so that our work would lack nothing in its perfection, have included even those points that Cicero omitted.
“Thus, this is what the ancients prescribe: when you have taken those things which are common to the thing you wish to define with other things, pursue them until they become specific, such that they cannot be transferred to any other thing. For example, this: ‘inheritance is money.’ This is still common; for there are many kinds of money. Add what follows: ‘which by someone’s death comes to someone.’ This is not yet a definition; for money from the deceased can be held in many ways without inheritance. Add one more word: ‘legally’; now the thing will seem to have been separated from the community, so the definition is explained like this: ‘inheritance is money which by someone’s death comes legally to someone.’ This is still not enough; add: ‘and neither bequeathed by testament nor retained by possession’; then it is complete. And similarly [as in the example]: ‘gentiles are those who are of the same name among each other.’ This is not enough: ‘who originate from free men,’ this is still not enough, ‘of whom none of the ancestors has served as a slave.’ Still missing: ‘who are not degraded in status.’ This is perhaps enough. For I see nothing more that the pontiff Scaevola has added to this definition. And this principle holds true in both kinds of definitions, whether what is, or what is understood, is to be defined.”
Having set forth the reason for the definition and divided it into its individual parts, both of matter and of form; the matter indeed, when he said that definitions are of those things which are corporeal, or of those which are incorporeal; the form, however, when he taught that definitions are made either by partition or by division; having omitted everything else which is least pertinent to the proposed work, he now undertakes what is most useful and which can best signify the understanding of the whole definition.
This is what it is: the mode of definition which is present in all things, whatever they may be, that are made in any way. There is indeed one method of defining which is common to all, that from the commonalities among themselves joined and composed into one, the definition of the thing’s property is gathered. For all things which are common and universal, if something is added to them, they are diminished by determination, and return to particularity, and are restricted within the scope that encompassed all things, just as when a difference is added to a genus, and it becomes a species. For when a genus on its own contains many species within its own scope, if you add its own difference to it, it is diminished, and it somewhat returns to a certain particularity, like when we say ‘animal,’ this name includes many things. But if you add ‘rational’ to it, and make ‘rational animal,’ it will be less than simple. For a ‘rational animal’ is less than a simply ‘animal.’ Thus, the addition of a difference has reduced and restricted what was larger into a certain particularity.
Therefore, whenever some thing is to be defined, what is common to it with many others is taken, differences are added to this, and immediately neither is the being of what was common to many diminished, and if by this addition of a difference it has decreased to such an extent that it becomes equal to the thing being defined, it will no longer be necessary to gather and fit other differences, but what has thus decreased to be equal to what is defined, is by necessity the definition. But if it is still more than the thing being defined, we must seek another difference, which, when added, while the number increases, the power of the commonalities decreases with the addition of differences, and this must be done to such an extent that, as was said, those things which are taken for the definition become equal to the thing being defined.
Therefore, so that not only by reason but also by a clear example it may become more understandable, let us take a most well-known thing for definition, that is, man. So we seek the definition of man in this way: we take what is common to him with many others, that is, animal. Therefore, we say that man is an animal, but this is not yet a definition, first because, as was said, a definition cannot be given by the name alone; next because animal is greater than man. Therefore, in order for animal to be diminished and become equal to man, we add a difference, which when added, while the number of things increases, the power and magnitude of the thing is diminished. Therefore, I add ‘rational,’ and make ‘rational animal.’ Therefore, a ‘rational animal’ is less than simply an ‘animal.’ But I say man is a ‘rational animal.’ But this is not yet equal to man, for there can be rational animals, as Plato also likes of the stars, which are not men. Therefore, I again add another difference, if in some way again the definition is contracted, so that it becomes equal to the thing being defined; I therefore add ‘mortal,’ and say man is a ‘rational mortal animal,’ this is equal to man. For he who is a man, is a ‘rational mortal animal.’ Therefore, I say this is the definition of man which, from many common things joined, still makes one thing that is proper and equal to man. And the same principle applies to other definitions.
To make definitions, commonalities gathered and bound into one, it must be that with that binding what was common is contracted and restricted into a smaller mode, and something proper and equal to what is defined is composed from the joined commonalities. Therefore, this is what Cicero says, that this is the mode of definition, when you have taken those things which are common to the thing you wish to define with other things, pursue them until they become specific, such that they cannot be transferred to any other thing, so that with these words and this sentence he seems to briefly signify this is the definition which, from substantial commonalities joined and reduced into a smaller mode, becomes equal to the thing being defined.
The examples he gives of this type are one for defining inheritance, the other for nationality. The case of inheritance is presented in this way: “Inheritance is money”. This is a commonality that also fits many other things which are not inheritances, such as donations, thefts, or any other monetary matters which are not at all inheritances. Therefore, something had to be added to this ‘money’, that is: “Which upon someone’s death goes to another”. For indeed, an inheritance is money that, upon someone’s death, goes to another. But even this does not fully explain the concept of inheritance. It is too general. And the money of the dead can be held in many ways, as if someone was defeated and plundered in war. Therefore, something has to be added: “By right”, so that it is, “Inheritance is money that upon someone’s death goes to another by right”. For inheritances are obtained by right. Perhaps at this point it seems that the definition can stand, but not at all; for what then? If money is bequeathed, it can certainly not be called an inheritance, although money obtained upon someone’s death by right is. For if wills are done by right, money can also be bequeathed by right, something has to be added, namely something that separates bequests from inheritances, so we say, inheritance is money upon someone’s death going to another by right, which is not a bequest. Is this sufficient for the definition? Not at all. For what if I indeed have ownership of an estate, or of some monetary thing, and another has the use and enjoyment. For upon the death of him to whom the use and enjoyment belongs, that thing reverts to me, which was lawfully held in my dominion of ownership? Yet it cannot be an inheritance, so it must be added that it is not at all relinquished in possession, that is, that what comes from someone’s death by right, not bequeathed, is not retained in the possession of ownership.
Therefore, everything combined together will make the definition of inheritance in this way:
Inheritance is money which upon someone’s death goes to another by right, not bequeathed, nor retained in possession.
This definition is equivalent to an inheritance. For as an inheritance is money upon someone’s death going to another by right, neither bequeathed, nor retained in possession, so whatever money upon someone’s death goes to someone by right, neither bequeathed, nor retained, is and is not an inheritance.
But when M. Tullius reached that point in his definition, where he would say that inheritance is money that upon someone’s death goes to another, he says ‘by right’: already the thing will seem to have been separated from the commonality, so that the definition is explained thus: Inheritance is money that upon someone’s death goes to another by right. And this was said as if the definition had already been fully formed. For what else is an explained definition, and one separated from the commonality, except a perfect one, and one lacking nothing? But again, as if the definition had not been explained, nor separated from the commonality, he adds: “it is not yet enough: add: nor bequeathed nor retained in possession.”
The reason for this addition is that he made the definition by adding some things and separating others. And so, what he was defining, he separated from the commonality of all other things, either by what he added, or by what he separated. For he said that inheritance is money, to this he added, upon someone’s death going to another. And he separated it from those moneys, which did not upon someone’s death go to another, but came about through the contract of the living, he added ‘by right’, to separate it from those moneys which by force upon another’s death would go to another. Therefore, by these two things, ‘by death’ and ‘by right’, that money became such, which would be separated from others in such a way that it would nevertheless be acquired by a lawful method, not between two living persons but between one living and another dead. Therefore, this one separation has been made from the rest, and therefore he says that the definition has been explained and separated from the commonality.
But since there were certain things inherent in that very money which by death and by right goes to someone, which would not be inheritances, the definition of inheritance has been fully formed by the separation of these things. For when he said that inheritance was money, and also that which upon someone’s death goes to another, and also that which by right, all these things, forming the substance of inheritance, have been appended. But since there were some things in this collection to which the understanding of this collection could be transferred, yet they were not inheritances, like a bequest or a retention of possession, with these subtracted, what remains is inheritance, about which it can be understood that it is money upon someone’s death going to someone by right.
Therefore, neither a legacy nor the retention of a possession constitute the substance of an inheritance, since these would prevent the demonstration of its substance, unless they were removed. Moreover, neither does the negation of anything complete the substance but only shows what it is not. So, if a legacy and the retention of a possession do not only fail to fill the substance of an inheritance, but also hinder and corrupt it, unless they are separated and set aside; and since the denial of these shows nothing of the substance of the inheritance but only what it is not; it is left to the superior part, that is, the money coming to someone by right from the death of another, to display the substance of the inheritance, once this definition is separated from the rest. But since, as stated, there are some things to which the understanding of this definition could be traced, therefore, to designate the full distinction, the remaining part is added. Therefore, since these demonstrate inheritance, and constitute its substance by law, it is rightly said, “It seems that the matter is now separated from the community, so the definition is laid out: inheritance is the money that, by the death of someone, comes to someone else by right.” But since again this understanding could apply to many things within itself, it is not unreasonably added: “It is not enough” and so on, which separates the legacy and the retention of possession from the definition of inheritance: and let these things have been said about the prior example of inheritance.
In resemblance to this, he also treats the second example, which is about the definition of a gens. For a gens are those who are of the same name among themselves, like the Scipios, the Brutii, and the rest. What if they are slaves? Can there be a gens of slaves? Not at all. Therefore, we must add: “Who are born of freeborn parents.” What if the grandchildren of freedmen are named after Roman citizens of the same name? Can there be any gens? Not even this, because the gens is traced from the ancient freeborn; therefore, let it be added: “Of whom no ancestor has served as a slave.” What if through adoption one passes into another family? Then, even if he is named after the gens into which he has migrated, though he is born of free parents and from those parents who have never served as slaves, yet because he does not remain in the family of his gens, he cannot remain in the gens either; therefore, it must be added: “Nor have they been diminished in status.” Perhaps this, says Scaevola, the pontifex, is enough for the definition, because he added nothing further, so that the definition of gens is this: Gens are those who among themselves are of the same name, born of freeborn, of whom no ancestor has served as a slave, and where no decrease of status has destroyed the gens. This definition, too, is made up of multiple shared attributes converging into one, creating one specific characteristic of the thing being defined, that is, of the gens.
Therefore, this method of definition is valid in both types of things, whether they exist or do not exist, that is, whether they are physical or incorporeal; for, as has been shown above, Cicero says that what is physical exists, what is incorporeal does not exist. And finally, the method of all definitions is this, that from multiple shared attributes some property is made. But definitions differ among themselves, because those which are properly called definitions are composed of substantial shared attributes. These, however, which are not true but are improperly called definitions, are gathered from incidental shared attributes.
[6.30] “We have shown what kind of partitions and divisions there might be, but we must speak more clearly about how they differ from each other. In a partition, there are as it were limbs, such as the head, shoulders, hands, sides, legs, feet, and the rest of the body.”
[7.30] “In division there are forms, which the Greeks call eide, and our people, if they happen to deal with these matters, call species. Not wrongly, of course, but it’s unhelpful for changing cases in speaking. I would prefer not to have to say ‘of the species’ and ‘with the species’ in Latin if it can be helped; these cases are often necessary. However, I would like to use ‘of the forms’ and ‘with the forms’. As both words signify the same thing, I do not think the convenience in speaking should be overlooked.”
[7.31] “They define genus and form in this way: Genus is a concept pertaining to many differences; Form is a concept whose difference can be referred back to the head of the genus, as to a source. I call a concept that which the Greeks call both ennoion and prolepsis. It is a knowledge innate and instructed to the mind, needing untying. Forms are, therefore, those into which the genus divides without leaving anything out; like if someone divides law into statute, custom, and fairness. He who thinks that forms are the same as parts, confuses the art and, disturbed by a certain resemblance, does not distinguish things that need to be distinguished with sufficient sharpness.”
[7.32] “Orators and poets also often define by transferring a word from a similarity with some sweetness. But I will not depart from your examples unless necessary. Thus Aquilius, my colleague and friend, when discussing coasts, which you all wish to be public property, would define a coast, when those relevant asked, as where the wave would play; that is, as one might define youth as the bloom of life, old age as the setting of life; indeed, using metaphor, he would depart from the proper words of things and his own.”
[8.32] “As for definitions, so far; let’s look at the rest.”
As he divided the forms of definitions into partition and division, so that the listener might not be disturbed by the similarity of things, he reveals the differences between division and partition, and first he shows that parts are one thing, species another. For species are often called parts, but parts are never called species. They differ from each other in that parts join the limbs of a whole, while species divide and distribute a genus. As was also said above, the parts that join do not receive the name of the whole. Indeed, neither the foundations nor the roof can be said to be the house, for unless all that make something are joined, individual elements will not have the name of the whole; but species, even as individuals, take the name of the genus, like man is an animal. Thus, it happens that in these things, that difference can also be recognized, because parts are indeed parts of the whole, but species are said to be species not of the whole, but of the universal thing, that is, of the genus. However, a whole differs from a genus in that a genus is indeed universal but a whole is not at all, which is proven in this way. If what is called a whole, like a house, were universal, then its parts would also receive the name of the whole; but they do not receive it, as has often been.
Since he has distributed the forms of definitions into division and partition, lest the listener of matters be disturbed by similarity, he reveals the differences of division and partition, and first he shows that parts and species are different things. For species are often called parts, but parts are never called species. These differ from each other, since parts unite the members of the whole, but species divide and distribute the genus. For, as was said above as well, the parts of that which they join do not receive the name of the whole. For neither can the foundations or the roof of a house be said to be the house, for unless all the things which produce something are joined, the individual things will not have the designation of the whole; but even individual species receive the name of the genus, like “human” is an “animal”. This results in that another difference can be recognized in these, that indeed parts are parts of the whole, but species are said to be species not of the whole, but specifically of the universal thing, that is, of the genus. But the whole differs from the genus, in that the genus indeed is universal, but the whole is by no means universal, which is proven in this way. If indeed that which is called the whole, like a house, were universal, its parts would also receive the name of the whole; but they do not, as has been shown often; therefore that which is the whole is not universal. But that the genus is universal is evident, since the forms derived from it receive its name.
Likewise another difference. The genus is always prior to its species, but the whole is found to be posterior to its parts. For unless the parts exist, the whole cannot be joined. This results in that if the genus perishes, the species also perish; if the species perishes, the genus which is in the parts and the whole remains, which is contrary. For if any single part perishes, it is not necessary for the whole to exist or perish; but if the whole, which had joined the parts, is destroyed, the parts remain distributed: like if the roof, walls, and foundations of a house are understood to be placed apart from themselves, the house indeed will not be because the connection is destroyed, but the parts will remain.
Thus with their own names M. Tullius calls parts like members of the whole, but he calls species forms. Therefore, since the inflection of cases from the name which is species does not seem apt enough to him. And although many, he says, have used this name, yet since the inflection of this name through cases is hard, when species, of species, to species, are said, therefore he did not think convenience in speaking, as he himself says, should be disregarded, to call them forms in the cases of which name no harshness is felt.
And since a form cannot exist apart from the genus (for nothing can be apart from its principle), he presents definitions of both, saying the genus is a notion pertaining to many differences. But the notion is a certain understanding and simple conception of the mind, which pertains to many things different from each other. But that this is the genus is evident, which is clear by the most obvious example. For indeed the understanding of an animal pertains to many differences, specifically to rational and irrational, also to mortal and immortal, to walking, crawling, flying, swimming, and it is the genus of all things which are located under these differences. But this definition means the same as even the old one, this is of the kind: A genus is that which is predicated of many things differing in species in what it is, like an animal, a genus to many things differing in species, that is, to a human and a horse, in what it is is predicated. For when asked what is a human or a horse, animal is said.
Likewise he gave such a definition of form. A form is a notion whose difference can be referred to the head of the genus, as it were a source, and rightly so. For if forms are derived from the genus, it is necessary for the species to be referred to the genus. Therefore if a certain principle and source of form is the genus, it is not possible that the understanding of form does not return to its beginning, that is the notion of the genus. For the understanding of a human is referred to animal, likewise of a horse and the rest.
But he calls a notion what the Greeks call ennoian, this is its definition: A notion is an innate and previously perceived knowledge of each form needing explication. But this definition is drawn from this that Plato supposed there were certain ideas, that is, incorporeal species and consistent substances, and by their own nature separated from other things, so that this very thing human by participating in which other things become humans or animals. But Aristotle thinks there are no substances outside, but understood similarity. He thinks the substantial genus is among many differing from each other, or a species. For since a human and a horse differ in rationality and irrationality, the understood similarity of these creates a genus. For the substantial similarity of a horse and a human is in this, that each is a substance, each is animated, each is sensible, which joined make an animal, for an animal is an animated sensible substance. Therefore the similarity of a human and a horse is an animal, which is a genus. Again since Plato and Cicero differed in number and accidents, their similarity, which is humanity understood and formed by the mind, is a species. Therefore a certain community and similarity of many differing from each other is a notion, of which notion one thing is the genus, another the form.
But since all notion is the understanding of similar things, but in similar things the distinction of differences is necessary, therefore the notion still needs a certain explication and division, like the understanding of animal itself is not sufficient for itself. For soon the mind is led to some animal, that is either a human or a horse, an inquiry is made, and the notion of a human is referred to Tullius, or to Plato, or to any individual person. Since these things are so, whenever a genus is divided into forms, none ought to be omitted. For it is either the greatest fault, if any form dividing is passed over, like if someone wishes to divide law, into law, custom, and equity, it is not necessary for him to divide it. For both law, and custom, and equity, and each single thing, and in common, are subjected to the name of law. But he blames the ignorance of those who think species or forms are the same as parts, and he says they are disturbed by ignorance, because they do not care to distinguish and segregate things very different from each other inexpertly and inconsiderately.
But since he was talking about definition, he adds another kind of definition, which we enumerated above, which is accomplished through translation not of propriety and truth but through consideration of brilliance and ornament, which he claims to be of poets and orators, to whom brilliant speech is a concern. Cicero seeks an example of this definition from civil law, and he says he will not depart from better known examples to Trebatius than if necessity compels. But definition through translation is, like when Aquilius, wishing to define a shore, was saying the shore is where the wave plays. This play is translated from those who are moved by some agitation, the cause of a game. Likewise, youth is the flower of age, this is derived from trees, whose fruits are preceded by flowers. And old age, the setting of life, this is drawn from the day, which ceases to be when the sun has set: which translations depart from propriety, and signify something by being subjected to a similarity. For there is translation whenever the name of a thing having, because of the similarity of another thing, the name is imposed on a similar thing, like motion has its own name, likewise game is named by its own word. But he who says, by which the wave plays, transfers the word from the similarity of agitation to the motion of the waves.
And indeed ending the discussion about definitions, he makes a transition to divisions. But now it is enough for the third volume, let us postpone the rest for the future.
Book Four
I cannot express, dear Patricius, how often the contemplation of friendship brings strength during the course of a difficult work, both when we more eagerly compose for those whom we love with a deep-set affection, and when, wishing to please, many things offer themselves up. Added to this is the fact that whatever comes to mind is stated without judgment and even without reproach, because there is no danger in revealing your thoughts in the sanctuary of a loved one’s heart. Therefore, when I behold your goodwill, everything is eager and, so to speak, pleasurable, which is dedicated to your prescribed delight. But when I weigh myself, I fear that I may not be equal to an unprepared task, and the fault of my shortcomings may cause injury to the one who encourages me. Therefore, you must take care not to, while being corrected by your own good character, bear the burden of any of our mistakes. You know the biting envy of criticism, you know how easily in difficult causes slander can pass judgment. I ask, therefore, that you, eager for our common endeavor, apply the finishing touch to our work, cut back the excess, fill in the gaps, correct the errors, and finally be the defender of our labor and your encouragement, especially since my duty will reassure me that a sense of shame appropriate to a friend may suit you, if it is disliked. But enough of this, let us now follow the path of our undertaken work.
As for the topics attached to the very subjects of inquiry, some are from the whole, some from parts, some from a mark, some from affected circumstances, he has already sufficiently discussed the topic that is from the whole and lies within the definition in the previous discourse. Now, however, he has decided to speak about the enumeration of parts, namely following the correct order, not only to show by example what an enumeration of parts should be, but also to explain by reasoning how one should use the enumeration of parts in arguments.
"You should use partition in such a way that you leave out no part; for example, if you want to divide guardianships, you are acting ignorantly if you leave any out. But if you are dividing the formulas of stipulations or trials, it is not faulty to omit something in an infinite matter. This is, however, faulty in a division. For the number of forms that can be subjoined to each category is certain; the distribution of parts often tends to infinity, like the divergence of streams from a spring.
Therefore, in the arts of oratory, once a type of question has been proposed, how many forms it has, is subjoined without condition. But when it is taught about the ornaments of words or sentences, which are called ‘figures of speech’, the same is not done. The subject is more infinite; so that it may also be understood from this what we mean by the difference between partition and division. Although the terms seemed almost to have the same force, still, because the matters differed, they wanted the names of things to be different."
The sense is as follows. Of things that are connected by parts, some have few parts but are easily understandable and graspable, others have more parts and are difficult to understand. Therefore, in these parts which are few and easily comprehensible, it is a great fault if anything is left out when dividing. But in those, as he himself says, whose number is more infinite and whose perspective is more confused, it is less of a fault if a part is omitted while dividing.
