UNIPA Springer Series

Patrizia Laspia

From Biology
to Linguistics:
The Definition
of Arthron in
Aristotle's Poetics
UNIPA Springer Series

Editor-in-chief
Carlo Amenta, Università di Palermo, Palermo, Italy

Series editors
Sebastiano Bavetta, Università di Palermo, Palermo, Italy
Calogero Caruso, Università di Palermo, Palermo, Italy
Gioacchino Lavanco, Università di Palermo, Palermo, Italy
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Andreas Öchsner, Griffith School of Engineering, Southport Queensland, Australia
Mariacristina Piva, Università Cattolica Sacro Cuore, Piacenza, Italy
Roberto Pozzi Mucelli, Policlinico G.B.Rossi, Verona, Italy
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Norbert M. Seel, University of Freiburg, Freiburg im Breisgau, Germany
Gaspare Viviani, Università di Palermo, Palermo, Italy
More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/13175
Patrizia Laspia

From Biology to Linguistics:

The Definition of Arthron
in Aristotle’s Poetics

123
Patrizia Laspia
Dipartimento di Scienze Umanistiche
University of Palermo
Palermo
Italy

ISSN 2366-7516 ISSN 2366-7524 (electronic)

UNIPA Springer Series
ISBN 978-3-319-77325-4 ISBN 978-3-319-77326-1 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-77326-1
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Ἐpeὶ wάllo1 ἀqihlὸm peqipέφetcem
jaὶ jeῖmo1 ὅra vάqlas' ἄk-
koi1 ἔhηjem, sί1 ἂm φqάrai dύmaiso…
Pindaro, Olimpica II, Ant. 5, vv. 98/101
(178–180 Gentili)
A D. P., con gratitudine
Contents

1 The Problem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 1
1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics: An Unsolvable
Dilemma? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 1
1.2 State of the Text . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 18
1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding the Definition
of ἄqhqom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 20
2 From Biology to Linguistics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
2.1 Biological Patterns in the Twentieth Chapter of the Poetics . . . . . 37
2.2 The Aristotelian Definitions of ἄqhqom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
2.3 eἶmai as ἄqhqom: My Conjecture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
2.4 Some Possible Objections. Is eἶmai a Verb? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
2.5 Nature and Uses of eἶmai: The Contemporary Debate . . . . . . . . . . 53
3 Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
Index Locorum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
Index Verborum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
Index of Ancient Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
Index of Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83

vii
Abstract

This volume is not intended as a philological or paleographical specialist contri-

bution: it is a new attempt at reading Aristotle’s work as a whole. It consists of two
chapters. The first chapter consists of three sections. First section discusses the main
problems posed by the definition of arthron; second section considers the state
of the text; third section examines the critical literature on that issue since the end
of the nineteenth century. The second chapter is the actual pars construens of the
work. It consists of five sections. The first section explores the close relationship
that Aristotle holds between biology and language. Aristotle is not the father of the
specialized sciences: He is rather the last great global thinker of Antiquity; in each
field of knowledge, he employs the method of his biological inquiries. Second
section analyzes the definition of arthron in the twentieth chapter of the Poetics and
emphasizes their close similarity to its definition in the biological works. In the third
section suggest my conjecture about the first example of arthron in the Poetics,
according to which I read eimi instead of f.m.i. In the fourth and fifth sections, I take
some objections to my conjecture into account; I reject that einai may be considered
‘one verb among the others.’ Last section considers the more recent critical issues
about Greek einai.

ix
Introduction

The content of the work whose introduction I am writing today, September 13,
2017, was already clear in my mind back in 1996 when I gave birth to the volume
that was published in September 1997 with the title L’articolazione linguistica.
Origini biologiche di una metafora (Laspia 1997). As demonstrated by the eighth
chapter—almost a fifth of the volume1—the difficulties posed by the definition of
ἄqhqom in the Poetics were already well known to me, and, I must say, their
solution, too. But in 1996, I was only thirty-five years old, with little experience in
philology and paleography, no stable academic position, and all the recklessness of
youth, but not enough to propose a hypothesis as daring as the one I now propose in
these pages.
Once the book had been published—and the reviews had been read—I thought
that the question was closed, and that there was no reason to return to the subject.
I had to wait until the year 2009 and the Ph.D. defense of Laura Gianvittorio, my
doctoral student at that time and today my colleague, whom I thank for finally
exhuming the issue at a symposial dinner. Laura and her boyfriend (now her
husband) Alex Ungar, who has been studying Classical Philology in Oxford for a
while, thought the idea exposed here was a good one. Meanwhile, years had passed
(somehow, twenty!) and my self-confidence had increased somewhat. So I began
the arduous task of acquiring the philological, paleographic, and, not least in
importance, the bibliographic skills necessary to re-examine the issue from the very
beginning.
The definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics is a real puzzle, in the very precise sense
explained by Thomas Kuhn in his famous book of 1962, The Structure of Scientific
Revolutions. Generations of scholars have used it as their exercise regime, only to
end up proposing what is already well known, at times what is outdated, or else to
express a drastic distrust of any possible solution to the problem. With this paper, I
hope I have made a small contribution to the subject. Up to Sect. 2.2, my con-
clusions run parallel to the contents of L’articolazione linguistica. Since I do not

1
La logica del vivente. Rύmderlo1 ed ἄqhqom in Aristotle, in Laspia 1997, pp. 79–126.

xi
xii Introduction

think that there were many more than the proverbial twenty-five readers of that
book, there is no need to apologize: repetita iuvant. But the conjecture I propose
here is different, and my bibliographic knowledge is different as well—time has
moved forward, and some (though not many) have spoken out on the difficult topic.
Above all, the methodological awareness with which I write today is different, even
though my method has not changed. I say, moreover, that if one should choose to
refuse the conjecture I propose here regarding the first example of ἄqhqom in the
twentieth chapter of Aristotle’s Poetics, but appreciate the way I have conducted
my reading of Aristotle, we cannot say that we disagree completely.
What am I alluding to and what is the method I use to read Aristotle? In my reading,
I begin with three main assumptions. (1) Unlike what is commonly said today, Aristotle
is not the father of the specialized sciences, nor is he the one who inaugurated spe-
cialized studies in Greece, but the last great global thinker of antiquity2. There is,
therefore, a unitary Aristotelian research program3, whose dimension coincides with his
own work. (2) The heart of the Aristotelian research program is represented by the life
sciences. The current reading paradigm, which gives priority to Aristotle’s ethical and
political works, does not do justice to that research program and should not be fol-
lowed. (3) Within the Aristotelian research program, indeed at its heart—represented by
the biological investigation—a highly significant place is occupied by the
‘language/living body’ analogy, which is the basis of Aristotelian linguistic investi-
gation, and in particular, of twentieth chapter of the Poetics. Any reading of the
so-called linguistic chapter of the Poetics that does not proceed simultaneously and in
parallel with the biological investigation, which is the model of Aristotle’s linguistic
investigations, has in my opinion no foundation on principle.
To this is added the following methodological premise: In reading Aristotle, we
are in no way justified in seeking to understand what precedes in function of what
follows—that is, in interpreting his words on the basis of later texts by other
authors. This means that we are not justified in reading Aristotle in light of our
contemporary prejudices, or in considering him as the forerunner of any of our
fashions or theories. Instead, it is necessary to read Aristotle iuxta propria prin-
cipia: «Aristotle the linguist with Aristotle the biologist and naturalist».4 Only then
can Aristotle regain his voice, which still speaks to us after thousands of years.
In this way, we can avoid the insurmountable contradictions present, for
example, in the current readings of the twentieth chapter of the Poetics. But this is

2
«L’ultimo grande pensatore totale dell’antichità» (Laspia 1997, p. 79).
3
Originally coined by Imre Lakatos (1968), the notion of ‘research program’ was first used in
regard to Aristotelian biology by James Lennox (1987). Lennox is convinced, however, that this
notion can only be applied to the biological works. The author, therefore, implicitly adheres to the
idea of Aristotle as the father of specialized sciences and uses the term in a narrower sense than the
one I use here. My hypothesis is that Aristotle, the heir of Ionic naturalism, and in a broader sense
of the Homeric Encyclopedia (see Laspia 1996), is the last global scientist of antiquity. In my
view, the notion of ‘program’ would, therefore, be applicable to his entire work, viewed as a
whole.
4
«L’Aristotle linguista con l’Aristotle biologo e naturalista». Laspia (1997), p. 80.
Introduction xiii

still not enough. To understand Aristotle by framing him in his time, and restoring
the genuine sense of his affirmations, our reading needs to be directed not to what
follows, but to what precedes his work: Only in this way can we avoid the abuse of
a tendentious and, shall we say, ‘colonizing’ reading of the ancient text. In practical
terms, this means reading Aristotle in terms of Homer and Hesiod, Pindar,
Sophocles, Plato, and above all on the basis of the medical and natural science
contemporary or prior to him, not in light of what we know today about the same
subjects, or the opinions we hold about them.
Thanks to these three—or even four—simple methodological premises, many
intricate issues of Aristotelian exegesis seem finally to find a solution. With them,
the age-old problem of the so-called Aristotelian contradictions is solved, whereas
previously, to tame them, critics invoked nostalgia for a systematic kind of Aristotle
of Thomist or neo-Thomist inspiration5, or else the ghost of Werner Jaeger’s
Geistentwicklung6, today, fortunately, no longer in fashion, or else the presumption
of a radically aporetic nature in Aristotle’s thought, very commonly invoked in the
existentialist investigations of the last century.7 Yet, the idea that Aristotle’s
research program has, so to speak, a center and a periphery should be carefully
considered. The center is, in my opinion, represented by the Aristotelian investi-
gation of life and nature, including the universe, understood as a living being. This
center’s twin is his linguistic investigation, based on the analogy between language
and a living body. The living bodies—and in particular his investigation of the first,
living Mover and on living and eternal beings, of whom finite and mortal entities
are only a pale reflection, while sharing with language the same internal organi-
zation, i.e., the organization of the living—are the beings that Aristotle defines ‘first
by nature.’ Different, however, is the scope of the ‘first for us,’ in which Aristotle
includes the sphere of the contingency as opposed to the necessity, and therefore, all
human things. Rhetoric, ethics, and politics—the subjects of Aristotle’s most
studied and esteemed works—belong, for Aristotle, in the sphere of the ‘first for
us,’ but posterior by nature. Hence arise many contradictions, such as that of the
different consideration of women (and of matter) in both his biological works and
Politics, or slavery in Politics and in light of Ethica Nicomachea. Considering the
center as a function of the periphery, and the biological works in function of Ethics
and Politics, would be a serious mistake: Yet, it is what happens on a regular basis
today. And so in the critical literature was born the now widely circulating image of
an Aristotle in favor of slavery, racist, and/or sexist, or worse still—an advocate of
an anthropocentric model of nature.8

5
See, for example, Hamelin 1931, Reale 1961, 1993, vol I.
6
Cfr. Jaeger 1923.
7
See, for example, Aubenque 1962.
8
For an extreme example, see Sedley (1991). There is a broad discussion on this subject, with a
critical review of the positions both for and against, in Laspia (2016), pp. 17–35, especially p. 28
and ff.
xiv Introduction

From the perspective of content, the benefits regard not only an innovative and
more consistent reading of the linguistic definitions of the twentieth chapter of
Poetics, which I believe is the one provided here. I believe that much more thorny
issues, such as that of active intelligence or the Prime unmoved Mover, of its role
and place in the universe and its relations with natural entities and mortal things,
and many others—not least among which the different definitions of essence in the
Categoriae and the Metaphysics9—can be solved at the same time. But this, for-
tunately, is not our task here.
This work is not, in the end, but a diligent application of the methodological
principles outlined here to the problems posed by the linguistic definitions of the
twentieth chapter of the Poetics. It is perhaps interesting to remark that my method,
which essentially consists of reading Aristotle not as an exponent of today’s sci-
entific specialism, but as a global scientist, coincides, si parva licet, with my own
intellectual path, which unifies an initial specialization in Linguistics and
Philosophy of Language (and before that, in the philosophy of science) with my
constant love for Greek language, culture and literature, and my present (and indeed
eternal) interest in ancient philosophy, the subject that I currently teach at the
University of Palermo. I say this because I feel that the problems posed by the
definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom in Poetics cannot be solved, nor clarified in
the mind of the reader, on the sole basis of a philological or paleographic con-
sideration. We must start from the total and methodologically aware knowledge
of the Aristotelian text: one which combines philological rigor and exhaustiveness
with the knowledge of the most recent linguistic investigations; in particular, those
found in the literature on the uses and functions of the Greek term eἶmai. In this
way, we can arrive at a few conjectures that at first glance may seem bold, but on
the basis of this evidence are perhaps not entirely implausible.
Those who think they will find in these pages a myopically specialized reading,
or a purely philological or paleographic approach to the problem, will be disap-
pointed. Many highly specialized philologists and paleographers have not appre-
ciated my conjecture, and will continue, I think, to do so. But that does not mean
that it is entirely implausible and should be excluded a priori, perhaps even before
reading the book. I believe, however, that it is necessary to reject any reading of the
definitions of the twentieth chapter of Poetics, and in particular of the definition of
ἄqhqom, as an isolated exercise, whose peculiarities are at times not even fully
explored—indeed, few interpreters have put forward precise hypotheses about the
enigma of the dotted handwriting with which the examples of ἄqhqom appear to be
written. Especially implausible are, in my opinion, the interpretations that seek at all
costs to reconcile the definitions of the twentieth chapter of Poetics with the sub-
sequent theories of the parts of speech, and/or to reduce such definitions to the
narrow field of our mental habits, thus obstinately continuing to see the article as
the first example of ἄqhqom.

9
For the problem, the relative bibliography, and an attempt at solving it, see Laspia (2018a).
Introduction xv

Ultimately, I am convinced, with many other scholars, that Aristotle’s ἄqhqom

cannot be identified as the article found in the subsequent grammatical tradition;
therefore, the first example given in the definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics cannot
refer to the article. If the example provided was so obvious, how could the dotted
handwriting be justified? And how could we explain the next example of ἄqhqom,
once again in dotted handwriting, in which most interpreters see the preposition
peqί? What Aristotle really thought about the article, we will probably never know,
except for the insubstantial hints he devotes to it in his Corpus, and especially in the
Prior Analytics. But the first and most necessary referent of the definition of
ἄqhqom in Poetics is certainly not the article.
The use and functionality of Aristotle’s lέqη sῆ1 kέnex1 deserve a separate
discussion. A few critics found it particularly implausible that, in my reconstruc-
tion, they are seen to carry out promiscuous functions: For example, that the verb
‘be,’ in its function of copula, or rather of propositional connector, may behave «in
part like ῥῆla and in part like psῶri1». But for Aristotle, there is continuity in
animal species, and the heart is simultaneously the organ of cognition, of life, of
breathing, and of voice. And if natura non facit saltus, why should these jumps be
made by linguistic investigation, which is closely modeled on biological
investigation?
My work consists of two chapters. In the first, I take into consideration the status
quaestionis concerning the problems posed by the definitions of rύmderlo1 and
ἄqhqom in Poetics, together with the state of the text. The history of critical con-
tributions regarding the problem is then examined in detail. This analysis is per-
formed with a fair degree of breadth and attention to details, which some have
found annoying. This was not due, however, to inexperience, as it may seem at first
glance, but to the desire to familiarize the reader with all previous attempts at
interpretation, especially the best ones, though in the end they prove to be inade-
quate and unsatisfactory. So, a choice must be made: Either we resign ourselves to
considering the definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics as an inscrutable and insoluble
mystery, «wrapped in the thickest fog» as Gudeman said—followed by Jonathan
Barnes, at least in reference to the examples—or to find a solution we must choose
other paths and dare to formulate slightly riskier hypotheses.
In the second chapter, I proceed to the real pars construens of the work, which
initially involves tracing a precise and close parallel between the biological and
linguistic investigations within the Corpus of Aristotle’s works. The linguistic
investigations of the twentieth chapter of Poetics can no longer be regarded as an
inaugural moment in the theorization of the parts of speech, or as the first chapter of
specialized linguistics or grammar, but may—indeed, must—be recognized as a
projection onto language of Aristotle’s theory of the living body. Based on these
considerations, and on the fact that there are currently no valid solutions to the
problem posed by the definition and examples of ἄqhqom, I formulate my con-
jecture, which sees in the incomprehensible u.l.i.—provided as the first example of
ἄqhqom—a corrupt form for eἰlί, and I try to corroborate it with arguments of a
general methodological nature, rather than a philological or paleographic one.
Then I examine the literature on Greek eἶmai published in the last fifty years, in
xvi Introduction

light of which my hypothesis acquires, I believe, far greater strength. Finally, I

consider some objections that have been addressed to me, both orally and in
writing, over the course of the decade during which I have worked on this text, and
I try to provide some answers, whenever possible.
With that, I think I have touched, albeit only superficially, an issue that is close
to my heart: that of the so-called (what I call the) oral style of Aristotle, in the name
of which this work comes to an end. It is now well known that Aristotle was the
best teacher of his time, whose entire known work, i.e., the Corpus, consists of
esoteric works that constitute the necessary support to performances consisting of
one or more oral lessons. The exoteric works, into which Cicero said the «golden
river of eloquence» flowed, survive today only in the form of meager fragments. In
light of what has remained, I do not suffer from their absence.
By virtue of this esoteric work (not exoteric), Aristotle proves to be an admirable
‘artist of the word,’ precisely in the sense indicated by Charles Kahn, and was no
less an artist of this kind than Heraclitus and Plato, whom he so admirably studied.
Succinctness, concision, daring syntactic and conceptual nexuses, sentences with-
out a verb: these are the unmistakable characteristics of the ‘oral style’ of Aristotle.
What a waste to consider them oversights of his students and/or copysts. Thus, and
only thus, does Aristotle acquire his proper physiognomy: that of a ‘teacher of
truth’ (maître de verité), in the sense given to this expression by Detienne.10
Aristotle would thus be the last teacher of truth in ancient Greece, and therefore,
necessarily, a great artist of words, too, as before him were Heraclitus, Empedocles
and Parmenides, and in a different way Plato, as well. So, Aristotle becomes bard
and spokesman of his own thinking. Or I should say—it is Aristotle here, I think,
who would correct me—bard and spokesman of his beloved Nature.11
There are many people whom I think it is necessary here to thank—friends and
acquaintances, colleagues, and external parties, in Italy and abroad. Beginning with
the institutions, I thank my University of Palermo and the Catholic University of the
Sacred Heart of Milan, and especially the staff of the Consultation Room, for the
patience they have (almost) always had in responding to my requests. The list of
colleagues is particularly long, and I do not want to forget or fail to mention
anybody. First of all, I would like to thank Prof. Charles H. Kahn, now professor
emeritus at the University of Pennsylvania, for his kind invitation, his time and
patience, and our unforgettable talk while the first narcissi were shaking off the last
snow of February 2013. Second, my former student Laura Gianvittorio, whom I
have already mentioned, of the University of Vienna and her current husband, Alex
Hungar, for helping me believe in my work. Third, all my colleagues—experts in
Greek scholars, philologists, and paleographers—whom I have consulted over time,

10
Cfr. Detienne 1967; english translation 1996.
11
Moreover, Attico, quoted in Falcon 2016, p. 106 and note, considered Aristotle a mere «scribe of
Nature», and the same expression is found in the Suda. I really do not understand why Falcon
believes this statement is «poisonous» and the judgment underlying it is «very ingenerous».
I believe to the contrary that Aristotle would have been very flattered by such an expression, which
makes him a kind of oracle, a spokesman on Earth for Nature.
Introduction xvii

even those most contrary to my hypothesis, though they probably will not be
grateful for this mention. Among them, first, Prof. Carlo Maria Mazzucchi, who has
always been staunchly opposed, and Prof. Mario Cantilena, who did not, so to
speak, simplify my work, both from the Catholic University of the Sacred Heart in
Milan. A particularly affectionate thanks goes to my friend and colleague
Antonietta Porro of the same University. I have no words to express my gratitude
for her patience in listening to me over the last few years, and for the clever
suggestions, both in terms of the plates and the papyri, and on the text of the
Aristotles latinus. And what can I say about my friend and colleague Giorgio Di
Maria of the University of Palermo, who has been my companion of theoretical and
philological speculations for a lifetime? Perhaps only that he is often Homerically
apostrophized by me as cktjeqὸm uάo1 (‘sweet light’), so illuminating have his
suggestions and theoretical contributions always been—as evidenced, too, by my
reference to one of his objections in the conclusions here, and his valiant friend and
‘roommate,’ Prof. Carlo Martino Lucarini, who has the honor of being friends with
Rudolph Kassel, one of the most important editor of Aristotle’s Poetics. Last but
not least, I wish to mention, embrace, and thank my friend and colleague at the
University of Palermo Cristina Rognoni, for helping me keep my feet firmly on the
ground. In the field of linguistics, I would like to thank my friend and colleague
Savina Raynaud of the Catholic University of the Sacred Heart for her friendship,
her discussions, and her helpful advice, as well as all the contacts she has always
provided, including the names of the illustrious linguists Giorgio Graffi and
Emanuele Banfi, who have often crossed my path at Conferences of Linguistics and
the Philosophy of Language, which were once my daily bread. An emotional tribute
goes to the great linguist Tullio De Mauro, recently deceased, my teacher and my
teacher’s teacher, to whom I talked about these issues a few times. Finally, my
friends, Greek scholars, and philologists of the University of Palermo: the most
senior and authoritative teachers like Salvatore Nicosia and my dear friend Valeria
Andò, and then Andrea Cozzo, always in my heart, the adorable and well-esteemed
Sabrina Grimaudo, with whom for 20 years I have been involved in a discussion
about Greek medicine, and my dear colleague and friend Franco Giorgianni, with
whom a long and close collaboration has been established over the years. On the
philosophical-linguistic side, I would like first of all to thank my teacher, Franco Lo
Piparo, and the members of the Ph.D. commission of which I am a part, who
became my dear friends, especially Federico Albano Leoni, a renowned phonetician
and linguist, and Stefano Gensini, a great historian of linguistic ideas. Then, there
are my younger colleagues with whom I have shared part of my journey, especially
Felice Cimatti and Elisabetta Gola. Finally, the intimate friends with whom I was
educated: first of all, Marco Carapezza, fraternal lifelong friend, my dear Francesca
Piazza, a distinguished scholar of Aristotelian rhetoric, and the youngest but no less
dear to my heart, Ciccio (Francesco) La Mantia, to whom I have been bound for
more than twenty years, both on the theoretical and personal levels. As for ancient
philosophy, I would first like to thank my older and most authoritative friends and
colleagues: Prof. Mario Vegetti, professor emeritus of the University of Pavia and a
distinguished Plato scholar, as well as the first translator of Aristotle’s biological
xviii Introduction

work, with whom I have had an affectionate, but dialectical relationship for years,
and Enrico Berti, one of the greatest scholars of Aristotle alive today, to whom goes
my warmest admiration and esteem, as well as friendship. Among the colleagues
with whom I have a long-standing relationship are Cristina Rossitto of the
University of Padua, Giovanni Casertano and Lidia Palumbo of the University of
Naples, Franco Trabattoni and Mauro Bonazzi of the University of Milan, Linda
Napolitano Valditara of the University of Verona, Loredana Cardullo of the
University of Catania, with whom I enjoy a most affectionate friendship, and a truly
long-standing friend, Diana Quarantotto of the University of Rome, with whom I
have shared many pleasant and less than pleasant moments. Among the philoso-
phers, the Director of our Department, Prof. Leonardo Samonà, esteemed scholar
of the theoretical philosophy of Aristotle and, with me, member of the Executive
Committee of the Inter-University Center of Studies for the Aristotelian Tradition
(Centro Interuniversitario per la Storia della Tradizione Aristotelica), my dear friend
and colleague Chiara Agnello, with whom I share a love for Aristotle and a the-
oretical interest in the theme of care, my colleague Andrea Le Moli, a specialist in
Heidegger, the late antique period, and Plato. Special thanks also go to my friend
and colleague Carmelo Calì, with whom I have shared an office for many years, for
our lively discussions and continuous and affectionate encouragement. Finally, I
would like to thank Dr. Pietro Giuffrida, my former student and author of a
beautiful edition of De motu animalium, who today unfortunately no longer works
with me, and my current and closest assistant, Dr. Marco Antonio Pignatone, whose
intelligence and wisdom I can joyfully see growing every day.
Habent sua fata libelli. Now the feared-but-desired moment for dedications has
arrived. To whom shall I consecrate such a theoretically difficult work? If there is a
book that I would have wanted to devote to Aristotle, it is this one, my extreme
theoretical effort. But a bold dedication to Aristotle—which sounds so final that it
strikes a sinister note—can still wait, I think. Another idea was to devote the work
to my past, present, and future students, who are such an important part of my life.
But the first, truest, and most heartfelt dedication goes to the one man who stood by
me and gave me the energy to finish an often arduous work repeatedly interrupted,
rewritten, and resumed. I dedicate these labor-born pages to a man I did not know
when I began to write them. To this man, Daniele Puglisi, without whom this book
would not exist, goes my primary dedication along with my deepest gratitude.