And this happens not only through those things that consist of certain parts, but also often through the very parts themselves that we divide in the distribution, as if we wish to separate the body of a man by its own limbs in understanding and reason, we will do so with the head, shoulders, hands, chest, belly, shins, and feet. And since we have taken the larger parts to divide, nothing seems to have been omitted; but if we pursue the tiniest particles, then the eyes, and lips, and nostrils, and ears, and their parts should be followed up, and this should be done in the whole body, and in the same way the partition will be more difficult, when the number of parts is more infinite. Often, as has been said, the very things connected with these parts are not easy to inspect, as if someone divides stipulations and forms of trials, or even if they divide figures of speech, which the Greeks call ‘schemes’, it might not be easy to do. Therefore, if anything is omitted here, it will not be a fault of the divider, because the complex nature of parts often conceals a mistake.
And if anyone should divide a genus, it is harmful to omit any form, since the quantity of forms is finite. For because they always divide into contrary parts, there are either always two species of the genus, or three, and then three, when that third, which is taken, is completed by the mixture of contraries, as if we divide color, it should be said thus. One color is white, another black, another intermediate. And this intermediate color is united by the mixture of white and black, even if it is transferred into any other color species, whether purple, red, or green. So, if what you divide is such, and the parts you take for division are such that you can easily grasp them with understanding, it will be a fault if you omit something, as if you were to divide guardianships. Guardianship, indeed, is of roughly four types, either it is by degree of kinship, or it is conferred by the right of patronage, or the guardian is chosen by the father’s will, or it is formed by the jurisdiction of the urban praetor, and there may be more, but for now, these suffice. Therefore, there are both few parts here, and they are easily understood. But if you want to understand the formulas of stipulations and judgments, since there are many parts in these, it will not be faulty if you omit something.
In the case of guardianships, the example of parts is readily available. Guardianship is divided more as a genus into forms than as a whole into parts. For whether the guardian is by kinship, or by the right of patronage, or by other ways, they have the entire right of guardianship, which is not usually the case in individual parts, to bear the name of the whole. But in order to seem a suitable example, such parts of guardianships must be sought that, when joined together, can form guardianships, not those that are designated by the name of single guardianship, which I am not sure if any professor of jurisprudence has put forth such parts of guardianship. However, the rhetorician Merobaudes thought it should be understood as follows: what he said, “Use partition in such a way that you omit no part,” he said about division, that is about one part of the proposed partition. For both division and distribution by members are called partition; in division it is faulty to omit something, in the partition of members not at all. Thus, he gave an example of guardianships, adapted to that partition which is division.
But if you make a division, that is, partition of forms from a genus, it is a great fault to omit something, since the number of forms is finite, if something is omitted, it is passed over out of ignorance: like if we want to divide rhetorical questions into forms, we will say every rhetorical question is either about the fact, or about the quality of the fact, or about the name. But if I distribute the figures of speech and sentences, it will not be a fault, as was said, to skip something, since the figures and multiples of sentences and speeches are diverse and vary in different ways. Here also, the parts of figures do not seem to be taken as of the whole, but as species of a genus; for each of the figures, which are infinite, is like a figure, a general species, which we can understand from the words of rhetoricians, where they deal with speech. For there are no parts of figures that join figures, so that single figures cannot accept the name of the universal figure.
But it can be objected to us: And how are figures infinite, if they are species?
But I will answer lightly: By changing the speech, the figure also changes, and for that reason, it is in the power of the speaker to make figures, which the one who handles can hardly recognize before they are made; these are not constituted by some substantial differences, but rather are explained by accidents. Hence it seems that when a figure is divided, it is more a partition of the meanings of a common name than a division of genus into species; and it is difficult to include all the meanings of each name by division, because new ones are often invented, but not even the ratio of things allows this. For each figure is included under the name and definition of a general figure. For whatever way a figure is defined, the same will be the definition also of each figure. Which thing declares each figure to be a species of the universal figure. For the species and the genus are univocal.
But it is truer that Tullius referred the partition of figures to the speech itself, of which a certain part is a figure, not a species. For eloquent speech is woven with various and multiple figures. Therefore, if anyone wishes to divide speech into figures, they will not cut the genus into species, but the whole into parts. And since this is so, it also appears from this what the difference is between division and partition, since the partition is sometimes such that if something in it is omitted, it brings no fault. But the division of forms is such that something cannot be omitted in it without fault. This has happened, so that since things differ, different vocabulary also seems to be applied to things differing from each other.
[8.35] Many arguments are also derived from the process of notation. This is when an argument is drawn from the force of a word’s meaning, which the Greeks call etymology, that is, truth-telling from word to word. We, however, not being quite suited to the novelty of this word, shy away from it, and call this process notation, because words are indicators of things. So Aristotle calls this symbolon, which in Latin is a sign or symbol. But when the meaning of the word is understood, there is less need to fuss about the name.
[8.36] Therefore, many points in argumentation are elicited from the word itself, such as when we ask what the term postliminium means – I do not ask what falls under the concept of postliminium; that would fall under division, which is like this: those who return by postliminium are the following: a person, a ship, a mule, a pack-horse, a horse, a mare accustomed to bearing a bridle – but when the meaning of the term postliminium itself is sought and the word itself is noted; in which our Servius, as I think, sees nothing worth noting but the ‘post,’ and wants the ‘liminium’ to be a mere extension of the word, as ‘timum’ is no more significant in neighboring terms like ‘legitimum’ (lawful) and ‘aeditimum’ (temple-warden) than ‘tullium’ is in ‘meditullium.’
[8.37] However, Scaevola the son of Publius, thinks that the word is a combination, as it contains both ‘post’ and ‘limen’ (threshold). Therefore, when those things which have been alienated from us have reached an enemy, as they have left their own threshold, so to speak, hence when they have returned, they seem to have returned by ‘postliminium’ to the same threshold. In this kind of argument, even the case of Mancinus can be defended, who is said to have returned by postliminium; it was not given, because he was not received; for neither surrender nor gift can be understood without acceptance.
After listing the parts in proper order, he considers notation. Notation, then, occurs whenever an argument is taken from some characteristic of a thing that is in doubt. A sign, or note, is something that designates each thing. Hence every word is a sign, precisely because it makes a note of the thing about which it is predicated. Aristotle called this a symbolon. An argument is derived from notation whenever something is inferred from notation, that is, from the interpretation of the word. The interpretation of the word is called etymology in Greek. In Latin, it is called truth-telling, for etymon signifies truth, and logos signifies speech. But because this truth-telling was less in use in Latin speech, Cicero calls the interpretation of a word notation.
The process is such that, if you ask what postliminium is, in this question it doesn’t seem that one is inquiring about which things return by postliminium. For that would fall under division, i.e., it would require a listing of all things that return by postliminium. For example, if we say: By postliminium, a person, a ship, a pack horse, a horse, a mare that is accustomed to receive the reins, i.e., is tamed, return – these are the things enumerated that return by postliminium.
But when one inquires what the right of postliminium itself is, it can be known from the interpretation of the word itself. For by postliminium, anyone who was captured by enemies and returned to their homeland returns; for while they are considered captive by enemies, they lose their rights as a citizen; but they regain all their rights if they return by postliminium. Therefore, from the notation of the word, the right of postliminium can become clear, such that because ‘post’ always signifies what is left behind, some kind of return is signified by the term postliminium, as Servius proves, who interprets the force of the word from the adverb ‘post,’ confirming the rest of the word to be an extension; for in the word ‘postliminium,’ it takes the interpretation of the word from what is said ‘post,’ but considers ‘liminium’ to be a superfluous production. To this form of names, ‘meditullium;’ the first part signifies ‘middle,’ while ‘Tullium’ signifies nothing. And ‘legitimum’ and ‘aeditimum’ are similar. In both, ‘lex’ (law) and ‘aedes’ (temple) signify something, but ‘timum’ designates absolutely nothing. But the name ‘postliminium,’ Scaevola, son of Publius, thinks is composed from the adverb ‘post’ and ‘limen’ (threshold), for because one who returns by postliminium returns to the same threshold that he left before, therefore he thinks the name is composed from both meanings. For whatever things that have been alienated from us reach an enemy, once they have left our threshold, if they return to the same threshold, they return by postliminium.
In this way, even the case of Mancinus can be defended, who, when the Roman people had surrendered him because of a poorly pronounced treaty, the enemies did not want to receive him. And when he had returned, he seemed to have returned by postliminium. Therefore, because if the enemies had received him surrendered by the citizens, even if he somehow escaped from the enemies, he who was stripped of all the rights of freedom by the judgment of the citizens would not seem to have returned by postliminium; but because neither surrender, nor giving, nor donation seems able to stand without acceptance, therefore one who was not received cannot even be understood as having been surrendered. Therefore, Mancinus, who was not surrendered into the power of the enemies, if they wished to use him, when he returned to his homeland, was rightly defended as having returned by the right of postliminium.
[9.38] The next topic consists of matters which, in some way, pertain to the issue in question; which I have just said is divided into multiple parts. The first of these is the subject of conjugation, which the Greeks call ‘syzygy’, closely related to notation, of which I have just spoken. For example, if we were to understand ‘rainwater’ simply as the water we see collected in a rainstorm, then Mucius would come forward who, because the words ‘rain’ and ‘raining’ are conjugated, would argue that all water that has increased by raining should be prevented.
When he previously distributed the place which is inherent to the subjects under discussion into four different categories - from the whole, from the enumeration of parts, from the mark, from the things affected - having diligently discussed the former three just before, he now pursues the fourth place, that is, the things affected. And since the place from the things affected is dissolved into numerous differences, of which the first proposed is from the things conjugated, he first speaks about conjugated things.
These do not differ much from notation. For just as notation is derived from the force of a name, so too does conjugation contain a likeness of a word, they hold something like a common boundary between them. However, this is the difference, that notation is perfected by the explanation of a name, conjugation by the likeness of a word and derivation.
And since this place is easy both in understanding and in handling, it suffices to put forward an example of this kind: Rainwater is that which collects and grows by raining. However, ‘raining’ and ‘rainwater’ are conjugated. For in one and the same word, the different term of names makes a difference. Likewise: the law is to prevent rainwater, that is, if rainwater is collected in someone’s field, and flows into another field, and the water that has grown harmful to a neighbor’s crops, he should prevent it within his boundaries from flowing out. Therefore, if a river has increased from rainwater, the question is whether it should be prevented, Mucius responds, saying, since rainwater is so named from raining, a river too, which has increased by raining, should be considered rainwater, and should be prevented.
[9.39] However, when an argument is derived from a kind, it is not necessary to summon it all the way from the top. Often it is permitted to do so within limits, as long as what is assumed is higher than that to which it is applied; for example, rainwater is in the final kind that which grows from the sky by means of rain, but in a closer one, in which a law of prevention is contained, the kind is harmful rainwater: of this kind, the forms of a place are faulty and harmful by hand, of which one is commanded to be restrained by the arbiter, the other is not commanded.
Such is understood to be the nature of kinds and species, that when they are collected or even divided, from the individual through species and kinds up to the highest kind it can be ascended, likewise from the highest kinds through the kinds placed below, it can descend to the individual. This will indeed be made clear by one example. Cicero is indeed an individual, of this the species is man, of this the kind is animal, of this the higher kind is animate body, and if you ascend further, you will find another kind of body, if you go out further, substance occurs in place of the last kind.
Therefore, since there are many kinds, if a kind is to be assigned to any species, it will not be necessary, he says, to always seek the highest and principal kinds, but it will also be necessary to use some of those which are located in the middle, however, this reasoning being preserved, that the kind is always higher than that to which it is predicated as a kind. For indeed it is extreme ignorance, if while a kind is always placed above species by nature, that which is lower is placed in place of a kind. Therefore, it is faulty, if anyone says that the kind of body is an animate body. Thus, if a kind is to be fitted to a species, we should fit something of those that are higher, and it will not be necessary to always use the ultimate kind, as if we wish to place a proper kind before a man, it is not necessary that we place substance before him but either body, or animate body, or what should most of all be done, animal. For those kinds should always be taken, which adhere closest to the forms, and these are most required in a definition.
But in arguments, it does not matter whether you choose the closest, or a higher kind. For since an argument is made from a continuous, the higher kind contains more. Therefore, if something about a man is in doubt, and a place for arguing is taken from a kind, whatever will be said about an animal, that will also be predicated about a man. Therefore, if something is predicated about an animate body, the same can also be said about a man. Therefore, just as arguments are made from the nearest kinds, so too from others that are set up.
But in all these matters, what seems most worthy of consideration is not to place that which is lower before a superior as a kind. And the sentence is indeed such. As for the example, it will be clarified in this way: Let rainwater be that which is collected from the sky by rain, its species is twofold; for one rainwater is harmful, another is not harmful. There are also two species of the harmful, one by hand, one by fault. But rainwater is harmful by hand, which is so caught in some place, flowing from there it harms the neighbor, if that place is not naturally so but has been prepared by the hand of man for catching water; it is harmful by fault, whenever naturally a place is such that it can catch water and harm the neighbor. Therefore, if one wishes to find out the kind of that water which one wishes to prevent, lest it harm him, from a neighbor, it is not necessary to deduce from the last kind, as if to indicate the kind of that water which one wishes to prevent is rainwater, but one can find a kind a little lower for what one is asking, that the kind of this water which he desires to be prevented is harmful rainwater. But if one seeks the nearest kind, one can use that which is harmful rainwater by hand, for one is compelled to prevent what is made harmful by hand. But what brings inconvenience due to the form of the place or fault, one is not compelled to prevent.
What we have said, that the kind of water which should be kept away is the kind that damages with the hand of rain, should be understood in this way: if the water that should be kept away contains many individual and similar things under it, then finally the water that should be kept away could be a kind of water that harms with the hand of rain. But if the water that needs to be kept away is not divided into individual things, it itself is individual, and its kind is not water that harms with the hand of rain, but a species. But if this seems a little obscure to anyone, if they examine those commentaries that we have composed on genus, species, difference, proper, and accident, arranged into five books, they will be able to encounter nothing of these things where there may be obscurity.
“[9.40] This line of argument, which proceeds from the genus, is also properly handled when you follow this method from the whole to the part: if ‘malicious deceit’ is when one thing is done while another is pretended, you may enumerate the ways this happens, then include the thing you are accusing of having been done with malicious deceit in one of them; this kind of argument seems particularly strong.”
It has been said how the genus should be adapted to the species, and it has been prescribed that what is superior should not be used unless necessary. Now it is added, how the use of this topic, which is led from the genus, could be more convenient in argumentation. Whenever there is doubt about something, if, having made a division of some genus, we can include the thing that is in doubt under some part of its genus, then the argument seems to be derived from the genus in this way: Let ‘malicious deceit’ be when one thing is done, another is pretended. If we divide the species of this and we can add the thing we argue to have been done to one of those species which are derived from ‘malicious deceit’, whatever will be thought about ‘malicious deceit’, the same thing will also be judged about the thing we argue; and the argument has been made from the genus. For the thing in question is a species, and the thing from which the argument is taken is a genus, namely as if it so happens that ‘malicious deceit’.
However, this topic is different from the one which comes from the enumeration of parts. And if we enumerate parts, that is forms or species, therefore, it is not from the genus but from the enumeration of parts that the argument is derived. For whenever we use the enumeration of parts for argumentation, then we say that the argument has been derived from the same partition, as in this way: If it has foundations, and walls, and a roof, and the place is intended for habitation, it is a house. So using the partition itself, we have proved that it is a house. But whenever something is to be placed under a genus, and having divided the parts we add to one of those things which are derived from the genus the thing we inquire about, as in this way: If we demonstrate Cicero to be an animal, we will say thus: Every animal is either rational or irrational; but Cicero is rational, therefore he is an animal: we do not use a partition principally to establish the argument but we have divided the genus for this reason, that in any division the thing we were trying to show could be included, that is that the thing in doubt should be reduced to the containment of the assumed genus, and therefore credibility would be created about it through the nature of the genus. Thus an argument made from the genus will rightly be called so.
Furthermore, the enumeration of parts usually makes the substance of the whole, whether that is universal like a genus, or is completed by the conjunction of parts like a whole. But this division of the genus into whose parts whatever thing we argue about is to be included, does not achieve this, that the substance of the whole is constituted but that the thing we seek to prove is placed within the genus. This mode of argumentation is particularly confirmed as valid by Marcus Tullius. For this rule is quite true and necessary:
“Those things that are predicated of the genus, are predicated in all ways of the species.”
Moreover, it is very useful to inquire when something about particular things is proved from the next superposed species, as if we prove Socrates to be rational, because he is a man, since a man is rational, whether we think the argument is led from the genus or from the form. For if we say from the genus, the final species cannot be a genus; if from the species, the superposed genus always wishes to prove the species. But Socrates, to whom man gives credibility, since he is rational, is not the genus of man but it must be said that the argument seems to have been led as if from the genus. For from the genus, as from something containing and larger, and from its substance, credibility of the predicate is drawn: which fortune everyone does not doubt that the individual species obtains, for it also contains them, and is predicated of their substance.
[10.41] The following is an analogy that is widespread, but more so for orators and philosophers than for you. For even though all topics supply arguments for all debates, they occur more plentifully in some debates and more sparingly in others. Therefore, be familiar with these types; when you should use them, the questions themselves will prompt you.
[10.42] There are, indeed, similarities that reach their desired goal through multiple comparisons in this way: If a guardian must show faith, if a partner does, if one who is entrusted with something does, if one who has received trust does, so too should a steward. This method of drawing conclusions from multiple premises is called induction, which in Greek is termed epagoge, of which Socrates made much use in his discourses.
[10.43] Another kind of similarity is derived through comparison, when one thing is compared to another, equal to equal, in this way: Just as, if there is a dispute about property boundaries within a city, because boundaries seem to pertain more to fields than to cities, you can’t compel an arbitrator to handle the management of the boundaries; so too, if rainwater harms the city, since the matter largely pertains to fields, you can’t compel an arbitrator to handle the prevention of rainwater.
[10.44] From the same topic of similarity, examples are also drawn, like Crassus in the Curian case, using numerous examples. He established heirs in his will in such a way that if a son was born within ten months, and he died before coming into his own guardianship, they would have secured the inheritance. The mention of such examples has proven effective, and you often use this method in your responses.
[10.45] Invented examples have the power of similarity; but they are more suited to oratory than to your practice. Still, you too tend to use them, in this way: Imagine someone gave in mancipation something that cannot be given in mancipation. Has it therefore become the property of the receiver? Or has the giver in mancipation obligated himself in any way because of this? In this genre, it is allowed for orators and philosophers to have even the mute speak, to raise the dead from the underworld, to assert something that could not possibly happen for the sake of increasing or decreasing an argument, which is called hyperbole, among many other wonders. Yet, their field is broader. Still, from these very topics, as I said before, arguments are drawn in the greatest and the least of questions.
Indeed, every similarity is twofold: either a similarity is gathered from multiple things, called induction, which the Greeks name ‘epagoge’, or individual things are compared through similarity.
And the former is something like this: If a guardian ought to demonstrate faithfulness, if a partner does, if the one to whom you have given a command does, if one who has received trust does, then a procurator ought to as well. For since faithfulness should be demonstrated in many matters, and there is one similarity in demonstrating faithfulness both in a guardian and in a partner, and in the one to whom a command is given, and in the one who has received trust, the same similarity should also apply to a procurator. Trust, moreover, is received by anyone to whom something is entrusted, so that he may give it back to the one who entrusted it to him, as if someone, fearing uncertain times, entrusts a piece of land to a more powerful friend, so that he may return it to him when the suspicious time has passed; this entrustment is called fiduciary, because it interposes the faith of restitution. Socrates is said to have used this collection of similarities extensively, as is found in the volumes of Plato and other followers of his school.
However, whenever one thing is compared to another thing through similarity, an argument is gathered in this way. Those are said to be the arbiters of the ends of fields who decide the final disputes, as if a contention arises about boundaries, it may be resolved by their decision. But boundaries are said to exist only in the limits of fields, and arbiters of the ends cannot be in the city. Also, it is usually said that water is to be kept away only in fields, where if rainwater is collected from somewhere and flows into the fields, spoiling the pasture or crops of a neighbor, arbiters for the warding off of water are appointed by magistrates. Therefore, it is asked whether in the city we can compel the arbiter of something that needs to be kept away. And the argument is taken from the similarity. If, because the boundaries are only of a field, you cannot compel an arbiter in the city, then not even for warding off water, because it seems to be only of the fields, can you compel an arbiter in the city. Therefore, one thing is connected to another thing by similarity.
From the same place of similarity, Cicero proposes that what are called examples be taken, such as Crassus in the Curius case, which was of this sort: A certain man, leaving behind his pregnant wife, wrote a posthumous heir, and substituted another one, who was called Curius, with this condition, that if the posthumous heir, who would be born within the next ten months, died before he could come under his own guardianship, or died before he could legally make a will, the second heir would succeed; but if he survived to the time when, having been accepted into his own guardianship with a firm judgment, he could perform the civil rite of laying aside his inheritance, the second heir, that is Curius, would not succeed the one who is called the substitute minor: it was asked whether this arrangement could be valid. Crassus, therefore, brought forth many examples, in which such instituted heirs obtained the inheritance, the recollection of which examples moved the judges.
He also says that jurists themselves often use examples, as when a proposition is made up, that is, imagined, so that the case under discussion may be understood through similarity, in this way: If indeed a lawyer adds that what was not legally contracted is of no consequence, and brings forth such an example, as if someone had not legally transferred ownership of something, does it therefore mean he either transferred ownership or could have obligated himself by wrongdoing? Not at all, because what was not legally contracted retains no firmness. And other such things are found among lawyers, in which orators especially excel, who are even allowed to fabricate so much that, by their reasoning, the dead are often raised from the underworld, as Cicero does in that speech in which he defends Caelius. But their field, he says, that is, of the orators, is wider, who are allowed to wander and stray: nor for that reason are similarities less useful to other skills, since the same arguments are suitable for both the greatest and smallest causes; by which it happens that even the places of arguments adapt to questions from diverse arts.