Palermo, Italy
September 2017
Chapter 1
The Problem

1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics:

An Unsolvable Dilemma?

«Es gibt m.W. in der antiken Literatur nur wenige Stellen ähnlichen Umfangs, von
unleserlichen oder verstümmelten Fragmenten abgesehen, die dem Verständnis so
unüberwindliche Schwierigkeiten bieten wie die folgende Erörterung über den
rύmderlo1 und das ἄqhqom».1
The commentary on the two controversial definitions of Aristotle’s Poetics
opens with these discouraging words in the Alfred Gudeman edition of the Poetics.
As is universally acknowledged, the greatest difficulties are undoubtedly posed by
the definition of ἄqhqom, which is however so closely linked to that of rύmderlo1
that it is impossible to consider one without the other. The following book is
therefore an analysis of the two definitions taken as a whole: the problem of how to
attribute meaning to one or the other term cannot be solved unless the two defi-
nitions are both taken into consideration. But this is still not enough. With this
contribution, I hope to prove that the definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom remain
enigmatic and incomprehensible as long as they are read by themselves, or even in
the sole context of the Poetics. They become clear and speak to us only when
examined in light of the entire Corpus aristotelicum. Aristotle is not a modern
scientist, nor an ancient grammarian, nor is he a linguist by profession. As his
theoretical terminology shows clearly, Aristotle’s linguistic thought is constantly
inspired by biology. It is therefore impossible to understand «Aristotle the linguist»
except in light of «Aristotle the biologist and naturalist.2» Rather than projecting
onto Aristotle our modern mental habits, which separate the different fields of
knowledge rather than unify them, Aristotle must be read iuxta propria principia.
1
«There are few passages of similar length in the ancient literature, except for spurious or dubious
fragments, which present difficulties as unsurmountable to our understanding as the following
remarks on rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom». Gudeman (1934), pp. 344–345.
2
«L’Aristotele linguista con l’Aristotele biologo e naturalista». Laspia 1997, p. 80.

© Springer International Publishing AG, part of Springer Nature 2018 1

P. Laspia, From Biology to Linguistics: The Definition of Arthron
in Aristotle’s Poetics, UNIPA Springer Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-77326-1_1
2 1 The Problem

But this, too, is not so easy: the Aristotle we know is so incoherent and inconsistent
as to be analogous to Pirandello’s ‘One, None, and One Hundred Thousand’.3
My reading of Aristotle is also far removed from certain interpretative clichés
that are very fashionable today: like seeing him as the father of the specialized
sciences.4 Indeed, the constant dependence of Aristotle’s linguistic definitions on
his biological background shows, in my opinion, that far from being the first
non-scientist philosopher, or non-philosophical scientist, in the case of the antique
grammarians, Aristotle is «the last global thinker of antiquity.5» Only on the basis
of these methodological indications do the linguistic definitions of the Poetics
acquire voice and significance, and the interpreter learns to defend himself from
far-too-comfortable solutions that force the text of the Poetics to say exactly what
we would expect in light of future grammatical tradition.
But let us now go back to reading the text. Aside from the examples of that
ἄqhqom I reproduce exactly as they are found in the manuscript tradition, I give
below the full text of the two definitions in the Kassel edition:
Poet. 1456 b 38-1457 a 10:
rύmderlo1 dέ ἐrsim φxmὴ ἄrηlo1 ἣ oὔse jxkύei oὔse poieῖ φxmὴm lίam
rηlamsijὴm ἐj pkeiόmxm φxmῶm peφtjtῖa rtmsίherhai jaὶ ἐpὶ sῶm ἄjqxm jaὶ
ἐpὶ soῦ lέrot ἣm lὴ ἁqlόssei ἐm ἀqvῇ kόcot sihέmai jah’ aὑsήm [cod. A: jah’
aὑsόm],6 oἷom lέm ἤsoi dέ. ἢ φxmὴ ἄrηlo1 ἣ ἐj pkeiόmxm lὲm φxmῶm liᾶ1
rηlamsijῶm dὲ poieῖm pέφtjem lίam rηlamsijὴm φxmήm. ἄqhqom d’ ἐrsὶ φxmὴ
ἄrηlo1 ἣ kόcot ἀqvὴm ἢ sέko1 ἢ dioqirlὸm dηkoῖ. oἷom sὸ φ.l.i. jaὶ sὸ p.e.q.i.
jaὶ sὰ ἄkka. ἢ φxmὴ ἄrηlo1 ἣ oὔse jxkύei oὔse poieῖ φxmὴm lίam rηlamsijὴm
ἐj pkeiόmxm φxmῶm peφtjtῖa sίherhai jaὶ ἐpὶ sῶm ἄjqxm jaὶ ἐpὶ soῦ lέrot.
«A connector is a non-significant expression which neither prevents nor pro-
duces a single significant expression from several expressions, being by its nature
combined both at the ends and in the middle, which is not appropriate to place at the
beginning of a saying in its own right—for example lέm ἤsoi dέ. Or: a
non-significant expression which is of such a nature as to produce a single sig-
nificant expression from more expressions than one. An articulator is a
non-significant expression which indicates a beginning or an end or a division of a
saying—for example ‘φ.l.i.’ and ‘p.e.q.i.’ and the rest. Or: a non-significant
expression which neither prevents nor produces a single significant expression from
several expressions, being by its nature placed both at the ends and in the middle.»
This passage has appeared so cryptic to commentators that many have consid-
ered it a problem for enigmatography rather than for philology. The mystery of its
interpretation and the history of the many attempts to amend it go back to the

3
Cfr. Laspia (2005), p. 7; now also Laspia (2018).
4
See, lastly, Vegetti-Ademollo (2016), pp. 31–45.
5
Laspia (1997), p. 80.
6
With Bywater (1909), p. 273, Pagliaro (1956), p. 88, Dupont Roc and Lallot (1980), p. 103, and
contrary to Schramm (2005), p. 188, footnote 2, it seems appropriate here to restore the jah′ aὑsόm
found in the Parisinus.
1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics: An Unsolvable Dilemma? 3

humanist and Renaissance commentators of the Poetics7. Almost all interpreters

suspect the text is incurably corrupt; this suspicion is also shared by the few
publishers who reproduce the two definitions without drastic amendments.8
Gudeman considered it as an insoluble riddle and invited the reader to exercise the
ars nesciendi. The case of the last critical edition of the Poetics I know of, pub-
lished in 2012 by Brill and edited by L. Tarán and D. Gutas, is emblematic. The
responsibilities of the two authors are not evenly distributed in this edition: Tarán
deals only with the Greek text, while Gutas deals with the Syrian-Arabic tradition of
the Poetics. The greatest merits of the edition, in my opinion, belong to Gutas.
Thanks to his meticulous, perspicuous, and excellent notes, Gutas manages to make
the Arabic translation of the Poetics accessible even to an educated reader who is
not a specialist in Arabic. On the contrary, the Greek text established by Tarán
appears highly questionable, especially in the specific point that interests us. On the
basis of Bywater’s authority (who wrote in 1909, not today), Tarán decides to
expunge most of the first definition of rύmderlo1 (1457 a 2-3: jaὶ ἐpὶ sῶm ἄjqxm
jaὶ ἐpὶ soῦ lέrot) and almost all of the second of ἄqhqom (1457 a 8-9: ἢ φxmὴ
ἄrηlo1 ἣ oὔse jxkύei oὔse poieῖ φxmὴm lίam rηlamsijὴm ἐj pkeiόmxm
φxmῶm), moving the examples ἄqhqom in 1457 a 6 and attributing them to the
definition of rύmderlo19. This is, as we shall see, a widely adopted solution,
though one that goes against the more recent trend: the latest editions of the Poetics
have in fact remained more closely to the original text. Gutas’ notes to the Arabic
translation of the Poetics, in my opinion, go in the opposite direction of the text
established by Tarán. In the Arabic translation, the problems concern mainly
rύmderlo1, and in particular its second definition, which is completely expunged,
perhaps because it was perceived as contradicting the first; the definition of ἄqhqom
is reproduced in its entirety, including the examples.10 Such a major intervention on

7
A detailed history of humanist comments on the Poetics and the amendments proposed is found
in Morpurgo-Tagliabue (1967), pp. 33–43; see also Gallavotti (1972), especially pp. 3, 13 ff.
8
So writes Kassel, who reproduces the passage as shown above, but in the critical apparatus
remarks: «corrupta et confusa». Even Dupont-Roc and Lallot, to whom we owe one of the most
coherent attempts to interpret the passage as a whole, think that the passage is corrupt and pose
unsolvable problem. In their own words: «le passage qui va de 56 b 38 a 57 a 10, consacré à la
‘conjonction’ (sundesmos) et à l’ ‘articulation’ (arthron) pose des problèmes insolubles. On se
trouve en effet en face d’un texte gravement corrompu (touts les éditeurs s’accordent sur ce point),
et dont les corruptions ne peuvent ni être dèlimitèes avec certitude, ni, a fortiori, amendées par des
conjectures raisonablement fondées» 1980, pp. 321–2). Barnes is of the same opinion: «The note
on connectors, which is immediately followed by a note on articulators, is textually corrupt; and
the corruption infects not merely the details but the whole thrust of the note—or rather, of the pair
of notes» (2007, p. 175). In one of the more recent Italian translations of the Poetics, the one edited
by Pierluigi Donini, the desperation («disperazione») of the interpreters is emphasized, and it
concludes with the statement: «il testo non è qui ancora sanato» (Donini 2008, p. 137). Even in the
most recent edition of Guastini the text is considered uncertain and corrupt. We read, ad loc.: «Qui
il testo risulta particolarmente confuso, e da tutti gli edd. è considerato incerto…è l’intero brano…
a non avere un chiaro significato e ad essere probabilmente corrotto» (2010, pp. 310–1).
9
See Tarán and Gutas (2012), pp. 198–199 for the Greek text and p. 284 for the comment.
10
For the Arabic tradition, see in particular pp. 423–424, to which we will return.
4 1 The Problem

the text based on such fragile grounds (from Bywater until now, much has been
written on the subject) is not a welcome sight, all the more so in an edition in which
the Syrian-Arabic tradition is carefully discussed.
Until a few decades ago, such practices formed part of a more general suspicion
about the authenticity of the twentieth chapter of the Poetics. Still in 1957, the
famous annotated edition of Else took the liberty of skipping over it entirely
because it was neither useful nor appropriate to the subject.11 The detailed technical
nature of a list of the lέqη sῆ1 kέnex112 with their respective definition appeared
out of place—wrongly so—in a treatise dedicated to poetry13; the meaning of the
definitions was elusive and at times even incomprehensible. Today, thankfully,
greater precaution is exercised in making expunctions or other interventions on the
chapter. But to penetrate the meaning it is necessary, in my view, to abandon
altogether the interpretive perspective that sees the twentieth chapter of the Poetics
as a theory of the parts of speech.
Before dealing with the state of the text and making our proposals, which relate
mainly to the first definition of ἄqhqom, let us look briefly at the issues that arise
most frequently in connection with the two definitions. An initial doubt arose
immediately in connection with the qualification of φxmὴ ἄrηlo1. Based on the
questionable view that the rύmderlo1 contributes to the overall meaning of a
sentence, some—in particular Gallavotti—considered calling it a ‘non-significant
expression’ inappropriate.14 The idea that the rύmderlo1 (and possibly the
ἄqhqom) are asemantic is however shared by many ancient authors, such as
Apollonius Dyscolus, who defines them precisely in this way.15 It is no wonder
then that Aristotle defines the rύmderloi (and possibly the ἄqhqa) as φxmaὶ
ἄrηloi and no wonder either that the Aristotelian definitions do not match the
more banal definitions of the Stoic tradition.16 On the basis of the considerations
made by Dupont-Roc and Lallot (1980) and especially by Barnes (2007), we can

11
See Else (1957), p. 567, who notes: «they have very little, astonishing little connection with any
other part of Aristotle’s poetry»; on this topic, see Morpurgo-Tagliabue (1967), p. 16, Somville
(1975), p. 18, footnote 1.
12
«They are technical in very high degree, specially Chaps. 20 and 21» [Else (1957), p. 357].
13
Against such discomfort however speaks De interpretatione, which reads: oἱ lὲm oὖm ἄkkoi
ἀφeίrhxram
ῥηsoqijῆ1 cὰq ἢ poiηsijῆ1 oἰjeiosέqa ἡ rjέwi1 (4, 17 a 5).
14
See Gallavotti (1954), (1972), (1974), whose positions will be discussed in more detail below.
15
See Conj. p. 214, 4 Schneider; see a discussion of the passage, the sources, and the entire ancient
debate about it in Dupont-Roc and Lallot (1980), pp. 327–8; Ildefonse (1997), p. 109 and notes;
Barnes (2007), especially pp. 186–199 for rύmderlo1 before Apollonius, pp. 119–216 for
Apollonius Dyscolus. On the relationship between the definition of rύmderlo1 in Aristotle and
what in Posidonius is attributed to Apollonius Dyscolus, see the brief note of Belli (1987).
16
See, in this regard, the observations in Schmitt 2008, to which we refer especially for the
opinions of ancient commentators. They considered Aristotle far superior to the Stoics, unlike
many modern interpreters (see pp. 608–18, especially pp. 608–18). Among these we naturally find
Steinthal 1890; also the contribution of Pohlenz (1939), emphatically titled Die Begründung
abendländischen Sprachlehre der durch die Stoa, reflects an opinion that was widely shared
between the late 1800s and the first half of the 1900s.
1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics: An Unsolvable Dilemma? 5

now better understand both the nature of and the reason for this qualification. For
Aristotle, rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom are operators that apply to significant parts of the
sentence, acting as connectors, conjunctions or organizers, a bit like modern logical
connectors.17 For this reason rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom are called φxmaὶ ἄrηloi.
A much thornier problem is posed by the overall structure of the two definitions;
this structure seems quite peculiar and, at first sight, certainly enigmatic. Both
definitions are composed in fact of two lemmas coordinated by a disjunctive par-
ticle (ἤ), as if one could freely choose between the two.18 According to a
well-established tradition in the literature on the subject, we will call the two
lemmas of the definition of rύmderlo1 S1 and S2, while the two lemmas of the
definition of ἄqhqom will be called A1 and A2.19
Gudeman, followed with even greater emphasis by Gallavotti, was the first to
manifest severe doubts about this: in the Topics, as well as in many other places in
his work, Aristotle excludes that alternative definitions of the same object can be
given.20 The solutions that have been proposed to this problem (i.e., the existence of
two different definitions for both rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom) are often akin to pure
fantasy. Someone went so far as to exaggerate the supposedly «unfinished and
sketchy state»21 of the Poetics in general, and in particular the twentieth chapter,
and would like to interpret the two lemmas as «marginal notes» (Randnotizen),22
that is, as alternative definitions that Aristotle intended to evaluate at a later date.
Such an explanation is, in my opinion, far from convincing. The two pairs of
lemmas in fact form a chiasmus in which S1 is almost identical to A2, while S2 and
A1 differ completely. A structure such as this appears very well balanced, and any
attempt to amend it would lessen this equilibrium. The extreme similarity between
(S1) and (A2) is doubtlessly enigmatic and becomes even more so in light of the
opposing functions that Aristotle assigns to rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom when he deals

17
Barnes is the most exhaustive and convincing on this point; see Barnes (2007), pp. 168–263; see
also Barnes (1996), quoted below.
18
As is well known, the problem was raised mainly by Gudeman and Gallavotti, and it will be
discussed later.
19
As far as I know, a similar notation is used for the first time in van Bennekom (1975) and was
used again by Dupont-Roc and Lallot (1980), Schramm (2005), as well as in this paper.
20
«Sicher ist hier nur, daß A. unmöglich seinen Zuhörern je zwei Definitionen des rύmderlo1 und
ἄqhqom zur beliebigen Auswahl zur Verfügung gestellt hatte. Es ist mir wenigstens trotz der
unzuzähligen ὅqoi in dem aristotelischen Corpus nicht gelungen, auch nur ein einziges paralleles
Beispiel zu entdecken» Gudeman 1934, p. 340). The problem is later greatly amplified in
Gallavotti (1954), who, in order to avoid it, proposed—as we shall see—an imaginative rewriting
of S2 and an interpretation that reduces and tends to merge rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom.
21
Thus van Bennekom (1975), p. 402.
22
Such a case, doubtfully put forward by Gudeman («Ersatzdefinitionen an dem Rand geschrie-
ben» 1934, p. 340), is much more vigorously reproposed in van Bennekom (1975), pp. 401–2; see,
in this regard, Schramm (2005), pp. 192–3, which uses the expression quoted above.
6 1 The Problem

with biology and then reiterates when dealing with metaphysics and linguistics.23
Indeed, this is something that cannot be ignored or simply hidden under a flood of
amendments. Most publishers prefer to believe in a random repetition and do not
hesitate to eliminate one of the two similar definitions, usually A2.24 Repetition is
avoided even in the Arabic version of the Poetics, but it eliminates S1, not A2. We
shall soon examine the problems that arise in the comparison of S1 and S2, which
may have determined the choice of the Arabic copyist. But, as Gutas shows clearly,
elsewhere Gudeman allows himself a great deal of license, for example with regard
to the definition of syllable, which I have already discussed elsewhere.25
The structure of the two definitions also allows us to understand the reasons for
something that many claim, but no one explains that S2 and A1 are the ‘real’
definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom, or at least those which best explain their
role.26 Now, since S2 and A1 correspond in the chiasmus of the two definitions, just
as S1 and A2 correspond,—in fact they are identical, except for two minute details
(rtmsίherhai in S1, sίherhai in A2, in addition to the elimination of the final part
of S1 in A2)—one can understand not only that S2 and A1 are very important, but
also why. The text is in fact constructed in this way on purpose to make them stand
out. This of course does not mean that we are free to make S1 and A2 disappear as
we like. Indeed, the fact that S1 and A2 are so similar is something that must be
explained and cannot be passed over in silence. But to this day, there have been no
convincing explanations of this fact.
But let us return to our definitions and to their chiastic structure. We can cer-
tainly rule out the idea that scandalized Gudeman so greatly, that is, that the two
lemmas represent alternative definitions of the same object. Even the watered-down
version of the paradox, which presents them as footnotes that Aristotle meant to
evaluate and select later, is not convincing. First, it exaggerates the alleged «sketchy
state» of the Poetics as we know it today. It should also be recalled that S1 and A2
are not identical, but almost identical to each other: indeed, this reinforces their

23
In the definitions of ‘one’ and ‘being’ given by Aristotle in Book D of Metaphysics, a distinction
is clearly made between what is (or is unitary) ‘by itself’ and what is (or is unitary) ‘thanks to a
connector’ (derlῷ, rtmdέrlῳ). See Met. D 6, 7, 1015 b 16- 1017 b 9, especially 1015 b 36-1016
a 10. At the same time, in Poet. xx, 1457 a 28-30, De int. 5, 17 a 9, as well as in numerous
passages of Metaphysics, Aristotle recognizes two types of kόco1: one which ‘manifests the unit’
(ἓm dηkῶm), which is thus unitary by itself, and one which is ‘unitary thanks to a connector’
(rtmdέrlῳ eἷ1).
24
Thus, for example, Ildefonse (1997), who in almost all his reasoning follows Dupont-Roc and
Lallot, who for their part remain scrupulously faithful to the original text and numerous others.
Even Gudeman (1934, p. 340) would have gone in this direction, but he did not consider the
passage amendable. Choosing to put his faith in the Arabic version, Barnes however expunges S2
and concludes: «It is not difficult to see that there has been some textual interference between the
two successive notes, and that a part of the note on articulators has been wrongly anticipated in the
note on connectors. In that case, the note on connectors must be severely pruned—and the wild
incoherence disappears» (2007, p. 176).
25
See Laspia (2013), especially pp. 109–110 as regards the Arabic edition.
26
See, for example, Dupont-Roc and Lallot (1980), p. 327, Schramm (2005), pp. 195, 201.
1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics: An Unsolvable Dilemma? 7

significance from a philological point of view.27 S2 and A1 however are completely

different, thereby indicating, in all likelihood, the two most meaningful functions
assigned to rύmderlo1 and to ἄqhqom.
But this still does not explain why there is a dual definition (or to be more
precise a chiastic structure, in which S1 corresponds to A2, and S2 to A1). So far,
two explanations have been proposed: the first (and most widely adopted) is that the
two lemmas of each definition identify different classes of grammatical referents
(conjunctive particles, coordinatives, expletives, or similar words). In order to
explain not only the dual definition but also the much more complex chiastic
structure of the passage, I hypothesize however that Aristotle desires here to
establish a hierarchy of strength between the referents of the two lemmas. S1 refers
to weak rύmderloi, S2 to stronger rύmderloi; and inversely A1 refers to strong
ἄqhqa, A2 to weaker ἄqhqa. In fact, a passage of the Problemata would seem to
prove the existence of such a hierarchy, at least for rύmderloi.28 According to
Pagliaro and Schramm, the two lemmas of each definition refer to the same things,
but seen from a different point of view and/or in a different context. It must be said
that only S1 and A2 define their object according to its position; for the definitions
of S1 and A2, position must therefore have a certain importance. But to base one’s
ideas on such a premise, and then claim that ἄqhqom indicates only the article or
pronoun («l’articolo-pronome», Pagliaro), or at least the article (Schramm), does
not seem to make sense. The article in fact is not so easy to place «at the ends or in
the middle»of a kόco1 as both S1 and A2 require; nor does it indicate its purpose,
or its end (sέko1), as required by A1, because a kόco1 that ends with an article has
never been seen.
As we can see from these initial observations, the problem we are dealing with is
extremely complex. It is thus useless or, at best, premature to try to establish the
referents identified by S1 and S2, A1 and A2, unless first we clearly show the
functions performed respectively by rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom and provide a con-
vincing explanation of the entire peculiar structure. It is also necessary to determine
the assumptions on which the linguistic study of the twentieth chapter of the Poetics
is based. Faced with the most recent contributions on the subject, one cannot help
but note a curious fact. The majority of scholars begin with a virtuous declaration of
intent, in which they state that the twentieth chapter of the Poetics should not be
identified with a classification of parts of speech and that its results do not coincide
with the classifications of the subsequent phase of grammatical tradition. We would
expect, therefore, the alternative assumptions of Aristotle to be clarified first:
instead, each scholar seems interested only in establishing from the outset what the

27
This has been correctly pointed out, as we shall see, both by Rosén (1990) and by Schramm
(2005), whatever the interpretations then chosen by the two authors may be.
28
Probl. XIX 20, 919 a 23-6: Kahάpeq ἐj sῶm kόcxm ἐmίxm ἐnaiqehέmsxm rtmdέrlxm oὐj
ἔrsim ὁ kόco1 Ἑkkηmijό1, oἷom sό se jaὶ sὸ jaί, ἔmioi dὲ oὐhὲm ktpoῦrim diὰ sὸ soῖ1 lὲm
ἀmacjaῖom eἶmai vqῆrhai pokkάji1, (…) soῖ1 dὲ lή.
8 1 The Problem

grammatical referents of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom29 are. Thus begins a relentless

hunt for the possible referents, which eventually leads to the most diverse results,
including the irenic idea of accepting all the proposed solutions,30 or nearly all.31
But if twentieth chapter of the Poetics does not have the function of classifying
parts of speech, it makes no sense to look for referents before functions have been
identified. Moreover, by doing so, any coincidence of the referents of pairs of
definitions (not only of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom) becomes unexplainable. Yet the
coincidence of the grammatical referents of rsoiveῖom and rtkkabή,32
rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom (S1 and A2), ὄmola and ῥῆla found in Poetics and De
interpretatione,33 ὄmola and kόco1 in the same Poetics (and not only),34 is not the
exception in Aristotle but the rule.

29
Especially Swiggers and Wouters (2002), pp. 111–2: «Although we have already pointed out
that this ‘merology’ is not one of the parts of speech (or word classes—as grammatical-semantic
‘typization’), the fact remains that we should ask ourselves in what way the lέqη sῆ1 kέnex1
correlate with (various) word-classes (or subgroups of word-classes)». The same concept is reit-
erated with greater force in Rosén (1990), p. 112: He claims that lέqη sῆ1 kέnex1 cannot be read
and translated as ‘parts of speech’, with reference to grammatical word classes, because kέni1 does
not mean ‘speech’ (as ‘language’), but ‘vocal utterance’. «Man muss jedoch vorerst den Begriff der
“Redeteile” näher ins Auge fassen; er geht auf lέqη sῆ1 kέnex1 zurück, kέni1 bedeutet aber bei
Aristoteles nicht “Rede”, sondern “sprachlicher Ausdruck”, und so haben wir es bei der
Aufzählung dieser konstitutiven Komponenten, lέqη, gar nichts mit grammatischen Wortklassen
zu tun».
30
This seems to be what Swiggers and Wouters (2002) do, admitting as examples of ἄqhqom both
the preposition and the article, and they leave the list of referents open.
31
Of all the solutions, the authors discard in fact only my own and that of von Fragstein, according
to which ἄqhqom is (or, for me, is also) ‘the copula’; but not without reason. The idea of von
Fragstein is in fact only postulated on the basis of De interpretatione 16 b 19-25 and finds no
foothold in the text of the Poetics, while my idea of 1997 is erroneous in the explanation of the first
example of ἄqhqom. Also Barnes 1996 is forced to admit that ‘to be’ cannot be considered a verb,
but he erroneously thinks that the copula, as a ligament, can be considered a connector
(rύmderlo1). We shall see why this conclusion is far from convincing.
32
For this aspect, and more generally for the entire phonetic section of the twentieth chapter of the
Poetics, see Laspia (2001), (2008), (2010) and especially 2013: the vowel, pronounced in the
metric unit which is the basis for the length of a syllable, is in fact both rsoiveῖom and rtkkabή.
33
The adjective ketjό1 is in fact defined as ὄmola in the Poetics (1457 a 16) and ῥῆla in De
interpretatione (20 b 42-43), not without reasons. In the Poetics, which deals with kέni1—i.e.,
‘énonciation’, ‘vocal utterance’ (‘énounciation’, ‘sprachliche Ausdruck’), ketjό1 is defined as
ὄmola because, in Greek, adjective are declined as nouns. In De interpretatione, which deals with
kόco1, i.e., ‘proposition’, ketjό1 is defined as ῥῆla because, from a logical-syntactical point of
view, it acts as a predicate in the proposition (kόco1). I thank my friend and collegue Luisa
Brucale for helping me to reflect on this point.
34
For this, and more generally, for the theory of kόco1 ὀmolasώdη1 in Posterior Analytics (93 b
31), see Barnes (1994), pp. 222–223, and references therein; see also Laspia (2018). But above all,
see Scarpat (1950), p. 36, footnote 10, also useful for quotes of Philoponus on the Second
Analytics.
1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics: An Unsolvable Dilemma? 9

Ultimately, the assumption that the twentieth chapter of the Poetics represents
the first Western classification of the parts of speech35 has the effect of transforming
the text into an incomprehensible puzzle. It would therefore be appropriate to
abstain from attributing classifying intentions to Aristotle36 and ask instead what he
intended to accomplish in twentieth chapter of the Poetics.37
Now that we have taken care of the many problems that arise from the general
structure of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom, we can now consider each of the two terms
taken separately. As mentioned, rύmderlo1 poses far less problems than ἄqhqom,
but it is not immune from them. The first definition of rύmderlo1 does seem to be
contradicted by the second. The first says that rύmderlo1 «neither prevents nor
produces» the formation of a single significant voice from multiple voices; the
second says that it is by its nature capable of producing such a unification.38
Perhaps for this reason, the Arabic translator of the Syriac version of the Poetics, or
his source, chose to expunge S1 and not A2, of the two repetitions. The examples,
moreover, are not equally distributed and are found only in a median position
between the two terms: i.e., as a partial illustration of S1, but not S2, and of A1, but
not A2. A convincing explanation is missing, especially since the nature of the
examples is truly cryptic, especially as regards ἄqhqom. But also for rύmderlo1
the examples are not the ones we would expect. The conjunction jaί, or se, for
example, is not mentioned,39 and S2 (like A2) is completely devoid of examples. It
is possible, however, that Aristotle did not provide examples that he thought should

35
This assumption is shared by many interpreters; see, for example, Gudeman «Diese in apho-
ristisch hingeworfen Sätzen gegebene Erörterung der lέqη kέnex1 ist die beim weiteren die
älteste, die uns enthalten ist» (1934, p. 336). Morpurgo-Tagliabue also describes it as «the first
linguistic summary of the West» (1967, p. 14), and many other examples can be given.
36
As Steinthal does, for example, at the very beginning of his discussion of Aristotle in Geschichte
der Sprachwissenschaft Griechen und bei den Römern,where he states that Aristotle deals not with
how things actually are, but only with their analytical constituents: «Noch nicht: wie die Dinge
werden, sondern nur: aus welchen Teilen sie bestehen, ist die Aufgabe, die sich Aristoteles stellt.
Er analysirt, abstrahirt, classificirt» (1890, p. 183). It is common opinion that Aristotle is the father
of modern treatises, and with this, of specialized science; see, for example, Vegetti (1987), (1992),
Vegetti, Ademollo (2016), pp. 31–45. Contra, Lloyd (1968), It. edition 1985, pp. 102–5, Laspia
(1997), pp. 79–83, 126–133.
37
So rightly does Pagliaro 1956, as do I (1997, pp. 79-83), though we reach very different
conclusions.
38
This is particularly evidenced by Gallavotti, see 1954, pp. 242–5, 1975, pp. 3–7.
39
And in fact Gallavotti (1954), p. 247, proceeds without delay to integrate jaί, attributing to
rύmderlo1 the examples of ἄqhqom, retranscribing them as he sees fit (oἷόm φηli sὸ jaί, sὸ ὅpeq jaὶ
sὰ ἄkka), and considering ἄqhqom as a simple non-technical synonym of rύmderlo1 (pp. 43–4).
10 1 The Problem

be taken for granted,40 especially if his intention was not to provide a classification
of the parts of speech. There really is no reason, after all, why the examples and
definitions of Aristotle should coincide with those of the subsequent phase of
grammatical tradition.41
We come now to the infinite problems concerning the definition of ἄqhqom,
beginning with its very existence.42 Outside of the twentieth chapter of the Poetics,
Aristotle never mentions ἄqhqom as a grammatical term.43 In the list that introduces
the chapter and which precedes the definition, ἄqhqom is not mentioned after
rύmderlo1, but between ῥῆla and psῶri1.44 Dionysius of Halicarnassus45 later
affirmed, then followed by Quintilian,46 that Aristotle identified only three parts of
speech, ὀmόlasa, ῥήlasa, and rύmderloi, and that the Stoics should be credited
with having «first distinguished the ἄqhqa from the rύmderloi».47 The term
ἄqhqom, however, occurs already in the Rhetorica ad Alexandrum,48 which, though
it was certainly not written by Aristotle himself, belongs nevertheless to the

40
The conjunction jaί is in fact an example of rύmderlo1 in Rhet. C 5, 1407 a 26-7, with lέm, dέ,
ἐpeί, cάq, and is again mentioned in 1407 b 39-1408 a 1. The aforementioned Problemata C 20,
919 a 23-26 also alludes to jaί and se and to their difference from the rύmderloi that can be
freely omitted without weakening the discourse. On the authenticity of some of the Aristotelian
Problemata, especially those related to acoustics and music, see Marenghi (1962), (1981), p. 166;
Flashar (1991), p. 503; see also the preface by Centrone in Centrone 2011. The common
Aristotelian practice of making a collage of quotations from his own works, referring simulta-
neously to all of them, is enough, I think, to explain the absence of examples in S2, since we find
them in Rhet. C and in the Problemata. On this topic, see Fazzo (2004), Rashed (2007), Giuffrida
(2014), pp. 19–79, especially pp. 38–39. The absence of examples in A2 is due, I believe, to the
coincidence of the referents of S1 and A2.
41
This point is insisted upon by all the interpreters who refuse to identify the Aristotelian ἄqhqom
with the article: in particular, Gudeman, Dupont-Roc and Lallot, Barnes, and me.
42
Barnes observes: «Aristotelian articulators are odd birds; the Greek grammarians do not accept
them as a part of saying—indeed…Greek grammarians never mention them» (2007, p. 176).
43
This is noticed by all interpreters, whether they expunge ἄqhqom [as does, i.e., Rostagni (1945),
pp. 119–120, Morpurgo-Tagliabue (1967), pp. 43], or whether they keep it, like Schramm (2005).
44
Attempts to normalize the position of ἄqhqom in the initial list, placing it after rύmderlo1 (in
the event it has not been expunged), are practically innumerable. Emblematic is the (bad) example
of Steinthal (1890); such an intention can even be found in critical editions [see Hardy (1961),
p. 58]. Nevertheless, the different location of ἄqhqom in the initial list is a sort of lectio difficilior:
indeed no one, except Aristotle, would have chosen to put it where it is; see, on this subject, Lucas
(1968), p. 199–200, Halliwell (1987), pp. 155–57.
45
De comp. verb. 2, 8, 1; the passages are listed in full in Schramm (2005), pp. 189–90, notes 4, 5,
and 6.
46
Inst. I, 4, 18.
47
De comp. verb. 2, 7, 2 (= Dem 48, 232, 20 ff).
48
Rhet. Alex. 25, 1435 a 34-b 14: Pqorέve soῖ1 jakotlέmoi1 ἄqhqoi1 ὅpx1 ἐm sῷ dέomsi
pqorsihῆsai (…). Tὸ dὲ pqorέveim soῖ1 ἄqhqoi1 ὅpx1 ἐm sῷ dέomsi pqorsihῆsai ἐpὶ sῶmde
ὅqa
oὗso1 ὁ ἄmhqxpo1 soῦsom sὸm ἄmhqxpom ἀdijeῖ. Nῦm lὲm <cὰq> ἐccemόlema sὰ ἄqhqa
raφῆ poieῖ sὴm kέnim, ἐnaiqehέmsa dὲ ἀraφῆ poiήrei.
1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics: An Unsolvable Dilemma? 11

peripatetic environment and is presumed to be almost contemporary to Rhetoric49.

If this is so, the use of ἄqhqom in a linguistic context is not an innovation of the
Stoics: the testimony provided by Dionysius of Halicarnassus is therefore incorrect.
What is more likely is that Dionysius, or the source from which he draws, did not
know the Poetics. Such a hypothesis is far from absurd, given the scant dissemi-
nation of this work in that period.50 Another possibility is that Dionysius of
Halicarnassus is referring to other works of Aristotle, and in particular to Rhetoric,
where ὀmόlasa, ῥήlasa, and rύmderloi are discussed.51
But it is not important here to determine the cause of the incorrectness; what is
important is to emphasize the falsity of the affirmations of Dionysius of
Halicarnassus and Quintilian. Since in fact the term is used in the Rhetorica ad
Alexandrum, coeval with the Rhetoric of Aristotle, it is therefore not an invention of
the Stoics. Also, if there is evidence that implicitly rules out the use of ἄqhqom by
Aristotle and his school, there is also evidence that explicitly confirms it, and it is
not clear why this should be worth less than the other. Simplicius, in fact, testifies
that Theophrastus wondered if rύmderloi and ἄqhqa were to be considered part of
the kόco1 or kέni1.52
As for the use of the term in Rhetorica ad Alexandrum, from which many
interpreters deduced that ἄqhqom in the twentieth chapter of the Poetics can only

49
On all these issues—which here are marginal—see Pierre Chiron’s excellent edition of the
Rhetorica ad Alexandrum recently published by Belles Lettres (2002, p. VIII–CLXXVII); see, in
particular, pp. XL–CVII for the problems of dating and attribution of the work.
50
See Lucas (1968), pp. xxii–xxiv; on this Barnes notes: «In the De Interpretatione A. uses the
term ‘rύmderlo1’, it offers no analysis or explanation. For that we must go to the Poetics, which
the source of Dionysios and Quintilianus either did not know or else chose to ignore» (2007,
p. 175).
51
See Chiron 2002, p. LIV–LVI.
52
Simplicius, In Arist. Cat. (Kalbfleisch 10, 24): jahὸ lὲm cὰq kέnei1, ἄkka1 ἔvotri
pqaclaseίa1, ἃ1 ἐm sῷ peqὶ sῶm soῦ kόcot rsoiveίxm ὅ se Heόφqarso1 ἀmajimeῖ jaὶ oἱ peqὶ
aὐsὸm cecqaφόse1, oἷom pόseqom ὄmola jaὶ ῥῆla soῦ kόcot rsoiveῖa, ἢ jaὶ ἄqhqa jaὶ
rύmderloi jaὶ ἄkka simά, kέnex1 dὲ jaὶ saῦsa lέqη, kόcot dὲ ὄmola jaὶ ῥῆla. On the
passage, see Vahlen (1914), p. 117, Pagliaro (1956), p. 86 note 8, Laspia (1997), p. 117. This is an
important document, not only because it solidly attests the presence of ἄqhqom in the peripatetic
environment, already attested in Rhetorica ad Alexandrum, but also because it settles the vexed
question of the discrepancy between the lέqη sῆ1 kέnex1 in the Poetics and the exclusive mention
of ὄmola and ῥῆla in De interpretatione and in Rhet. C 2, 1404 b 26-7 (ὄmsxm d′ ὀmolάsxm jaὶ
ῥηlάsxm ἐn ὧm ὁ kόco1 rtmέrsηjem).
12 1 The Problem

designate (Pagliaro) or must also designate (Schramm) the article,53 it should first
be noted that the author of the Rhetorica ad Alexandrum never uses ἄqhqom to
indicate the article by itself, but the article in a ‘hinge’ position between adjective
and noun (oὗso1 ὁ ἄmhqxpo1).54 Moreover, he does not seem to attribute a unique
referent to the term, which contradicts at least the interpretation of Pagliaro,
according to which ἄqhqom is only the article/pronoun. Moreover, it is not certain
that the author of Rhetorica ad Alexandrum uses the term in the same sense of
Aristotle.55 It should also be noted, in regard to sὰ jakoύlema ἄqhqa (‘the
so-called ἄqhqa’), that in the peripatetic sense the adjective jakoύlemo1 indicated
that ἄqhqom is a newly coined term and that there is no univocal identification of its
referents.56 This would be perfectly justified if we recognize Aristotle as the
original inventor of the term, or at least the first who uses the term with this new
meaning.
Let us now proceed to the problem of the discrepancy between the position of
ἄqhqom in the introductory list and in subsequent definitions. In the preliminary list
rύmderlo1, φxmὴ ἄrηlo1, is placed exactly where we expect it, namely imme-
diately after rtkkabή. Then come ὄmola and ῥῆla, and only then do we find
ἄqhqom, which in turn precedes psῶri1. In the series of definitions within the
chapter, rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom are treated one after the other and the two defi-
nitions are strictly interwoven. For this reason, some doubt the authenticity of the
definition of ἄqhqom,57 while others have wanted to correct its position in the initial
list.58

53
Barnes however notes: «‘articles’ (i.e., as translation for ‘articulators’, ἄqhqa) is wildly mis-
leading—and, as I have already said, Aristotle’s use of ‘ἄqhqom’ has nothing to do with the use of
the word in later grammatical texts» (2007, p. 224). Of the same opinion is Davis (1992), p. 105,
who renders ἄqhqom with joint but, accepting Hartung’s conjecture, believes that Aristotle here
alludes only to prepositions, or little grammatical tools («petits outils grammaticaux») of which
Wartelle (1985), p. 29 speaks. The position of Valgimigli is very interesting: in his first edition of
the Poetics (1916) he rendered ἄqhqom with ‘articolazione’ on the basis of Margoliouth (1911) and
the Arabic version, and rightly intended it to be opposed to rύmderlo1 (pp. 82–3, note 4). In
subsequent editions (1934, 1946), he will however trust the authority of Rostagni (1927), quoted in
the preface to the second edition (1934, p. xiii) and unfortunately will decide to expunge the
reference to ἄqhqom.
54
See Laspia (1997), pp. 119–120; contra, Melazzo (2002), p. 151.
55
It is important to clarify that the Rhetorica ad Alexandrum is not an authentic work of Aristotle.
There no longer seems to be any doubt of this; see Chiron (2002), pp. LIII–LXVI.
56
See Lanza (1972), Laspia (1997), p. 119.
57
Thus, for example, Steinthal (1890), p. 264; and many others.
58
This would thus confirm the axiom of Castelvetro, according to which the order of the definitions
of the twentieth chapter of the Poetics should be from asemantic and indivisible to semantic and
divisible («non significativo e non divisibile, al significativo e divisibile»); see
Morpurgo-Tagliabue (1968), pp. 29–42, especially p. 33, which embraces this view. It seems to be
shared by Belardi, too, who titled his often republished essay Il semplice e il complesso nella
teoresi aristotelica della forma linguistica (see 1985, pp. 99–120), where he underlines the logical
character of Aristotelican point of view («il carattere logicizzante del punto di vista aristotelico»,
p. 99).
1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics: An Unsolvable Dilemma? 13

Some scholars have interpreted the difference between the order of the list and
the order of the subsequent definitions as a clear indication of corruption of the text.
I really do not understand why. When the text of the Poetics contains surprising
statements that are factors of apparent inconsistency, or a lectio difficilior, as in the
case of rtmesή instead of rtmhesή in the definition of rsoiveῖom, or even diffi-
cillima, as are the definitions of rtkkabή,59 rύmderlo1, and ἄqhqom, or seem-
ingly incongruous examples such as those we find in the definitions of rtkkabή,
ἄqhqom, and kόco1, it is precisely in these places that we should use extreme
caution in our interpretation and wonder if the difficulty does not arise from our lack
of understanding. If Aristotle chose to mention ἄqhqom between ῥῆla and psῶri1,
perhaps he did not do so haphazardly.60 The ἄqhqom seemed perhaps, in some way,
similar to ῥῆla (and to psῶri1). And if rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom come before and
after ὄmola and ῥῆla, almost like an embrace, could it not be that they are
opposing factors that are coordinated in the project of building a meaningful kόco1?
But the biggest problem is undoubtedly represented by the examples of ἄqhqom
in the context of A1 (Illustration 1.1). These examples are indeed strange and
appear in dotted handwriting with a sort of dash above each letter. In the first
example, we read φ.l.i., in the second p.e.q.i.. In the latter, the preposition peqί
seems clearly recognizable, even if this appears incongruous with the subsequent
grammatical tradition. The Stoics in fact called prepositions pqohesijoὶ
rύmderloi, and in Rhetorica ad Alexandrum ἄqhqom seems likely to refer to the
article, in a ‘hinge’ position between adjective and noun. In the Aldina edition of
the Poetics, to which the older editions and even some recent interpretations con-
form, φ.l.i. was interpreted as φηlί, which, however, seems truly incongruous as
an example of ἄqhqom; in fact the many interpreters who opt for this conjecture
read φηlί not as an example, (ἄqhqom I say … in the sense of ‘by ἄqhqom I mean’),

59
On Aristotle’s definition of rtkkabή, see Laspia 2001, 2008, 2013. I hope to return to this
subject.
60
Even for Pagliaro (1956), pp. 103–4 and Rosén 1990 the discrepancy between the order in the
initial list and the order in the definitions is not a problem, and the order of ἄqhqom in the initial list
is significant; the reasons given by the two scholars, however, are different from the ones I affirm
here.
14 1 The Problem

Illustration 1 Codex Parisinus Graecus 1741, lines 1456 b 38-1457 a 10

and then integrate the passage in various ways.61 From the mid-1800s publishers
who do not expunge the definition of ἄqhqom and its examples usually adopt the
conjecture of Hartung (1845), who, on the basis of peqί following immediately,

61
Only I, in 1997 (p. 116), tried to interpret φηlί as an ‘articulation’, i.e., a kind of enunciative
operator, within a definition (‘man I call a terrestrial biped animal, etc.’). The hypothesis has not
received, so to speak, «a warm welcome»; Schramm in fact observed: «Speziell gegen Laspia ist
zu sagen, daß φηlί in solchen Ausdrücken wie “dico – o si dice – ‘uomo’ l’animale terrestre
bipede” gerade kein Kopula ist, sondern ein eigenständiges Prädikat» (2005, p. 211, nota 46). My
hypothesis has raised similar concerns among reviewers of my book, see Gusmani (1998), p. 135,
who claims that I prove convincingly that the metaphor of the articulation has spread throughout
the linguistic terminology with a value that is indeed very different from the contemporary one, but
I am far from convincing on particular questions, i.e., my interpretation of the Aristotelian copula
(«L’A. dimostra convincentemente come, sulla base dell’analogia tra enunciato e organismo
vivente, la metafora dell’articolazione abbia preso piede nella terminologia linguistica, con una
valenza dunque molto diversa da quella moderna. Meno persuasive sono invece le pagine dedicate
ad alcune questioni particolari, come l’interpretazione aristotelica della copula, ove si sarebbe
dovuta esplicitare la confusione latente col (quasi) omofono verbo ‘esistere’». Melazzo is certainly
the scholar who discusses my work in full detail, dedicating a whole paragraph of his essay on
ἄqhqom (2002, pp. 147–151) to my hypothesis. On the unsustainability of the interpretation of
φηlί as copula, unfortunately, he is completely right (pp. 149–150). It is in the rest of his
argumentation that I am unable to find any sound reasoning. It seems to boil down to constant
references to Pagliaro (1956), whose theses he embraces, and a collage of quotations from later
authors.
1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics: An Unsolvable Dilemma? 15

writes ἀlφί. But, as has often been pointed out, such a conjecture is not supported
by any effective paleographic evidence.62
Again, one cannot understand why Aristotle should conform to the definitions of
the Stoics, who saw in ἄqhqom the article and/or demonstrative pronoun. Nothing in
the definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics and in its examples seems to lead to a similar
conclusion—although nothing rules it out. In other words, we will never know what
Aristotle thought about articles. In Prior Analytics, the article is discussed; but it is
never called by the name ἄqhqom; in some cases—that is, when it substitutes a noun
—it is assimilated instead to the category of ὄmola.63 Except for the definition of
the Poetics, ἄqhqom in the linguistic sense is never mentioned. This has always
been the principal and not unfounded argument working against the definition.64
But the presence in Aristotle’s works of a comprehensive theory of the articulation,
which he developed in his discussion of anatomy, embryology, and linguistics,65 is
enough in my view to corroborate convincingly the definition of ἄqhqom of the
Poetics. In Rhetorica ad Alexandrum ἄqhqom does not therefore refer simply to the
article, but the article in a hinge position between pronoun and noun, which could
well be seen as an articulation between the two. After Aristotle, the biological
reference becomes less frequent and ἄqhqom becomes simply ‘the article’.66

62
Gallavotti (1954), (1972), especially, insisted on this point, and, more recently, Schramm (2005).
We will examine later, in detail, the state of the text and all the solutions proposed so far.
63
Cfr. Waitz (1849), Scarpat (1950).
64
«L’indizio più forte per sospettare interpolazione è il fatto che l’ἄqhqom, fra gli elementi del-
l’elocuzione, è l’unico a non essere mai più nominato nel corpus aristotelico genuino…mentre le
altre unità …sono per Aristotele elemento di riflessione costante» (Belardi 1985, pp. 142–3).
65
See Laspia (1997), pp. 26–31 for its uses in the field of anatomy, pp. 46–48 for uses in the
embryological sense, pp. 59–69 for uses in the field of phonetics, and pp. 79–116 in relation to the
definition of ἄqhqom of the Poetics. I will explain in further detail below which opinions from my
work of 1997 I now withdraw; they relate mainly to the interpretation of the first example of
ἄqhqom.
66
On the transition from Aristotle to the post-Aristotelian uses of ἄqhqom, see. Laspia (1997),
pp. 117–126.
16 1 The Problem

The idiosyncratic use of ἄqhqom in the twentieth chapter of the Poetics seems,
ultimately, more like evidence in favor of its authenticity than evidence against it.67
The hard part, if anything, is to explain the examples and the reasons for the curious
dotted handwriting, for which the most imaginative solutions have been proposed.
To return to the examples of ἄqhqom: even if we decide to read peqί in the second
example, and we accept, therefore, that the preposition is for Aristotle a good
example of ‘articulation’ (ἄqhqom), the problem of the first example still exists—
and here we remain shrouded in the deepest of shadows.68
At this point, it is no wonder that the definition of ἄqhqom is the most tormented
place in the entire twentieth chapter of the Poetics. It is an extremely rare event
when two different editions of the Poetics print the same version of the passage, and
even rarer when they print it in its entirety. Interventions have been made chiefly in
the following directions: either massively expunging everything about ἄqhqom,
including the examples (Susehmil, Rostagni, Lanza),69 or at least its second defi-
nition, which is considered an unnecessary duplication of rύmderlo1,70 or cor-
recting the examples in various ways.71 A solution that has been used frequently
consists in attributing the examples of ἄqhqom to rύmderlo1, integrating them in

67
As Lucas expresses very well: «If the passage were a later interpolation one would expect the
account of ἄqhqom to be current in the interpolator’s own time» (1968, pp. 201–2). Even
Dupont-Roc and Lallot, although aware of the problems posed by the definition (see note 4 above),
after wondering if one needs, along with many other editors, to get rid of ἄqhqom («faut-il, avec de
nonbreuses éditors, se débarasser de l’arthron?», 1980, p. 322), answer: «Unfortunately, if one
may say, one cannot get off so cheaply: (a) che corruption (if admitted of) of the former definition
does not imply that the latter one, and in general the whole passage, are interpolated; (b) the very
oddity and the difficulty of the passage contradict the interpolation hypothesis: it would be very
unlikely that a copyist well read in grammar, who is going to complete Aristotle’s grammatical
theory, gives for ἄqhqom, which since the end of the second century a. C. Seems to be fixed to the
sense of ‘article’, a description so little consistent with that sense, and above all exemplified by
prepositions («Malheureusement, si l’on peut dire, il n’est possibile de s’en tirer à si bon compte:
a) la corruption (supposée admise) d’un définition n’implique en rien que l’autre, et, plus
généralement, l’ensemble du passage consacré à l’arthron, soit interpolée; b) l’étrangeté même, et
la difficulté du passage plaident contre l’hypothèse de l’interpolation: il paraît exclu qu’un copiste
féru de grammaire, voulant compléter la théorie grammaticale d’Aristote, donne d’arthron, qui,
dès la fin du II siècle avant notre ère (Aristarque, Denys le Thrace), semble fixé au sens d’’article’,
une description aussi peu compatibile avec ce sens, exemplifiée au surplus par des prépositions»
pp. 322–23).
68
«The text is not completely satisfactory—in particular, the clause ‘for example…and the rest’
cannot be right (…). Something must also be done about the illustrative examples; but so far as I
can see, that is a matter of pure speculation» (Barnes 2007, p. 176).
69
Thus, for example, Lanza (1987), to which we refer for a list of the previous examples.
70
Thus, for example, Ildefonse (1997), to which we refer for the others who adopted the same
solution; Barnes 2007 however expunges S1, on the basis of the Arabic version of the Poetics.
71
Thus van Bennekom (1975), Rosén (1990), Schramm (2005), and many others.
1.1 The Definition of ἄqhqom in Aristole’s Poetics: An Unsolvable Dilemma? 17

the second definition.72 In this way two distinct values for rύmderlo1 would be
obtained: conjunction and preposition, placed in correspondence to the two defi-
nitions. The text is thus bent to our expectations (one definition, one example), and
the Aristotelian notion of rύmderlo1 finally conforms to the dictates of the sub-
sequent grammatical tradition.73 Another frequently used solution consists of
ascribing the examples of A1 to A2, then moving A2 forward, and then reading A2
as a third definition of rύmderlo1.74
Although they have been commonly practiced ever since the humanist com-
mentators of the Poetics, interventions such as these seem genuinely inappropriate.
In this way, Aristotle’s rύmderlo1 ends up being equated to the rύmderlo1 of the
Stoics, while the definition of ἄqhqom is either dismissed as spurious or, if main-
tained without its examples, remains cloaked in deep mystery. The attribution of all
the examples to rύmderlo1, while leaving the definition of ἄqhqom without any,
does not seem to be a particularly good idea. The notion of rύmderlo1 was in fact
already known to Isocrates, and in general to pre-Aristotelian rhetoricians,75 while
ἄqhqom as it is used here is probably an innovation of Aristotle. Moreover, in this
way the symmetry between the two definitions is lost—the delicate structure of
chiasmus which makes it a highly peculiar passage; indeed, it is difficult to find a
similar passage anywhere else in the Corpus aristotelicum. Finally, any relationship
between the biological notions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom and the definitions of the
Poetics is thus obscured. In the most recent editions greater caution is generally
observed in relation to the original text. But the new edition edited by Tarán (and
Gutas) unfortunately demonstrates that we are still far from the goal.