[11.46] Following is a likeness, a difference in matters that is most contrary to the former; but it is both alike and unlike to discover the same thing. Examples of this type include: you should not, as what you owe to a woman, properly pay to the woman herself without the authorization of a guardian, similarly, what you owe to a minor, whether a boy or a girl, you may properly discharge in the same way.
To recognize similarities and differences is of the same faculty; for he who knows what the same thing is, will be able to know what is different. Yet every similarity establishes that something is the same, for what is identical in quality must necessarily be similar. Indeed, all things or substances are the same either in substance, quality, or other categories. If this is so, the mind can understand this sameness in many categories. But while it notes this very sameness in categories, it observes what is different in the same way in the same categories; but what is similar is the same, while the difference is what is different. Therefore, the same mind and the same understanding recognize both similarity and difference.
However, there are many types of differences. Some are substantial, like the rationality of man; some are not substantial but inseparable, like the blackness of an Ethiopian and a raven; others are movable and not constant, like sitting, standing, and other such things by which we often differ from others and from ourselves. Similarly, some differences are somehow divisible by genera, others are in some way constitutive of species; but if an argument is drawn from constitutive differences, it is drawn as from a genus. For just as a genus contains a species, so do differences contain species. Indeed, if constitutive differences are understood as genera, trust will be adapted from these to the things they constitute. For these are like certain forms of such differences. But if they are divisible, since their trust is drawn to proving those things, that is, genera, which divide, an argument seems to be made from a form, for such differences are like certain forms of the things that are divided. But if they are referred to prove the things that divide the genus into the opposite part, then it seems an argument is properly made from a difference, because contrary differences are compared.
But as for Cicero’s example, it is of this sort: Women were formerly held in perpetual guardianship, as were minors under guardians; but if a debt was owed to women, it could be paid without the authorization of the guardian, not so with minors. Therefore, if it is asked whether what is owed to any minor, despite the guardian’s refusal, can be paid, an argument is taken from the difference, thus: Not as you can discharge a debt to a woman without the guardian’s authorization, in the same way, unless the guardian’s authority is added, can you pay what you owe to the minor; for those are held in perpetual guardianship, even when advanced in age, the guardianship of the latter is limited by a certain number of years; and for this reason it cannot be paid to a minor without authority. For the person of women differs from the person of minors, either in that minors are not governed by perpetual guardianship, while women are perpetual; or that a minor can have no judgement of administering his property, while some women, although not strong, have the ability to manage family affairs.
[11.47] Next, we come to the place called “from the contrary.” There are many types of contraries: one of them includes those that differ the most within the same kind, such as wisdom and folly. Those of the same kind are said to propose themselves in contrast, as if from the opposite direction, such as slowness to swiftness, not weakness. From these contraries, such arguments arise: if we avoid folly, we should follow wisdom and goodness if we shun wickedness. These contraries from the same kind are called adversities.
[11.48] There are other contraries, which, though we may call them depriving in Latin, the Greeks call steretika. Indeed, when ‘in’ is prefixed, the verb is deprived of that force, which it would have if ‘in’ had not been prefixed, as dignity is to indignity, humanity to inhumanity, and the rest of that kind, whose treatment is the same as the previous ones which I said were adversities.
[11.49] For there are other types of contraries as well, such as those that are compared with something, like double to half, many to few, long to short, greater to lesser. There are also those highly contrary which are called denying; in Greek, apophatika; they contradict affirmations: if this is, that is not. For what need is there for an example? Just understand that in seeking an argument, all contraries do not agree with all contraries.
The division, instead of differences, now discusses contraries. Therefore, so that the order of things can be more clearly understood, I must take a few things from Aristotle, who as the most learned of all men discussed this division, although Marcus Tullius agrees with Aristotle in substance, but is different from him in interpretation of terms. For what Aristotle calls opposites, that is antikeimena, Tullius calls contraries; but this will be discussed shortly.
Now let’s consider Aristotle’s division. According to Aristotle, some opposites are contraries, others are deprivation and habit, others are relative, others are contradictory. Indeed, contraries are such as white and black; but habit and deprivation are such as sight and blindness, dignity and indignity; relatives are such as father, son, master, slave; contradictories are such as it is day, it is not day: such differences among these are considered.
For what are contraries, some are mediated, some indeed lack a medium. Mediated are such as white, black, for any other color is a medium between these, as red or pale, and it is not necessary for one of these contraries to always exist in bodies. Indeed, not every body is either white or black; but sometimes it is constituted in the middle of these, so it might be red or pale. Immediate contraries are those between which nothing intermediate can be found, such as heaviness and lightness: for there is nothing intermediate between these. For what is light is borne upwards, what is heavy, downwards. But no body can be found which is borne neither upwards nor downwards. But immediate contraries are such that one of them must always be present, as in the proposition given in the above example. For it is necessary for every body to be either light or heavy, because lightness and heaviness have no intermediate, which could also be in bodies.
But those things which are in privation and in possession, such as blindness and sight, are indeed distant from these contraries that close off a certain middle ground, because they do not have a middle ground themselves; but they differ from these contraries that are immediate, because it is always the case for these contraries that one of them exists in the subject, as heaviness or lightness exists in a body; but privation and possession do not always exist, for instance, when there is possession of sight, but privation in blindness, not everything that can be seen, either sees or is blind: for a child not yet born neither sees, because it has not yet been brought into the light, nor is it blind, because it has not yet had sight, which it could have lost. The same can be said of kittens, which right after they are born cannot look, for then we cannot call them either blind or seeing. And finally, contraries are always considered in their own qualities; but privations, not because they are something themselves, but are inferred from the absence of possession: for blindness is not something, but is understood from the absence of sight.
Both privation and contrariety differ from the opposition of relation, in that neither contraries, nor things in privation can coexist; for the same thing at the same time, in the same place, cannot be white and black, seeing and blind; but relative things cannot be separated from each other, for there cannot be a son without a father, nor a slave if there is no master. Further, contraries and things in privation do not refer to each other. For no one says white of black, or black of white, or blindness of sight, or sight of blindness. But those things that are in a relation consist in the predication of the relation itself, like double of half, master of slave, and so forth in this way.
Both contraries and relations differ from contradictions, because contradictions always consist in speech, and in one part of them truth is found, in the other falsity, but contraries, privations, and relations are found in simple parts of speech and in these neither truth nor falsity is present. For when I say white, black, blindness, sight, master, slave, these are simple parts of speech, containing neither truth nor falsehood; for in simple parts of speech there is no truth or falsity: but when I say it is day, it is not day, both propositions, one in affirmation, the other in negation, are speech.
But M. Tullius uses not so much proper names as more familiar ones; for he says that some contraries are what are called adversative, others privative, others comparative, others affirmative and negative. But what he calls contraries, would be more accurately called opposites; what he calls adversative, would better take the name of contraries; what he names in comparison, these would be more accurately called relative or referential: but let him use whatever names he wants, as long as the things themselves are marked by their certain characteristic; and we in the other books that we have published have named them in the way that was said above in Aristotle’s division. According to M. Tullius then, some contraries are adversative, like wisdom, folly; others privative, like dignity and indignity; others which are compared with something, like double, simple; others which are called negative, constituted opposite to affirmatives, like if this is, that is not.
Adversative things are those which, being placed under one kind, differ greatly, like white, black, which differ greatly from each other when placed under one kind, that is, under color. Similarly, slowness is adversative to speed, with both placed under motion, for it is not that weakness is opposed to speed, because robust health is contrary to weakness, which Cicero omitted in his division but taught by example; those also are called adversative, which, being situated in different kinds, are understood to differ greatly from each other, like wisdom from folly. For the former is under the kind of good, the latter under evil, although this kind of example seems rather to look to privation; for folly is a privation of wisdom, and folly is nothing else but the absence of wisdom and reason; but what Cicero calls privative, I will demonstrate later. From these adversative things, an argument is taken in this way. If we shun folly, we should follow wisdom; if we seek goodness, we should flee malice, although malice also, according to the same mode that was spoken of above, can be joined with privations.
But those things that are privative according to Cicero, are what the Greeks call steretika, which have that part of speech prefixed which, when added, always or almost always takes something away, like the prefix in-; for this syllable, when it has been added to something, takes something away from the force that any thing would have had, if it did not have the prefixed syllable, like inhumanity to humanity: for in-, being prefixed, deprives that of which it is said of humanity, like dignity, indignity; and indeed Tullius confirms that only those things are privative in which that syllable is prefixed: for the nature of privative things, according to Tullius, is ended by the mention of this syllable; but we have received from the Peripatetics that privations are expressed with simple names, as well as with privative syllables, with simple names, like blindness, but with privative syllables, like indignity, inhumanity. Therefore, according to M. Tullius, blindness will not be a privation of sight but an adversary to it, and therefore perhaps he numbered folly among the adversative, since it does not have a syllable from which they think privations exist.
From which, in the same way, as in the adversative things mentioned above, arguments are drawn: We should shun inhumanity, if humanity is to be followed.
But those contraries, as Tullius says, which are compared with something, are such as double to simple. This is the same as if he had said double of half, for simple is half of double, and father of son; and these are always reciprocal, sometimes indeed in the seventh case, sometimes in the genitive, for son of father is son and father of son, this is a conversion according to the genitive, and double of simple double is, this is according to the seventh case; there are also those which are in the accusative, like few to many, and great to small.
Also, negatives are those which are placed in affirmations and negations, like if this is, that is not, as if it is day, it is not night, and Cicero says that this opposition is very contrary.
From all these, according to the previously stated method, comes the ability of arguments; for from relative contraries, we derive an argument thus: if there is a father, it cannot be but that he has a son. However, from those which deny, which the Greeks call apophatika, it goes like this:
If the sun was above the earth, it could not have been night
For this affirmation destroys that denial; but it is strange why he constituted these as denying. For those things that are denying oppose affirming things, and cannot exist simultaneously, such as it being day and not being day. However, this is a consequence when it is said like this, if this exists, then that does not exist, such as if it is day, then it is not night. Tullius powerfully states that affirmation and denial are contradictory, but in this consequence, they cannot be contradictory: for what is a consequence, is not a contradiction.
[11.50] I indeed set an example a little while ago from the topic of circumstances, that many things would have to be accepted if we had established that possession according to those tablets would be given from the edict, which he would have established who had no part in the making of the will. But this place more effectively applies to conjectural cases, which are involved in trials, when it is asked what either exists or has happened or will be or what can possibly happen at all.
[12.51] And indeed, the form of the place itself is such. But this place prompts us to ask what happened before the event, what with the event, what after the event. “This has nothing to do with law; it has to do with Cicero,” our Gallus used to say if someone had reported such a thing to him, that a question about the fact should be asked. However, you will allow me not to skip any place established by the craft; lest, if you think nothing should be written unless it pertains to you, you appear to love yourself too much. Therefore, this place is for the most part rhetorical, not just not for lawyers, but even not for philosophers.
[12.52] For before the event, such things are asked: preparation, conversation, the location set, a banquet; but with the event: the sound of footsteps, [the noise of people,] shadows of bodies and anything of the sort; but after the event: pallor, blush, hesitation, if there are any other signs of disturbance and consciousness, also a snuffed out fire, a bloody sword and other things which could arouse suspicion of the deed.
He briefly showed above what the place from circumstances is, with the example where he said: If the possession of goods was given according to the tablets of a woman never diminished in rank, it would follow that possession would also be allowed according to the tablets of boys and slaves. But now he intends to show the form itself and the subject matter of the place, which is of this kind: The place from circumstances is when from what is proposed something else is deduced to either exist, have existed, or will exist in the future, as in the example he set a while ago. It is proven that possession of goods should not be given according to the tablets of a woman never diminished in rank, because if this were established, it would follow that possession of honours would be allowed according to the tablets of boys and slaves. Such are called circumstances, because they are usually found around the matter in question, but do not always have to adhere to it; and the form of this place is such, that it can also accept this definition. The place from circumstances is when from some things, which are closest to the things in question, what is asked is shown to be in them, exist, or will exist.
This place is of utmost necessity for conjectural causes. For when a fact is in question, then if that which is doubted has happened, who it was, or is, or will be, is usually considered: for there are many things which are gathered for each thing due to the varying course of times. For this reason what happened before the event, what with the event, what after the event, is asked in conjectural causes, which are dealt with by orators alone, and there is no connection with the lawyers in such cases with rhetorical skill, for the expert in law responds about the quality of the deed, not also about the truth of the deed itself. Therefore, whenever a question of fact was referred to Gallus, an expert in law, he used to say “this is nothing to do with us”, and sent the consultants to Cicero instead, that is to the rhetorician. In which Tullius mixed up a place addressed to Trebatius saying: Although this place from circumstances is very useful for conjectural causes, it doesn’t help the wisdom of legal consultants, but allow me, he says, not to skip any part of the undertaken work, lest if in this book I write nothing but examples of your art, it would seem to be devoted only to your grace.
However, the place from circumstances, which is not open not only to lawyers but also to philosophers, only to orators, is often discussed according to the account of three times. For if a fact is in question, what was either before it, with it, or after it needs to be investigated. Indeed, before the event in this way, preparation; for it is plausible that someone made what he prepared before making it, a conversation may have happened so that he might have loved, who often had a conversation.
“Locus,” as when a suitable place is chosen for doing something.
“Established feast,” as if someone is accused of having done something at a previously agreed feast and is caught by the conjecture of the deed, from the fact that a feast has been set, and these are examples before the matter in question. But in reality, in this way: Footsteps, as if someone is accused of going somewhere, it will be proven that he was caught by the sound of footsteps; or if an adulterer is identified in a bedroom from the shadow of a body, these things, when viewed with the subjects of inquiry, are understood to be attached to them. However, after the fact, if any stains of conscience have been revealed by paleness, blushing, and hesitation: extinguished fire, as if we want to show that something was done secretly by extinguishing the fire, so that it could be committed more safely by removing awareness in the darkness. Also, a bloody sword indicates that a crime has been committed. All these things are understood to be attached to the fact, after the fact.
And always before the matter, with the matter, and after the matter, it should be understood according to the order of time, and not as it is in antecedents and consequents. For there the reason of nature is considered. All things are indeed simultaneous: for what precedes, if it is placed, it immediately is that which follows, as if you assume that a man is immediately an animal and cannot not be, nor can it be said before time that a man can be spoken of, but an animal follows after, as there is some preparation beforehand in time, and the effect is subsequent. Therefore there antecedents and consequents are named, here before the matter, with the matter, and after the matter. Therefore, because that is not according to time, but according to the principle of nature dragging something simultaneous with itself, what precedes is called antecedent, and what follows the antecedent is the consequent. But those which are considered according to the earlier and later reason of time are adjuncts, therefore they began to be called before the matter, with the matter, and after the matter.
[12.53] Next is the place of the dialecticians proper from the consequents and antecedents and repugnants. For conjunctions, which were spoken of just before, do not always occur; but consequents always do. For I call those consequents which necessarily follow a matter; likewise antecedents and repugnants. For whatever follows any matter, it is necessarily connected with the matter; and whatever is repugnant, it is such that it can never be connected.
Having explained the place of the adjuncts, now he discusses antecedents and consequents and repugnants. This place is divided into three parts, like members. Marcus Tullius indeed kept quiet about the name of this place, but to me, it seems entirely to be named conditional. When the nature of this has most promptly become clear, the name also, which we have assigned, will appear more evidently rightly given.
First, therefore, the definition of the individual parts must be brought forth. Therefore, an antecedent is something, with its position, another thing neither can nor cannot follow: likewise, a consequent belongs to something, which neither can nor cannot be, if that of which it is a consequent is proven to have preceded. A repugnant is something which cannot be simultaneously with that which it is said to be repugnant.
Therefore, we have said that antecedents, and consequents, and repugnants have one place, and I will show in a few words how it is one. Therefore, first, while it was being sought how there could be one place from consequents, antecedents, and repugnants, it was said that it was of the same mind and understanding to foresee both things agreeing with each other and things disagreeing, therefore this place also appears to be one. For there are two parts of the things that agree: one is the antecedent, the other the consequent. For when one precedes, the other follows, it must necessarily agree with it in the very sequence of nature. However, of the repugnants, although there are two parts, there is one term for both; for both are called repugnants. Indeed, it is known to all that there are two which disagree with each other and dissent from themselves; but they are distant, because there are two names for antecedents and consequents, although there is one agreement for both; however, there is one term for the repugnants, although there is one disagreement in both. Therefore, the same mind, and the same reason of understanding, understands both what precedes and what follows. For it cannot happen that an antecedent is understood unless what is a consequent is considered in the same thing: in the same way, neither a consequent unless it appears what precedes; likewise no one can understand a repugnant unless they understand what it is repugnant to: but since the same reason can perceive both like and unlike things, and there is a certain agreement and harmony in nature for antecedents and consequents, and there is a disagreement and unlikeness in repugnants, and it cannot happen that one and the same reason looks at the nature of antecedents and consequents and of repugnants; by which it happens that there is also one place for those things which one understanding comprehends.
But this was objected to: Why then did Marcus Tullius enumerate another place from similarity, another from opposition, above? For according to the proposed reason, since one understanding contemplates both similarity and opposition, there should have been one place for similar and opposite things. But it was answered that antecedents and consequents are not said to agree with themselves in the same way as those things which are called similar. For in these only one quality is found, and according to the same quality they are said to be similar; but in antecedents and consequents there is not similarity of quality but a certain agreement of nature. And similar things can exist without each other, but antecedents and consequents cannot exist without each other, and therefore there does not seem to be any natural community between consequents and antecedents with similarity. This reason does not seem to be very suitable, nor does it explain what it was attempting to demonstrate.
Certainly, it is most firmly established that the treatment of this place would always be adapted to conditional propositions. A conditional proposition is one that declares something to be, if another thing was, such as when we say:
If it is day, it is light.
Therefore, this consequence of things easily turns into contradiction. For if a denial is interposed to consequent things, contradictions are yielded from the consequents, in this way:
If it is day, there is light.
Contradictions are as such:
If it is day, there is no light
for it contradicts that it is day and there is no light. This contradiction consists in the condition. For we say:
If it is day, there is no light
for the contrary of day is night. The consequent of night is the absence of light, therefore it contradicts that it is day and there is no light.
However, the argument is, this contradiction consists in the condition because if the condition fails, there is no contradiction, in this way:
It is day
There is no light
for both disjoined propositions bear their meanings, and they are understood to have nothing in common, and therefore they are true when accepted at different times, and they do not contradict. For just as in these propositions, it is day, it is light, there is no consequence, because the condition is missing that makes the proposition connected but both are disjoined from themselves close their meaning, so in those which are proposed, it is day, there is no light there is no contradiction, because each keeps its separate meaning. But if a condition intervenes in these, the sentence of the former is joined in such a way as to become consequent, of the latter in such a way as to become contradictory, in this way:
If it is day, it is light.
This consequent proposition from two through the middle condition is made one. But if it is so, if it is day, there is no light, it contradicts. For it is necessary that what is denied to follow must contradict.
Moreover, an argument which is made from antecedents and consequents comes from the parts of a single connected proposition, for one part of a connected conditional proposition is the antecedent, another is the consequent. But if an argument is made from contradictions, again an argument of this kind must be born from the members of a single proposition. Therefore, from these propositions, it is day, it is light, there cannot be one unless they are joined by a condition, so that one is an antecedent, another a consequent, and therefore in these an argument cannot be from the antecedent and consequent, because they are two from those propositions that are, it is day, there is no light: there cannot be one, unless by the addition of a condition they are reduced into the meaning of a proposition in some way whose parts are contradictory. For, as in a connected proposition one part is the antecedent, another is the consequent, so in a contradictory both parts of the proposition repel and disagree with each other.
Moreover: a contradictory proposition holds a part contrary to the connected one, for as in that which precedes it draws with it what follows, so in this proposition the parts cannot be at the same time. But contrary differences are usually placed under the same genus. Therefore if the connected proposition is established in the condition, the contradictory also subsists in the condition; if both the consequence of propositions and contradiction are made by the condition, there is no doubt that this place rightly is called conditional, and is one placed in the condition with divided parts, that is in the antecedent and consequent and contradictory. For one part of the connected proposition is the antecedent, another is the consequent. But of the contradictory proposition both are of the contradicted disagree. Therefore the parts of the connected proposition are the antecedent and the consequent, of the contradictory they are contradictory. Nor should it disturb the understanding that it is day and it is light agree with each other in some way. Also it is day and there is no light, as if they disagree and discord from themselves, for a proposition is connected if when one thing has preceded, another follows. Likewise contradictory, if with one thing being posited another is inferred, which cannot be unless the right of condition effects it. Therefore I think it is clearly demonstrated that this place is called conditional and rightly constituted as one by M. Tullius. But how an argument is made from antecedents and consequents and contradictions, I will say later.
But since it is not of any other power, to observe what or how much a thing follows, or what contradicts what, unless of dialectic alone, which professes the greatest skill of this matter, therefore he says this is the whole place of dialecticians.