72
Thus, for example, Morpurgo-Tagliabue (1968), Zanatta (2004). A similar solution is compatible
both with the total expunction of ἄqhqom (Morpurgo-Tagliabue, Belardi) and with its conservation
(Zanatta). Usually, those who move the examples also refer the definition (A1) to rύmderlo1.
Zanatta instead keeps both A1 and A2, and moves only the examples, which seems highly
questionable, if we consider that ἄqhqom in this sense is probably an Aristotelian neologism, while
rύmderlo1 was already known to Isocrates and to pre-Aristotelian rhetoric.
73
As mentioned above, the Stoics called prepositions pqohesijoὶ rύmderloi and the distinction
between the two classes is not attested before Dionysius Thrax (see Belli 1987). But when he
discusses the rύmderloi at length in the third book of Rhetoric, Aristotle mentions only examples
of coordinative and conjunctive particles and sees in their correct correspondence the principle of
correctly spoken Greek, see Rhet. C 5, 1407 a 19-30. Examples of correct coordination regard lέm
and dέ, to which ἐpeί, cάq, se and jaί are added in a later example.
74
Thus, for example Rostagni, 1945, followed by Valgimigli in his two editions of the Poetics after
the 1916 edition; also Belardi (1985), and unfortunately von Fragstein 1967, who would have had
every reason to consider the definition of ἄqhqom authentic. Further details on the various inter-
pretive positions in Zanatta (2004), Schramm (2005).
75
On this subject, see the ample discussion in Barnes (2007), pp. 168–263.
18 1 The Problem

1.2 State of the Text

Faced with all these drastic interventions, let us now consider the state of the text.
The definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom are found in their entirety only in the
main branch of the Byzantine tradition, represented by the Codex Parisinus Gr.
1741, dating back to the tenth–eleventh centuries, and the Latin translation by
Guilielmus de Moerbeka; this Latin translation is not assumed to derive directly
from the Parisinus but from a supposed «gemellus codex graecus deperditus.76» In
the second and more recent Byzantine manuscript of the Poetics, the Riccardianus
46 (fourteenth century), the suspect passage (1457 a 3-10) is missing due to
homeoteleuton, but the definition of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom and even a rudi-
mentary rendering in Arabic of the strange examples of dotted handwriting are
found in the Arabic version,77 in which however S1 is missing. Here, rύmderlo1 is
rendered with ‘the connector’ and ἄqhqom with ‘the articulator’.78 Any attempt to
merge the two definitions or to minimize the difference between them is thus
neutralized. The difference between rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom is in fact attested by
the concordance between the best Byzantine and Arabic traditions, while the
omission in the Ricciardianus manuscript is easily explained as homeoteleuton.
That being the case, the definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics can boast a very
solid tradition, and various interpreters, fortunately, have begun to recognize this
fact.79 After centuries of massive expunctions, of fanciful additions, in short, of
arbitrary philological license, this has finally been recognized by the most recent
criticism and by the most recent editions, apart from the surprising step backwards
represented by the edition of Tarán. The problems are, if anything, related to
interpretation, and it is here that they must be resolved.80
I believe that the many problems posed by the definition of rύmderlo1, and
especially by ἄqhqom, can be solved only by changing the perspective of our
reading, and by ceasing to look at the twentieth chapter of the Poetics in light of
later grammatical classifications. As I said at the beginning, Aristotle is neither a
linguist nor a grammarian by profession: almost two-thirds of his work is devoted to
the natural sciences, so I do not hesitate in defining him as the greatest biologist of

76
Kassel (1965), p. V.
77
«Translationem arabicam (saec. X, ad syriacum exemplar noni ut videntur saeculi confectam)»
(Kassel 1965, p. x). On the Arabic version of the Poetics see Gallavotti (1954), (1972); Rosén
(1990), and now especially Gutas in Tarán & Gutas 2012.
78
See Gallavotti (1954), pp. 251–4. It is nice that what we learn from the Arabic version appears to
prove him wrong quite regularly, but he proceeds straight on his way. One can find a compre-
hensive review of the terminology used in the Arabic version of the Poetics, enriched with
comparisons with Hebrew and other languages, in Rosén (1990), pp. 117–119. But the best gloss
on our passage is certainly Gutas’ long note on the Arabic version, in Tarán and Gutas (2012).
79
See Pagliaro (1956), and above all Schramm (2005), which is discussed below, as well as Laspia
(1997).
80
«Dabei scheint der überlieferte Text weitgehend intakt zu sein…Trotz der gute Überlieferung
steht die Interpretation vor große Schwierigkeiten» (Schramm 200, pp.187–9).
1.2 State of the Text 19

antiquity, or perhaps of all times. Unlike his mentor, Plato, Aristotle considers his
natural science project coherent and possible, and to the realization of this great
project he dedicated the greater part of his efforts and life. In antiquity and today,
the school founded by Aristotle, the Peripatetic school, is seen as having a distinct
naturalistic vocation, and some attribute the short-lived survival of that same
Peripatetic school to the impossibility of Aristotle’s followers (with the sole
exception of Theophrastus81) to remain faithful to the total science project of their
Teacher.82
My interpretation is characterized by the desire to read the definitions of the
Poetics not iuxta propria principia, but in light of Aristotelian naturalism. Such a
necessity arises, furthermore, because most of the theoretical terms of Aristotelian
linguistics, and in particular rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom (as well as rtkkabή, another
term I have studied in detail), are borrowed from the biological field. Precisely
because of these considerations, I have dared to formulate a new conjecture on the
first example of ἄqhqom in the Poetics, one which takes into account the necessary
connection between biology and linguistics.
But before we go down this path and formulate this new conjecture, I believe it
is wise to look a little further at the history of the interpretations of ἄqhqom. Any
new exegetical attempt that does not confront the past thoroughly is useless in my
opinion and certainly would not be very instructive for the reader. In this case, I
deliberately wanted to go into detail and be very critical of certain interpretative
positions, both because the history of the interpretations is less well-known than it
should be (and more instructive) and to lighten the task of interpretative analysis by
smiling. I beg the pardon of those who do not appreciate my manner.
In what follows, I will first outline briefly the conditions that led to such strong
skepticism toward the passage—a phase represented by the edition of Gudeman
(1934), but which had been prepared by Steinthal (1890). Then, I will devote my
attention to the most extreme interpretations: both those that amend the text in the
most imaginative ways, and those that seek a partial or fully conservative
restoration (van Bennekom, Dupont-Roc and Lallot, Schramm, and others,
including me). Only at the end of this path will I begin the actual pars construens of
my work.

81
Unfortunately, Theophrastus is not a very well known; quite few scholars write on him nowa-
days; relevant exceptions are Falcon (2012), Cerami and Falcon (2015), Pignatone (2017).
82
For a similar interpretation of the rapid decline of the Peripatetic school, see Lennox (1991),
pp. 110–130.
20 1 The Problem

1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding

the Definition of ἄqhqom

Heymann Steinthal is the first modern scholar who dealt with linguistic problems in
ancient times. Steinthal’s principal work, the two volumes of the Geschichte der
Sprachwissenschaft Griechen und bei den Römern, were published in a second
edition in 1890 and 1891. They are often republished and are still considered
recommended reading.83 To be emphasized however is the extreme acrimony—
inexplicable on first impression—that this scholar manifests in regard to Aristotle.
In fact, Steinthal does not hesitate to accuse Aristotle’s linguistic opinions of
«completely inexperienced naivety as regards both the essence of thought and
concepts and some objects of knowledge, in particular the object of grammar;
therefore reading Aristotle’s work I am either struck by astonishment or filled by
boredom or even inclined to laugh.84» Steinthal considers the twentieth chapter of
the Poetics «suspect»,85 and especially our two definitions.86 But elsewhere he does
not hesitate to acknowledge that the chapter must certainly be authentic: «because
even the worst grammarian would have done a better job.87» Such harsh judgments
provoked perhaps the distrust with which the twentieth chapter of the Poetics will
be treated, especially in the German editions of the first half of the 1900s.
But let us now talk about Gudeman, who, if he does not accuse Aristotle of
«completely inexperienced naivety» (thank goodness!), seems however to consider
the twentieth chapter of the Poetics an unsolvable puzzle, a kind of hodgepodge of
words that can not be assigned a meaning, in particular with regard to the defini-
tions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom.88 Faced with such an insoluble enigma, Gudeman
finds nothing better than to recommend to the reader «die Ausübung der ars

83
Thus Schmitt (2008), p. 620.
84
«Völlig unerfahrene Naivität sowol in Betreff des Wesens des Denkens und der Begriffe, als
auch mancher Gegenstände der Erkentiss, namentlich auch der Grammatik: so dass ich mich beim
Lesung der aristotelischen Werke bald von Bewunderung ergriffen finde, bald von Ueberdruss
erfüllt, bald zum Lächeln geneigt» (Steinthal (1890), p. 185). Such statements speak for them-
selves. Steinthal will be remembered for writing these words—and frankly I do not envy him.
85
«Verdächtig»p. 184.
86
«Die Stelle, welche die Definition von rύmderlo1 und ἄqhqom enthält, ist leider so verderbt,
dass sich keine Conjektur wahrscheinlich machen lässt» (1890, p. 263).
87
«…weil der schlechteste Grammatiker die Sache besser gemacht haben würde» (1890, p. 265).
88
«Es gibt m.W. in der antiken Literatur nur wenige Stellen änlichen Umfangs, von unleserlichen
oder verstümmelten Fragmenten abgesehen, die dem Verständnis so unüberwindliche
Schwiergkeiten bieten wie die folgende Erörterung über den rύmderlo1 und das ἄqhqom, und
zwar trägt dazu nicht nur, wie bereits oben dargelegt wurde, der heillose verderbdte Zustand der
Überlieferung bei. Denn selbst wo der Text unversehrt zu sein scheint, ist der Inhalt höchst
problematisch». Gudeman (1934), pp. 329–340. Gudeman is thus the founder of the latest
exegetical trend, which sees the problems as lying principally in the content and wording of the
definitions.
1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding the Definition of ἄqhqom 21

nesciendi89». About the definition of ἄqhqom, which for everyone is the most
difficult point of the chapter, Gudeman does not feel the need to say anything
positive.90
Gudeman therefore leaves the definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom wrapped in
what appears to him an impenetrable fog («im undurchdringlichen Nebel umhüllt»),
compared to which any of the other definitions is as clear as the sun («sonnen-
klar»).91 Here, the author is guilty, in my opinion, of excessive optimism. The
definition of syllable in the Poetics is not at all as clear as the sun. I have dedicated
almost thirty years of my life to deciphering it, and I still do not feel I have
explained it fully.92 The definition of kόco1 is not much clearer. The definition
states that a kόco1 is not necessarily constituted by nouns and verb—as Plato
maintained and as we, too, tend to think93—but can also consist of a single sig-
nificant part (lέqo1 rηlaῖmom). This part is an ὄmola, not a ῥῆla,94 and indeed the
example cited reads: «…but it will always have some part with a certain signifi-
cance by itself. In the sentence ‘Cleon walks’, ‘Cleon’ is an instance of such a part.»
(1456 a 26-8).95 After pointing out the problematic nature of the example and
eliminating a bracket that appears in almost all of the more recent editions—for the
good reason that brackets were unknown to Aristotle and are therefore only an

89
Gudeman (1934), p. 345. Previous attempts at interpretation, represented then by the com-
mentaries of Vahlen and Bywater, are in fact treated by Gudeman as elements of a lively imag-
ination: «Hypothesenbauten, wie z.B die Vahlens…und Bywaters …, die den überlieferten, aber
eigenstandenermaßen verderbten Text wie Karten durcheinendermischen, mit Athetesen,
Änderungen, Verschiebungen und Lücken operieren…führen sich selbst ad absurdum und sind
günstisten Falles ein geistreiches Spiel der Phantasie» (1934, p. 340). If Gudeman’s opinions
appear harsh, at least his intent to make use of more sober and motivated philological observations
is laudable.
90
«Über das ἄqhqom im aristotelischen Sinne läßt sich mit Sicherheit nur negativ sagen, daß es wie
rύmderlo1 noch kein einheitlicher Begriff war, und vor allem noch nicht den ‘Artikel’ beze-
ichnet» (1934, p. 341). A similar judgment is closely echoed in the aforementioned Barnes (2007),
p. 224.
91
1934, p. 340.
92
See Laspia (1997), (2001), (2008), (2010), (2013), but the interest was already alive in my B.A.
thesis (1985). I hope to publish a monograph on this subject soon.
93
In Barnes’s opinion, this is an error in Aristotle’s grammatical views: «Thus, Aristotle started
logic down the wrong grammatical road» (Barnes 1996, p. 180)».
94
As in the case of ‘it is raining’, as someone brought into play in the attempt to tame our
definition; see Valgimigli (1916), p. 83, note 3, who complains that Aristotle neglects to add that
«anche badίfei è significativo di per sé». But badίfei, taken by itself, is a jahηcoqoύlemom, a
jah’ ἑsέqot kecolέmxm rηleῖom (De int. 3, 16 b 7); it is therefore not at all ‘significant by itself’.
95
On this definition see the recent, and excellent, work of Graffi (2015), to whose bibliography I
refer for the most exhaustive mention I have found of editions, translations, and comments, ancient
and recent, of Poetics (pp. 450–55). On the subject, see also Ax (2000), Baratin-Desbordes (1981),
Thornton (1986), and by the same author, Graffi (1986), (2004).
22 1 The Problem

arbitrary choice of certain publishers96—Gudeman then proposes to move the example

to a place where it will be less bothersome, invoking the convenient deus ex machina of
a side note. He then also takes the liberty of changing the text, thereby allowing himself
to do something that he had so severely criticized others for doing.
Based on the contribution of Gudeman, which marks the phase of maximum
skepticism in regard to the meaning to be attributed to our definitions, I draw two
conclusions. (1) There is something very strange not only about the definition of
rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom, but about the entire chapter, and in particular the definitions
of rsoiveῖom, rtkkabή, and kόco1. Any attempt to domesticate the chapter and its
definitions, opting for solutions that bring it closer to the subsequent grammatical
tradition, thus seems out of place. (2) While before Gudeman the text was considered
incomprehensible and attempts were made to clarify it with various amendments, after
Gudeman the text was considered not just incomprehensible, but also impossible to
amend. Paradoxically, this opened the way to more fruitful interpretations.
Let us turn now to the most extreme attempts to correct the text. They are surely
represented by the two articles written by Carlo Gallavotti in the second half of the
last century (1954, 1972). The latter is of particular interest to us, because it
presents a new conjecture on the first example of the definition of ἄqhqom.
Although it is impossible according to its meaning, this second conjecture is
plausible from a paleographic point of view, and it clearly shows how the text could
be amended, making it an important model for my own conjecture. The results of
the two works were then utilized in a critical edition of the Poetics (1974). In this
edition, Gallavotti, by his own admission,97 did not add anything new to what he
had already said in the articles, but he provides a text of our definitions—and indeed
of the entire twentieth chapter—that strays far from tradition.
The 1954 article opens with an excellent statement of intent: «One of the places
in the Poetics that publishers and interpreters have tampered with most is found in
chapter 20, and specifically, the short discussion of coniunctio (or convictio,
according to Quintilian’s calque of syndesmos… But greater confidence in the
manuscript tradition has also been recently suggested, and sustained with a vig-
orous exegetic effort, and we must certainly safeguard the text as much as possible
from any formal editing».98

96
Gudeman (1934), p. 340. Gallavotti, too, moves away from this arbitrariness and is the only
publisher besides Gudeman who eliminates the brackets, as far as I know: see Gallavotti (1974),
p. 74, 178–179.
97
See Gallavotti (1974), pp. 175–6, ad loc. A lot could be said about Gallavotti’s edition of the Poetics:
of all the editions it is the one which presents the most extreme (and imaginative) solutions.
98
«Fra i luoghi della Poetica più manomessi da editori e interpreti, è nel cap. 20, la breve
trattazione della coniunctio (o convictio, secondo il calco quintilianeo di syndesmos). Ma una
maggiore fiducia nella tradizione manoscritta è stata anche recentemente suggerita, e sostenuta con
vigoroso sforzo esegetico; e dobbiamo senza dubbio salvaguardare il testo quanto più possibile da
ogni ritocco formale» (1954, p. 141). The reference here is to Antonino Pagliaro, who published,
also in 1954, the first edition of his essay Il capitolo linguistico della Poetica di Aristotele
(«Ricerche Linguistiche» III, 1954, pp. 1–55), republished in Nuovi saggi di critica semantica,
D’Anna, Messina-Firenze 1956, pp. 77–151.
1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding the Definition of ἄqhqom 23

The premises could not be any better. Of the same caliber is the following, in
which the author, certainly with Pagliaro in mind, warns of forcing and anachro-
nism: «…we must avoid attributing to Aristotle not only modernistic concepts, but
also grammatical formulas documented in a later period, no matter how close to his
own; and rather than looking to subsequent grammarians for illumination, the best
approach is to seek to understand Aristotle’s conception and terminology in the
general context of his philosophical doctrine and his linguistic habits» (p. 143).
One may have noticed that at the opening of his work the author speaks only of
syndesmos, coniunctio, or convictio. In spite of the excellent statement of intent and
the numerous appeals for a conservative restoration, we can infer that he has already
decided to neutralize ἄqhqom. Far from reconstructing the meanings of rύmderlo1
and ἄqhqom in the Corpus of the biological works, as we would expect after
making a precise allusion to Aristotle’s linguistic habits, Gallavotti instead for-
mulates three axioms: (1) We cannot—given the uncertainty of the text and the
interpretation—attribute to the author a doctrine which, according to the precise
testimony of the sources, was totally unrelated to him. (2) We cannot accept the
repetition of an entire sentence at such a short distance without any logical and
stylistic justification. (3) We cannot accept the fact that the author provides several
alternating or even conflicting definitions of a single concept99 (p. 142).
The sources to which we are referred in point 1 are Dionysius of Halicarnassus
and Quintilian; the testimony of Simplicius is not taken into the slightest consid-
eration. At this point, the presence of ἄqhqom has already become bothersome. But
Gallavotti had promised us a restoration of the text, and in fact «the way to solve
this aporia is not to espunge ἄqhqom jsk., but to find a new solution, denying that
ἄqhqom has the value here of a technical grammatical term. We must therefore keep
the meaning that the word commonly had, that is, ‘juncture’, ‘joining’, from which
comes the anatomical meaning of pudenda, and in particular, ‘articulation’ (of the
limbs, of the voice)» (p. 243).
Now, it is precisely the previous appeal to the linguistic habits of Aristotle that
should have induced Gallavotti to be more cautious: in Aristotelian biology in fact,
‘connector’ (rύmderlo1) is not at all synonymous with ‘articulator’ (ἄqhqom). The
two terms have, if anything, opposite meanings, as the Arabic translator of the
Poetics perceived with clever intuition. But for Gallavotti ἄqhqom is only a variant
of rύmderlo1. So, are we confronted with four different definitions of the same
thing? No, because Gallavotti, like Gudeman before him, ruled out the possible
existence of more than one definition of the same object, as stated in point 3. And
since point 2 states that «we cannot accept the repetition of an entire sentence at
such a short distance without any logical and stylistic justification», an easy

99
«Non possiamo – data l’incertezza del testo e dell’interpretazione – attribuire all’autore una
dottrina, che secondo la precisa testimonianza delle fonti, gli era estranea; non possiamo ammettere
che a breve distanza sia ripetuto tale e quale un intero periodo senza nessuna giustificazione logica
e stilistica; (4) Non possiamo ammettere che di un unico concetto l’autore fornisca più di una
definizione in maniera alternativa o addirittura contrastante». (Gallavotti 1954, p. 142)
24 1 The Problem

solution for him is expunging not S1, on the basis of the Arabic version of the
Poetics, but, surprisingly, A2.
As to the true or alleged contradiction between S1 and S2, it is easily solved with
a «minimal addition»: simply place <oὐ cάq> before S2, and everything is fine
(p. 246). It seems to Gallavotti that «a non-significant expression which neither
prevents nor produces a single significant expression from several expressions», as
for example lέm and dέ (S1), can be defined asemantic, while «a non-significant
expression which is of such a nature as to produce a single significant expression
from more expressions than one» (S2) is semantic, thus not admissible as an
example of rύmderlo1.100
But back to the text, or rather, to the version that Gallavotti gives. The fact that
S2 is without examples is now explained perfectly: in the definition of rύmderlo1,
such an operator of conjunction, capable of making a sole semantic expression from
many, is spoken of only exempli gratia («difatti non sarebbe inespressiva quella
formula etc.» p. 246). Too bad rύmderlo1, given its etymology, means precisely
‘connector’ and from this derives the meaning ‘conjunction’. As for A1 and A2,
they are no longer a problem. A2 in fact has already been expunged and A1 we
have understood as a further illustration of S1. It only remains to be explained why
Aristotle does not mention the obvious jaί among the examples of conjunction. We
must also explain the difficult examples in A1, which at first sight do not seem very
congruent with the examples of rύmderlo1. But this, too, is child’s play: one must
only read, «with a simple inversion», «oἷόm φηli sὸ jaί, sὸ ὅpeq jaὶ sὰ ἄkka»
(p. 247), in place of oἷom sὸ φ.l.i. jaὶ sὸ p.e.q.i. jaὶ sὰ ἄkka. I think that such use
of philology, full of arbitrary additions and expunctions, requires no comment.
Some might think that time and age lead to wisdom and that in 1972 Gallavotti
would have felt the need to return to the subject in order to make amends.
Unfortunately, this is not the case. The premises—points 1, 2, and 3—remain the
same and the integration <oὐ cάq> and the whole construction of the passage is
identical.101
So then why does Gallavotti return to the subject? Only to retouch the examples:
in fact, «the subsequent correction of Hartung, ἀlφί, has become well-established
in the modern vulgate, but only by the close affinity of ἀlφί to the other example of
preposition, peqί. This correction is neither supported by paleographic evidence nor
by parallel passages» (p. 11). On this point, we can only agree with Gallavotti, but

100
The problem is discussed in Belli 1987. The author examines the positions of Pagliaro, Belardi,
and Gallavotti in relation to the testimony of Posidonius and basically agrees with Gallavotti.
101
«Quindi il paragrafo sul syndesmos comprende solo i tre periodi che ho qui sopra indicato…
Essenziale, nella mia interpretazione, è il supplemento di <oὐ cάq> a principio di (2): ma il
vantaggio che se ne trae per il testo è decisivo: non c’è più contraddizione concettuale, non ci sono
duplici definizioni del medesimo oggetto, non c’è un elemento del linguaggio denominato arthron
e diverso dal syndesmos, non c’è nessun’altra correzione o espunzione da eseguire nel testo al fine
di ristabilire il concetto o la forma del passo» (1972, p. 6–7). Wonderful. But, at this point the text
no longer exists. Aristotle is no longer present. Similar ‘conservative restoration’ makes us bitterly
regret the «Ausübung der ars nesciendi» of Gudeman—which is saying quite a lot.
1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding the Definition of ἄqhqom 25

then how do we interpret φ.l.i.? «I would think that hidden in the Byzantine
subarchetype is φηi, due to the simple graphic alteration of a letter: the H/M
exchange can even be traced the text’s belonging to the age of papyri. Thus, here,
we would have UHI altered to become UMI, that is, the particle φῆi or φή, which
means jahάpeq, ‘in the manner of’» (p. 12).
Now, φῆi is an archaic and obsolete Homeric particle, and in fact Gallavotti
points out immediately: «it may be surprising that a rare and poetic word such as φῇ
is given as an example, alongside peqί, (…) It is, however, reasonable to suppose
that Aristotle is dealing here with some open question regarding Homeric exegesis,
which he also discusses elsewhere (even in the Ἀpoqήlasa Ὁlηqijά)» (p. 12). To
remind us that Aristotle is also the author of the Ἀpoqήlasa Ὁlηqijά is unusual—
and commendable. But believing that Aristotle takes the time to go and dissect
Homeric particles when he should be identifying the pillars of enunciation (kέni1)
does not seem very plausible at all.
Let us now address briefly the contribution of van Bennekom (1975). He, too,
begins by referring to Kassel’s «corrupta et confusa» note but then continues in a
more constructive spirit: «This paper is an attempt to show that the situation is not
so hopeless as that. Out of the (admittedly maigre) evidence we have of the early
stages of Greek grammatical theory, a framework can be construed in which the
present passage fits reasonably well» (p. 399).
Van Bennekom—who is, as far as I know, the inventor of the successful
schematization in S1, S2, A1, A2 of the two definitions and their various sub-
lemmas—begins with the notion of the «confessedly unfinished and sketchy state of
the Poetics» (p. 402) and on this basis explains the dual definition of rύmderlo1
and ἄqhqom.102 As I have already stated, the idea that Aristotle may have wanted to
unite something like S1 and S2 (or A1 and A2), or choose calmly at a later time
between one of the two pairs, appears implausible. The fact that S1 and S2 seem to
contradict each other, and that A2 is a repetition of S1, is passed over in silence.
For van Bennekom, rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom are not synonyms: the first class
designates the conjunction in its various types, while the second, for him, desig-
nates the article and the preposition. The foundations of an interpretation that will
be highly successful have thus been created. We proceed now to the amendments,
particularly those regarding the crucial example in A1. Van Bennekom reads oἷom
sὸ <ὁ> [φ.l.i.] jaὶ sὸ p.e.q.i. jaὶ sὰ ἄkka. The integration of <ὁ> between sὸ and
[φ.l.i.] which makes it easy to interpret the ἄqhqom of Aristotle as article, is not
very original: the eighteenth century edition of Tyrwitt already contained something
similar. In his interpretation of the dotted handwriting in [φ.l.i.] Van Bennekom,
however, shows a great deal of imagination and even a certain talent for puzzles.
After he aptly points out that the hypothesis of Hartung «has little to commend
itself», the author offers his own: «I venture to suggest that φ.l.i. is a gloss per

102
«But in view of the confessedly unfinished and sketchy state of the Poetics, this is in itself no
ground for athetizing one or both alternatives. For all we know, it may have been Aristotle’s
intention to work them up into a whole or to select either as the more adequate» (1975, pp. 402–3).
26 1 The Problem

compendium (i.e., U.MI.=φxmὴm lίam, or even U.M.C.=φxmὴm lίam cίmerhai)»

(1975, p. 310).
Such an explanation seems somewhat fanciful, besides the fact that it is not very
useful to clarifying the text. Perhaps the author himself was aware of this. In fact,
not only does he move forward very cautiously toward his proposal («I venture to
suggest …»), he also advances an alternative explanation: «Another possibility is to
read oἷom sὸ ὅ φηli jaὶ sὸ peqὶ jaὶ sὰ ἄkka» (1975, 410). Such a solution, as we
have said, is not original, but did attract many proselytes. The final section is truly a
surprise. After so much suffering (see the glossa per compendium!), the author asks:
«Who is, finally, the author of the ἄqhqom-section?». The conclusion is that, in all
likelihood, it is not Aristotle. The author, according to him, is Theophrastus, or
some other peripatetic. Van Bennekom in fact reconsiders the testimony of
Dionysius of Halicarnassus and Aristide Quintilian, whose unreliability has already
been mentioned, but since he cannot ignore that of Simplicius, attributing the
definition of ἄqhqom to Theophrastus seems to him a good idea. Such a hypothesis
is nevertheless refuted by the striking similarities between the definition of ἄqhqom
in the Poetics and many other places in the Aristotelian Corpus, as we shall see.
Let us now examine the more conservative attempts to interpret our definitions.
In my opinion, these include the following contributions: Pagliaro (1956),
Dupont-Roc and Lallot (1980), Schramm (2005), and, si parva licet, Laspia (1997).
To these must be added the little-known contribution of Rosén (1990),103although
his observations seem to me more conservative in intent than in their outcome.
The reader cannot approach the contribution of Pagliaro (1956) without a rev-
erent spirit: it is the first attempt at interpretation that restores the original text and
fully accepts it to the letter. After deploring the fact that the text is treated by the
interpreters without care,104 Pagliaro became the first who dared to say that the
tradition in regard to Poetics does not deserve such distrust.105 The importance of
such a statement should not be underestimated, especially since Pagliaro continues:
«We know that as a rule it is wise to doubt the text and try to correct it … But when
the meaning seems to be completely absent, and the text is part of a refined
tradition, as in the case of an Aristotelian script, the respect that is due to Byzantine
culture» (and, I would add, to Aristotle himself) «imposes more than ever the
obligation to refrain from cuts, substitutions and changes of position, which,
without any base in tradition, end up being arbitrary acts».106

103
I am informed of the existence of this work only by Schramm 2005, p. 192 ff.
104
«Il testo venga trattato con molta libertà al fine di eliminare in esso presunte interpolazioni e
errori» (Pagliaro 1956, p. 79),
105
«La tradizione della Poetica non merita tanta diffidenza» (Pagliaro 1956, p. 80).
106
«Si sa che è buona norma dubitare del testo e cercare di correggerlo…Ma quando il senso
sembra che manchi del tutto, e si tratta di un testo di tradizione non grosslana, come può essere
quella di uno scritto aristotelico, il rispetto che si deve alla cultura bizantina impone più che mai
l’obbligo di lasciare da parte i tagli, le sostituzioni, gli spostamenti che, mancando un qualsiasi
appiglio alla tradizione, si risolvono in atti arbitrari» (Pagliaro 1956, pp. 80–1).
1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding the Definition of ἄqhqom 27

Another important merit of his work is that it attempts to make an integral

reading of twentieth chapter of the Poetics, seeking first to establish the point of
view from which the analysis moves.107 But for Pagliaro the elocution appears to
Aristotle as a phono-semantic tape on which various units can be identified.108
Now, this seems to me more of a Saussurian point of view than an Aristotelian one,
because phonetic rules are for Aristotle not linear ones, and the fonetic utterance
cannot be represented as «a tape».109 Next, we find an analysis of the entire chapter
that begins precisely with the definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom. The analysis
of ὄmola, ῥῆla, and kόco1 in fact comes later and is not as extensive, while that of
rsoiveῖom, which Pagliaro identifies with the phoneme, comes even later in an
appendix.110 Here, again it seems we can hear echoes of Saussure’s (but not
Aristotle’s) warning that voice is an element that is external to language.
The first important position taken with regard to our topic deals with the age-old
problem of the alternative definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom. According to
him, the duplicity of the definitions comes, as has already been mentioned, from the
dual criterion which guides Aristotelian analysis of the parts of speech … and that is
the morphological-lexical and syntactic-logical criterion.111
According to Pagliaro, the two definitions do not refer to different classes of
referents (coordinative particles, expletives or conjunctives with regard to
rύmderlo1, and the article and the preposition with regard to ἄqhqom, to mention
only the best-known interpretations),112 but rather they identify the same theoretical
object, considered from two different points of view. The claim is not implausible,
but it did not have much success. In fact, it is adopted later only by Schramm.
Neither of the two seem to offer us ideal solutions. The explanation of Pagliaro is
obscure and cumbersome, while that of Schramm seems to me in some places far
from convincing.
According to both Pagliaro and Schramm, S1 and A2 are found on a more
concrete level and refer to the position of the designated particles within the phrase
(logos). But to admit and at the same time claim that ἄqhqom designates the article
is a vain undertaking, because a kόco1 in which the article marks the end of the
speech has never been seen. But now let us look more in detail at the interpretation
of ἄqhqom. Pagliaro reproduces the passage exactly as it is found in the most recent
editions, such as that of Kassel, with ἀlφί in place of φ.l.i., and comments in a

107
«Il punto di vista da cui muove l’analisi» (Pagliaro 1956, p. 87).
108
«L’elocuzione appare ad Aristotele come un nastro fonico-semantico in cui sono individuabili
varie unità» (Pagliaro 1956, p. 87).
109
Cfr. Laspia 2008, 2013, 2018a.
110
La fonologia di Aristotele (1956, pp. 140–5).
111
«Secondo noi, la duplicità delle definizioni deriva, come si è già accennato, dal duplice criterio
a cui si ispira l’analisi aristotelica delle parti del discorso …e cioè il criterio morfologico-lessicale e
quello sintattico-logico» (Pagliaro 1956, p. 90).
112
Barnes, who omits S1, maintains it is A2 that refers to expletive particles that ‘articulate’ the
sentence without unifying it (pp. 223–5). He implicitly shares, therefore, the worst idea of
Dupot-Roc and Lallot: that ἄqhqom has a weaker function than rύmderlo1.
28 1 The Problem

note: Hartung’s conjecture ἀlφί is the only one which is paleographically plausi-
ble113. But, as Gallavotti clearly recognizes, the «paleographically plausible»
conjecture of Hartung is not plausible at all: it is based only on the similarity of
letters in φ.l.i. and ἀlφί, and the similarity of meaning of ἀlφί and peqί.
Pagliaro thus accepts the original text faithfully, except for ἀlφί in place of
φ.l.i., and then arrives at the article in the following way. After translating the
definition of ἄqhqom, rendered quite casually with the term ‘article-pronoun’
(p. 94), he writes: «This interpretation needs careful consideration. But first of all, it
must be affirmed that ἄqhqom can only be understood as the demonstrative pronoun
and the resulting article, with the exclusion of any other part of speech, and in
particular of the preposition, which is part of the rύmderlo1».114
This is how the comment on the definition of ἄqhqom begins. There was no
reason, or a list of reasons, given beforehand that have been omitted here. No:
ἄqhqom means ‘article’, and that’s all. But why? Because it does. Now, let us not
forget that in the text adopted by Pagliaro, ἀlφί and peqί are given as examples of
ἄqhqom in A1. Why, then, does he infer that «the prepositions belong to the
rύmderlo1»? And how does he reach the conclusion that «ἄqhqom can only be
understood as the demonstrative pronoun and the resulting article»?
In conclusion, when Morpurgo-Tagliabue says, speaking of «ἀlφί and peqί,
included in the first definition of ἄqhqom but incompatible with its meaning as
article-pronoun», that Pagliaro gives a «very elegant explanation for this, though it
is a bit captious»,115 he is guilty, in my view, of excessive generosity. The inter-
pretation of ἄqhqom provided by Pagliaro has in fact all the elegance of the petitio
principii, and the explanation of ἀlφί and peqί in A1 is extremely cumbersome.116
The next contribution we will discuss is the edition of Dupont-Roc and Lallot, to
date the most faithful attempt at restoring the text, and one which also seeks to
fathom the linguistic sense of our definition. This is easily explained when we take
into account that Jean Lallot is one of the greatest modern scholars of the history of
linguistic theories.117 What we will consider, therefore, is not just an edition of the
Poetics whatsoever. The discussion of the twentieth chapter here is not rushed
through as if it were a tiresome duty, but is perhaps one of the main reasons why

113
«La congettura di Hartung ἀlφί è l’unica paleograficamente plausibile». Pagliaro 1956, p. 94,
note 13.
114
In his own words: «Questa interpretazione ha bisogno di attenta considerazione. Epperò per
prima cosa è necessario affermare che per arthron non si può intendere se non il pronome
dimostrativo e l’articolo che ne deriva, con esclusione di ogni altra parte del discorso, e in
particolare della preposizione, che fa parte del syndesmos» (Pagliaro 1956, p. 85).
115
«Il Pagliaro ne dà una spiegazione espremamente elegante, sebbene un po’ capziosa»
(Morpurgo-Tagliabue 1967, p. 54).
116
«ἀlφί e peqί non sono dati nel testo come esempi di ἄqhqa (come si è detto, mai le preposizioni
sono state considerate appartenenti a tale categoria e perciò la loro presenza dà luogo a una situazione
interpretativa impossibile e disperata); sono invece esempi del dioqίfeim attribuito all’ἄqhqom, si
riferiscono quindi al dioqirlόm e non a tutta la definizione» (Pagliaro 1956, p. 100).
117
The author, in fact, has published numerous works on the subject, such as the critical edition of
the grammar of Dionysius Thrax (1989) and the syntax of Apollonius Dyscolus (1997).
1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding the Definition of ἄqhqom 29

Lallot decided to edit the Poetics. The notes to twentieth chapter XX alone occupy
more than twenty pages (pp. 314–339), and for their scope and comprehensiveness
are in no way inferior to the great commentaries of the 1800s or early 1900s.
The Dupont-Roc and Lallot edition is not to be recommended for any particular
philological boldness. And yet, perhaps because of this, it is characterized by a
remarkable sobriety. Except for three exceptions «pephukuian 57 a 2, semantikon
57 a 5, amphì 57 a 7»118, the text corresponds to what we read in the so-called
manuscript A, i.e., the codex Parisinus graecus 1741. So it is not here that we
should expect boldness in the interpretation of the crucial example φ.l.i., rendered
here as (ἀlφί) in accordance with the conjecture of Hartung. Dupont-Roc and Lallot
devote excellent pages of commentary to the notion of kέni1 (pp. 314–5).119 They
are the first to emphasize the delicate framework of the definitions of rύmderlo1
and ἄqhqom, using the grid S1-S2/A1-A2 already proposed by van Bennekom
(pp. 23–4), and they are the first, together with van Bennekom, to accept without
any difficulty the preposition as an Aristotelian example of ἄqhqom (pp. 323–7).
Also convincing is the idea that the ἄqhqom functions, at least in most cases, «au
niveau intra-propositionnel» while the rύmderlo1 works «au niveau inter-pro-
positionnel» (p. 327).120
Some of the editors’ choices appear somewhat more questionable. In the first
place, it seems a bit much to place S1 and S2, A1 and A2 in a grid, attributing them
with the presence or absence of distinctive binary features such as position, liaison,
unification, and démarcation.121 Secondly, the identification of the subclasses of
particles («S1 = particules de liaison, S2 = conjonctions, A1 = prépositions,
A2 = particules expletives», p. 326) seems a little forced to me.122 In this way, the
value of the literal coincidence between S1 and A2 and of the overall chiastic
structure of the passage is lost, while the (alleged) taxonomic vocation of Aristotle
is overestimated.

118
1980, p. 322.
119
Interesting clarifications of the meaning of kέni1 are also found in Rosén (1990), p. 112,
Ricoeur (1996), pp. 347–349, and Guastini (2010), pp. 306–8. All the authors agree that kέni1 is to
be understood as the elocution, that is, the material, phonetic or graphic enunciation, which has its
semantic representation in the kόco1. However, it must not be forgotten that kόco1, amound its
many meanings, also includes the one of ‘simple proposition’. It is not contradictory, therefore,
that the kόco1 is part of the kέni1. On the meanings of kόco1 before Aristotle, see in particular
Gianvittorio (2010); for the meanings of the term in Aristotle, see Scarpat (1950), Matthen (1983),
De Rijk (2002), Laspia (2018), and above all, Graffi (2015), just quoted above.
120
This hypothesis is also supported by Van Bennekom (1975), p. 409, Rosén (1990), p. 114,
Ildefonse (1997), p. 108, Swiggers and Wouters (2002), p. 111, and Schramm (2005), p. 200. For a
partial correction, see below where I discuss the ‘false connectives’ of the period (Laspia 1997,
pp. 93–100).
121
More specifically, S1 is denoted thus: position+, liaison+, unification—(neutral), démarcation
—; S2 presents only liaison as a positive value, A1 only the value of démarcation, A2 only the
value of position and not also that of liason as in S1, though it is identical to it (1980, p. 324).
122
Unfortunately, it is above all this classificatory vocation that is emphasized in studies related to
linguistics, which owe a lot to this edition, like for example Swiggers and Wouters 2002.
30 1 The Problem

But most importantly, the function of ἄqhqom in my opinion is misunderstood,

because, in their opinion, rύmderlo1 is more powerful than ἄqhqom (p. 325).123
This is the issue on which the interpretation of Dupont-Roc and Lallot deviates
most from mine. I do not think it is difficult to prove that for Aristotle ἄqhqom has a
much more crucial function than that of rύmderlo1.124
I think it is now appropriate to mention a brief contribution by Rosén125. It is not
explicitly dedicated to ἄqhqom: in fact its merits do not lie in the interpretation he
gives. After having correctly identified the value of kέni1 as «sprachlicher
Ausdruck» (1990, p. 112), the author points out the difference between Aristotelian
linguistic categories and modern ones, putting the reader on guard against any
equivalence between the twentieth chapter of the Poetics and ancient or modern
classifications of the parts of speech. He then proceeds to a detailed analysis of our
two definitions. After declaring that the partial coincidence of the definition of
rύmderlo1 (S1) and ἄqhqom (A2) is not due to corruption of the text (pp. 113–4),
the author proceeds to establish the text and the translation of the two definitions.
Like Dupont-Roc and Lallot, Rosén, too, interprets rύmderlo1 as an operator
whose function is to connect propositions or sentences126 But sorrowful notes are
then sounded when he comes to the definition and examples of ἄqhqom. According
to Rosén, the φ.l.i. of the original are in fact to be interpreted as «ein ziemlich
stereotypisches aristotelisches φηlί». The conjecture of Hartung is thus incorrect—
and on this point, we agree. But in this way, sό becomes the example and φηlί is
used to mention it. Now, as we have repeatedly pointed out, this is contradicted by
all the examples given in the twentieth chapter of the Poetics. Also surprising is the
prejudice that leads Rosén to exclude that peqί (p.e.q.i.) is an ἄqhqom. The author
is therefore forced to transform peqί into peq and sὰ ἄkka into ἀkkά, perhaps on
the basis of the Arabic version. The extreme brevity of the text, in my opinion, does
not give us sufficient justification for these drastic amendments.
And now I come, not without a certain timidity, to a discussion of my own work.
L’articolazione linguistica (Laspia 1997) is a book of my youth and it has some of
the typical shortcomings: firstly, the ill-chosen title (L’articolazione linguistica.
Origini biologiche di una metafora), which does not clearly indicate that the book is
essentially devoted to the Greek world. Other problems, related primarily to an

123
About seventy years before this, Bywater had observed far more correctly: «Both rύmderlo1
and ἄqhqom were terms taken by grammar from anatomy; the former is properly a ‘ligament’, and
the latter a ‘joint’ (…). The joint-word in grammar, therefore, would naturally imply a more
structural and organic connexion than is to be found when the kόco1 is simply strung together with
rύmderloi» (1909, p. 273).
124
«on peut se démander si les ‘articulations’ ne se caractérisent pas, par rapport aux ‘conjonc-
tions’ par leur ‘pauvreté’ relative, dans la mesure où leur fonction distinctive (qui leur vaut leur
nom), l’articulation ou démarcation, est déjà remplie par les conjonctions, mais comme une
function sécondaire en regard de la fonction primaire conjonctive, plus ‘riche’: le ligament (sens de
sundesmos en anatomie) fait plus de l’articulation (sens d’arthron en anatomie)» (1980, p. 325).
125
The author had already obtained recognition for a terse but excellent study of the section of the
twentieth chapter of the Poetics devoted to phonetics (Rosén 1974), commented in Belardi (1986).
126
«Ein transphrasales Ausdrucksmittel» (1990, p. 114).
1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding the Definition of ἄqhqom 31

erroneous explanation of the first example of ἄqhqom, I will explain later. But in
spite of these defects, si parva licet, my old book probably has some merit. Firstly, I
made an exhaustive study of all the derivatives of the family of ἄqhqom in a period
ranging from Homer to Aristotle (and, for the grammatical ἄqhqom, up until
Dionisius Thrax), with particular reference to the linguistic and biological spheres.
By doing so, unexpected and profound similarities between the two spheres
emerge.
Secondly, the work contains a thorough study of ἄqhqom and its derivatives in
Aristotle. I thus demonstrate that ἄqhqom is a term that is central to Aristotelian
thought. The ἄqhqom, also called jalpή,127 ‘inflection point’, is in fact the model
through which, in De motu animalium, Aristotle exemplifies how the Unmoved
Mover operates, i.e., the first principle of movement of the universe128, and also the
first biological motor inside living organisms.129 This cannot but have an impact on
the definition of ἄqhqom of the Poetics.
I also believe I have convincingly explained the functions performed respec-
tively by rύmderlo1 and by ἄqhqom: «For Aristotle, rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom
perform functions that are not only different, but also somehow opposed. Both of
them are units of junction: but while rύmderlo1 unifies what by its own nature is
divided, ἄqhqom divides what by its own nature is joined» (1997, p. 92).130 This
explanation is also supported by the comparison with the Arabic version of the
Poetics, which translates rύmderlo1 as ‘the connector’ and ἄqhqom with ‘the
articulator’.
Finally, I think my hypothesis regarding the substantial sameness of S1 and A2
in the text is still plausible. The two definitions in fact refer to the same objects
(conjunctions, in the broadest sense), but in different contexts (hence the reference
in S1 and A2 to position). S1 refers to the connectives in the kέni1 eἰqolέmη, which
is also called rtmdέrlῳ lίa; A2 instead refers to the ‘false connectives’ of the
kέni1 jasersqallέmη or peqίodo1,131 which is an example of unitary discourse by
itself. If I say ‘you must treat friends well and badly enemies’ (deῖ soὺ1 φίkot1 eὖ
poieῖm jaὶ soὺ1 ἐvhqoὺ1 jajῶ1.), the role played by the conjunction ‘and’ is not
the same as in the phrase ‘Mark reads and Patricia runs’. The first example is in fact
a peqίodo1 of the kind that Aristotle would call ἀmsijeilέmη, based on the
antithesis between the first and second jῶkom (‘you must treat friends well/badly
enemies’). This example is evidently based on a unitary semantic project: the

127
For the full interchangeability of the two terms, see for example Hist. An. A 15, 493 b 30-494 a
2; C 5, 515 b 3-5, quoted in full in Laspia 1997, p. 27 note 30. The two terms are used
interchangeably already in Plato’s Timaeus, see Tim. 74 a-e, quoted in Laspia 1997, p. 27 note 29.
128
De motu animalium 1, 698 a 8-b 2; 8, 702 a 21-32, cited in full in Laspia (1992), pp. 28–31.
129
See De an. C 10, 433 b 21-5, cited in paragraph 10 below, with the passage of the De motu
animalium.
130
Even Schramm, 2005, p. 201, n. 32, reproduces my affirmation, with which he seems to agree.
131
On Aristotle’s notion of peqίodo1 see Kennedy (1958), Fowler (1982), and Rapp (2001). For
extended references of the passages on kέni1 eἰqolέmη and jasersqallέmη see Laspia (1997),
pp. 84–92.
32 1 The Problem

second jῶkom is in fact a perfect reversal of the first. If this is so, the peqίodo1 is a
unitary discourse in itself, not a unitary discourse thanks to a connector132. The
connective particles are identical in the two cases, as illustrated by the examples of
peqίodo1 provided in Aristotle’s Rhetoric, whose members (jῶka) are always
connected by rύmderloi. But the role played by rύmderloi in the kέni1 eἰqolέmη
and jasersqallέmη is quite different. In the first case, the rύmderloi «unify what
by its own nature is divided», in the second they «divide what by its own nature is
joined».133
Let us turn now to more painful matters: the interpretation of the first example of
ἄqhqom in 1457 a 7 (φ.l.i.) that is given in my volume. The second example,
p.e.q.i., is not a problem. I think it is plausible that the preposition represents the
type of ‘articulation’134 at work in a noun phrase that for Aristotle is like a kόco1.
Inside the simple proposition (kόco1 ἓm dηkῶm) the same role is performed in my
opinion by the so-called ‘copula’, which today I would call ‘predication operator’
(eἰlί). Where it is ‘predicated as a third element’ (De int. 10, 19 b 19) and does not
itself contain a determination of time—which it does not contain in necessary
predication—eἰlί is, in my opinion, the principal type of Aristotelian ἄqhqom.135
When it contains indications of time, and especially if it relates directly to an
ὄmola, (the cases that the ancients called de secundo adiacente), eἰlί partakes of
the nature of the verb (De int. 10, 19 b 14-5). The reasoning should not shock us.
Indeed the coexistence of a single referent for multiple classes or multiple referents
for a single class seems to be a recurring feature in the definitions of the Poetics.136
Let us assume for a moment that all this is true: in this case we should find eἰlί in
the definition of ἄqhqom of the Poetics. But on the model of the Aldine edition I
interpreted φ.l.i. as φηlί, seen as an example of copula in a definition.137 Such an
interpretation clearly does not hold. But we must choose: either eἰlί is actually
written in the text of the Poetics, or all my reasoning on the text is inconsistent.138