Which is also far and wide different from the adjuncts. First because the adjuncts can reveal and show themselves to each other, but not to perfect and fulfill nature, like the noise of feet can signify and announce walking, but it cannot effect it. Nor does the noise of feet even cause walking, nor indeed from necessity is walking the cause that the noise of feet is, but often it is walked in such a way that no noise of feet is heard; often without changing place feet can move and make noise besides walking; therefore the adjuncts are not always found: often arguments from adjuncts fail for the proposed term which we strive to prove, because they themselves also seem to fail adjuncts sometimes. But antecedents and consequents and contradictions are never lacking for everything that is in things, has something that naturally either follows it, or precedes it. There is also something from which it disagrees through the diversity of nature, like an animal indeed follows man, but precedes substance; for we say:
If a man is, an animal is
But it precedes substance, when we propose, if an animal is, substance is. It contradicts the dead when we say, if an animal is, the dead is not.
Moreover, things that are distributed with respect to time, such as before an event, during an event, and after an event, do not matter how they are situated in time when it comes to their being antecedent, consequent, or contradictory. For often the former accompany times, and the latter precede times, and those that are simultaneous with times, sometimes precede, sometimes follow, as we have often said above.
Furthermore, things that are antecedent and consequent cannot leave themselves, nor can contradictory things coincide with themselves, and necessarily contradictory things are disconnected from each other; but those things that are attached do not have any necessity, because they can both connect with and separate from themselves.
Given this, a very difficult question arises. For it seems to those looking superficially that this topic is no different from those topics which were said to be from genus, or species, or from opposites. For the genus always follows the species, the species precedes the genus, opposites cannot exist simultaneously.
This question can be solved as follows: First, because not every consequent is a genus, nor is every species antecedent. However, contradictions themselves are contrary, but they are consequences of contraries, as we have shown in the explanation of the topics proposed by M. Tullius Cicero. From here, when an argument is made from a genus, the genus itself is assumed, and in the same way the species, when we wish to prove something from it. However, when we strive to show something from the antecedents, we use in the assumption that which has preceded in the conditional proposition, even if it is not a genus. Similarly, if an argument is made from a consequent, even if it is not a species, the argument is drawn from the consequent part of the conditional proposition, just as when we say: If there is fire, it is light, fire precedes, lightness follows; but neither is a genus or species to the other, therefore it is assumed, that is, fire is. Now therefore, I have assumed that which was preceding, from which the conclusion is shown, therefore it is light. But if we assume this way, but it is not light, I have assumed that which was following. Therefore, it is concluded and shown, therefore, there is no fire.
You can see, then, that we are now talking about these antecedents and consequents, which are understood to precede or follow in the conditional proposition. However, when an argument is made from the genus, the species is indeed what we are trying to prove; but we assume the genus not as something preceding but as something containing, so that whatever is considered to be in the genus, that should fit any form. For the genus, as long as it remains, does not recede from its species; but when we take an argument from the species, the genus is indeed what is being asked about; but we work hard so that what we are trying to show from the genus can be more easily recognized from the species. For example, when a legacy was left to Fabia’s wife, if she was the head of the family, since it does not agree to be in power, namely, from being a wife, which is a species of mother of the family, we separate the mother of the family, which is a genus, from the right of legacy, and we derive the legacy to the species, that is, to the mother of the family.
But it seems worth looking more closely at whether the place from antecedents and consequents seems to be entirely superfluous, since in whatever way arguments have been composed from it, they do not depart from other places which we have described above. For whatever argument is drawn from antecedents and consequents, it is considered to have been derived from the whole, or from parts, or from conjugates, or from some of the rest in this way: If equity is useful when it is established for obtaining one’s goods, civil law is useful, therefore what follows, that is an argument from definition, namely from the assumption of the antecedent. But if I say: But civil law is not useful, therefore equity established for obtaining one’s goods is not useful, here an argument is taken from the place of definition by assuming the consequent. Similarly, from the enumeration of parts, if neither by census, nor by other means, is he free, but by census or other means, he is therefore free: but he is not free; therefore he has not been manumitted either by census or by other means.
But it should be noted what the force of each argument is, and how it is brought forward. For there are arguments that are suitable for predicative syllogisms, as from a definition it happens like this: civil law is equity established for those of the same state to obtain their goods. But this is useful, therefore civil law is useful. Similarly from parts: He who has not been manumitted either by census, or by vindicta, or by will, this one has not been made free from slavery; But Stichus has not been manumitted either by will, or by census, or by vindicta; therefore, Stichus is not free: and in other cases, in the same way.
Indeed, all things that can be proposed through a categorical syllogism, the same can be said through a conditional syllogism. For every predicative proposition can be converted into a conditional one, like this: “every man is an animal” is a predicative proposition; this can easily be converted into a conditional, as in, “if it is a man, it is an animal.” However, not every conditional can be converted into a predicative, as in this one: “if she gave birth, she slept with a man.” No one can say that her giving birth is the same thing as sleeping with a man, in the way that we say a man is the same thing as being an animal.
For the reasoning in propositions like “she who gave birth, slept with a man” is different. This one is similar to that which says, “if she gave birth, she slept with a man,” but a predicative proposition says that the subject is what the predicate was. A conditional however posits that if what precedes necessarily accompanies what follows. But when it is a predicative proposition, if it is converted into a conditional, another proposition is yielded. For when it is said, “every man is an animal,” the proposition put forward is that the man himself is an animal; but when, “if it is a man, it is an animal,” it is not meant that he who is a man is an animal but rather that if it is proposed that he is a man, it follows that he is an animal.
Therefore, although the conditional syllogism is posited in the antecedent and the consequent, by definition, by enumeration of parts, by conjunction, and in any other way, it nevertheless retains its proper form and is conditional, that is, using its own power, as it were, to have other arguments subject to its nature. So, when an argument is from a definition, if a syllogism is made through a predicative form, it is said to have been derived from a definition. But if the argumentation is made through a hypothesis, a conditional syllogism is made, which assumption distinguishes, whether it is promoted from the antecedent’s part or from the consequent’s part. This leads to the situation where even if a conditional argument is brought forth through other topics, it still has its own form, because it is established in the antecedent and the consequent. For then the definition, parts, conjunction, and other things become, as it were, the thing itself, and not the topic, when they come into condition; but if the condition ceases, the argument will seem to have proceeded from them. And if the condition has joined the proposition, they indeed are the things that are contained in the propositions as certain parts of the argument, but the topic is established in the condition.
And these things have been said as if this conditional place cannot be treated otherwise, unless it includes some of those we mentioned before: for it can often be found beyond them, as when we say: “if it is a man, it is capable of laughter; if it is a raven, it is black.” For this argument contains neither a definition, nor parts, nor any other topic enumerated above. Moreover, it is easy to foresee differences in each of them: for a topic indeed is drawn from the whole by substance, but from the parts by the composition of the thing. For such an argument cannot be found in simple terms, from a mark, from interpretation; from conjoined things; from that from which both are derived; from a genus; from a container; from a form, from that which is contained; from a difference, from that which is discrepant; from similar things, from the same quality; from opposites, from that which are very different from each other; from causes, from those that have the power to make; from effects, from those that have received the power of another’s efficiency; from adjunctions, from the proximity of nature; from the comparison of greater, equal, or lesser things; from relation, to equal or unequal quantity. However, from antecedents a completely different mode is: it consists in the fact that if something is proposed, something else will exist in all ways, which is called the consequent; and the understanding of this consists in the fact that following any precedent, something else follows; but the understanding of contradictories consists, not only that they can neither follow nor precede, but also that they cannot exist at the same time, which there is no doubt consists in the condition.
Having thus explained these things, since Marcus Tullius has succinctly and clearly expressed the property of the place, as he could in passing, he now adds how to use the same place appropriately. This part of the Topics, since it needs to be explained more diligently, I will conclude the fourth volume, intending to render the rest in the fifth.
Book Five
In these books, most learned Patricius of the rhetoricians, we have fully and amply discussed all hypothetical syllogisms, which we wrote primarily for their introduction. From them, the reader will receive a complete and perfect doctrine, which will occupy their time in understanding it. However, since we are now taking up to explain Cicero’s Topics, and in them Marcus Tullius remembers some of the modes, I think I should briefly discuss these seven conditional syllogisms, their nature, and the composition of propositions, so that once these have been properly introduced, the examples of Tullius may be more easily understood.
Therefore, everything that is doubted in a question will be proven by either probable or necessary arguments. Every argument either falls into the order of a syllogism or receives its strength from a syllogism. And every syllogism is made up of propositions.
Propositions are either simple or compound. Simple propositions are those which are joined by simple parts of speech. Simple parts of speech connect an uncompounded proposition, a noun and a verb, such as when we say, the day is, or the day is springtime, or the day is clear; for in these the noun and the verb together make up the whole force of the proposition.
Every simple proposition consists of a subject and a predicate. The subject is that of which something is predicated. The predicate is what is said of the subject. The verb is sometimes joined to the predicate noun, sometimes it is itself predicated. The predicate noun is joined, as in this proposition which says, the day is serene: for the day is the subject, serene is the predicate; and the verb, is, is joined to serene, which we have said is the predicate. But if there be such a proposition, consisting only of a noun and a verb, as when we say, the day is, then the day is the subject, is without doubt is the predicate; but without a verb there is no proposition: for every proposition is either true or false; unless, however, there be some verb joined, by which something is said to be or not to be, no truth or falsity is discerned in propositions.
Often, however, propositions also consist of whole sentences; as if we say: To cross over into Africa is useful to the Romans; for here the subject indeed is to cross over into Africa, useful to the Romans is the predicate, is is joined to the predicate.
Therefore, all such propositions are called predicative. Predicative are called because they predicate one thing of another. And all syllogisms made from these propositions are called predicative according to the forms of their statements.
From these predicative propositions, compound propositions are made, some of which are joined by a copulative conjunction, as both the day is, and the light is; others are made by a condition, which are also called conditional statements. These are those which by some conjunction inserted between the parts are led to a consequence and condition. For example, let there be two predicative propositions: one indeed, which says, it is an animal; another indeed which proposes, it is a man. If these two propositions be joined, it makes, if a man is, an animal is. You see, therefore, how a conjunction has joined two predicative propositions into one condition. Which being so, all these propositions are called hypothetical, that is conditional, and from them such syllogisms arise, to which the name is hypothetical or conditional.
Every hypothetical proposition is either made through connection or disjunction. By connection in this way: “if it is day, there is light.” By disjunction thus: “either it is day, or it is night.” Of those made through connection, some are joined from two affirmatives, as “if it is day, there is light,” because both “it is day,” and “there is light,” each affirm something; others from two negatives, as “if there is no light, it is not day,” because both “there is no light,” and “it is not day,” are each a negation; yet others are joined from an affirmative and a negative, as “if it is day, it is not night”; and yet others are coupled from a negative and an affirmative, as “if it is not day, it is night”: yet all these are placed in connection. Either affirmation follows affirmation, or negation follows negation, and is connected with it, or negation follows affirmation, or affirmation follows negation.
However, contradictions clearly arise from connected propositions, for where affirmation follows affirmation, if a middle negation is inserted, it makes a contradiction in this way: “if it is day, there is light.” Here affirmation follows affirmation; but when I say, “if it is day, there is no light,” the parts of the connected proposition contradict each other, with the negation interposed. Likewise, whenever negation follows negation, if the negative adverb is removed from the latter part of the proposition, contradictions occur in this way, “if it is not an animal, it is not a human”; this connection is proposed from two negatives. But if the negative adverb is taken away from the latter part, that is, “it is not a human,” it becomes, “if it is not an animal, it is a human,” which contradicts; and if an affirmation follows a negation, whether a negation is joined to the latter part, or removed from the former, contradictions occur, in this way, “if it is not day, it is night.” Here therefore affirmation follows negation. Thus whether a negation is coupled to the latter part, that is, “it is night,” so that it becomes, “if it is not day, it is not night,” or removed from the former, so that it becomes, “if it is day, it is not night,” a contradiction is made in the proposition, and it is not possible. But if a negation follows an affirmation, and the negative adverb is subtracted from the latter part, the parts of the connected proposition fall into contradiction, in this way, “if one is awake, one is not snoring.” Here negation follows affirmation but if a negation is removed from the latter part, that is, “one is not snoring,” it becomes, “if one is awake, one is snoring,” and it is a contradiction.
But in connected and disjunctive propositions, it must be understood that in their parts both the force of the question is included and of the argument. For example, let it be doubted whether there is light, and that must be proved from the fact that it is day. Therefore, if the proposition is made in this way, “if it is day, there is light,” indeed that part of the whole proposition which follows, that is, “there is light,” is of the question. For it is asked whether there is light. But what is prior, that is, “it is day,” contains the force of the argument. For from the fact that it is day, there being light will be proved, and in the others indeed, either connected or disjunctive, the same reason applies.
But in all these since the syllogism and argumentation are adapted to demonstrate the other part of the question, and every question is doubtful, it is necessary that the syllogisms which are adapted to the ambiguous question be undoubted and clear, which to be such, must be made from clear and open and plainly truthful propositions; but some propositions are partly self-evident, partly they will need some proofs. Every syllogism indeed, with a proposition announced, has an assumption of some part in order to conclude what is in question, in this way: “If it is day, there is light.” Therefore, in order to demonstrate that there is light, I will assume one part of the proposition established above, and I will say, “but it is day,” and then at last I will conclude what is in question, “therefore there is light.” Thus, since we use both the whole announcement in proposing, and in assuming part of the announcement for the conclusion of the syllogism, it is not possible that those which we use have nothing doubtful, especially since those which are ambiguous will take faith from them.
But if a proposition is sometimes indeed self-evident and clear, sometimes it is found to need proof, the assumption also will sometimes be noticed to be true by itself, sometimes it needs the help of approval. Hence it happens that if both the proposition and the assumption need to be demonstrated, a five-part (as Cicero also is the author in the Rhetorics) syllogism is made, consisting of the proposition and its proof, the assumption, and its proof, and the conclusion. But if neither is to be approved. it is three-part, namely from the proposition, the assumption, and the conclusion. But if one of them needs to be demonstrated, it becomes four-part, namely from the proposition, and the assumption, and one of their approvals, and the conclusion. However, the proof of the conclusion itself is perfected by the preceding proposition and assumption.
Since these things are so, and since every proposition is divided into hypothetical connection and disjunction, in connected propositions we say something is preceding, something else is following. But we call the same thing following and connected, just like in this proposition, “if it is day, there is light.” “It is day” precedes, “there is light” is attached. But in disjunctive propositions, the reason is not the same, because since the things proposed cannot exist together, they are in no way said to be connected. However, what is preceding and what is following is judged from this, because what is first put forth, is rightly called preceding, what is later, is rightly called following.
Therefore, from these propositions, which are connected, the first and second modes of hypothetical syllogisms are made. But with a negation added to the connected proposition and coupled from two affirmations, and further denied, a third mode is added. However, from disjunctive propositions touched in different ways by assumptions, the fourth and fifth. Both however, composed through negation, the sixth and seventh. And these are the seven hypothetical conclusions, which Marcus Tullius mentions in the Topics, the order and examples of all of which are to be supplied hereafter.
The first method, then, is when in a connected proposition, having assumed what precedes, we wish to show what follows, thus it ought to be, as is put forward in the connection. In this, if we assume that which is connected and follows, no syllogism at all is made. An example of this is as follows:
If it is day, it is light;
So if we show it to be light, we assume, and it is not necessarily day, in this way: but it is day; therefore, it necessarily follows, it is light. But if we assume it is light, and thus say, but it is light, it is not necessarily day, and therefore no necessity of conclusion arises; where there is no necessity, no syllogism can be understood. Therefore, the first mode is in this form:
If it is day, it is light;
But it is day,
Therefore, it is light.
However, there are cases where the assumption is equally valid, whether the preceding or the following is assumed, as in man and laughing:
If it is a man, it is capable of laughing;
But it is a man,
Therefore, it is capable of laughing.
But it is capable of laughing,
Therefore, it is a man.
But in these cases this is because man and the ability to laugh are equal terms, and therefore when one is posited the other necessarily accompanies it. But because this is not the case in all situations, we say it is not universal that by assuming the latter, the former is proven.
The second method is when by assuming the latter and what follows, what preceded is negated, in this way, if it is day, it is light; here if we assume it is not light, in the opposite way and as put forward in the proposition; we assume saying, but it is not light, therefore it follows it is not day; but if we deny it is day, that is what precedes in the assumption in the opposite way as it is posited in the proposition we assert, what is connected is not negated, as if we say, but it is not day, it does not immediately follow, it is not light, for it can be not day, and yet light. Therefore, the form of the second mode is of this kind:
If it is day, it is light; But it is not light, Therefore, it is not day.
The first method, therefore, assumes what preceded, to approve what is connected; but it cannot assume what is connected, to approve what preceded. The second, however, assumes on the contrary what follows, to overturn what precedes; but it cannot on the contrary assume what precedes, to remove what is connected.
The third method is when a negation is interposed between parts connected and from two affirmations of the coupled proposition, and this very negation is denied, which proposition is called hyper-apophantic in Greek speech, as in this very one which we proposed above, if it is day, it is light; if a negation intervenes between the parts of this proposition, it is made in this way, if it is day, it is not light; if we deny this further, it will be so, it is not the case that if it is day, it is not light: the sense of this proposition is, because if it is day, it cannot happen that it is not light. Which proposition is called super-negative, and all are such in which a negation is proposed to a negation, as it is not day, and again, nor the Ausonian race sent as colonists to Troy.
In this, therefore, if we posit the first part, that is, it is day, in the assumption, it also follows that it is light in this way:
It is not the case that if it is day, it is not light;
But it is day,
Therefore, it is light.
This mode differs greatly from the previous ones, because in it the mode is set by the antecedents, the antecedent is put, so that what follows is demonstrated. In the mode which is from the consequents, the consequent is negated, so that what preceded is removed. But in this, neither is the case, for neither is the antecedent posited, so that what follows is confirmed, nor is the consequent negated, so that what preceded is overturned; but the antecedent is posited, so that what follows is negated.
But this mode of proposition contains its parts repelling each other, for it is indeed adverse and repels, if it is day, it is not light. But for this reason, the position is fixed, because the repulsion of the consequents made through a middle negation is destroyed by another negation, and is completely called back to the force of affirmation. For because it is understood to be a consequent, and true, if it is day, it is light, it repels and is false, if it is day, it is not light, which denied again is true so, it is not the case that if it is day, it is not light, and if similar to affirmation, if it is day, it is light, because a doubled negation makes an affirmation.
Similarly, arguments are made from repelling parts of propositions, whether if two negations are joined, or if a negation and an affirmation, or if an affirmation and a negation are joined. How, however, arguments are made from such connected repelling has been said above. But an argument is made from that proposition which is joined by two negatives from repelling in this way: let the proposition be, if it is not light, it is not day; let it be made repelling so, if it is not light, it is day; to this we join a negation so that it can be true thus:
It is not the case that if it is not light, it is day;
But it is not light,
Therefore, it is not day.
Again, this proposition is made from negation and affirmation: if it is not day, it is night; to this a negation is added from the latter part, and it is made so: if it is not day, it is not night; it is made repelling, nevertheless this is denied so that it is true, it is not the case that if it is not day, it is not night, and we assume, but it is not day we conclude, therefore, it is night.
Again, from the same proposition, which is joined by a negative and an affirmative and says: if it is not day, it is night, if a negation is subtracted from the former part, it is made repelling, in this way: if it is day, it is night; to this a negation is added, so that it can be true, in this way: it is not the case that if it is day, it is night, and I assume, but it is day, it is concluded, therefore, it is not night.
But if there is a proposition joined from affirmation and negation, such as this: if he is awake, he is not snoring, a negation is removed from the latter part, so that it is made thus: if he is awake, he is snoring; but this repels. The whole proposition again is denied, so that it can be made true in this way: it is not the case that if he is awake, he is snoring; we assume, but he is awake; we must conclude, therefore, he is not snoring.
But these four conclusions from conflicting statements are understood to fall in the third mode, of which Tullius mentioned three, and one he taught by rule, that which such a proposition produces, which is joined with two affirmations; two by example, namely, that which arises from such a proposition that couples two negations, and that which is produced by a proposition thus connected, which consists of affirmation and negation. He passed over the remaining one, which by the similarity of the others seemed to fall into the third mode of conclusion.
The fourth mode consists in disjunction, this way:
Either it is day, or it is night;
But it is day,
Therefore, it is not night.
The rationale of this is that with the disjunctive statement proposed, the former part of it is assumed by affirmation, so that the latter part may be taken away; for from that proposition which says, either it is day, or it is night, we assume, but it is day, namely affirming it to be day, from which the affirmation of assumption it follows that it is not night.
The fifth mode is when in the same disjunctive proposition, that which is first is assumed by negation, so that what is latter may be inferred, this way either it is day, or it is night, but it is not day, by the assumption, indeed, being made by negation, it follows that it is night.
The sixth and seventh modes are derived from the disjunctive proposition of the fourth and fifth modes, namely, with one negation added, and the disjunctive proposition removed, and a conjunctive added to these propositions which are placed above in the disjunction, this way: not both it is day and it is night. Therefore, in the disjunction it was as either it is day, or it is night. Therefore, from this proposition removed, we added the conjunction, which was disjunctive, and we put forth the negation. And so we made from the parts of the disjunctive proposition coupled, with negation added, the proposition of the sixth and seventh modes, which is, not both it is day and it is night, in which he is assumed to be day, it follows not to be night thus, but it is day, therefore it is not night. The seventh mode is when the first part of the proposition is assumed by negation, so that the latter may follow, this way:
Not both it is day and it is night;
But it is not day,
Therefore, it is night.
And this mode of propositions can be found only in these things, of which one of them either is or is not, as day or night, sickness or health, and whatever does not have a middle.
But how the truth of all conditional syllogisms may be, we have explained very carefully in these books which we have written on hypothetical syllogisms. But now, we have not put forth the more perfect consideration of these things that can be found, but that which could be suitable for explaining the opinion of Marcus Tullius.
Therefore, in order that all that we have said may be briefly gathered, the first mode is whenever in a connected proposition the first is placed as in the proposition, it is assumed, so that the second may follow, this way:
If it is day, it is light,
But it is day,
Therefore, it is light.
The second mode is whenever in a connected proposition the second is assumed contrary to what is placed in the proposition, so that what is first may be taken away, this way:
If it is day, it is light;
But it is not light,
Therefore, it is not day.
The third mode is when the parts of a connected proposition are divided by negation, joined by affirmations, and a negation again is joined to the whole proposition, and that which is first is assumed, just as it is enunciated in the proposition, so that the second may be concluded contrary to what is put forth in the proposition, this way:
Not if it is day, it is not light;
But it is day,
Therefore, it is light.
Therefore, with what preceded being posited, that is, it being day, what followed is reversed, that is, it is not light; for indeed every affirmation reverses a negation, or when the parts of a connected proposition are joined by negations, a negation is taken away from the second part, the whole proposition is denied, and with the first part of the proposition posited, it destroys what follows, this way: not if it is not light, it is day, but it is not light, therefore it is not day; or if the parts of a connected proposition are composed from a negation and an affirmation, a negation is joined to the second part, and that moreover is denied, and that which is first is posited, so that what follows may be taken away, this way: not if it is not day, it is not night but it is not day, therefore it is night; or if in the same proposition, which is coupled from a negation and an affirmation, a negation is subtracted from the first part, and that moreover is denied, and that which is first is posited, so that what follows may be taken away, this way: not if it is day, it is night, but it is day, therefore it is not night; or if in a connected proposition from affirmation and negation coupled, a denial is removed from the latter part, and the whole proposition moreover is denied, and with the first posited, what follows is destroyed, this way: not if he is awake, he is snoring, but he is awake, therefore he is not snoring.
And all these are understood to be in the third mode, and they are made from conflicting statements, and always what precedes is posited, so that what follows may be taken away. For not as with not a conditional proposition because by the negation of conflicting parts it is made true, the first part is posited, whether affirmatively, or negatively, so it is made an assumption. But as the first part was assumed, the remaining contrary statement is concluded. For if the assumption was affirmative, the conclusion will be negative. If the assumption was negative, the conclusion will be affirmative.
The fourth mode is when in a disjunctive proposition the first is posited, so that the second may be taken away, this way:
Either it is day, or it is night;
But it is day,
Therefore, it is not night.
The fifth mode is whenever in a disjunctive proposition what is first is taken away, so that the second may be posited, this way:
Either it is day, or it is night;
But it is not day,
Therefore, it is night.
The sixth mode with those things which can come into a disjunction, that is things contrary or conflicting which lack a middle, a negation is prefixed, and conjunctive connections are added, and what is first is posited, so that what is subsequent may be taken away, this way:
Not both it is day and it is night;
But it is day,
Therefore, it is not night.
The seventh mode is when in the same proposition what precedes is taken away, so that what follows may be posited, this way:
Not both it is day and it is night;
But it is not day,
Therefore, it is night.
With these things having been predicted thus, let us come to the words of Cicero.
“[13.53] Therefore, as this location is distributed in three parts, into the sequence, the antecedence, the contradiction, finding the argument location is simple, but dealing with it is threefold. For what does it matter, when you have assumed this, that money is owed to a woman to whom all the silver has been bequeathed, whether you conclude the argument in this way: if the stamped money is silver, it is bequeathed to the woman. But the stamped money is silver. Therefore, it is bequeathed; or in that way: if the counted money is not bequeathed, the counted money is not silver. But the counted money is silver; therefore, it is bequeathed. Or in that way: neither is the bequeathed silver and the counted money not bequeathed. But the silver is bequeathed; therefore, the counted money is bequeathed?”
We explained earlier that the place which arises from the antecedents, the consequents, and the contradictions seems to be one, and that it is situated in the condition, but is distributed in three parts; and Marcus Tullius more clearly indicates this, saying that indeed the understanding and consideration of it are situated in one condition but are divided into three parts by the argumentation process. He gave examples of this through the first, second, and third modes of hypothetical syllogisms, as we said a little earlier. Since these seem more complicated than they are at first hearing, it seemed necessary to imbue the reader’s mind with clearer examples for a while, so that the understanding, first exercised in easier matters, might weigh the more difficult matters without great effort.
Therefore, argumentation is made from the antecedents, whenever that which precedes is taken by the stated condition of the proposition, so that that which follows may be inferred, in this way: for let it be doubted whether Tullius is an animal, and let it be conceded that Cicero is a man, and let this proposition be valid: if Tullius is a man, he is an animal; man precedes, animal follows; therefore, if I wish to make an argument from the antecedent, I will assume that which precedes, in this way: but Cicero is a man, it follows that Cicero is an animal; and this is the first mode which we mentioned above.
Again, argumentation is made from the consequent whenever in the proposed condition that which follows is taken away by assumption, so that what preceded might be removed, in this way: if Cicero is a man, he is an animal. Man precedes, animal follows. Therefore, if I wish to make an argument from the consequent, I will say, however, he is not an animal, it follows that he is not even a man, but this is clearly false, for it is certain that he is a man, it is therefore false that he is not an animal. Tullius, therefore, is an animal; and this is the second mode of those mentioned above.
But if it is made from the contradictions, namely, in the third mode of the conclusions laid out above, we will do so: not if Tullius is a man, he is not an animal, for it contradicts that he is a man and that he is not an animal; here if we assume that he is a man, we rightly conclude that he is also an animal, in this way: but he is a man, therefore he is an animal, and indeed this mode is converted from that connected proposition, which is composed of two affirmatives.
Therefore, in these three modes, Tullius, who was shown to be a man, is also shown to be an animal: now indeed while we assume that which precedes, that is that he is a man; now however while we deny that which follows in the assumption, that is that he is not an animal; now however by denying the contradiction of those things which are consequent to each other, by positing that which precedes, we have introduced that which follows.
Having thus been foreseen, now let us handle the examples of Marcus Tullius. For when he said that the place is situated in the sequence, the antecedence, and the contradiction, indeed the understanding of finding the argument is simple, but dealing with it is threefold, he added: For what does it matter, when you have assumed for yourself to demonstrate, that counted money is owed to a woman to whom all silver has been bequeathed, whether you prove this from the antecedents, or from the consequents, or from the contradictions? For indeed the same sentence is collected in the conclusion, and the diversity of arguments is not in the matter but is established in the treatment of the antecedents and the consequents and the contradictions.
Therefore, first let it be posited that someone bequeathed all his silver to a woman in his will, and let it be asked whether counted money is also bequeathed to the woman, and let it be conceded that counted money is also called silver, the argument in the first mode from the antecedents is woven together by such reasoning: for we propose thus, if the stamped and counted money is silver, the same stamped and counted money is bequeathed to the woman; here therefore it precedes that the stamped and counted money is silver, it follows that it is bequeathed to the woman; therefore, we assume that which precedes saying: but the stamped and counted money is silver; we conclude that the counted and stamped money is bequeathed to the woman, and the text of the entire argumentation will be this:
If the stamped and counted money is silver, it is bequeathed to the woman;
But the stamped and counted money is silver,
Therefore, it is bequeathed to the woman.
In which if the reader’s mind returns to the frequently mentioned and elucidated examples above, it will not be ignorant that this argumentation is composed in the first mode from the antecedents.
But from the consequents in this way: If counted money is not bequeathed to a woman to whom all silver has been bequeathed, counted money is not silver. Here therefore it precedes that counted money is not bequeathed, when all silver has been bequeathed; it follows that counted money is not silver. Therefore, if we take away that which is later, that is that counted money is not silver, we will say: But counted money is silver, for an affirmation removes a negation. It follows therefore that the preceding part is removed, that which was not to be bequeathed to the woman, counted money, when all silver had been bequeathed to her. But since it is, all negation is consumed by affirmation, and we say in conclusion: Therefore, counted money is bequeathed to the woman, when all silver has been bequeathed to her; and the argumentation will be of this sort:
If the counted money is not bequeathed to the woman, when all silver has been bequeathed to her, the counted money is not silver;
But the counted money is silver,
Therefore, the counted money is bequeathed to the woman, when all silver has been bequeathed to her.
But what Tullius omitted for the sake of brevity, that is, that part of the proposition which says: When all silver has been bequeathed to the woman, we have added for the sake of clearer understanding.
The reader should not be disturbed by the fact that while in the previous examples, in the second method, the assumption was always made through negation, and the conclusion was also introduced through negation, now both the assumption and the conclusion have been made through affirmation. The clearest reason for this is as follows: Because in the previous examples the first proposition was composed of affirmations, and in the second method, the assumption took away and destroyed what followed and preceded, it was necessary that the double affirmation be consumed by a double negation in this way: ‘If it is day, it is light,’ both of these are constituted from affirmation. So, in order that the later part, that is ‘it is light,’ which is an affirmation, be destroyed, it must be denied. I will say therefore, ‘But it is not light,’ which causes us also to remove the preceding part, that is ‘it is day,’ which it is clear is an affirmation, by negation, concluding, ‘Therefore it is not day.’ But in this example from Cicero, both parts of the first and hypothetical proposition were expressed with negations, which in the assumption or confusion are removed by nothing other than affirmations, in this way. For this is Cicero’s example: ‘If money has not been counted out to the woman as a legacy, silver is not counted money,’ do you see that both are negations? For both ‘money not being counted out to the woman as a legacy,’ and ‘silver not being counted money,’ both are put in the negative; so if the following part of the proposition, because it is a negation, ‘silver not being counted money,’ is to be removed by assumption, it must be said that ‘silver is counted money;’ and if in the conclusion the preceding part is to be removed, that which is a negation, that is ‘money not being counted out to the woman as a legacy,’ it must be said: ‘Therefore money counted out as a legacy to the woman is.’ And indeed, the second method properly made from consequences is of this sort.
However, it should be noted more carefully. That earlier M. Tullius, when he was briefly arranging examples of all the Topics, subjected an inappropriate example to the second mode of conditional syllogisms of this Topic, which is drawn from consequences, and it rather fits the first mode because it does not make the conclusion from the consequences but from the antecedents. For thus indeed he put it from the consequences: ‘If the woman has been married with the man with whom the right of marriage had not been conceded, she sent back the messenger, because those who were born do not follow the father, it is not necessary for them to remain as children.’ Therefore, when it is being asked whether a part of the dowry should remain with the man, what precedes is assumed, so that the conclusion may be valid in this way: ‘But the woman has been married with him with whom there was not the right of marriage,’ it is concluded: ‘Therefore since those who were born do not follow the father, it is not necessary for them to remain as children,’ and so it is not an argument from the consequences, because what followed was not assumed but what preceded. For indeed, what preceded was, the woman being married apart from the right of marriage; what followed was, since the sons were not following the father, nothing should be retained for them from the dowry. Thus indeed Tullius gave an example for what is an argument from the consequences, more so from the antecedents.
However, an argument can be made from the consequences, if what is being asked is put first, and what is to be assumed; is last, in this way: ‘If something from the dowry should remain for the children, because the children follow the father, the woman has been married with the man with whom there was the right of marriage.’ Therefore, I take what follows through negation, thus: ‘But the woman has not been married with the man with whom there was the right of marriage,’ and therefore, ‘those who were born, do not follow the father.’ Therefore what had preceded in the proposition is destroyed in the conclusion. Thus indeed, ‘it is not necessary for anything to remain for the children.’
But let this be enough about the second method, for I believe that nothing has been left out.
The third method from contradictions is clearly this way: ‘Not all legacy is silver, and money has not been counted out as a legacy to the woman.’ For indeed, what followed was: ‘If all the legacy were silver, then counted money would have been left as a legacy;’ so that a contradiction might be made, a negation has been interposed to this consequence, and it was said, ‘if all the legacy were silver, counted money is not a legacy;’ which because it conflicts and is false, it is brought back to truth by another negation thus: ‘Not if a legacy is silver, is counted money not a legacy,’ so as to agree with that affirmation which says, ‘if a legacy is silver, counted money is a legacy.’ Therefore, we assume to this proposition that all legacy is silver, and it follows that all is counted money as a legacy to the woman, so that the form of this argument is thus:
Not if a legacy is silver, is not counted money a legacy;
But a legacy is silver,
Therefore, counted money is a legacy.
But M. Tullius has formed the proposition thus: ‘Not all legacy is silver, and counted money is not a legacy.’ But we have added the conditional conjunction ‘if,’ in order to show that such a proposition would be of this kind. For indeed it is made contradictory by adding a negation from the consequent connection. But no conjunction could show as equally that it was a connection, although the connective conjunction does the same. For what are connected are also understood to be joined, from what we said a little earlier, that the argument came from that proposition which was joined by two affirmations, and furthermore was denied by a joined negation.
In all therefore, it has been proved that counted money ought to be owed to the woman, since all silver is a legacy. But now indeed from the propositions mentioned above, we have assumed what preceded; but now, what followed; but now, what was contradictory. And about explaining Cicero’s examples, I believe, is enough.
But this can raise a doubt: for if anyone less shrewd looks at Cicero’s examples, they will think that the same Topic is from the genus, which we have said is from the antecedents, and the consequences, and the contradictions; with this false error, that in both Topics Cicero uses the same example, namely of silver and of counted money. But looking more closely, they will see different treatments of the arguments in the same matters. For indeed it is one thing to say, when the species of silver is counted; money, if the genus is a legacy, and the species is also a legacy, since the species is never separated from the genus, another is to propose enumeration in the condition, and to form the argument with the same parts assumed by various reasoning, as was shown above, especially since such arguments from consequences, antecedents and contradictions, can also be made apart from genera and species, as we indicated above in day and light. For neither day nor light is a species or a genus. But this alone should be considered in these, because if one is posited, the other necessarily follows. Therefore, the Topics from the genus or from the species differ from that Topic which is established in condition, since those are derived from the consideration of the universality of species and part, this however is handled in the order of consequence and contradiction.
After this, therefore, Tullius counts the methods and conclusions of hypothetical syllogisms in this way:
Dialecticians call that conclusion of an argument in which, when you have first assumed something, it follows what was appended, the first mode of conclusion; when you deny what was appended so that what it was appended to is also to be denied, it is called the second mode of concluding; however, when you deny some things that are connected and from them take one or more so that what remains must be removed, it is called the third mode of conclusion.
From this, those conclusions by the rhetoricians are derived from contraries, which they themselves call enthymemes; not because every sentence is not called an enthymeme by its proper name, but as Homer makes the common name of poets his own among the Greeks due to his excellence, so when every sentence is called an enthymeme because it seems that what is constructed from contraries is sharpest, only it properly possesses the common name. Examples of this kind are:
To fear this one, but not place the other in fear!
You condemn her whom you accuse of nothing, well whom you believe to have deserved!
To deserve ill? What you know helps nothing; what you do not know hurts?
This kind of argument touches on your debates in response as well, but more so those of philosophers, who have that from conflicting opinions with the orators; a common conclusion that is called the third mode by the dialecticians, enthymeme by the rhetoricians. There are more modes of the dialecticians, which consist of disjunctions: either this or that; however this; therefore not that. Similarly: either this or that; but not this; therefore that. These conclusions are considered valid because more than one truth cannot exist in a disjunction.
And from these conclusions, which I wrote above, the first is called the fourth mode by the dialecticians, the latter the fifth. Then they add the denial of conjunctions thus: not both this and that; however this; therefore not that. This mode is the sixth. The seventh, however: not both this and that; but not this; therefore that. From these modes, countless conclusions arise, in which almost all of dialectics lies. But not even these which I have explained are necessary for this instruction.
Although we have discussed everything above in many ways, and a dispute repeated so many times does not need an explanation, it will be worthwhile if I interpose the moderate light of commentary in the words of M. Tullius as briefly as I can. Therefore, while counting seven hypothetical modes, he says that in connected propositions, when what is first is assumed in order to show the second, this is called the first mode by the dialecticians, in this way: If this is, that is; what it says is this, the first, but what it says is that, the second. Therefore, what is first is assumed, indeed this is; it is therefore concluded what is the second, that therefore is, like in these examples again: if a man is, an animal is, it is assumed, indeed a man is, it is concluded, therefore an animal is.
But Tullius says that the second mode is a connected proposition, in which if the second is denied, it follows that what is first is also denied in this way:
If this is, that is; However, that is not, Therefore this is not either.
In examples like this: if a man is, an animal is; however, an animal is not, therefore a man containing 13964 characters.
Furthermore, he states that there are many more dialectical modes which are derived from disjunctions. These are typically presented in the following forms: ‘either this or that; this then; not therefore that.’ And similarly: ‘either this or that; not this; therefore that.’ These conclusions are certain because more than one truth cannot exist in a disjunction.
From these conclusions, those previously described are known as the fourth mode and the fifth mode, respectively, by dialecticians. Then, they add the negation of conjunctions in the following way: ‘not both this and that; this then; not therefore that.’ This mode is the sixth. The seventh mode is: ‘not both this and that; not this; therefore that.’ Countless conclusions arise from these modes, and nearly all of dialectics is encompassed in this.
Even though we’ve expounded on everything above in multiple ways, and this argument doesn’t need repeating so often, it will still be worthwhile if I insert some moderate light of commentary into Cicero’s words as briefly as possible. He counts seven hypothetical modes and says that when in a connected proposition what is first is assumed, in order to show the second, this is called the first mode by dialecticians, in the following way: ‘if this is, that is.’ What he calls ‘this’ is the first, and what he says ‘that’ is the second. Therefore, what is first is assumed, it is this, and so the conclusion is that what is second is, that therefore is, as in these following examples: ‘if a man is, an animal is.’ It is assumed, a man is indeed, it concludes, therefore an animal is.
But Cicero says the second mode is woven with connected propositions, in which if the second is denied, it follows that even what is first is denied, in this way:
If this is, that is; But that is not, Therefore this is not either.
In the examples like this: ‘if a man is, an animal is; but an animal is not, therefore a man is not.’ But Cicero said it in this way, when what is connected is denied, so that which it is connected to must also be denied, it is the second mode, as though a connected proposition joins affirmative parts; it would more universally correctly be said that when what is connected, that is the second, is destroyed, what it is connected to, that is the first, is also destroyed. As if what is connected is affirmative, it is destroyed by negation; but if it is negative, it is destroyed by affirmation; and the same applies to that which it is connected to, that is the first. It is just as if in the connected proposition it is affirmed, it is denied in the conclusion, according to the present example proposed by Cicero; but if the earlier part of the proposition is negative, it is removed in the conclusion by the opposite affirmation.
Cicero also says that the third mode is when what is connected is denied, and another negation is again joined to these, so because an animal is connected to a man, we say: ‘neither is it a man and not an animal,’ and from these one is set down, so what remains is removed, in this way: We assert that a man is, saying: ‘but a man is;’ therefore what remains, is not an animal, it is removed, and it concludes, therefore an animal is. The argument proceeds in this way:
Neither is it a man and not an animal; But a man is, Therefore an animal is.
He says that from these are born enthymemes, inferred from opposites, which rhetoricians.EXIT(edited)…
The third mode, according to Cicero, occurs when connected propositions are denied, and another denial is again joined to them, such as: “It is not both the case that this is a man and this is not an animal,” and from these one is asserted, such as: “It is the case that this is a man,” what then remains, “this is not an animal,” is removed, and it is concluded, “therefore this is an animal.” The argument is made in this way:
Not both this is a man and this is not an animal; But this is a man, Therefore, this is an animal.
From these, he says, are derived ‘enthymemes’ drawn from opposites, which rhetoricians often use. And these are called ‘enthymemes’, not because every invention cannot be named with the same name (for an ‘enthymeme’ is a conception of the mind, which can agree with all inventions), but because these inferences, which are briefly collected from opposites, are most acute. Because of the excellence and appearance of the invention, the common name of the ‘enthymeme’ has become its own, so that these are called ‘enthymemes’ by rhetoricians as if by their proper name. Just as among the Greeks also, the poet Homer is so often mentioned, and anyone who brings something forth from Homer is accustomed to say: “The poet has spoken this verse,” and then no other is understood except Homer, not because others are not poets but because the excellence of this one has turned the common name into a proper one. These ‘enthymemes’, however, are made in this way, namely woven from opposites:
To fear this one, not to place the other in fear.
(As if it were said about Lentulus and Cethegus, among others)
You fear killing a few citizens, you do not care at all about the death of the Republic.
Indeed, it is connected in this way that whoever does not want to kill a few citizens, much more does not want the Republic to be extinguished.
When a negation is inserted among these, an argument arises from contradictions. But Cicero stated this briefly; but let us reduce the argument to a syllogism, namely from contradictions, from which ‘enthymemes’ usually arise, in this way: Let it be connected, if someone fears a few citizens being killed, he fears the destruction of the Republic. Here a negation is inserted in this way: If someone fears a few citizens being killed, he does not fear the destruction of the Republic. Another negation is joined: Not if someone fears a few citizens being killed, he does not fear the destruction of the Republic. These two negations are parts of one affirmative statement, which says: If someone fears this, he also fears that, of which the assumption indeed is, but he fears this, the conclusion follows, therefore he also fears that, which is equivalent if it is asked negatively in this way: you fear this, you do not fear that. But because not the whole (as we have posited above) syllogism is put in these arguments but only the proposition, of which the assumption and conclusion are known, it is therefore called an ‘enthymeme’, as if it were a brief conception of the mind. And the same mode is in the other examples.