132
See Laspia (1997), pp. 97–100.
133
See Laspia (1997), pp. 93–116; numerous other interpreters, such as Bywater (1909),
Dupont-Roc and Lallot (1980), Wartelle (1985), and Barnes (2007), interpret A2 in relation to
various types of conjunctions, expletive particles, disjunctives, etc., in short, in relation to «des
petits outils grammaticaux» (Wartelle 1985, p. 29), but none in my opinion explain the identi-
calness of S1 and A2.
134
I do not understand therefore why Schramm (2005, p. 208 note 42) states: «nur Dupont-Roc/
Lallot (1980), 321–328 und van Bennekom (1975) sehen sie (sc. die Beispielreihe in A1) als
Präposition».
135
This conclusion is compatible with the hypothesis formulated initially by von Fragstein (1967),
according to which Aristotelian ἄqhqom would be «die Kopula»; the Author, however, does not
make such a conjecture in relation to the text of Poetics.
136
As cleverly noted by Rosén 1990, p. 114.
137
«Un possibile esempio di copula in un discorso definitorio» (Laspia 1997, p. 116).
138
As concerns eἶmai as copula, Scarpat (1950) may be considered a seminal contribution.
Unfortunately, the definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics is, according to Scarpat, to be considered
spurious (pp. 43–5), and thus he does not apply to the subject that interests us his insightful
recognition that «to be predicated as a third element» is asemantic.
1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding the Definition of ἄqhqom 33

Last but not least, let us now consider the interpretation of Schramm (2005),
which as far as I know is the last contribution to have appeared on the subject. After
alluding as is appropriate to the difficulties inherent in interpreting the definitions of
rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom,139 Schramm continues: «The text handed down seems to
be largely intact» (2005, p. 187). The textual integrity of our definitions had never
been affirmed with such a crystalline clarity. The author categorically denies that the
twentieth chapter of the Poetics can be read as referring to specific grammatical
classes140; however, because Aristotle gives examples, the chapter is not limited to
«eine reine funktionale Beschreibung von rύmderlo1 und ἄqhqom». So far, no
harm has been done. But the author continues: «To resume the question of the word
classes, which may correspond to the definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom, also
provides a different reason …» (2005, p. 192). Now, I wonder if this need was
perhaps felt a bit too early. A precise mutual definition of the functions of
rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom comes in fact only on page 201, long after the identifi-
cation of the respective referents.
For Schramm, too, like Pagliaro, the dual definition of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom
should not be thought of as referring to different objects, but to the same object in
different contexts, or viewed from different points of view. The solution given for
rύmderlo1 is crystal clear. S1 refers in fact to rύmderloi in the kέni1
jasersqallέmη, S2 to rύmderloi in the kέni1 eἰqolέmη. Only the latter in fact is
rtmdέrlῳ lίa; the kέni1 jasersqallέmη is instead unitary in itself, and the
rύmderloi, even though they unite the various jῶka, are not able to produce this
superior form of semantic unity. The reasoning is ingenious, and perhaps echoes
my proposal about S1 and A2; Schramm does not adopt my solution, probably
because he finds it contradictory that in A2, the rύmderloi are in reality ἄqhqa.
But only in this way, I believe, is the identity of S1 and A2 explained.
Also testifying against the interpretation of S1 and S2 advanced by Schramm is
the extraordinary similarity between the definition of the kέni1 jasersqallέmη, or
peqίodo1, in Rhet. C 9, 1409 a 35–1409 b 1 (kέcx dὲ peqίodom kέnim ἔvotram
ἀqvὴm jaὶ seketsὴm aὐsὴm jah’ aὑsὴm jaὶ lέceho1 eὐrύmopsom) and the first
definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics (1457 a 6-8: ἄqhqom d’ ἐrsὶ φxmὴ ἄrηlo1 ἣ
kόcot ἀqvὴm ἢ sέko1 ἢ dioqirlὸm dηkoῖ). The similarity is well known and was
in fact taken into account by many scholars who interpret the ἄqhqa simply as

139
«Es dürfte in der griechischen Literatur nicht viele Passagen geben, die auf vergleichbar
knappen Raum dem Verständis so viele Problemen bereiten wie das 20. Kapitel von Aristoteles
Poetik zu rύmderlo1 und ἄqhqom» (2005, p. 187). The passage closely recalls the statement of
Gudeman cited in the incipit of this work. But the conclusions are, as we shall see, very different.
140
«Eine Gleichsetzung von ‘Teilen’ des sprachlichen Ausdrucks, bzw. ‘Redeteilen’ mit gram-
matikalischen ‘Wortklassen’, verbietet sich schon deshalb, weil kόco1 unter den lέqη sῆ1 kέnex1
subsumiert wird, und nicht ein Teil von sich selbst sein kann» (2005, pp. 191–2). About his
affirmations as a whole there is nothing to say, but there is definitely something objectionable
about this last matter. Aristotle in fact clearly understood that the function of kόco1 was recursive,
given that ‘the man is white’ is a kόco1, but so is ‘the white man walks’ (although rtmdέrlῳ eἷ1),
and even the entire Iliad is too. Thus, I believe the enjoyable objections of Barnes (2007, p. 180) to
the idea that the Iliad is an example of kόco1 rtmdέrlῳ eἷ1 are answered.
34 1 The Problem

«petit outiles grammaticaux».141 Now, from all this it seems to me that only one
conclusion can be drawn: it is A2, not S1, which refers to the (false) rύmderloi in
the peqίodo1, which in that context perform the function of ἄqhqa. For these
reasons, we cannot agree with Schramm’s interpretative choices in relation to S1
and S2.
If we now turn to ἄqhqom, which notoriously poses more serious problems of
interpretation,142 my path moves even further from his. In identifying the function
of ἄqhqom, Schramm draws on some of my work quoting a passage from De
partibus animalium where the anatomy of the heart is discussed143; I dwell on it at
length in my book of 1997.144 From this passage, Schramm draws—not surpris-
ingly—the same conclusion regarding the functionality of the two terms: «while the
rύmderlo1 unifies what is by its own nature is divided, the ἄqhqom divides what
by its own nature is joined».145
But here our agreement ends. Schramm believes in fact that the function of A1 is
exemplified by the article as well as by the preposition. «That Aristotle was well
acquainted with the use of the article is undisputed» states the author (p. 205),
referring to Prior Analytics (I, 40, 49 b 10 ff.). I agree. But many other things were
to Aristotle, so to speak, sehr wohlbekannt, such as quantifiers, negation, and eἰlί,
the predication operator. Of course, the idea that quantifiers, negation, and the
article are Aristotelian examples of ἄqhqom is not implausible.146 But that is
something quite different from demonstrating that any of these things is written
explicitly in the text of the Poetics.
Schramm thinks, however, that an example of article can be read in the text. In
fact, he interprets φ.l.i. as φηlί, and sees in this, with Rosén, a «ziemlich

141
According to André Wartelle, (1985), p. 29, ἄqhqom designates the article and other little
grammatical tools («l’article et d’autres petits ‘outils grammaticaux’)». We fully agree with the
second statement, at least with respect to A2, though we have strong doubts about the first, which
is probably suggested to the author by the translation in the edition of Hardy (1932). Vahlen,
Bywater, and Dupont-Roc and Lallot (about A2) move however in the direction of ἄqhqa as
minute particles of connection, especially between the jῶka of the period.
142
«To define the meaning of arthron is incomparably difficult because of the unique place within
the Corpus Aristotelicum and the above-mentioned problems of the text tradition». («Die
Bedeutung des ἄqhqom zu bestimmen, ist aufgrund der singulären Stellung innerhalb des Corpus
Aristotelicum und den gennanten Problemen der Textüberlieferung ungleich schwieriger»
Schramm (2005), p. 200).
143
C 4, 667 a 6-8: ἔvotrim dὲ jaὶ diaίqerίm sima aἱ jaqdίai, paqpakηrίam saῖ1 ῥaφaῖ1. Oὐj
eἰrὶ dὲ rtmaφeῖ1 ὥ1 simo1 ἐj pkeiόmxm rtmhέsot ἀkkά, jahάpeq eἴpolem, diaqhqώrei
lᾶkkom.
144
See Laspia 1997, pp. 46–8, 92.
145
Laspia (1997), p. 92, quoted in Schramm (2005), p. 201, note 32.
146
As regards negation, see the acute and interesting observations of Vahlen (1914, p. 115). The
essays of Cavini, even if they do not deal with our case, are very important and clarifying: (2007),
(2007a), (2008).
1.3 The Principal Critical Positions Regarding the Definition of ἄqhqom 35

stereotypes aristotelisches φηlί».147 Thus, nothing would have to be integrated in

the text of the Poetics: sό is in fact an example, and φηlί is used to mention it.148
However, against such a very convenient solution appears to speak the order of the
examples throughout this chapter (sὸ cq, sὸ ketjόm) and in our definition in
particular: the following example is in fact sὸ peqί. At this point van Bennekom’s
solution comes to our aid, which as we have seen integrated ὁ. Schramm believes
he has found something better, and integrates sό, reading «oἷom sὸ sό φηli jaὶ sὸ
peqὶ jaὶ sὰ ἄkka» in the belief that the first of the two sό was omitted due to
haplography (2005, p. 212).
His conclusion is that the term ἄqhqom in the Poetics can be interpreted as article
as well as proposition.149 Now, this is the exact same conclusion reached by van
Bennekom in 1975. Of course, if an interpretation is valid it can be repeated
eternally, no one is obliged to say something new and different.150 It does not seem,
however, consistent with the assumptions with which the author began. It is based
in fact on integration; nevertheless, Schramm admitted that the text was «weitge-
hend intakt» (p. 187).
Furthermore, such an irenic solution (which precisely because it was irenic was
advanced frequently) does not explain the state of the text, i.e., the strange dotted
handwriting of the examples. If the copyist had read in fact something he expected
as an example of ἄqhqom, that is to say, an article (ὁ, sό), how can we explain the
dotted handwriting? The solution proposed by me in 1997—that the copyist did not
understand and reproduced the examples letter by letter151—still seems valid to me;
at least I do not see a better one.152 So, if the copyist used dots because he did not
understand, he would have written only peqί in dotted handwriting, not the (al-
leged) sὸ φηlί. But because he understood both as examples (and not the sό as an
example and the φηlί as a mention), he wrote both in dotted handwriting, and thus
had taken care of the entire matter.153
In conclusion to this long passage, it appears I am warranted in affirming that
none of the solutions as yet proposed to interpret the two definitions, and in

147
Rosén (1990), p. 113, also quoted in Schramm (2005), p. 211.
148
It was already interpreted in this way by Tyrwhitt (1806, p. 66) before the conjecture of
Hartung.
149
«Sowohl als Artikel als auch als Präposition interpretiert werden kann» (Schramm 2005,
p. 212).
150
Schramm actually does so, affirming, against van Bennekom, that the definition of ἄqhqom in
the Poetics is really Aristotle’s (pp. 212–3), and against Pagliaro, affirming that ἄqhqom indicates
only the article, and not also the pronoun (p. 207); very small differences in my opinion.
151
My statement echoes, moreover, a similar one by Gallavotti: «Il primo esempio è incom-
prensibile, e pare dettato lettera per lettera» (1954, p. 247).
152
Even Schramm (2005, p. 211) reproduces my explanation in his main text, not in a footnote.
153
In 2009, Schramm returns to this issue in a collective volume dedicated to the Poetics, but he
does not advance any new arguments, referring only to his 2005 article. While recognizing the
value of his contribution, the solutions he proposes do not convince me. In particular, it seems
implausible that the article is explicitly mentioned in our definition of ἄqhqom.
36 1 The Problem

particular, to solve the problems arising from the first example of ἄqhqom in the
Poetics, is satisfactory. As Gudeman said, and subsequently Barnes, the problem
represented by the definition of ἄqhqom and its examples remains cloaked in deep
mystery. I would emphasize specifically, with Barnes, that the apparently simple
solutions that tend to project the results of a posterior grammatical tradition onto
Poetics, interpreting the ἄqhqom of Aristotle as an article (Pagliaro, Schramm, Van
Bennekom), create more problems than solutions. They do not solve, for example,
the mystery of the dotted handwriting, or the problems due to the lectio difficilior, or
the problems of the division of the definitions into two lemmas, or of the second
example of ἄqhqom, represented by ἀlφί. The wide-open solutions which accept
everything as a possible referent for ἄqhqom are equally unsatisfactory, because
they explain nothing and leave all the enigmas of the text unsolved. The apparent
lack of speed in my examination of the critical literature—some might accuse me of
excessive attention to detail in these pages—is due to the fact that I want the reader
to see for him/herself the inconsistency of all the solutions proposed until now,
especially those which have encountered the greatest success.
To truly solve the problem posed by the definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics, as I
said at the beginning, we must choose another longer and more difficult path: i.e.,
radically change our approach to the definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom in the
Poetics. We must ask questions about the origin and the precise meaning of
Aristotle’s linguistic terminology. Any attempt to understand the two definitions
exclusively in the context of the Poetics will be vain, as I said back in 1997. We
must read Aristotle with Aristotle, not in light of our current theories or of some
posterior grammatical tradition: «Aristotle the linguist with Aristotle the biologist
and naturalist». Only then can we, finally, shed light on the mystery of the defi-
nition of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom in the Poetics.
Chapter 2
From Biology to Linguistics

2.1 Biological Patterns in the Twentieth Chapter

of the Poetics

If we want to get to the bottom of the definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics, in my

opinion we have to work hard in several directions. First of all, it should be
vigorously emphasized that the definitions of rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom in the
Poetics are aimed at the subsequent definition of kόco1.1 This definition recognizes
two types of kόco1: the kόco1 that is unitary by itself and the kόco1 that is unitary
thanks to a connector.2 Now, if the latter is based on rύmderloi, on what is the
former based? Do operators exist whose field of action is the unitary discourse by
itself?
Moreover, in a text like the twentieth chapter of the Poetics there is little that
justifies the choice of irenic solutions. The entire chapter is in fact a scandal, as
Steinthal already remarked. The chapter does not contain only our mind-boggling
definition of ἄqhqom. It also contains an example of a syllable that is not a syllable
(cq), and an example of kόco1 that is not a kόco1; in fact, according to a crucial

1
This is very aptly pointed out already in Bywater (1909, p. 270).
2
Poet. 1457 a 27-30: eἷ1 dέ ἐrsi kόco1 divῶ1, ἢ cὰq ὁ ἐj pkeiόmxm rtmdέrlῳ, oἷom ἡ Ἰkiὰ1
lὲm rtmdέrlῳ eἷ1, ὁ dὲ soῦ ἀmhqώpot sῷ ἓm rηlaίmeim. See Met. Z 4, 1030 a 9, b 5-10; H6,
1045 a 12-14.

© Springer International Publishing AG, part of Springer Nature 2018 37

P. Laspia, From Biology to Linguistics: The Definition of Arthron
in Aristotle’s Poetics, UNIPA Springer Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-77326-1_2
38 2 From Biology to Linguistics

example (1457 b 27-8), the kόco1 can be constructed from a single semantic part,
which is a name, like Cleon in the sentence ‘Cleon walks’.3 The examples of
rtkkabή and kόco1 in the Poetics are therefore not less difficult than those of
ἄqhqom.
The twentieth chapter of the Poetics will never reveal its secrets if we do not first
establish the criterion, or criteria, according to which it is formulated. To clarify
these criteria I will reiterate some of the assumptions of my work of 1997, although
I intend to introduce a different conjecture regarding the first definition of ἄqhqom.
As I have already stated in that volume, Aristotle is not a specialized grammarian,
nor a philosopher in our sense of the term. Aristotle is, if anything, a great scientist,
whose thought is centered on a renewed faith in the science of nature. In short,
Aristotle is the last, great global thinker of Antiquity.4 I therefore believe that he
applied only one method—that of biological investigation—to the analysis of
language. Moreover, the parallel between the biological organism and the linguistic
organism is a topos in Greek culture that was repeatedly reaffirmed, from Plato’s
Phaedrus up to the Aristotle of the Poetics.5
The twentieth chapter of the Poetics is thus based on assumptions clearly
explained by Aristotle in his biological works, especially in De partibus animalium.
There, criticizing Democritus (Part. An. 1, 640 b 19-641 a 5), it is stated: «Does,
then, configuration (rvῆla) and color (vqῶla) constitute the essence of the var-
ious animals and of their several parts? For if so, what Democritus says will be
correct…. And yet a dead body has exactly the same configuration as a living one;
but for all that is not a man. So also no hand of bronze or wood or constituted in any
but the appropriate way can possibly be a hand in more than name. For like a
physician in a painting, or like a flute in a sculpture, it will be unable to perform its

3
Poet. 1457 a 23-27: kόco1 dὲ φxmὴ rtmhesὴ rηlamsijὴ ἧ1 ἔmia lέqη jah' aὑsὰ rηlaίmei si
(oὐ cὰq ἅpa1 kόco1 ἐj ῥηlάsxm jaὶ ὀmolάsxm rύcjeisai, oἷom ὁ soῦ ἀmhqώpot ὁqirlό1,
ἀkkὰ ἐmdέvesai ἄmet ῥηlάsxm eἶmai kόcom, lέqo1 lέmsoi ἀeί si rηlaῖmom ἕnei) oἷom ἐm sῷ
badίfei Kkέxm ὁ Kkέxm. In almost all recent editions, such as Kassel’s cited here, everything
from 1457 a 24-27 is, as we see, enclosed within parentheses, precisely to avoid affirming that the
name Kkέxm alone is enough to constitute the structural nucleus of the sentence. Gudeman already
inveighed against such a habit: «In order to avoid compromising the Parisinus, however they clung
as usual to a desperate means to help themselves out of the difficulty, when they put the whole
passage from einai to exei into brackets. They overlook thus that this kind of sign was still
completely strange to the Author and to the Ancient world» («Um aber den Parisinus nicht zu
kompromittieren, griffen sie wie üblich zu einem verzweifelten Verlegenheitsmittel, indem sie den
ganzen Passus von oὐ bis ἔnei in einer Parenthese setzen. Sie übersahen dabei, daß diese Art
Zeichen dem A. und der Antike noch völlig fremd war» Gudeman 1934, p. 351); cfr. Gallavotti
1974, pp. 178–9.
4
«L’ultimo grande pensatore totale dell’antichità» Laspia 1997, p. 79.
5
Plat. Phaedr. 264 b-c; Arist. Poet. 23 1459 a 20-1, 25, 1460 b 8.
2.1 Biological Patterns in the Twentieth Chapter of the Poetics 39

function. Precisely in the same way no part of a dead body, such I mean as its eye or
hand, is really an eye or a hand».6
One line of this passage is by itself worth more than a thousand critical dis-
quisitions on the twentieth chapter of the Poetics. It explains very well why
Aristotle defines as φxmή both kόco1 (or the kέni1)7 and all its parts (rsoiveῖom,
rtkkabή, rύmderlo1, ἄqhqom, ὄmola, ῥῆla, kόco1). In a living being, in fact,
matter is intrinsic to its purpose: living hands cannot be made out of bronze or
stone, while a statue can be made of bronze or stone. This should be enough to
decide whether for Aristotle the voice is an ‘external’ or an ‘internal’ element of the
language. In addition, the passage is the best remedy against those who read the
twentieth chapter of the Poetics as a list of parts of speech. These people behave, in
fact, just like those who judge function based on external form. Finally, in his study
of nature—and therefore, in our case, also in the analysis of language—Aristotle
adopts a deep structure perspective. By ‘deep structure perspective’, I mean not
exactly what Noam Chomsky means with the same words. With this expression I
suggest that the internal organization of a living being cannot be inferred merely
from the external, superficial configuration of its parts. One passes from a surface
structure analysis to a deep structure analysis by explaining the relationship
between the matter (ὕkη) of a thing and the purpose (sέko1) that it has.8
This is the perspective adopted by Aristotle in the biological works and
described in detail in De partibus animalium. I will now attempt to show that this is
also the perspective adopted for the analysis of language in the twentieth chapter of
the Poetics. For things whose form exists in matter—and this applies above all to

6
Eἰ lὲm sῷ rvήlasi ἤ sῷ vqώlasi ἕjarsόm ἐrsi sῶm se fῴxm ἤ sῶm loqίxm, ὀqhῶ1 ἂm
Dηlόjqiso1 kέcoi
φaίmesai cὰq oὕsx1 ὑpokabeῖm… Kaίsoi jaὶ ὁ sehmeὼ1 ἔvei sὴm aὐsὴm soῦ
rvήlaso1 loqφήm, ἀkk' ὅlx1 oὐj ἔrsim ἄmhqxpo1. Ἔsi d' ἀdύmasom eἶmai veῖqa ὁpxroῦm
diajeilέmηm, oἷom vakjῆm ἢ ntkίmηm, pkὴm ὁlxmύlx1, ὥrpeq ὁ cecqallέmo1 ἰasqό1. Oὐ cὰq
dtmήresai poieῖm sὸ ἑatsῆ1 ἔqcom, ὥrpeq oὐd' aὐkoὶ kίhimoi sὸ ἑatsῶm ἔqcom, oὐd' ὁ
cecqallέmo1 ἰasqό1. Ὁloίx1 dὲ soύsoi1 oὐdὲ sῶm soῦ sehmηjόso1 loqίxm oὐdὲm ἔsi sῶm
soioύsxm ἐrsί, kέcx d'oἷom ὀφhaklό1, veίq.
7
Gudeman and Barnes found it a mystery that for Aristotle the kόco1 is both the semantic
representation of the kέni1 and a part of it. This part is the simple proposition, such as ‘John runs’
or ‘the cat is on the pillow’ (S + P). The first to reflect on this aspect, which in truth has not been
held in much consideration by scholars of Aristotelian Linguistics, was Tanner (1970); subse-
quently, and more deeply, Matthen 1983, in addition to myself. Different approaches were taken
by Pagliaro 1956, Belardi 1972, 1985, Melazzo 2002 and Lo Piparo 2004, who see in Aristotle a
sort of epigon of structural linguistics, though, in my opinion, they do so in a highly anachronistic
way. It will be a necessity within the text that leads me to conclude, loosely following Tanner,
Matthen, and to a lesser degree De Rijk, that Aristotle observes language like he observes biology
—from a deep structure perspective. And this necessity is the convergence between the text of the
Poetics and the first and second book of De Partibus Animalium. This is a precise indication of the
method that could be followed and shared, even by those who do not accept my conjecture
regarding the first example of ἄqhqom in the Poetics.
8
See Part. an. A 1, 639 b 11-640 a 10, the passage quoted above—in particular 641 a 1-3. On
purpose(sέko1) and matter (ὕkη), see also Phys. B 7 (the whole chapter). On the positive role of
matter, pace Plato, see also Phys. A 9. On Aristotle’s final cause, see Furley 1996, Quarantotto
2001, 2005, and the literature quoted in these essays.
40 2 From Biology to Linguistics

biological organisms—knowledge, according to Aristotle, consists in establishing

through which stages, and by what procedures, form is realized from matter. The
raw material of language is the voice, which, not coincidentally, is also the starting
point of all the linguistic definitions of the Poetics. Far from being an embalmed
classification of parts of speech, the twentieth chapter of the Poetics can thus be
represented as «a set of instructions to generate the linguistic unit of meaning,
speech (kόco1), from voice (φxmή)9».
The introductory sentence of chapter twenty of the Poetics reads as follows:
«These are the parts of the entire enunciation: phonic element, syllable, connector,
noun, verb, articulation, case, speech». Each constituent is then defined on the basis
of the presence or absence of two characteristics: meaningfulness and composition.
The ‘element’ (rsoiveῖom) is an «indivisible voice, which by its nature generates an
intelligible voice (or compound)10» (1456 b 22-3), a sort of propelling nucleus that
contains, potentially, all the successive phonic-semantic determinations; it contrasts
with syllable (rtkkabή), a compound non-significant expression (1456 b 35-6),
noun (ὄmola) and verb (ῥῆla), compound significant expressions whose parts in
themselves are not significant (1457 a 10-18), and speech (kόco1), a compound
significant expression of which at least one part is in itself significant (1457 a 23-7).
If we now compare the twentieth chapter of the Poetics with the second book of
the De partibus animalium, we will observe that the phases of construction of the
linguistic organism and the stages of construction of the biological organism are
isomorphic.11 The first level of synthesis is in fact «based on the elements, and
regards matter»; with the second and the third are formed the parts, respectively
homogeneous and heterogeneous, of the body. The so-called noun and verb12 do
not correspond to a distinct level of synthesis in the sentence, and this can be
deduced from the following statement: «When uttered just by itself a verb is a noun
and signifies something»13 (De int. 3, 16 b 19-20). The first and the second level of
organic synthesis have as their purpose the construction of the third, and with it the
entire living organism (646 b 11-2). Now, the ‘homogeneous parts’—i.e., the tis-
sues—are parts with subcomponents of a similar nature, just like the noun and the
verb in the Poetics. The ‘heterogeneous parts’—i.e. the organs, such as the eye or

9
Laspia 1997, p. 81.
10
Rtmesή, v.l. rtmhesή. On the entire question, see Laspia 2001, 2008, 2010, 2013 and references
cited therein.
11
Part. An. B 1, 646 a 12-24: sqiῶm d' oὐrῶm sῶm rtmhέrexm pqώsηm lὲm ἄm si1 heίη sὴm ἐj
sῶm jakotlέmxm ὑpὸ simῶm rsoiveίxm, oἷom cῆ1 ἀέqo1 ὕdaso1 ptqό1. Ἔsi dὲ bέksiom ἴrx1 ἐj
sῶm dtmάlexm kέceim (…) ὑcqὸm cὰq jaὶ nηqὸm jaὶ heqlὸm jaὶ wtvqὸm ὕkη sῶm rtmhέsxm
rxlάsxm ἐrsίm (…). Detsέqa dὲ rύrsari1 ἐj sῶm pqώsxm ἡ sῶm ὁloioleqῶm φύri1 ἐm soῖ1
fῴoi1 ἐrsίm, oἷom ὀrsoῦ jaὶ raqjὸ1 jaὶ sῶm ἄkkxm sῶm soioύsxm. Tqίsη dὲ jaὶ seketsaίa
jas' ἀqihlὸm ἡ sῶm ἀmoloioleqῶm, oἷom pqorώpot jaὶ veiqὸ1 jaὶ sῶm soioύsxm loqίxm; cfr.
Laspia 1997, p. 82.
12
As clearly evidenced by many scholars, notably Rosén 1990, the Aristotelian terms are not
consistent with our grammatical categories: therefore, it is fair to call them ‘so-called’.
13
De int. 3, 16 b 19-20: aὐsὰ jah' aὑsὰ kecόlema sὰ ῥήlasa ὀmόlasά ἐrsim jaὶ rηlaίmei si.
2.1 Biological Patterns in the Twentieth Chapter of the Poetics 41

the hand—are those directly called upon to perform complex biological functions
(646 b 12-3). For this to happen they must in turn be composed of parts with
different functions—different from each other and with respect to the whole (645 b
15-17): precisely what happens in the Poetics to the logos, whose parts, noun and
verb, have meaning in themselves, a meaning however that is different with respect
to the whole.14 In the human and animal organism, there is in any case a central
part, the heart, which can be defined as both homogeneous and heterogeneous (647
a 4-9); and this accounts for the strangeness of the definition of kόco1 in the
Poetics, which states that not all speech is composed of nouns or verbs, but can also
consist of a single significant part, which is the noun. The noun thus proves to be an
authentic center of semantic organization of the kόco1, just like the heart or its
analogue in living organisms. Yet the ὄmola is not yet a kόco1, as the heart is not
the whole body. Why is that? What’s missing? As we shall see, this has everything
to do with the definition of ἄqhqom of the Poetics.
The analogy between language and the living body thus appears as the common
thread that guides our understanding of the definitions of the twentieth chapter of
the Poetics. Of the three levels of synthesis of the linguistic organism—isomorphic
with the stages of construction of the biological organism—the following notions
are excluded and are defined independently from the distinction between simple and
complex, significant and not: they are ‘connector’ (rύmderlo1), ‘articulation’
(ἄqhqom), and ‘case’ (psῶri1). Of these, case is «of the noun and of the verb»
(1457 a 18-9) and represents an operation of connection between the constituents of
speech. We can therefore define ‘case’ as an operator which, when applied to noun
and verbs, permits to obtain propositions or statements (kόcoi)15».
Even the rύmderlo1 and the ἄqhqom are operators; this is why they are
described as φxmaὶ ἄrηloi. It is a question now of understanding what kind of
operators they are. Like ligaments and joints, from which they take their name,
rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom act within a heterogeneous organ, which is the kόco1. The
rύmderlo1 is the operator that makes it possible to obtain from two or more kόcoi
—each with its own unitary meaning—a ‘unitary discourse thanks to a connector’
(kόco1 rtmdέrlῳ eἷ1). The rύmderlo1 therefore «unify what by its own nature is
divided». Following the suggestion provided by Aristotle in the Problemata, I
believe that S2 (in which Aristotle does not provide examples because they are
obvious) refers to the type of rύmderloi without which correct Greek form would
suffer (kόco1 ἑkkηmijό1), like se and jaί, while S1 refers to all the other types of
connective particles, some of which are so impalpable that their omission would do
no harm to the overall meaning of the sentence. It should be noted, however, that

14
This isomorphism was already underlined in the article entitled Analogie published by Melazzo
in Studi di linguistica greca, (1995, pp. 193–6). At that time I had not yet published
L’articolazione linguistica, but I had already developed this analogy in my thesis (La fonologia di
Aristotele, Palermo 1985, chapter I, pp. 40–93), which Melazzo knew well.
15
«Un operatore che, applicato a nomi e verbi, dà discorsi» Laspia 1997, p. 83.
42 2 From Biology to Linguistics

the rύmderlo1 is and remains an operator (φxmὴ ἄrηlo1): it can always be

omitted, thereby creating an asyndeton.16
Opposed to rύmderlo1 is ἄqhqom, which «divides what by its own nature is
joined», as Aristotle explains in many passages of his biological works. It therefore
acts mainly as an operator within the proposition. But a ‘unitary discourse by itself’
for Aristotle does not always coincide with the simple proposition (kόco1 ἓm
dηkῶm). The peqίodo1, for example, is built on the basis of a unitary semantic
project: it is therefore, in its own way, a unitary discourse by itself. Connectives that
unite and at the same time divide the various jῶka of the peqίodo1 are therefore
false connectives, because they do not «unify what by its own nature is divided»,
but «divide what by its own nature is joined». These connectives, in my opinion,
are what A2 refers to: this allows us to explain both the nearly complete coinci-
dence with S1, and the similarity between the definition of ἄqhqom and that of
peqίodo1. But, at this point, what does A1 refer to? What are the operators acting in
a ‘unitary discourse by itself’?
I believe this will be more clear after comparing the main definition of ἄqhqom
of the Poetics (A1) with some of the definitions of the same concept given by
Aristotle when he deals with biology.

2.2 The Aristotelian Definitions of ἄqhqom

The first definition of ἄqhqom (A1) in the Poetics, without the examples, reads as
follows (1457 a 6-7): ἄqhqom d′ ἐrsὶ φxmὴ ἄrηlo1 ἣ kόcot ἀqvὴm ἢ sέko1 ἢ
dioqirlὸm dηkoῖ. Let us now compare this with the following statement from De
anima (C 10, 433 b 21-5): sὸ jimoῦm ὀqcamijῶ1 ὅpot ἀqvὴ jaὶ seketsὴ sὸ aὐsό
—oἷom ὁ ciccktlό1
ἐmsaῦha cὰq sὸ jtqsὸm jaὶ sὸ joῖkom sὸ lὲm seketsὴ sὸ d′
ἀqvή (diὸ sὸ lὲm ἠqeleῖ sὸ dὲ jimeῖsai), kόcῳ lὲm ἕseqa ὄmsa, lecέhei d′
ἀvώqirsa. «…that which is the instrument in the production of movement17 is to
be found where a beginning and an end coincide as, e.g., in a ball and socket joint;
for there the convex and the concave sides are respectively an end and a beginning
(that is why while the one remains at rest, the other is moved): they are separated in
definition but not separable spatially».
At this point, it is impossible not to see the similarity of this definition of the
jimoῦm ὀqcamijῶ1, that is, the ἄqhqom, here exemplified by the rare technical
metaphor ciccktlό1, with the definition of ἄqhqom in the Poetics, which is thus
surely authentic. The passage of the De anima together with that of the Poetics
makes it clear that ἄqhqom is a principle, such as the heart in living organisms or the

16
See De int. 5, 16 b 17 a9, 15-17; Rhet. C 12. 1013 b 29, 32-34.
17
I do not agree here with Barnes’ translation and propose to render sὸ jimoῦm ὀqcamijῶ1 with
‘which—or who—moves organically’. This translation seems much better because it stays closer
to the text. Barnes’ translation does not translate the adverb ὀqcamijῶ1 in any way, producing an
evident decrease of meaning.
2.2 The Aristotelian Definitions of ἄqhqom 43

prime Mover in the universe. A principle (ἀqvή) for Aristotle, in fact, is something
that while remaining one simultaneously succeeds in performing two or more
functions.
Let us now look at the more detailed description of ἄqhqom that Aristotle has left
us in his De motu animalium.18 In this study, the author wonders how movement
occurs in living organisms. He deals first with the motion of the first heaven, which
is for him a living being; something very remote from our observation. It thus
becomes necessary to use a model. The model is represented by the joints (ἄqhqa),
which here and frequently in the biological works are denominated by the technical
term jalpaί.19 The problem of the movement of the first heaven is posed in De
motu animalium 1, the exemplification of the joints is located in 698 a 8-b 1.20 Here
we take only the concluding example, which is an ideal ending to the treatise:
De motu animalium 8, 702 a 21-32: Tὸ dὲ jimoῦm pqῶsom sὸ fῷom ἀmάcjη
eἶmai ἔm simi ἀqvῇ. Ἡ dὲ jalpὴ ὅsi lέm ἐrsi soῦ lὲm ἀqvὴ soῦ dὲ seketsή,
eἴqηsai. Diὸ jaὶ ἔrsi lὲm ὡ1 ἑmί, ἔrsi d′ ὡ1 dtrὶ vqῆsai ἡ φύri1 aὐsῇ. Ὅsam
cὰq jimῆsai ἐmseῦhem, ἀmάcjη sὸ lὲm ἠqeleῖm sῶm rηleίxm sῶm ἐrvάsxm, sὸ dὲ
jimeῖrhai
ὅsi cὰq pqὸ1 ἠqeloῦm deῖ ἀpeqeίderhai sὸ jimoῦm, eἴqηsai
pqόseqom. Kimeῖsai lὲm oὖm jaὶ oὐ jimeῖ sὸ ἔrvasom soῦ bqavίomo1, sῆ1 d′ ἐm
sῷ ὠkejqάmῳ jάlwex1 sὸ lὲm jimeῖsai sὸ ἐm aὐsῷ sῷ ὅkῳ jimotlέmῳ, ἀmάcjη
d′ eἶmaί si jaὶ ἀjίmηsom, ὃ dή φalem dtmάlei lὲm ἓm eἶmai rηleῖom, ἐmeqceίᾳ dὲ
cίcmerhai dύo
ὥrs’ eἰ sὸ fῷom ἦm bqavίxm, ἐmsaῦh′ ἄm pot ἦm ἡ ἀqvὴ sῆ1
wtvῆ1 ἡ jimoῦra. «However, that which first moves the animal organism must be
in a definite origin. We have already said that a joint is the origin of one part of a
limb and the end of another. And so nature employs it sometimes as one, sometimes
as two. When movement arises from a joint, one of the extreme points must remain
at rest, and the other be moved (for as we explained above the mover must support
itself against a point at rest); accordingly, in the case of the elbow-joint, the last
point of the forearm is moved but does not move anything, while, in the flexion, one
point of the elbow, which lies in the whole forearm that is being moved, is moved,
but there must also be a point which is unmoved, and this is our meaning when we
speak of a point which is in potency one, but which becomes two in actual exercise.
Now if the forearm were the living animal, somewhere in its elbow-joint would be
the movement-imparting origin of the soul».
Once again there is an obvious similarity between the two passages, and also
with the definition of ἄqhqom of the Poetics. In all three, a description is given of a
motor principle operating in a living organism, or in an organism described as
something living: the first heaven, the organic body, and the proposition. This
principle, within the kόco1, is what the first prime mover is in the universe and the

18
On this treatise, now see the insightful notes in Giuffrida 2014.
19
See e.g. Hist. an. A 15, 493 b 30-494 a 2, C 5, 515 b 3-5 and, on the subject, Laspia 1997,
pp. 26–27, where other examples are quoted.
20
The passage is quoted and commented on at length in Laspia 1997, pp. 28–9.
44 2 From Biology to Linguistics

joint is in the body, or rather in the part of the body that contains it. But what, in
kόco1 ἓm dηkῶm, functions as an ἄqhqom?
For Aristotle, we are in the presence of an ἄqhqom every time that we must
divide something that is unitary by itself, and thus every time we must distinguish
(dioqίfeim, dioqirlό1) the various parts of a kόco1 that is unitary by itself. As
mentioned above, in the peqίodo1, ἄqhqom is a ‘false connective’ that divides and
at the same time unites the various jῶka. In a noun phrase (sub-propositional
semantic unity that works, in miniature, like a kόco1, except for assertions of truth),
ἄqhqom is the preposition (oἱ peqὶ Ἀmanacόqam). This explains very well the
nature of the second example of ἄqhqom in A1, which is precisely peqί (p.e.q.i.).
But just like a living body has many joints but one central organ in which life
resides, so also the proposition (kόco1 ἓm dηkῶm) has in itself an operator that
divides and at the same time unites its main constituents, thereby organizing its
meaning internally. This operator, which in my opinion is the main type of
Aristotelian ἄqhqom, is the predication operator. It is eἶmai (eἰlί).
I will now try to show that for Aristotle eἶmai is not really a verb, but an operator
(ἄqhqom). According to Aristotle, eἶmai is implicit in every kind of predication.
Thus, we find in De int. 12, 21 b 9-10 and Met. D 7, 1017 a 2721 that every
proposition of the type ‘noun + verb’ (‘the man runs’) can be reduced to the form:
‘noun + eἶmai + predicate’ (‘the man is running’). We now ask whether in this
canonical form (so to speak) of the proposition there are two verbs (eἶmai and its
predicate). The answer is clearly ‘no’: every kόco1 ἓm dηkῶm predicates in fact
«one of one» (ἓm jah′ ἑmό1).22 Even in a phrase that seems simple, such as ‘the
white man walks’, «it is one spoken sound, but more than one affirmation».23
Now all that remains is to ask what the verb is in sentences of the type ‘noun +
eἶmai + predicate’. In this we are aided by De int. 10, 20 b 1-2: lesasihέlema dὲ sὰ
ὀmόlasa jaὶ sὰ ῥήlasa saὐsὸm rηlaίmei, oἷom ἔrsi ketjὸ1 ἄmhqxpo1—ἔrsim
ἄmhqxpo1 ketjό1. It is evident that here ἄmhqxpo1 (ὄmola) and ketjό1 (ῥῆla)
have «changed places», while ἔrsi does not move. From De int. 10, 20 b 1-2 arise
two important conclusions: (a) ketjό1, and with it every predicate adjective and/or
noun, is a verb; (b) ἔrsi is not a verb. But then, what is it?

21
See De int. 12, 21 b 9-10., Met. D 7, 1017 a 27. The two passages are cited in Steinthal 1890,
p. 241, Schramm 2005, p. 211, and Laspia 1997, p. 106 note 67; see also Barnes 2007, p. 154.
They are De int. 12, 21 b 9-10: oὐdὲm cὰq diaφέqei eἰpeῖm ἄmhqxpom badίfeim ἢ ἄmhqxpom
badίfomsa eἶmai, and in the Metaphysics, in reference to the meanings of ‘being’ (D 7, 1017 a
27-30): oὐhὲm cὰq diaφέqei sὸ ἄmhqxpo1 ὑciaίmxm ἐrsὶm ἢ sὸ ἄmhqxpo1 ὑciaίmei, oὐdὲ sὸ
ἄmhqxpo1 badίfxm ἐrsὶm ἢ sέlmxm soῦ ἄmhqxpo1 badίfei ἢ sέlmei
ὁloίx1 dὲ jaὶ ἐpὶ sῶm
ἄkkxm.
22
De int. 8, 18 a 12-13: lίa dέ ἐrsi jasάφari1 jaὶ ἀpόφari1 ἡ ἓm jah' ἑmὸ1 rηlaίmotra.
23
De int. 11, 20 b 12-21: sὸ dὲ ἓm jasὰ pokkῶm ἢ pokkὰ jah' ἑmὸ1 jasaφάmai ἢ ἀpoφάmai, ἐὰm
lὴ ἕm si ᾖ sὸ ἐj sῶm pokkῶm rtcjeίlemom, oὐj ἔrsi jasάφari1 lίa oὐdὲ ἀpόφari1… ἐj dὲ
soῦ ketjoῦ jaὶ soῦ ἀmhqώpot jaὶ soῦ badίfeim oὐv ἕm… ἀkkὰ φxmὴ lὲm lίa jasaφάrei1 dὲ
pokkaί.
2.3 eἶmai as ἄqhqom: My Conjecture 45

2.3 eἶmai as ἄqhqom: My Conjecture

The answer to this question, in my opinion, can only be one: eἶmai is not really a
verb, but an operator (ἄqhqom). More precisely, eἶmai is the predication operator,
which both unites and divides the two main constituents of a sentence when it—as
normally occurs—«predicated as a third element». eἶmai is also used also to give
assertive strength to the sentence and to transform the ὄmola (Kkέxm) in a kόco1
ἀpoφamsijό1 (ἔrsi Kkέxm). In this case, and if time is indicated, eἶmai assumes
certain characteristics of the verb.24 Verbs are in fact semantic and «additionally
signify time»; eἶmai instead, being asemantic, can only «add signification of the
time». This idea, as we shall see, also emerges from the critical literature on the uses
of eἶmai in Greek, particularly in Aristotle.25
Other evidence also shows clearly that «eἶmai is not a verb like the others»,26 and
that at least in one aspect it behaves like rύmderloi. In asyndetons, in fact, the
rύmderlo1, φxmὴ ἄrηlo1, is omitted. The same can be done with eἶmai. In this
case, the asserted sentence becomes a maxim, and the assertive strength, which
increases by moving eἶmai from position ‘two’ (predicate: ἄmhqxpό1 ἐrsi dίjaio1)
to position ‘one’ (assertion: ἔrsi dίjaio1 ἄmhqxpo1), is further increased.
A predicate without a verb is understood in fact as necessary; Aristotle knows this
well and uses it all the time. But is eἶmai a φxmὴ ἄrηlo1? Yes:
De int. 3, 16 b 19-25: aὐsὰ jah′ aὑsὰ kecόlema sὰ ῥήlasa ὀmόlasά ἐrsi jaὶ
rηlaίmei si (…) ἀkk’ eἰ ἔrsim ἢ lή, oὔpx rηlaίmei
oὐ cὰq sὸ eἶmai ἢ lὴ eἶmai
rηleῖόm ἐrsi soῦ pqάclaso1, oὐd′ ἐὰm sὸ ὂm eἴpῃ1 wikόm. aὐsὸ lὲm cὰq oὐdέm
ἐrsim, pqorrηlaίmei dὲ rύmherίm sima, ἣm ἄmet sῶm rtcjeilέmxm oὐj ἔrsi
moῆrai. «When uttered just by itself a verb is a noun and signifies something (…)
but it does not yet signify whether it is or not. For not even ‘to be’ or ‘not to be’ is a
sign of the actual thing (nor if you say simply ‘that which is’); for by itself it is
nothing, but it additionally signifies some combination, which cannot be thought of
without the components.»27
This passage is of paramount importance for my thesis. According to Aristotle,
eἶmai is by itself nothing (oὐdέm), even when used in the noun form sὸ ὄm so dear to
Parmenides (and Plato). I do not understand how the many commentators of the
passage did not unanimously reach this conclusion: if eἶmai is by itself nothing, it

24
See De int. 5, 17 a 10-12, 10, 19 b 12-15, which we will examine in detail later.
25
The reference here is mainly to the works of Charles H. Kahn and Mohan Matthen, which will be
discussed in detail in the next section.
26
«…Be is not a verb like other verbs» (Kahn 1973, p. 212). This had already been evidenced,
more or less, by Sisson (1939), and even more in the commentary to Organon of Waitz (1846), in
addition to the previously mentioned Scarpat (1950). See also Barnes 1996, pp. 183–195.
27
This passage has raised many doubts ever since ancient times; see Sisson 1939, and earlier,
Waitz 1845 ad loc. (p. 326); see also Ackrill ad loc. (p. 122 ff.), Montanari 1988, vol. I, pp. 59–61,
and vol. II, p. 236–280, in particular p. 272, Barnes 1996, p. 189; and in more recent years, De
Rijk 2002, vol. I, pp. 215–247. On the translation of moeῖm as ‘understand’, see Cerri 1999, Laspia
2005.
46 2 From Biology to Linguistics

cannot be a semantic expression—and in fact it is not.28 It follows then that eἶmai

cannot be a ῥῆla, because the ῥῆla is φxmὴ rηlamsijή, while eἶmai taken by
itself is «nothing» (oὐdέm: thus φxmὴ ἄrηlo1). This suggests that eἶmai is not verb
(ῥῆla) but principally ἄqhqom.
This conclusion also explains why eἶmai can easily be omitted if it does not
contain indications of time, for example, in maxims and in necessary predications
(or ones intended to appear as such). This would be impossible if eἶmai was a ῥῆla
(significant expression). Instead, where there is an indication of time, this indication
is agglutinated to eἶmai, as eἶmai is agglutinated to the predicate lexeme in verbs
(‘runs’ = ‘is running’). Thus eἶmai behaves partly as a ῥῆla, partly as a psῶri1.29
That is why in the initial list of Poet. XX, 1456 b 20-1 ἄqhqom is placed between
ῥῆla and psῶri1, even if in the following explanation it follows the rύmderlo1.
But now we come to the point: what is written in the text of the Poetics? What is
the first example of ἄqhqom in A1? I venture to suggest that in Poetics XX, 1457 a 7,
eἰlί was written instead of φ.l.i. The substitution could be explained by the
replacement of ei with φ. In the paleographic documents from the ninth to tenth
century A.D. circa, the diphthong ei was made with a single sign that could be
described abstractly as a circle crossed by a sort of oblique line. There is thus a
certain proximity between the ductus of φ and that of the nexus ei, which resembles
φ in that it possesses a descending stem and a rounded shape that resembles similar
constituent elements of the φ. In the synthesis that the eye performs in reading, an
exchange of one for the other is conceivable. Now, by observing examples of
handwriting of the time, for example, those illustrated in the tables of Follieri
(1969), I believe I can detect a similar resemblance, for example in the small case
letters of the ninth century, shown in table xiii (Vat. Gr. 2079). The same resem-
blance, though perhaps a slightly lesser one, also applies to table xiv, dating back to
the tenth century (Vat. Gr. 1671). Illustrations 2.1 and 2.2. Both dates are com-
patible with what may be the antigraph of the codex Parisinus Graecus 1741, dated
tenth to eleventh century.
Where the characteristics of the Aristotelian tradition oblige us to date the error
in a more ancient period, i.e., in the hyperarchetype common to the Byzantine and
Arabic tradition30—indeed this is suggested by the examples in Arabic, which

28
This is the conclusion of von Fragstein 1967, Montanari 1988, vol. II, p. 272, and Whitaker
1996, p. 56.
29
The perspective in which Aristotelian lέqη sῆ1 kέnex1 would play several roles without any
contradiction (for example, the adjective ketjό1 would be both onoma and rhema, eἰlί in part
arthron in part rhema), is congruous with Scarpat (1950), Swigger and Wouters (2002), but not
with Dupont-Roc and Lallot (1980). But if, in Aristotelian biology, natura non facit saltus, and a
single organ can have many different functions, especially if it plays the role of ἀqvή, why should
not this happen in linguistics, too? Nevertheless, this is one of the main criticisms my 1997 volume
received, for example from Gusmani 1998 and from Schramm 2005.
30
So assumes Gallavotti 1972 p. 12, rightly in my view, who proposes another idea.
2.3 eἶmai as ἄqhqom: My Conjecture 47

Illustration 2.1 Codex Vaticanus Graecus 2079

48 2 From Biology to Linguistics

Illustration 2.2 Codex Vaticanus Graecus 1671

represent a rendering of the Greek examples in dotted handwriting31—we must

consider the not very well-known fact that the same similarity of ductus could also
be recognized in the lower case letters of certain papyri. In the Corpus of Greek
philosophical papyri, including those of Aristotle, there are numerous examples that
would justify a confusion between ei and φ. Some exempla: table PTura III 235
(Table 275), PTura V 19 (Table 282), and PTura V 222 (Table 290) Illustrations
2.3, 2.4, depict exempla of writings from the sixth and seventh centuries in which
we note the prior existence of a sign ei that is very close to the forms of φ.
I thus venture to suggest that eἰlί could be written in the Poetics as the first
example of ἄqhqom, and that eἰlί is the basis for the φ.l.i. handed down to us.