But indeed, this analogy of Cicero’s is understood to contain an argument not so much from inconsistent statements as from contrary ones. For to fear and not to fear are contraries, unless the very utterance of these words retracts the argument from contraries to inconsistency. For saying that one person fears, another is not in fear, seems such that they appear to be inconsistent. Indeed, to fear and not to fear are contraries. However, not to be in fear, and to fear, are understood as much from the contraries as from the inconsistencies themselves, although the same is proven to be the sentiment.
To these he added further examples.
“You condemn the one whom you accuse of nothing.” The full syllogism of this enthymeme is as follows:
If you accuse of nothing, you do not condemn;
But you accuse of nothing,
Therefore, you do not condemn.
So this argument comes from that connected proposition, which is composed of two negatives, thus: if you accuse of nothing, you do not condemn; and the negation is removed from the latter part, and also the whole proposition is denied in this way, if you accuse of nothing, you do not condemn, and from this an argument is made, which, being placed in a question, makes an enthymeme, in this way: do you condemn her, whom you say deserves well, to deserve ill?
The argument of this enthymeme is also as follows:
You do not both assert that she deserves well and deserves ill;
But you assert that she deserves well,
Therefore, she does not deserve ill.
This enthymeme pertains to that connected proposition, which consists of an affirmation and a denial, thus: if you assert that she deserves well, she does not deserve ill. From which the negation being removed from the latter part, and the whole proposition being denied, the proposition will be: not if you assert that she deserves well, does she deserve ill; which being deducted into a question, makes an enthymeme: do you assert that she, whom you say deserves well, deserves ill?
Again: “What you know is helpful, does what you don’t know harm?” This enthymeme also is tied to a syllogism in this way:
Not both what you know is helpful, and what you don’t know is not harmful;
But what you know is helpful,
Therefore, what you don’t know is harmful.
This argument is composed from that proposition, which, having two affirmations connected, receives a middle negation and is furthermore denied. This being questioned makes an enthymeme in this way: “What you know is helpful, does what you don’t know not harm?”
The sentiment of all the above examples is this. For whoever does not accuse someone, cannot rightly condemn them; and for the one whom you assert deserves well, it is shameful to deserve ill; and if what someone knows benefits the case, it will be harmful if the opposite of what they don’t know exists. He says that this place is common to orators and philosophers but that it is called the third mode among them, and among rhetoricians, however, it is called an enthymeme.
The remaining modes, he says, are numerous, for having enumerated three above, he now adds four more, making more in total. These are constituted in disjunctions in this way:
Either this or that;
But this,
Therefore, not that.
This is the fourth mode also proposed by us like this:
Either it is day or it is night;
But it is day,
Therefore, it is not night.
And always in Cicero’s words, ‘this’ refers to the preceding; but ‘that’ to the following, whether in unconnected propositions or in disjunctives.
Also:
Either this or that
But not this, Therefore, that.
This also is the fifth mode, as in these examples:
Either it is day or it is night;
But it is not day,
Therefore, it is night.
Of which conclusions, he says necessity arises, because those placed in disjunction, do not seem to admit a middle, so that it could be something else besides either of them, and therefore with one removed the other is concluded to exist, and with one posited the other is concluded not to exist. But if there is a middle, which could exist apart from either, neither is the proposition true, nor is the conclusion valid, as in these, either it is white, or it is black, this is false. For it can be red apart from these. But if we posit it to be white or remove it, there will not be non-existence or existence of black, because what is red can be in the middle.
Then, says Tullius, they add the denial of conjunctions, in disjunctive propositions, namely, in this way:
Not both this and that;
But this,
Therefore, not that.
The same is:
It is not both night and day;
But it is night,
Therefore, it is not day.
Therefore, this sixth mode was predicted.
The seventh, however, comes from the same proposition, in this way:
Not both this and that;
But not this,
Therefore, that
like if we say:
It is not both night and day;
But it is not night,
Therefore, it is day.
These propositions, unless in things disjunctive and lacking a middle, will not be able to have a valid conclusion. For let’s say, not both white and black, and let’s posit not being white, it does not follow that it is black, for it can be what is in the middle. Therefore, if this type of proposition through the denial of conjunctions (as Tullius says) is going to make valid conclusions, it should be adapted in things disjunctive and lacking a middle, otherwise, there will not be a valid conclusion.
But the proposition of the third mode differs from the proposition of the sixth and seventh, because the proposition of the third mode arises from connected things. But these of the sixth and seventh exist from disjunctive terms, as is evident in the above examples.
From these modes, he says, countless conclusions are born, for each of these modes can be adapted to infinite conclusions, like the first and second in all things that are connected to each other, the number of which is infinite if someone wants to follow through; also, the multitude of inconsistencies is infinite, in which the third mode is useful; also, there are more disjunctives in which the fourth, and fifth, and sixth, and seventh have the most power. And in these, he says, there is almost all dialectic but for topical places the first three modes are necessary, which maintain precedence, sequence and inconsistency. However, the remaining ones seem to have been added more for the sake of completing the discussion than because they were necessary for this instruction.
[14.58] The next place belongs to the efficient causes; these are called causes, then to the effects produced by efficient causes. I have already put examples of these, as of the remaining places, a little earlier, indeed from civil law; but these are more broadly evident.
[15.58] For there are two kinds of causes; one which by its own force certainly effects that which is subjected to its force, like fire ignites; the other, which does not have the nature of causing, but without which it cannot be caused, as if someone wants to say the cause of a statue is bronze, without which it cannot be created.
[15.59] Of this kind of causes, without which it does not get made, some are passive, doing nothing, somewhat dull, such as place, time, matter, tools and the like of the same kind; others on the other hand bring some kind of precursor to cause and bring some things by themselves to help, even if not necessary, as: the meeting brought about love, love brought about disgrace. From this type of cause depending on eternity, the Stoics weave fate. And just as the kinds of causes without which nothing can be caused are divided, so too can the efficient causes be divided. For there are other causes which plainly cause with nothing assisting, others which want to be helped, as: wisdom makes the wise by itself alone; whether it can make them happy by itself is the question.
Following the place that is established in the condition, the next one was considered from the causes; after this, the place that provides arguments, placed in the effects of causes, is listed. Cicero gave examples of these above, now he discusses their reason more broadly.
Therefore, while Aristotle posited four causes by which anything is made: the first, which is the principle of movement; the second, from which something is made, which he calls matter; the third, the pattern and form by which anything is shaped; the fourth, the end for which anything is made, yet Cicero makes the main division of causes into those that cause something and those without which it can’t be caused, so that what causes is referred to that cause in which the principle of motion is established, and that without which nothing is made, is then transferred to the understanding of the matter, or of those things that are joined to the matter of the efficient cause, which help the capacity to act, is led to the remaining causes, as will be apparent a little later.
Therefore, he proposes this kind of cause, which by its force causes what is subject to it, as an example, like fire ignites: for the cause of the ignition itself is fire, and it can cause that, and moves and changes what is ignited. But he describes that cause, without which what is to be made can’t be made, from one part of it, as when he says bronze is the cause of a statue, without which a statue can’t exist: for this, as will become clear through making a division, is not that very cause without which it is not made but will be shown to be a part of it.
However, he divides that cause without which what is to be made can’t be made, in this way: for some are indeed passive, doing nothing but rather dull in a way, and by themselves, unless extra motion of acting comes in, immovable: examples of these are, like place, time, matter, tool. For everything that is made, a place and a time must exist to have a subject, in which unless something is made, the place itself is immovable, for explaining something. Similarly, matter and tools, unless they are moved by the hand of a craftsman, they themselves naturally have done nothing. Time too is subjected to operation, which if it is lacking, it itself has achieved nothing by the reason of its own nature. And these indeed are causes, although they do nothing, yet if efficient action comes upon them, they are causes.
There are also other ones which, when placed in motion, seem to bring a kind of precursor to efficiency and preparation, like the cause of love is the meeting, which preceded, and the love of disgrace. From these causes, he says, the Stoic discussion connects fate. For they say fate is a certain entanglement and continuity, in the manner of a chain, of preceding and subsequent causes, this way: Therefore he went abroad, because he couldn’t bear the anger of his parents; therefore he couldn’t bear the succession of the anger of his parents, because he was held by the love of a girlfriend, therefore he loved, because he had often met before; therefore he met, because something preceded so he would meet. Therefore, by the order of preceding and subsequent things, fate (as he says) is woven by the Stoics.
Similarly, he divides that cause which by its force causes something into that which is sufficient to cause for itself, and that which needs external support for causing. Therefore, the cause is sufficient for itself to cause, as wisdom usually makes wise ones by itself alone without any help at all. But whether this alone can make happy, is asked whether there need to be things added externally which help, or good things of fortune, or of the body, and so that cause which by its force causes something, either is such, that there need to be no things sought externally added to it, like certain tools for a craftsman, by which he would explain and shape what is to be caused.
However, of all those things which Cicero established in one or the other division of causes, indeed those which by their force explain the things of which they are causes, everything both able to cause by themselves, and needing sought external support, will be placed in that Aristotelian division of causes, which is the principle of motion. Although the example of wisdom does not belong to such a cause but rather aims for the pattern and form. For wisdom by a certain pattern and form makes wise ones. But of that cause which Cicero mentions, without which nothing is made, matter indeed, time and place, that is, from which it is made, or in which it is made, which are the efficient substance of nature: so that they may be understood in one understanding, they are either matter, or put in the place of matter; however, tools are to that cause which looks to the end but not the end itself, because it is not the end that looks to tools but these to the end. For tools are prepared for some end.
But it might seem strange why he didn’t number the meeting as a cause of love among those which have the force of causing but placed it among those causes, without which it can’t be caused, when however it does something and moves. For the meeting itself seems to cause something, and is similar to that cause which indeed has the force of causing but can’t without help, like when it’s asked about wisdom whether alone it can make happy. But Merobaudes the rhetor discussed this way, those causes, which have the force of causing, have that capacity, that even if they need external support, the effect however of them looks to what is to be caused. But in these causes which are precursors, even if something exists having preceded them, however not what is understood to exist principally does the precursor work. But that indeed runs ahead as if under a certain occasion, but that thing which is said to exist, other things working, is born, like in a meeting it only happens to be. For perhaps not for love does someone meet but having preceded the meeting love exists, which the meeting did not principally aim for. Therefore, because love could not exist without the meeting, the meeting seems to have been rightly placed among those causes without which it is not caused; because however it does not cause by its force, since it does not principally look to cause but only exists before something, it is rightly placed among precursor, and not among efficient causes.
[15.60] Therefore, when in an argument the effective cause necessarily falls, it is undoubtedly permissible to infer the outcome from that cause.
[16.60] But when there is such a cause that there is no need for its effectiveness, a necessary conclusion does not follow. And indeed, that kind of cause which has the force to necessarily cause usually does not tend to bring error; however, that which does not happen without often disturbs. For just because without parents, children cannot exist, it does not follow that the cause of birth was necessary in the parents.
[16.61] Therefore, this ‘without which it does not happen,’ must be diligently separated from that ‘in which it certainly happens.’ For the former is like:
I wish it hadn’t been in the Pelian grove –
Unless ‘fir beams had fallen to the ground,’ that Argo would not have been made, yet the force to cause was not necessary in those beams. But when a fiery thunderbolt, curling with fire, was thrown into Ajax’s ship, the ship is necessarily set aflame.
First indeed, the division of causes, according to Cicero, was between those which cause something, and those without which it could not be caused. That which causes, he also divided into two parts, namely into that which holds the necessary force to cause something, and needs no external aid, and into that which could not work and cause without those aids. And first, he speaks of the cause which holds the force to cause; for that part of it which has the necessity of causing, immediately brings along with it a conclusion; for once the cause is stated, which necessarily causes something, it is also inferred that the effect also must exist. For example, if someone says that the sun was present, he will also show that light was present, or when we say to someone that wisdom was there, we must admit that a wise man also existed.
But in those causes which need external aids to cause, the case is not the same; for just as each cause of this kind is stated, so it does not follow that the effect must exist. For such a cause does not necessarily cause what it intends, unless it is helped by external aids; the same applies to the cause which does not have the force to cause, but without which the effect does not occur. For, as Cicero also mentions, it exerts no necessity in causing things, and therefore once the cause is stated, the effect does not immediately follow. For just because there was intercourse, it doesn’t immediately follow that he loved, nor if there was bronze, it does not necessarily follow that there was also a statue.
From which the division of other causes arises. For some causes are necessary, others are not. Of the non-necessary ones, some are effective, others are without which nothing happens. However, the conclusion of the necessary causes usually does not disturb: for as soon as this cause is stated, the effect immediately follows in the conclusion. The non-necessary ones, which are partly effective, what now remained silent but a little while ago was predicted, do not have a following conclusion of the caused thing. For just because there are no children without parents, it does not follow that the cause of causing was necessary in the parents, when we see that it is possible in humans not to procreate. But the cause which itself does not cause but without which it cannot be caused, is of such a kind as is declared in the verse of Ennius: “Unless fir beams had fallen to the ground, that argo would not have been made.” For the Argo was made from the beams, but there was no necessity in the beams, that a ship should be made from them; but that cause which is effective, and which contains in itself its necessity, is such a thing. For example, “when a fiery thunderbolt, curling with fire, was thrown into ajax’s ship”, the ship had to be immediately set on fire, because fire is a necessary cause of burning.
The sense is indeed of this kind, but the order is a bit more confused, for he says in this way:
“That kind of causes which has the power to necessarily bring about an effect usually does not cause errors; however, that without which it is not done often causes confusion.”
After he said this, and he should have set an example of either or both, he gave an example suitable to neither by analogy. For when he had put forward either the necessary effective cause, or that without which it is not done, he set an example of that cause, which indeed effects something but not without external aids, in this way:
“For not if without parents children cannot be, therefore the cause was in the parents for necessary generation.”
For parents and especially of the male sex, are the efficient cause, but not without the female, that is, not without some kind of material, and this is the cause without which it cannot be done, although it itself does not have the power to effect.
And so, he set neither the example of the necessary and efficient cause, nor that without which nothing can be done but indeed of the efficient cause, not, however, necessary but it seems he kept silent in the proposition, that of which he set an example; for thus it could have been more clearly said:
“That kind of causes which has the power to necessarily bring about an effect usually does not cause errors; but this one which does not have the necessary power to effect; or this without which it is not done often causes confusion.”
And so it must be understood as though it has been said in this way; for he set no example of the necessary cause. But what he added, suits both causes, later enumerated, both efficient not necessary, and that without which nothing is done. For parents, both male and female, are said to be such, of which indeed the male sex is the cause which effects but not necessary. However, the female sex is that which does not effect but without which it cannot be done.
And so, causes must be distinguished and necessity must be thoroughly understood, and not every cause must be presupposed so that the effect may follow, but only that in which there is the necessity of effecting, even if external aids are lacking.
[16.62] “And there is also a difference of causes, in that some are such as to effect their work, as it were, without any desire of the mind, without will, without opinion, or so that everything that has arisen may perish; but others either effect by will, or by disturbance of the mind, or by habit, or by nature, or by art, or by chance: by will, as you, when you read this book; by disturbance, as if someone fears the outcome of these times; by habit, as he who gets angry quickly and easily; by nature, as a fault grows daily; by art, as he paints well; by chance, as he sails prosperously. Nothing of these is without a cause nor anything at all; but such causes are not necessary.”
He again makes another division of causes in this way: "For there are some causes which by some power of their own, without desire, without will, without opinion, maintain the same order in effecting things, as is the case with all things that have arisen to perish. For because it has arisen, therefore it must also cease to be, yet it does not effect that the rest perish, either by some desire, or by will or opinion; but it is so from the eternal condition of things, that whatever has arisen, because it has begun to be, must sometime also cease to be. Likewise, there are other causes which either consist in will, or in disturbance of the mind, or in habit, or in nature, or in art or by chance. By will, as if someone asks why Trebatius reads the book, the answer will be, because there is a desire to read. By disturbance of mind, as if someone turns pale from fear, or flees the city, disturbed by civil wars. By habit, as if Trebatius, therefore, easily answers about legal matters, because he maintains a steady habit of civil knowledge by much use, or if someone gets angry easily, because his mind is carried away by the habit of anger. By nature, as if someone is said to get angry because he is naturally irritable, a fault that grows daily. By art, as if someone paints well because it is proposed that he is skilled in that art. By chance, as things that are in no way in our power, yet happen, especially at a certain time, like successful sailing. And of all these, nothing is devoid of a cause, nor is there anything in things that is not accomplished by some cause. For everything that happens has some reason why it has happened, which if someone can render, he will also have rendered the cause. For that is the cause for which each thing happens.
But all causes which are understood either from will, or from disturbance of mind, belong to that cause which is the principle of motion, as we said in the Aristotelian division. For these are the principle of motion in order for something to be done, but in art, or habit, or nature, that cause is, which consists in reason. For the form and the reason of each thing to be done is in art and habit and nature. However, chance is an external cause, and is not counted among the principal causes according to Aristotle. But according to M. Tullius, chance is a hidden cause of a thing done; what kind it is will be designated a little later.
[16.63] However, in all causes, some possess constancy, others do not. In nature and art, there is constancy, in others, there is none.
[17.63] But still, among those causes which are not constant, some are clear, others are hidden. Clear ones are those which affect the mind’s desire and judgement; hidden ones are those subjected to fortune. For nothing happens without a cause, this very thing is the event of fortune; the cause is obscure and happens in secret. Also, the things that happen are partly unknown, partly voluntary; unknown, those which are brought about by necessity; voluntary, those which are decided by counsel.
[17.64] But those things [which are due to] fortune, whether unknown or voluntary. For throwing a missile is an act of will, hitting someone you did not intend is due to fortune. From this arises that situation in your actions: if the missile escaped from your hand more than it was thrown. Disturbances of the mind also fall into ignorance and imprudence; although they are voluntary - for they are cast down by rebuke and admonition - they have such a strong impulse that those things which are voluntary sometimes seem necessary, or at least, unknown.
Again, he presents another clear and evident division of causes. For some causes are constant, others indeed are inconstant. Constant ones are those whose effects are not likely to change; on the contrary, inconstant ones are those which are easily changed and moved around.
Therefore, everything that derives from nature and art is constant. Indeed, nature and art always carry out their work, unless the uncertainty of the subjected material interferes. For the fact that one and the same craftsman often forms dissimilar statues from the same material is not a variation in art, but rather in the craftsman’s hand, which cannot achieve the perfection of art, and in the material itself, which does not yield evenly to the shaping and form. The same is true in nature, it keeps its constancy when it forms a human from a human. Thus, it produces similar things from similar ones in other cases: but when something monstrous is produced, it is attributed more to the defect of the material, from which nature could not express that which it aimed to produce as intended.
But among the constant causes, ‘habit’ should also have been added; for what is affected by anyone’s habit is constant, and not usually subject to change; for this reason, it is called ‘habit’, because through the duration of possessing, it turns into a likeness of nature. But perhaps Cicero saw that nature and art, not so much in their effects as in their own reason, are understood to be constant, to such an extent that whatever art and nature fail to do is usually attributed to the material, while habit itself is collected through a certain custom, which does not create anything by reason and its own constancy but by use, and for this reason, perhaps, he separated habit, which seemed to be more constant among other things than art and nature, from the constant causes.
But those things which are not constant, he divided into those which are clear, and into those which are hidden. Clear ones are those which have originated from any movement of the soul, or desire, or the reasoning of judgement; hidden ones are those which are subjected to fortune. For the mind does not ignore in which direction it leans, which although it has some judgement of the good, never leaves the notion of that thing which it affects, except for those who are completely captivated by the mind, and in whom there is now no will, nor is it known to exist, which are done from the will or judgement of the soul. But fortune and chance are always unknown. Its nature is as uncertain as those things which happen by these very chances.
But Marcus Tullius defines chance as an event effected by hidden causes; which does not seem to be a complete definition: for what if it still remained hidden by which causes the eclipse of the sun or moon occurred, would they therefore happen by chance and fortune, which are managed by the constant movements of the sky? Or would chance indeed be considered by those who could not discover the reason for the eclipse, but when considered in itself, in no way would it be chance. But Marcus Tullius showed not what would seem to be chance to those who least understood its nature, but what was indeed the event of fortune by the reason of the definition. Cicero thus concludes that chance is an event with hidden causes: since everything happens for certain causes, the reason for which is known, it is shown that the events of those things cannot happen by chance but are thought to happen by chance, those things for which no reason for the cause is known. From which it happens that it is the event of fortune, which is brought about by hidden causes. Therefore, he places constancy in the things themselves, but measures chance not by the thing but by opinion. So that if someone removes the cause differently made, what happens is not an event of fortune, but it is the same for another event of fortune, if the other ignores the reason. But when he says that all things have causes, he does not determine what kind, and therefore he does not show about fortune itself, what kind of event the cause is.
Let not the savage minds of men mark me for arrogance, as if I am challenging the thoughts of Cicero with a calculated authority, when against them, if anything seems amiss, I balance it with ideas not our own but drawn from the most ancient. But even if we were to state our own views, it would still befit them not to consider the age of the persons but the reasoning of what is opposed, and not to hate more those things which are said against men of great name, than to refute the opposing, if they can, by counter-argument. For if they are overly pleased with Marcus Tullius in the definition of things, what is the spite for us also to approve the reasoning of Aristotle?
If those who are most troubling continue to be excessively so, let them hear Marcus Tullius in the second book of the Tusculan Disputations, encouraging them instead and calling them to a [1152B] contest in this way:
“But yet, we are so far from not wanting our views to be written against, that we even desire it most of all. For Greek philosophy would never have gained such esteem, if it had not grown through the debates and disputes of the most learned; therefore I encourage all those who can do this, to snatch the glory of this kind from a Greece that is now languishing, and to transfer it to this city, just as our ancestors transferred all the other things, which were indeed desirable, by their own zeal and hard work.”
And again, we who follow probable arguments and can never proceed beyond what seems plausible, are prepared both to be refuted without stubbornness and to refute without anger. Therefore, why on earth is there any reason to twist the will and judgement of M. Tullius himself, when they are leaning on his opinions and [1152C] authority against us?
But if anyone should have leisure to examine our commentaries, let him know that we have taken note of these points from the second volume of Aristotle’s Physics, which, although they touch on the discussions of a higher philosophy, it is not nevertheless to be begrudged to our studies if we also mix in them the debates of rhetoric and dialectic, which concern deeper aspects of nature. It is not fitting that our minds should become slack and weary, which the very ambiguity of things and the knowledge of various speculations should make more attentive and vigorous, especially since the nature of books is such, that it holds those who are eager to read, but does not compel anyone who is lazy. Let us therefore discuss what is the outcome of fortune, or of what things chance is said to be the cause.
Therefore, all things are either immutably and always, like the sun rising; or more often, like a horse being born with four feet; or rarely, like if a horse should be produced with five or three feet; or equally, like in things where there is no difference in the making, to which we rather direct our will. And indeed, what always happens, has no opposite that happens in any other way; but what often happens has an opposite, what happens rarely; for it would not happen more often and not always, unless something different, though rare, would sometimes occur. Therefore, what happens by chance, is not in things that are eternal; for who would say that the sun rises by chance? Nor even in those things which happen more frequently; for no one would say by chance that a horse is a quadruped. Nor truly in those things which are accustomed to happen equally; for what are voluntary do not seem to be by chance. It remains, therefore [1153A], that the outcome of fortune is in those things which happen more rarely. Of the things that happen, some aim at some end, others not at all.
For who could be the end, if I stretch out my hand, if I fold my knees, and lift something lying on the ground, which I apply to no uses? But indeed those things which look to some end are partly of the will, partly of nature. Of the will, as if someone goes out from home in order to see a friend. Of nature, as is the case with animals. Everything that happens from it looks to the certain advantage of the animal, and for its health and preservation, all the movements of its limbs are arranged. So we posit chance and random events in those things which happen less often, even though they occur by accident in those things which happen for some reason.
For example, if someone left home to see a friend and was hit by a stone falling from above while passing by, that which happened should be placed in the rarer cause, but there was an addition to his will, which looked to a certain end. Indeed, the reason for leaving the house was to see a friend. Again, because it is natural for fallen things to be heavy, and heaviness seeks the earth, the fall of the stone happened naturally for some reason; for this was the tendency of the stone’s nature, that the weight coming into its own place might rest. But to this natural intention there occurred what happens less often, namely that it hit the head; so it happens according to Aristotle that fortune or chance is the accidental cause of rarer events in those things which happen for some reason. Given these things, and given that Aristotle’s definition differs greatly from Cicero’s, it is agreed in both that that which is subject to fortune is always exposed to uncertain chances. For although fortune often tests its acts in these things which are of the will, and refer to some end, what belongs to fortune happens outside of them, and did not come from the goal which the mind had foreseen.
But when Cicero divided causes into those which are clear and those which are hidden, and said that those which are clear are those which touch the mind’s desire and judgement, it is clear that he places either art, or will, or disturbance, or habit in those causes which are clear; for indeed the will and mental disturbance are placed in desire, for we often desire something out of disturbance, but art or habit in judgement; for by art we judge, and habit pertains to both: for custom provides our desires, and a certain consistency in judgement comes about through much use and skill. He placed chance in things which are not clear.
About nature it is uncertain whether he places it among clear or hidden causes: for if among hidden causes, he would seem to consider nature itself a chance, which has no reason. But if among clear ones, what desire or judgement of the mind is there in nature? For nature does not do anything by desiring or judging, unless perhaps because often some ability of mind and body exists from nature itself, which helps our desire for each thing; for we especially desire that for which we are able. But nature is placed among clear causes, which is also connected to judgement, as if someone is naturally composed in judgement: and to desire, as if the mind naturally seeks something.
He adds another division of causes; for he says there are other causes which are voluntary, others unknown: voluntary, those which come from the judgement of the mind; unknown in which necessity is mistress, that is in which we either do not want at all, or even if we want we cannot do otherwise, as in nature and chance. For by a certain necessity heavy things in nature are carried downwards, by necessity also we say it happened, as if someone, not knowing, threw a stone over a wall and killed a passing man. And this necessity is such, not that it could not have happened otherwise, unless by throwing the stone he hit, but because there was a lack of will, and not because he wanted, he did it. But the earlier necessity is now such, in which there is no will, or that which is, to bring about what it desires, is constrained by a stronger necessity. For when something heavy is naturally deposited downwards, there is no will but only the necessity of nature; but if a man falls downwards, there is indeed a will not to fall but to be carried where he does not want, a stronger cause of nature compels.
But he separated the will from chance events by a most fitting single example, as if he throws a spear by hand, and unwillingly hits a passer-by. For the act of throwing arises from the principle of the will. For that reason he threw, because he wanted. But he did not know he would hit; for he would not have thrown, if he could have foreseen he was going to hit. Nor did he throw, because he wanted to hit. But if he had not been ignorant, he would not have been able to hit. Hence a certain device and defense is found in the responses of legal experts, in this way: If the spear slipped more from his hand than he threw; for if someone is accused of murder, the best defense usually is, if no other is available, that the spear slipped from his hand, rather than that he wanted to throw it, so that the act is attributed not to the will, which is condemned in faults, but to ignorance.
About disturbances of the soul, however, judgement is a little more confused. For it can be doubted whether it comes from the will, or necessity, or ignorance, that one sins in a disturbance: for sins seem to be voluntary, since the one who is disturbed seeks something, or flees. But in this his disturbance appears, that he avoids things which should not be avoided, and desires too much things which should not be desired. Moreover, since judgements are confused in disturbances (for disturbed people often desire what should be avoided, not otherwise than by a darkened and obscured judgement), what indeed happens from confusion of mind, is often such that the person who did it would not want to have committed it, and it happens that disturbance of mind is not among voluntary causes but among unknown or necessary ones; and the one who is disturbed strays so far from true discernment, that he can be brought back to it by the right advice of those who wish him well. Therefore disturbance of mind is rightly separated from voluntary causes, and placed either in ignorance, or in necessity.
For when he says:
“Yet, they are so passionate that what they desire may seem either necessary or certainly unknown at times.”
It should be understood this way: because every passion of the mind disturbs judgment, truly confuses correct discernment, if it be stronger than that which may be moderated by the reins of reason. And there is a kind of violent necessity that comes about from disturbances, such that it is uncertain whether someone who does something while mentally disturbed, does it unknowingly. Just as when someone unknowingly commits a mistake by accident when they do not foresee the outcome, whether they do it knowingly, or are led by necessity. Therefore, what he said:
“That they are either necessary or unknown,”
and he separates the unknown from the necessary, it does not conflict with what he said above, that which is unknown is necessary. For he sort of divides what is unknown: some things that are unknown occur due to a certain necessity, when either there is no will or the will that exists cannot resist necessity; others occur by chance, when in doing these things, which are unknown, there is no will.
Therefore, what he said, about the disturbances of the mind either being in necessary causes or in unknowns, it is understood without doubt to mean, the disturbances of the mind either exist in those unknowns where there is such a necessity that the will cannot resist, or in those in which there is no will but there is a failure due to a lack of judgment, such as in those who excessively serve the desire of love. For they either deviate from virtue due to confused judgment, and while they seemingly desire something good, they unknowingly fall into evil, and thus excessive love is considered a kind of accident or error. Or, they know what they desire ought to be avoided but they are driven by a stronger passion, and thus it is counted among those necessities which either have no will. Likewise, it either makes it so weak and feeble that it cannot resist stronger passions in any way.
Book Six
Therefore, Patricius, most learned of the rhetoricians, I would not hesitate to say that there are some who criticize this in-depth philosophical tract in the Topics, reproaching it for inserting physical disputes amidst logical ones. These are either those who dislike all of philosophy, or those who do not believe that natural causes should have been mixed into places of argumentation. However, against the former, both from M. Tullius and somewhat from human reason itself, which, set in motion, always seeks something, and in its love of knowledge neither suffers itself to be deceived, nor in any way to be led away from the rationality of truth, much and often has been responded.
To those who believe that the disciplines of philosophy should be kept separate from oratory skills, I believe a brief response is needed. By reason, something can indeed be found, but a craftsman will do it better and more easily if he brings together the ability and elegance of his craft in the construction of his work. The same is evident in arguments, for natural talent brings forth arguments. But art, imitating the ability of nature, finds a certain method and rationale, by which it can achieve this more easily and better.
In this matter, it is not to be faulted if some have said that the faculty of rhetoric is natural, because anyone, unfamiliar with the entire art, can press charges against another, and tends to defend himself, and strives to prove something with an argument. Those who have said that this same ability resides solely in art are also to be censured: for they should have realized that, indeed, every art takes its material from nature, but yet in its reasoning, experiences its own ability and elegance. So these things, which the nature of arts perfects, can be done by the unskilled, however it may happen. But no one accomplishes well and easily unless they have been taught by the method of the art. Therefore, as the intention of the entire work is to trace the arguments, which nature provides confused and as if locked, in an artificial way, it demonstrates by the notation of an example what is through which the art can achieve what it promises: for the easier arguments are found, that thing will make it happen, if the places in which arguments are situated are demonstrated. And just as if someone seeks something, they can investigate and find it more easily, if the place is shown to him where that which he is seeking is located; so also when someone strives to find an argument, if the place where the argument is located is pointed out to him, he will be able to find the argument that he is seeking more easily. Thus Aristotle, and thus Tullius, call these seats in which arguments are situated, that is, places, which were called topics by Aristotle.
But since we are talking about the seats of arguments, let’s explain a bit more about what they are; for ‘place’ is understood in more than one way. And let’s indeed leave aside those places which Victorinus has inserted unnecessarily and inappropriately, like those which include bodies, and simply understand that those places of arguments are those which contain arguments within themselves, which will become clearer as we expound on them later. Now, it seems we should deal with the overall rationale of places, and about argumentation, and about questions and propositions and their terms.
And first, since the place that is dealt with in the Topics is not the place of just anything but is only the place of an argument, having first explained the understanding of an argument, we will then deal with the rationale of the place.
Therefore, Tullius defines an argument in this way: An argument is a reason which gives credence to a doubtful thing. He therefore took reason as a genus. For all are unjust who separate the power of speech from the reason of wisdom, and who wish there to be one art of speaking and another of understanding. For if we do nothing else in speeches than express outwardly what we have thought inwardly, what evil reason is there for placing the elegance of speech apart from the weightiness of sentiments? And what weightiness can there be of sentiments, without comprehension of the things about which we must speak? And what other discipline teaches the nature and characteristics of all things, or professes knowledge of all things that can be understood, if not this philosophy alone, from which we have borrowed a few things, which debates far differently about these very things in its proper scholarly discussion. Not as hurriedly as we do, if I had undertaken to discuss more fully, as is usually done in their books, who would tolerate the recklessness of the insolent people wanting to blame their own progress, by which progress they would improve, if they chose to be diligent rather than querulous? But neither did the ancient age lack these contentions, nor are we so delicate, that we almost do not want to do what the patience of the most learned men has often resisted, so long as we can be of use to many, and follow the judgments of the wise. To this end, this labor of ours and the sum of the entire work is aimed. But let this be enough for now.
Now, let us pursue the order of the explanation undertaken.
[17.65] Therefore, with the entire field of causes laid out, from their difference, in great cases indeed, either in the speeches of the orators or in the philosophers, a great abundance of arguments is supplied. In your cases, however, if not more abundant, at least perhaps more subtle. For private judgments in the most significant matters seem to me to be in the wisdom of legal experts. For they both are present in great number and are involved in consultations and provide support to diligent advocates who turn to their wisdom.
[17.66] Therefore, in all those judgments, in which it has been added that good faith is required, where also it must be handled well among good men, especially in the judgment concerning a wife’s affair, in which it is better to be fair, they ought to be prepared for these. They taught about malicious fraud, about good faith, about equitable goods, about what a partner owes to a partner, about what he who has managed another’s affairs owes to the one whose affairs these were, about what he who had commissioned something, and he to whom it was commissioned, each should perform for the other, about what a husband owes to a wife, what a wife owes to a husband. Therefore, with diligent understanding of the places of argumentation, not only orators and philosophers, but also experts in law, will be able to argue abundantly about their consultations.
Having distinguished the position of causes and distributed them in their parts, he discusses about the same faculty, where it is more copiously applied, and where more narrowly, as is often Cicero’s custom. First of all, he says, for orators and philosophers, in whose discussions there is broad subject matter, many arguments are supplied from the position of causes. Indeed, this position which is from causes seems to be common to orators and philosophers, the former proving the facts that are the faculty of oratory, the latter the natures of things that are proper to philosophy. For also when any matter is sought, its causes are usually traced by philosophers. With these things laid out, as was said above, immediately follows what must be concluded, and orators seek the causes of actions to stir up or clear away suspicion. This indeed remains stable in the minds of men, that neither an action, nor any thing at all apart from that first principle of nature, can exist without its own causes. So it happens that the usage of causes is very fruitful in the speeches of rhetors and in the discourse of philosophers.
But as Marcus Tullius, writing this little book, seems to have given most things to Trebatius, he also shows that this position has been assigned to legal experts too, saying: Although this position does not have such fruitful opportunities in the responses of the learned in law, it can certainly be handled more subtly and sharply according to the nature of the art itself, clearly compensating with subtlety which could be inherent, for the abundance which was lacking. For they too have their own field in which their virtue can shine. For the question of private causes is in the wisdom of legal experts, and especially in these matters; this position of causes will be examined, in which judgments of good faith are made. For in these the intention of those entering a contract is usually sought, which can hardly be understood, unless the preceding causes are understood. Therefore, in these judgments in which it is added that they judge from good faith, that is, where judges are given, so that they seek not strict stipulations between litigants but good faith, the usage of causes is more: it is added that it must be handled well among good men, morals are considered, plans are investigated; it is established who administered what, for what causes. Especially in the judgment concerning a wife’s affair, the discourse of causes is very fruitful.
The judgment of a wife’s affair is, every time after divorce there is a dispute about the dowry. For although the dowry, while the marriage lasts, is in the goods of the husband, it is nevertheless in the right of the wife, so that after divorce it can be returned as if it were the wife’s property. Which dowry sometimes used to be given with these conditions, that if a divorce occurred between the husband and the wife, what was better and fairer should remain with the husband, the rest of the dowry should be returned to the wife, that is, that what was judged from the dowry to be better and fairer should remain with the husband, that the husband should keep for himself; but what was not better and fairer to remain with the husband, the wife should receive back after divorce. In which judgment not only the nature of the goods is usually observed, but also a comparison of goods is made, so that not so much what is fair but what is better and fairer should be followed. All these things are usually investigated from the preceding causes. For if the divorce was made due to the fault of the husband, it is fairer and better that nothing remains with the husband. If it is the fault of the woman, it is fairer and better for the sextans to be retained.
In all these matters the most expert legal advisers should be; so it happens that he also encourages Trebatius to study. For he says many things are, which expect their labor. For they, he says, delivered bad fraud, good faith, the fair and the good, and even what a partner should perform for a partner, what he who had willingly taken on another’s business to be managed, should owe to him whose business that was, what he who had commissioned should owe to him to whom he had commissioned actions of his business, what a husband owes to a wife, what a wife owes to a husband; all these things are to the later causes, and from them judgments are made for this reason indeed, for example, whatever that judge should pronounce in the case of a wife and a husband, because the husband should perform this for the wife; for this reason also he is judged to be bound to the thing he was commissioned, because this must be observed between the one commissioning and the one taking on the business, everything also which anyone should perform for another, these are causes in dealing with and judging business matters. Therefore, he rightly concluded, with the places of argumentation diligently understood, that neither orators, nor philosophers, nor legal experts will lack an abundance of arguments.
[18.67] This place of causes is tied to the place that is formed from the causes. Just as a cause indicates what is an effect, so what is an effect demonstrates what was the cause. This place often supplies orators and poets, and often even philosophers, but for those who can speak elegantly and copiously, a wonderful abundance of speaking, when they announce what will be the future from every thing. Indeed, the knowledge of causes makes knowledge of events.
Everything that is referred to itself is rightly said to be connected; indeed the relationship of things makes the connection; but if the cause of something is a cause, not of another, unless it is the cause of its effect, and likewise if there is any effect, it comes from the principles of causes; therefore rightly from the effects, the place of causes should be connected. However, since always those things that are referred to themselves are equated, neither is there, what abundance there is of causes, the same also of effects. Indeed, because a cause cannot exist without an effect, since it is a cause above the effect, nor can there be that from the events and effects, very many arguments are provided, especially if many are collected from the causes. For just as any effect can be treated as a cause, if from any cause it can, what will be the event can be shown, and rightly, he says, the knowledge of causes makes knowledge of events; for just as it is shown in the categories, knowledge of a relative thing cannot be known, apart from the knowledge of the other relative.
[18.68] The place of comparison remains, the type and example of which has been placed above like the rest; now the explanation needs to be worked out. Therefore, those things are compared which are said to be either greater or lesser or equal; in which these things are observed: number, type, power, some even emotion toward some things.
[18.69] They will be compared in number thus, more goods should be put before fewer goods, fewer evils before more evils, longer-lasting goods before shorter ones, widely and broadly spread before narrow ones, from which more goods will be propagated and which more will imitate and make. But they are compared in type, so that those things which are to be sought for their own sake should be put before those which are for the sake of something else and so that innate and inborn should be put before adopted and adventitious, whole before contaminated, pleasant before less pleasant, honorable even before useful ones, easy before laborious, necessary before non-necessary, own before foreign, rare before common, desirable before those which you can easily do without, perfect before incomplete, whole before parts, rational before those lacking reason, voluntary before necessary, animate before inanimate, natural before non-natural, artificial before non-artificial.
[18.70] However, power in comparison is discerned in this way: an efficient cause is more serious than a non-efficient one; those things that are satisfied with themselves are better than those that need others; those things that are in our power than those that are in the power of others; stable things before uncertain ones; those things that cannot be taken away before those that can. But emotion toward some things is of this kind: the advantages of rulers are greater than those of the rest; also those things that are more pleasant, those things that are approved by more people, those things that are praised by the best person. And just as these things are better in comparison, so those things that are contrary to them are worse.
[18.71] But the comparison of equals has neither elevation nor lowering; for it is equal. However, many things are compared by equality itself; which are concluded in this way: If it is to be placed equally in praise to help citizens by counsel and by help, those who consult and those who defend should be in equal glory; but that which is first, is; that which follows therefore…
Every comparison is double: either equal things are compared to themselves, or unequal things; but in those things that are equal, always the same equality is noted. However, unequal things are divided like the limbs of twins, namely of less and of more. For what is less, is not less by itself but by comparison with more. Likewise what is more, is said to be more by comparison with less. Since this is the case, it lays out and places before the eyes all modes of comparison, and what it rarely did in previous places, it places the very greatest propositions in the comparisons constituted, so that if at any time there is a place for us to use comparison, we may have a certain example, like an example of invention, to which we can turn our inquiring mind.
Therefore every comparison, either consists in number, or in type or in power or in some emotion placed outside. For whatever we strive to compare, either we compare it by number, and according to this one thing is declared to be greater, another lesser; or looking at the type itself, and comparing it to another we give a judgement of excellence; or we consider something else, what any thing can effect, and how far its nature can progress, or from a certain containment of others, and from the emotion of circumstances we look at the thing which we compare to another.
Therefore the things that are compared in number, if they are from the same kind, more are placed before fewer, just as all good things are equal to him, rightly someone puts before many goods fewer ones. And this is the greatest proposition:
More goods are put before fewer ones
and in the rest also the same reason of greatest propositions is seen. But if all things are of the contrary kind, fewer is to be preferred to plurality, as few evils before more evils, but evils themselves in no way are compared to goods. For those things that are compensated in any way, ought to be in the same kind, not in the contrary. For since contraries are located opposite themselves, they cannot be compared and likened, which understands itself to be hostile. There is also comparison according to number also in the reason of time. For since time is divided by certain spaces, like hours, days, months and years, from equal goods those are more to be chosen, which last longer, which no one does not know to be placed in number. Indeed, duration itself confesses to be many either days, or months, or years, during which that which is chosen lasts. Also widely spread goods precede narrow ones and squeezed into one smallest place by comparison of number. For those things that are widely and broadly spread, are spread into many nations and regions; and plurality indeed looks at number. But indeed from which more goods are propagated, who would not judge to be better than those of which there is a lack of goods and a more contracted fertility? Who also would not think that a good which more imitate so as to make, excels other things which are not so, which no one is ignorant of to consist in number, since plurality consists in number?
Certainly, here is a rough translation:
However, they are compared in species, which are preferred over others by the merit of their own kind of beauty when they are considered in themselves. For better are those things which are desired for their own sake, rather than those which are sought for the sake of something else, such as health, which is sought for its own sake, and medicine for the sake of health; hence health is better than medicine. And this, not referring to any number, nor finally to any quantity but to the very species of health and medicine, we give our judgment. Also, those things which are innate and inborn are judged better than those acquired and adventitious, whence innate gravity of character far excels that which is affected through imitation. Things that are intact are also judged as better than those that are tainted. For things that are intact preserve their species, things that are tainted and [1161B] vitiated in some part, have lost, if it was even present, the beauty of their species. Pleasurable things are judged better than less pleasurable ones, as the common nature of all animals decides. The wise prefer honest things to useful ones; that one thing is preferred to laborious things demonstrates this, for no one would wish to strive towards the same end through a laborious and harsh path, to which they could reach by an easy and downhill journey. For all labor is unpleasurable, ease is pleasurable. Necessary things should also sometimes be preferred, sometimes even postponed, to non-necessary ones, which M. Tullius omitted: necessary things are indeed preferred to these non-necessary ones, which are not constituted by a reason of good but by a desire for pleasure, like royal banquets prepared in luxury, no wise man judges to be better than those which satisfy [1161C] the needs of nature. But there are some things which by their very appearance of good, even though they are not necessary, are better than necessary ones. For to live is necessary, and without it an animal cannot subsist. But to philosophize is not necessary, yet it is far better and much more excellent to live as a philosopher than just to live: for the former is granted only rarely and to few even using reason; the latter is common to us with beasts.
Their own things are also rightly said to be better than alien ones, like reason rather than a desire for pleasure in humans: for the former is proper to man, the latter is alien; rare things are also better than common ones. (And this place confirms what was said earlier, that the life of philosophizing is better than life itself: for rare things easily precede that which is common.)
Things that are desirable, even those you can easily do without, are deemed to be better because they are desired more intensely and life without them is full of anxiety, like the example given where someone juxtaposed vision with hair. For we endure the lack of hair more grievously than the lack of sight; thus from this, we deem sight to be better than hair, because we can easily do without the latter, but we cannot live without the former in tranquillity. Perfect things naturally excel imperfect ones, for the former have achieved their form, the latter have not. Likewise, wholes are considered to be superior to parts in the same way: for that which is whole possesses its own natural form. But that which is part, and aims for the completion of the whole, has not yet achieved its own beauty unless referred to the integrity of the whole. Now, no one doubts that things using reason are better than things lacking reason. Voluntary things are also rightly preferred over necessary ones, for voluntary things are free, while necessary ones bind us like a master through necessity, and therefore we think that voluntary things are better than necessary ones; although in this it can also be understood, as we have previously said, that often non-necessary things are preferred over necessary ones, provided that those voluntary things were not necessary; but voluntary things are better than necessary ones. Therefore, often non-necessary things excel over necessary ones; and living things over non-living things. By considering the absence of the soul itself, reason advises that they should be preferred. Natural things also excel non-natural ones, and man-made things over non-man-made ones. And the best grade here is that you prefer nature to art, and art to inaction, for indeed art imitates nature. Hence, what retains beauty in itself comes from nature, which desires to imitate its appearance. But far last are those things which lack craft, not only departing from the appearance of nature but also from imitation, and these indeed are considered in relation to appearance in comparisons.
But power resides in that in which it is considered what each thing can achieve, for what each thing can do, that is its power most rightly described. Therefore, the efficient cause has greater power than that which does nothing: like the craftsman is better than the material, for the latter is dull and immobile. Nor does it achieve anything, unless it receives form from the craftsman, that is, from the efficient cause. Likewise, things which are content in themselves appear better than those which need others: just like God, the best of all, needs no one, and all things need him. Likewise, things that are in our power are preferable to those which are in someone else’s hand and can easily slip away. Thus virtue is better than wealth; for virtue is in our power, while fortune is the mistress of wealth. And who would not understand that stable things, which cannot be taken away, if they are indeed good, are better than those that can be?
Yet part of these places hold the contrary to the contrary: indeed, having inspected those things that are better, if we see their opposites, they are worse.
What remains is the comparison placed in affection, which is handled in such a way that the thing which is compared to another is not weighed by itself but from the consideration of another, just like in three certain things if two are compared to each other, because they are more or less attached to the third. Let there be two things adapted to human affairs, one of which is more suitable to rulers and even to the state itself: here, therefore, we will judge that thing to be better which benefits the better ones, that is, not considering how the thing is in itself but how much it is attached to the state or to the rulers. Therefore, this thing is compared out of affection, and it is judged better that which is useful to rulers, than that which is useful to some private individuals, since rulers also contain the state of others. The same applies to things that follow, that those which are more pleasant to many, those which are more famous among many, those which are approved by many, should be considered better. For even if they are less in nature, yet by affection, as has been said, those things to which they are more pleasant, or among whom they are more famous, or by whom they are approved, should be considered better. But although the good that is regarded by many was placed above in that part of comparison where the comparison was made according to number, nothing prevents the same place from being subjected to different kinds according to different considerations: for instance, the wing of a bird, while being substance, is also understood to be something if it is considered in relation to a winged creature. Those things also appear to be better from affection which have been praised by him, against whom one argues with dialectical speech or rhetorical skill. For in order to overcome an adversary, it is enough to show that he agreed with you, and sometimes even as the best proclaimed that, which you strive to show is better in the proposed matter.
Therefore, having spoken about all the better places, those that are opposite will contain the worse ones.
For equals, there is no distinction. For what is equal, cannot either increase or decrease. However, equals are compared to each other in the same way as things that are greater or lesser to each other. For things that are equal in number, type, strength, or affection are said to be equally equal. A common example is the quality established by Cicero, which is equal in all equal things but they are equal either in number, type, strength, or affection. For in their comparison to what are greater or lesser, there is a certain quality, but these are varied by their addition. For those with a greater number, more beautiful type, more effective strength, more precious affection in the same quality, will be considered better. If they are equal, they are equal in the same quality.
The example he proposed is effective in pleasing Trebatius' spirit, when he unites his own, that is, the orator’s, ability with the praise of jurists in this way: If advising citizens, which belongs to jurists, and assistance, which belongs to orators, should be considered equal in praise, then those who provide advice, that is, experts in law, and those who defend, that is, orators, should have equal glory. But the first is, that is, advising citizens and providing assistance, should be equal in praise. Therefore, what follows, that is – assuming that they should have equal glory, those who provide advice, that is, experts in law, and those who defend, that is, orators – is inferred. But this is the conclusion by which we say: therefore, those who provide advice and those who defend should have equal glory. However, he briefly put this forward in the manner of the dialecticians, who would say: if it is day, it is light. But what is first, that is only as much as if it is said, indeed, it is day. For in the proposition that is, if it is day, it is light, the prior is the proposition, it is day. They conclude what follows, therefore, that is, there is light. For that followed in the first part of the proposition, which was, if it is day. Therefore, Cicero also put it forward in this way: indeed, it is first, that is, advising and assisting citizens should be considered equal in praise, for that was first in that proposition which said if advising and assisting citizens should be considered equal in praise, orators and legal consultants should have equal glory. Therefore, what follows, that is, those who provide advice and those who defend should have equal glory; for that was consequent in that proposition which stated: If advising and assisting citizens should be equal, those who provide advice and defend should be equal.
[18.71] ...The instruction for discovering all arguments is complete, so that, having made progress from definition, from division, from notation, from conjugates, from genus, from forms, from similarity, from difference, from opposites, from adjuncts, from consequences, from antecedents, from contradictions, from causes, from effects, from the comparison of greater, lesser, equal things, no further seat for seeking an argument should be sought.
Although from the things that have been said it is understood that no place of argument has been passed by, I think, however, that Cicero’s conclusion, in which he remembers that he omitted nothing, should be approved for greater faith in doctrine. For in these, indeed, nothing at all that are treated by a certain reason is omitted. For no reason is more certain than division; for what everyone divides, deducing from common things into particulars, when they stand on a right path, can not err or be led into error. Therefore, the first division of all places was into those which stick in them, and those which are assumed from outside. Of this division, no middle can be found: for either there is something in itself about which it is asked, or it is assumed from outside. Let us see, therefore, now how the argument through nothing omitting division is carried.
Therefore, the places of those things, which are in themselves about which it is argued, sometimes from the whole, sometimes from the parts, sometimes from the word, sometimes from the added, the argument is taken. In these, therefore, since nothing has been left, it clearly appears; for in that which is joined, there is a double distinction: one from the thing itself which is formed and composed, which is the whole, in which also definitions are used: another in examining its parts, from which the shape of the composed is joined. But since the nature of men often brings forth with the voice what it understands, it is also necessary that the name also which is used for the declaration of understanding, shows some property of the thing which it signifies, indeed, understanding signifies the quality of the thing which it understands. Wherefore, the name also signifies the quality of understanding. Therefore, it was rightly said that a certain property of a thing is signified by the word, and so an argument can be drawn from it, which is called from a mark. (But he gave other divisions of these places, which we will soon briefly collect.)
But the affected ones, which, as was said above, consist in relation, have also been rightly divided. For those things which are referred to something, are either substantial or accidents. Substantial, like conjugates, for in that which is just, justice makes the substance. I don’t mean that a man’s existence is constituted from justice but the just, who is corrupted by the departure of justice. Similar also is the reason for the adverb justly. There is also substantial, the genus, species, difference, cause, effect. Accidents, like the opposite, similar, attached, equal, greater, lesser. But consequences and contradictions, since, as was said above, they are placed in condition, are now found substantial, but now are considered in accidents. Substantial, as when genus precedes species; accidents, as when the crow follows the preceding blackness, although some accidents can also be in causes. About the properties of all of which Tullius discussed above.
And so, to encompass the entire division of topics in the briefest possible description, it will be as follows: Every argument is drawn either from those topics that are inherent in the very thing being investigated, or from those that are assumed from outside. The topic indeed, which is positioned in the very things about which there is doubt, is divided into that which comes from the whole, and that which comes from the parts, and that which comes from the sign, and that which comes from the affected ones. The one that comes from the whole is called a topic from a definition. Definitions, however, are either proper or not proper. Of the not proper ones, some are denoted by individual names, others are unfolded in discourse. Of those which are made by individual names, some are those in which a name is given in place of a name, which are called "kat' antilexin", others that provide a name for the sake of an example, which are called “hos typos”. Of those that are declared in speech, some are made from partition, some from division, some from differences beyond genus, which is called “ennoematike”; others are made from multiple qualities, even individually signifying the whole thing, which every collection of qualities declares, which are called “poiotes”; others consist of those made from accidents, not individually but all together effecting something one; others are given to differentiation; others through translation; others that come from the privation of the contrary; others that are fitted with proper names, which are also called “hypotyposeis”; others through the lack of fullness; others through proportion; others through relation; others through cause. Also, another division of the definition according to Cicero is primary, because some are of corporeal things, others of incorporeal things, and the place of definition has indeed been so divided.
The topic from the parts, however, is divided into partition and division. The topic from a sign, indeed, is simple. From the affected ones, some are from conjugates, some from genus, some from form, some from similar, some from difference, some from opposites, some from things added, some from consequents, precedents and those that repel, some from cause, some from effects, some from comparison of equals, greater or lesser. The genus, indeed, is divided into supreme genera, and those which can also be species. Species, moreover, is divided into ultimate species and those which can also be genera. Of the similar, some are considered individually, and are called examples; some in multiples, and it is called induction; some in conjugates, and it is called proportion. Also, of the differences, some are substantial, some, even if not substantial, are nevertheless inseparable, others neither substantial nor inseparable. Of the opposites, some are called adversities, some privative, some denying, some relative. Of the adjuncts, some exist before the thing, some with the thing, others indeed after the thing. The conditional place, however, is divided into antecedent, consequent, and repelling.
The place of causes, too, is manifold: some indeed are those which effect by their own power, others without which it cannot be effected. Of those which effect by their own power, some are necessary needing nothing to effect, others indeed needing to effect, others indeed needing and not necessary. Of those without which it is not effected, some are movable, others immovable. Also, of causes, some are not spontaneous, some from will, some from disturbance, some from habit, some from nature, some from art, some by chance. Again, some causes are constant, others inconstant. Furthermore, some causes are voluntary, others unknown. Of the unknown, part is in chance, part in necessity. Of the necessary, part is in force, part in knowledge.
Effects can be divided as much as they refer to the aforementioned causes.
The topic from comparison of lesser, equal and greater is divided into number, species, force, affection to other things.
As it is thus, and since nothing has been overlooked in the division, Cicero rightly concluded in partition, saying that no seat of argument has been overlooked. Therefore, the topic that is taken from outside remains, which, since it is of no use to lawyers, he adds, not for the sake of Trebatius but so that nothing seems to be missing from the completed work.
[19.72] “But since from the beginning we have made such distinctions, that some arguments would seem to be found within the issue under debate itself, about which enough has been said, and others are taken from outside, let us say a few words about these, although they have no direct bearing on your disputes. Nevertheless, let us follow through on the matter, since we have begun. For you are not such a person who delights in nothing but civil law, and since these things are being written to you in such a way that they will also fall into the hands of others, let us make the effort to be as useful as possible to those who are pleased by proper studies.”
So that a place would not do harm to its future usefulness through negligence, the great orator makes Trebatius attentive in the prologue; for he says that he divided the arguments from the beginning in such a way, that he said some topics are inherent in the things being discussed, and others are adopted from outside. And now that those prior topics have been adequately debated, it is inappropriate to overlook the remaining part that has not been examined. For he is not that Trebatius, who, content with his own craft, disregards the studies of others, but, powerful in diligence and intellect, considers all things that are associated with liberal studies to pertain to himself. Simultaneously, he says that effort must be given, since Trebatius is to publish the work of Cicero with a benevolent spirit, so that, once it has reached the hands of many, it could benefit those who are committed to right studies. This too he concedes to Trebatius as a favor, that writings which would benefit many were being compiled and edited through him.
[19.73] “Therefore, this line of argument, which is said to be free of art, is based on testimony. We now call testimony everything which is taken from some external thing to create belief…”
Boethius posits that the part of the argument, which Marcus Tullius calls free of art, is based in testimony. However, it could be questioned how this part differs from the previous ones, which were located in the affections. For as affections are always situated in relation, so too are testimonies referred back to the things of which they are testimonies. For all testimony is testimony of the attested thing. Therefore, why either those things which were long ago called affections are not placed externally, or those which are now called external are not placed among the affections, can be questioned. Especially when we said above that the addenda to the case often bring some testimony to matters, when signs are derived from their predecessors or successors, which usually happens in the case.
The common resolution of all these things is that arguments that are made from affections are found by the orator, and they are born out of his labor and industry. But those which are placed externally only offer a testimony of the thing; they are not found by the orator, but the orator uses them as they were placed and established beforehand. For arguments from the genus, or the species, or other affections are found, in a way, by the orator himself. Testimonies, however, are not produced by him, but he uses them as they were prepared for the case. This results in arguments from affections arising in the case immediately and at the right time; those which are placed in testimonies precede the matter and confirm the use for the case afterwards, and in the addenda the orator makes a conjecture, and it is indicated to the minds of the listeners. But testimonies do not consist in conjecture, or suspicions, but in the narration of the thing done.
And he demonstrates more emphatically what a testimony is when he says, he calls that a testimony which is taken from some external thing. For all affections do not seem to be external from those things to which they are affections. But a witness is not joined in any way to the attested thing, except by the knowledge, which has nothing to do with the thing that was done, for if no one recognized the done deed, the deed would nonetheless still exist; but this could also be led to a likeness, for what would be less of a thing, if nothing similar to it could be found? But that which is similar is joined to that to which it is similar by the same quality, which quality conforms both. But knowledge, even though it makes a witness, is not joined by any quality with the thing of which it is knowledge. For the knowledge of the knower cannot be called the quality of the thing done. For if the knowledge were a quality of the thing, with the death of those who know the thing, the thing would either die or change, which neither can happen. For the thing can continue to exist, even if it is not known, after the knowers are removed.
[19.73] “...The credibility of a person does not have the weight of any testimony; for to create belief, authority is sought; but authority is brought by either nature or time. The authority of nature resides most in virtue; but there are many things that bring authority in time: talent, wealth, age, fortune, skill, experience, necessity, and even sometimes the confluence of accidental things. For people consider the talented, wealthy, and time-tested to be worthy of trust; perhaps not rightly, but the opinion of the masses can hardly be changed, and everything is directed to it by both those who judge and those who estimate. For those who excel in these things that I have mentioned seem to excel in virtue itself.”
[19.74] “But faith is also confirmed at times by the remaining things that I have just enumerated, even though there is no aspect of virtue in them, if some skill is used - for knowledge has great force in persuading - or experience; for usually those who have experienced are trusted.”
[20.74] “Necessity also creates faith, which arises both from bodies and from minds. For those who are worn out by beatings, torture, or fire seem to be speaking truth itself, and those things which bring authority and faith because of the force of necessity, arise from disturbances of the mind, pain, desire, anger, fear.”
[20.75] “Of this kind are also those things from which the truth is sometimes found: childhood, sleep, imprudence, drunkenness, insanity. For even children have often revealed something, being ignorant of what it pertained to, and many things have often been uncovered through sleep, wine, and madness. Many have also inadvertently stumbled into hateful things, as happened recently to Staienus, who spoke words while good men were eavesdropping from the other side of a wall, which, once revealed and brought to trial, rightfully condemned him to capital punishment. We have heard a similar thing about the Lacedaemonian Pausanias.”
[20.76] “But the confluence of chance events is such that it is accidental, when something which should not be revealed was being done or said. In this category is also that multitude of suspicion of treason cast on Palamedes, which kind of thing truth can hardly sometimes refute…”
Since he said that the place lacking in art is situated in the testimony, and in testimonies, the authority of the persons interposing their faith is sought, it was necessary to explain by which matters authority is typically created. And the rest have been said most clearly and openly. But since he divided authority into nature and time, and within time, he placed genius, wealth, age, fortune, art, use, necessity, and sometimes even the combination of accidental circumstances, the following could be asked: How does genius pertain to time? What about art? What about use? For indeed age and wealth, fortune and the convergence of accidental things are subject to time, since each of them changes according to the different circumstances of time. Genius, however, should have been attributed more to nature, and art and use to a third category, since they are subject neither to time nor nature.
However, virtue itself, which M. Tullius established in the reasoning of nature, seems to some to be not natural but rather acquired through both teaching and correct living. But this division should be understood such that every authority either comes from great and excellent matters and from those naturally best, or from those which are established in a lower place, it derives its faith not from the quality of nature but from widely held opinions. And he established the greatest and most excellent things in nature, which is always, as Tullius himself defends in many places, desiring of the good. But those things which are latter, he placed in time, because everything subject to time does not immediately retain the principle of the good. Virtue indeed cannot be turned towards the worse. But genius and wealth, fortune and art and use are often corrupted through improper practice. For anything of these that has been separated from virtue, loses the dignity of true praise.
And he deferred to speak of virtue. The latter part, that is, authority established in time, he divided and laid open with the clearest examples. For both faith is present in talents, and from it, great authority is at hand. Indeed, people believe that those, whose genius is sufficient for solving whatever they proposed, speak more wisely. Also, they judge those of greater wealth to be worthy of faith, and they bestow the majesty of authority on those who are also remarkable in fortune and dignity, perhaps incorrectly; but both judgement in affairs, and the estimation of life, are largely contained in the opinion of people, which, because it can hardly be changed, the orator will direct all things towards it, and propose it to himself for managing and governing. Art and use also hold a lot of weight. In both, knowledge creates faith.
Necessity too, as though extorting what was hidden, is supported by authority, which comes both from the mind and the bodies: from the bodies, when the hidden truth is revealed by fire, iron, and whips; from the mind, when the mind is disturbed by some disturbance or ignorance; is confounded by necessity. For then, not distinguishing at all what ought to be said, what ought to be kept silent, it reveals and brings into light the truth that was hidden. For often anger, and any disturbance of the mind, cannot contain what ought to have been hidden, which therefore has authority towards faith, because things have been revealed simply, and brought forth without any cunning art. Moreover, even the ignorance of children, intoxication, sleep, often brings certain things to light, in which, if there was any judgement, they would not have been brought forth. Often, people also, without any disturbance of mind, bound themselves by their own confession, when they pour out everything simply, things they do not think will harm them, as happened to Staterius, who confessed things, thinking he could not be heard by the lurking witnesses behind the wall, which, when they were spread abroad and brought into court, he was condemned by capital sentence. And indeed this ignorance is situated in necessity; for who does not know what he ignores, even if he wanted to, he will not be able to avoid it; but what necessity extorts, seems in a certain way to speak the truth, and therefore faith is applied to them, as though they were supported by authority.
The convergence of accidental circumstances also creates faith, which, even though it sometimes indicates false things, nevertheless it is so vehement that truth can hardly separate itself from it. Such as the tale that is told of Palamedes. When Phryx was killed, who seemed to have been sent by Priam, Priam’s letters were found, the hand of Phrygia imitated, which gave faith to the suspicion of betrayal by their convergence. Hence Cicero says: “Such is also the convergence of accidental circumstances…”
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