31
About the relationship between the corresponding text of the Byzantine tradition (Parisinus 1471
and Aristoteles latinus) and the Arabic version, especially with respect to the examples of ἄqhqom,
the observations of Gutas, which I shall try to summarize here, seem to be decisive: 1. ‘said’ in
Arabic is ‘qāla’ (the tonic accent should be replaced with a macron or circumflex); 2. The letter qàf
(the initial letter of qāla) has two points above it; with one point it becomes fa’ (f) from which
derives fàla; 3. The final làm (l) has been replaced by the letter wàw, which is often found in place
of the hamza throughout the manuscript, leading to fa’; the name of the letter fa’ is also a
monoliteral particle that functions like the conjunction ‘and’, though more in a consequential than
coordinative sense: that is, like ‘so’ or ‘then’. These facts show that here, too, the Arabic copyist
attempted to render the example in his own language by conforming it, in all probability, to the
previous examples of rύmderlo1. See Gutas in Tarán and Gutas 2012, pp. 418–424, especially
423–424, where he reads qala, however, which then becomes faw, fa’. Here, heartfelt thanks go to
my friend and colleague Paolo Branca, without whom I would never have been able to understand
Gutas’ reasoning.
2.3 eἶmai as ἄqhqom: My Conjecture 49

Illustration 2.3 PTura V 19 (Table 282)

Illustration 2.4 PTura V 222 (Table 290)

50 2 From Biology to Linguistics

2.4 Some Possible Objections. Is eἶmai a Verb?

I realize that such a proposal may seem counterintuitive. It would appear to be

contradicted by some passages of De interpretatione, where it is clearly stated that
eἶmai is a verb. There are two such passages to consider: De int. 5, 17 a 9-1232 and
10, 19 b 5-16. I will limit myself here to analyzing in detail the latter, given that the
two passages say the same thing about the problem we are interested in. These
exempla are also useful to explaining a remarkable oddity in the definition of kόco1
in the Poetics, where we read that «not all speech is composed of nouns and verbs»,
but can also consist of a single significant part, such as ‘Cleon’ in the phrase ‘Cleon
walks’. One might at this point ask under what conditions does Cleon, which is a
noun (ὄmola), become logos (kόco1)? The answer to this question is: «every
ὄmola becomes a kόco1, when ἔrsim is added». It is found in De int. 5, 17 a 9-12,
10, 19 b 5-16:
De int. 10, 19 b 5-16: Ἐpeὶ dέ ἐrsi sὶ jasὰ simὸ1 ἡ jasάφari1 rηlaίmotra,
soῦso d′ ἐrsὶm ἢ ὄmola ἢ sὸ ἀmώmtlom, ἓm dὲ deῖ eἶmai jaὶ jah′ ἑmὸ1 sὸ ἐm sῇ
jasaφάrei (…) ἔrsai pᾶra jasάφari1 ἢ ἐn ὀmόlaso1 jaὶ ῥήlaso1 ἢ ἐn
ἀoqίrsot ὀmόlaso1 jaὶ ῥήlaso1. ἄmet dὲ ῥήlaso1 oὐdelίa jasάφari1 oὐd′
ἀpόφari1
sὸ cὰq ἔrsim ἢ ἔrsai ἢ ἦm ἢ cίcmesai ἢ ὅra ἄkka soiaῦsa, ῥήlasa
ἐj sῶm jeilέmxm ἐrsίm
pqorrηlaίmei cὰq vqόmom. ὥrse pqώsη jasάφari1
jaὶ ἀpόφari1 sὸ ἔrsim ἄmhqxpo1—oὐj ἔrsim ἄmhqxpo1, eἶsa ἔrsim oὐj
ἄmhqxpo1—oὐj ἔrsim oὐj ἄmhqxpo1. «Now an affirmation signifies something
about something, this last being either a noun or a ‘non-noun’; and what is affirmed
must be one thing and about one thing. So every affirmation will contain either a
noun and a verb or an indefinite noun and a verb. Without a verb there will be no
affirmation or negation. ‘Is’, ‘will be’, ‘was’, ‘becomes’, and the like are verbs
according to what has been laid down, since they additionally signify time. So the
first affirmation and negation are: “‘there is (a) man—there is not (a) man’; then
‘there is (a) non-man—there is not (a) non-man’”».
Here and only here—and not, for example, in the definition of kόco1 in 4, 16 b
26-17 a 7—Aristotle asserts that the kόco1 must necessarily include a verb;33 i.e., a
temporal determination. This necessity only exists for the declarative statement
(ἀpόφamri1, kόco1 ἀpoφamsijό1), which must be either true or false, contingent
or necessary; it does not exist for the utterance (kέni1) or the discourse (kόco1), and
even less for the definition (ὁqirlό1). Numerous predicates therefore exist ‘without
tense’, that is to say without a verb. In addition to definitions and to universal and

32
Ἀmάcjη dὲ pάmsa kόcom ἀpoφamsijὸm ἐj ῥήlaso1 eἶmai ἢ psώrex1
jaὶ cὰq ὁ soῦ ἀmhqώpot
kόco1, ἐὰm lὴ sὸ ἔrsim ἢ ἔrsai ἢ ἦm ἤ si soioῦso pqorsehῇ, oὔpx kόco1 ἀpoφamsijό1.
33
The claim that a kόco1 is usually composed of nouns and verbs is found, if anywhere, in
Rhetorica C 2, 1404 b 26-7: ὄmsxm d' ὀmolάsxm jaὶ ῥηlάsxm ἐn ὧm ὁ kόco1 rtmέrsηjem. But it
is well known that the affirmations in Rhetoric, compared to those of De interpretatione, are far
more approximate on the subject, or rather, they are more superficial in the sense that we have just
explained in Sects. 2.1, 2.2.
2.4 Some Possible Objections. Is eἶmai a Verb? 51

necessary predication, of which Aristotle speaks in Organon and Metaphysics,

these are maxims, or noun phrases, studied in particular by Benveniste,34 an
example of which can be seen in the incipit of Pindar’s first Olympian Ode:
ἄqirsom lὲm ὕdxq. Aristotle uses these stylistic elements very frequently and they
constitute his true stylistic trademark, along with brachylogy. All of book C of De
anima is almost entirely composed by them, and the same is true of certain passages
of the Metaphysics and of the more theoretically challenging parts of the biological
works. As for ὁqirlό1, i.e., the predicate nominative that represents a definition
(fῷom pefὸm dίpotm), the verb, or rather the ‘is’ of the predicate, is not present nor
can it be. What all these phrases and/or noun phrases have in common is that they
enunciate something out of time; they enunciate universal truths.35 And this is the
case of the definitions, axioms, and even more so of the ‘most certain principle’.36
But now let us look more closely at the passage of the De interpretatione. On
closer inspection, it contains more than just a few enigmatic elements. It is affirmed
in fact that: «‘Is’, ‘will be’, ‘was’, ‘becomes’, and the like are verbs according to
what has been laid down, since they additionally signify time» (sὸ cὰq ἔrsim ἢ
ἔrsai ἢ ἦm ἢ cίcmesai ἢ ὅra ἄkka soiaῦsa, ῥήlasa ἐj sῶm jeilέmxm ἐrsίm). But
why does it state «according to what has been laid down» (ἐj sῶm jeilέmxm)? Isn’t
it obvious? Doesn’t everyone know that ‘is’, ‘will’, etc., are verbs? Aren’t they
always?
Evidently not. Perhaps for Aristotle eἶmai is not always a verb. Alongside the
present tense of contingency, as opposed to ‘was’ and ‘will’, Aristotle recognizes an
eternal present, that of necessity, which does not contain any temporal determi-
nation.37 In these cases, eἶmai is no longer absolutely a verb (ῥῆla), but a pure
operator, which «divides what is divided by its own nature» (ἄqhqom). Much
evidence can be found to support this idea, such as the enclitic forms in the present
tense, which group eἶmai with various types of asemantic particles.

34
According to Benveniste 1950, the noun phrase, since the time of its Indo-European roots, has
been a particular kind of structure that cannot be obtained from a normal sentence by omitting the
verb; see Humbert 1966, p. 63 ff. For a partial correction of this assumption, see Guiraud 1961,
pp. 9–31.
35
See Guiraud 1961, pp. 33–61. Because of the importance of this issue for Aristotle, in reference
to De interpretatione and in particular to the passage quoted here, see Scarpat, 1950, pp. 48–52,
and the literature cited therein, and also Whitaker 1996, pp. 52–70, Barnes 2007, pp. 1–92,
especially pp. 14–19.
36
Met. C 3, 1005 b 11-34: sὸ cὰq aὐsὸ ἅla ὑpάqveim se jaὶ lὴ ὑpάqveim ἀdύmasom sῷ aὐsῷ jaὶ
jasὰ sὸ aὐsό. On this principle, see especially Berti 1966, 1968, 1987.
37
See De int. 3, 16 b 18, in which the tenses are placed ‘around’ (pέqin) the present, with its
double value—in time (contingency) or outside time—within the instant (necessity). The most
explicit example is, however, in Anal. Pr. I, 15, 34 b 7-8: Deῖ dὲ kalbάmeim sὸ pamsὶ ὑpάqvom lὴ
jasὰ vqόmom ὁqίramsa1, oἷom mῦm ἢ ἐm sῷde sῷ vqόmῳ, ἀkk' ἁpkῶ1. See also De int. 1, 16 a
17-18: … ἐὰm lὴ sὸ eἶmai ἢ lὴ eἶmai pqorsehῇ, ἢ ἁpkῶ1 ἢ jasὰ vqόmom.
52 2 From Biology to Linguistics

Moreover, not even this passage from the De interpretatione is ‘a passage like
the others’. Here Aristotle is carrying out a theoretical experiment, which consists in
trying out all the combinations of the predication operator and its negation, first in
relation to the ὄmola and then also to the ῥῆla. The result is first ἔrsim ἄmhqxpo1
—oὐj ἔrsim ἄmhqxpo1, which in fact is the pqώsη jasάφari1 jaὶ ἀpόφari1 in
19 b 15-6, and then immediately after, the ἀmsίφari1, constructed by starting with
the ὄmola ἀόqirsom, (ἔrsim oὐj ἄmhqxpo1—oὐj ἔrsim oὐj ἄmhqxpo1).38 In this
passage, Aristotle dismisses the kind of predication that the medieval scholars
called de secundo adiacente, where eἶmai is the direct predication of a noun. In all
other examples—in De interpretatione but most of all in Analytics and Metaphysics
—predication is de tertio adiacente. Predication de secundo adiacente, which is
identified essentially with existential predication, is therefore not the center of
Aristotle’s interests. In my opinion, this is consequent. What was most important to
him was not existential or contingent predication, but universal, necessary
predication.39
In the extreme case of existential predication de secundo adiacente, it is as if
eἶmai states the noun and assumes a temporal determination. In this extreme case,
eἶmai, the predication operator, partakes of the nature of the verb (ῥῆla) and
assumes some of its functions. The ῥῆla in fact should be a «significant expres-
sion» (φxmὴ rηlamsijή) and «give additional meaning regarding time»
(pqorrηlaίmeim vqόmom); eἶmai can at best «give additional meaning regarding
time». But in existential sentences, when eἶmai is isolated next to noun, it looks
almost like a kind of predicate.
But one thing must be clear: eἶmai is in any case a predication operator. It is
therefore essentially an ἄqhqom. Only in the case where it «gives additional
meaning regarding time»—maxims in the extreme case of existential predications—
does eἶmai take on some functions of the ῥῆla, and, isolated with respect to the
noun, becomes a sort of improper predicate (‘Socrates is’). Though for once his
choice of terminology is not so precise, Aristotle says that when eἶmai is in direct
contact with the noun it is predicated ‘by itself’ (jah′ aὑsό); while when it is
predicated with a ῥῆla it is predicated ‘by accident’ (jasὰ rtlbebηjό1) simply
because in this case it ‘is accompanied’ (rtlbaίmei) to the ῥῆla. The semantic and
logical properties of the two sentence types are very different. And it is for this
reason that ‘Homer is a poet’ does not implicate ‘Homer is’ (20 b 25-33).40

38
On the ἀmsίφari1 see the already cited studies of Cavini, in particular (2007a), pp. 130–139.
39
As Kahn rightly noted; see (1966), (1972), and above all (1976). The three essays were
republished in Kahn 2009, pp. 16–40, 41–61, and 62–74 respectively.
40
On this passage and this use of eἶmai, see Kahn 2009, pp. 41–71, especially pp. 47–48.
2.5 Nature and Uses of eἶmai: The Contemporary Debate 53

2.5 Nature and Uses of eἶmai: The Contemporary Debate

To better understand the uses of the Greek word eἶmai and at the same time do
justice to some of the criticisms that have been leveled at me,41 I think I should give
a very brief account of a fascinating critical debate about its nature. This debate
began with Charles H. Kahn. In 1973, Kahn published a momentous monograph,
The Verb ‘Be’ in Ancient Greek. It was quite recently republished (2003); this
edition is important because it contains a long introduction in which the author
replies to all his critics, in particular to De Rijk.42 In this monograph, Kahn dares to
deny the traditional thesis regarding the locative-existential origin of eἶmai, and
indeed of the Indo-European root *es itself. That is to say: Kahn does not deny that
origin, he simply says that it is undetectable and unprovable (pp. 373–85). The first
Greek corpus that we have at our disposition is the Homeric poems, which by no
means contain a uniform use of eἶmai. Indo-European is in fact seen as charac-
terized by a «lucky chance»43 in that it presents the copulative, veridical, and
existential uses of ‘be’ agglutinated in a single root, *es (pp. 9, 388–419). This does
not occur in any of the modern European languages, in which the values of ‘being
in a certain way’, ‘existing’, and ‘being true’ are usually covered by different lexical
families. When, therefore, we blame the ancient philosophers, especially
Parmenides, Plato, and Aristotle, for confusion between the copula, veridical, and
existential uses of eἶmai, we are being unjust.
Kahn then notes an essential fact: unlike other philosophical paradigms, in Greek
philosophy the existential uses of eἶmai are not the most important ones (pp. 223–
232). The truly fundamental (the most important and most common) uses of eἶmai
seem to be the copulative and veridical uses (pp. 323–366). To give an account of
all this and accurately describe the uses of eἶmai, the scholar makes use of a model
borrowed from transformational-generative linguistics.44 In his model, Kahn
chooses to put the copulative uses of eἶmai at the center of his description (pp. 80–2;

41
«Schon Fragestein (1967) interpretiert ἄqhqom als Kopula. Laspia und Fragestein beobachten
richtig, daß Aristoteles die Auflösung eines Aussagesatzes als Subjekt und Prädikat in einem
Ausdruck aus Subject, Copula und Partizip als Prädikatnomen häufig gebraucht ist (z.B. De int:
12, 21 b 20 f., Met. D, 7, 1017 a 27). Doch ist schwer einzusehen, warum die Copula-ἐrsί
bedeutungslos sein soll, wo doch das existenz-ἔrsi ein vollgultiges ῥῆla, (De int. 5, 17 a 11 f.)
und daher bedeutsam ist» (Schramm 2005, p. 211 note 46).
42
Kahn 2003, pp. vii-xxxix; for De Rijk, see in particular pp. xiii-xiv. In his article of 2004, quoted
below, Kahn unfortunately will soften his tone, saying that there is no incompatibility between his
position and that of De Rijk. We will see, however, that this is not completely true.
43
«The convergence… of the concepts of predication, existence and truth, as represented in these
central functions of the I.E. lexeme *es-, is not an arbitrary fact of pure historical interest for the
description of a particular language family. If we may rightly regard this fact as a kind of historical
accident in I.-E., it is surely a happy accident, a lucky chance, which helped to make possible the
rise of philosophy, as we know it—in Greece, and perhaps in India» (1973, p. 401).
44
To be more precise, the model is taken not from Chomsky but from Chomsky’s teacher Zellig
Harris (pp. 10–24), the true inventor of generativism. Kahn thus honors a linguist who, unfortu-
nately, today is not yet very well known.
54 2 From Biology to Linguistics

400–14). With this, of course, he does not want to assert that the copulative uses
appear before the others historically. He only intends to say that the copulative uses
of eἶmai are not easily reduced to locative-existential uses, as the traditional
approach would have them.
Kahn proceeds at this point to analyze a corpus represented by all Homeric uses
of eἶmai and declares that the copulative use is well attested in Homer (pp. 83–330).
This should not be surprising: only the primitive myth of the concrete origin of
language (pp. 381–5)45 can generate the absurd belief that a language, ancient or
modern, can exist without predication.
After analyzing the copulative, locative-existential, and veridical uses of eἶmai in
Homer, Kahn draws closer to his conclusion. In Greek, eἶmai is both one and three.
The copulative, veridical, and locative-existential uses are in fact inseparable
(pp. 394–414). How then can the paradoxical semantics of this strange non-verb
verb be explained? Here Kahn introduces his «modest Copernican revolution»
(p. 395). That is, he puts the copulative uses at the center of the description of eἶmai,
but firmly states that these are the center of a sort of tri-unity (pp. 394–414). To
explain this the author invokes the kέcesai pokkavῶ1, theorized by Aristotle
precisely for sὸ ὄm in book C of Metaphysics (1, 1003 a 33-5 ff.) and later illustrated
by a number of other examples (including ὄm) in book D (p. 401); and he makes a
comparison with the real or imagined ambiguity of the term kόco1 (p. 403). In light
of the brilliant insights of Matthen, such an explanation—in my opinion a rather
weak one—will no longer be necessary.
The work of Kahn did not arouse great enthusiasm, and did not receive, as has
been said, «a warm welcome».46 Directly antithetical to it is the monumental
monograph entitled Aristotle. Semantics and Ontology of Lambertus Maria De Rjik,
which consists of about 1200 printed pages. A thankless task fell to De Rijk: the
restoration of the «modest Copernican revolution» proposed by Kahn. Let’s be
clear about one thing: De Rijk owes much to Kahn, and he knows it. For example,
the (sacrosanct) statement that «many of the distinctions we are so keen on in
modern times (‘existence’ expressed by quantifiers, ‘predication’ as distinguished
from ‘class-inclusion’ and ‘identity’, and even Mill’s contrasting the ‘existential’
and the ‘copulative’ functions of ‘is’) are all anachronistic and even jeopardize our
understanding of Greek philosophy» (p. 25).47 But according to De Rijk, who for
support quotes a long review of Ruijgh (1979), «the empirical support Kahn has
adduced from pre-classical and classical Greek, is far from convincing» (p. 27).
However, looking more closely at the examples, such as that of Il. B 204-5, quoted

45
The reference is of course to Snell 1948. His all too familiar thesis is that Homer corresponds to a
stage of Greek thought that was still primitive; it is therefore not possible to find in the Homeric
epics the fundamental concepts of Greek philosophy and science such as ‘soul’ and ‘body’, and
indeed not even the very notion of ‘seeing’. In my 1996 book, in a discussion of the concept of
‘voice,’ I hope I demonstrated that this is not true.
46
De Rijk 2002, p. 26.
47
Such claims have become commonplace in the specialized literature on the subject. See, for
example, what is affirmed in the contribution of Brown (1994), especially pp. 213, 236.
2.5 Nature and Uses of eἶmai: The Contemporary Debate 55

also by Aristotle (in his own way) at the end of his great theoretical work, book K
of Metaphysics, I am not sure that eἷ1 joίqamo1 ἔrsx, eἷ1 barikeύ1 «nicely
illustrates the easy transition from existential use of the copula constructions».48 If
anything, it is significant for our purposes to note that Aristotle, quoting from
memory, disposes of eἶmai and transforms everything into a nominal sentence.49
Ultimately, the only valid objection that De Rijk makes to Kahn is to have failed
to make a careful distinction between «copula» and «truth claim» (p. 29).
According to a terminology invented, as we shall see, by Mohan Matthen and used
again by De Rijk, Kahn is seen as not distinguishing carefully between ‘dyadic’
(copula) and ‘monadic’ (existence, assertion) uses of eἶmai. De Rijk instead flattens
the veridical use onto the existential and thus restores the cliché that Kahn had tried
in vain to dispel. But the main point is that, in the view of De Rijk, the two uses (the
dyadic use Kahn still calls ‘copulative’) are reduced to one (the veridical use that
seems modeled on the existential use). Thus, a genuine restoration takes place after
the «modest Copernican revolution» proposed by Kahn. Not only are the traditional
assumptions of the grammarians (Meillet, Brugmann, Kühner-Gerth, etc.) restored
—they affirm the locative-existential origin of eἶmai—but even the obsolete
metaphysical reading of Gilson (1948).50
So far, we have presented the two monumental works of Kahn and De Rijk as if
they constituted a clash of Titans, whose bone of contention is the primary, dyadic,
or monadic use of eἶmai. However, we have deliberately skipped an essential step in
the debate, one which would seem to demonstrate the truth of the proverb: ‘While
two dogs are fighting for a bone, a third runs away with it’. In fact, in 1983 Mohan
Matthen published an article in «Phronesis» that De Rijk did not hesitate to call,
rightly, an «epoch-making paper» (2002, p. 81).51 The contribution of Matthen
arises explicitly as «an alternative semantic account of what Charles Kahn has

48
The counterexample actually belongs to Ruijgh (1979); on this thesis, summarized by De Rijk,
there is a lot to say. The discussion between Ruijgh and van Bennekom will begin anew with the
publication of «Mnemosyne» 1984 (see pp. 257–263 for the contribution of van Bennekom and
pp. 264–270 for that of Ruijgh). Here van Bennekom takes the side of Kahn and considers it useful
to invoke a thorough analysis of expressions and how they use eἶmai (if only he had done the same
when it came to rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom!), while Ruijgh tirelessly denies this, without adding, I
think, anything to the reasoning of 1979; on Ruijgh 1979 see the discussion in Kahn 2003,
pp. xxxvii–xxxix.
49
Met. K 10, 1076 a 4: oὐj ἀcahὸm poktjoiqamίη
eἷ1 joίqamo1.
50
On Gilson 1948, see the penetrating observations of Kahn 1973, pp. 7–9.
51
Greek Ontology and the ‘Is’ of Truth, «Phronesis» 28, 1983, pp. 113–135. It seems to me that
Kahn, in the Introduction to the second edition of his monograph on the verb ‘to be’ (2003, p. xix)
somewhat underestimates the article by Matthen, reducing it excessively to the perspective of De
Rijk. But perhaps the mistake is mine and I am interpreting the work of Matthen in the perspective
of Kahn: because of this unprecedented juxtaposition, perhaps I overestimate its value.
56 2 From Biology to Linguistics

called the ‘is’ of truth» (p. 113).52 According to Matthen, his proposal is able to
solve many paradoxes of Greek and particularly Aristotelian ontology. Matthen
remarks: «the copula has two functions. It joins predicate to subject, and it states of
the sentence in which it occurs that (the sentence) is true» (p. 119). This is an
«essential ambiguity» in the copulative uses of eἶmai that Kahn had already rec-
ognized and which Matthen proposes to investigate further. Secondly, Matthen
acknowledges that Kahn was the first to differentiate between the veridical use—
that accentuates the second of the above-listed functions of the copula—and the
existential use, which is syntactically similar. We have seen that De Rijk is not quite
as acute because he often lapses into the old confusion.
At this point, Matthen tries to refute Kahn with very subtle reasoning about
tenses: «Consider tense. It seems that ‘Socrates was sitting’ contains a tense
modifier on the copula. But we cannot allow this modifier to operate more than
once. Our sentence says either that it is true that Socrates was sitting, or that it was
true that Socrates is sitting. It certainly does not say that it was true that Socrates
was sitting. But how are we non-arbitrarily to read the same verb in two roles at
once, but the verb modifier only once?» (p. 120).
This idea of one operator playing two different functions is very interesting—and
it sounds, in my opinion, very Aristotelian, in light of Aristotle’s definition of ἀqvή
in Metaph. D 1—as is the counter-objection of Kahn that Matthen imagines and
then immediately discards.53 We will see below how to re-evaluate the objection of
Kahn. But now let us say that the two functions, for Aristotle, should probably be
three: 1. The joining of the two terms. 2 The assertion of the product of their
joining. 3 The ‘addition of meaning’ (pqorrηlaίmeim) regarding time, and with it
the (accidental or necessary) nature of the statement. But since, as we shall see,
functions 1 and 2 are closely related in Aristotle, the so-called copula functions are
reduced to two: 1. Realize the logical product of the two joined factors (e.g., ‘man’
and ‘white’) and assert their truth; 2. Give additional meaning regarding time. It
cannot be a coincidence that the paradox noted by Matthen regards precisely the
temporal aspects of eἶmai: Therefore, functions 1 and 2 are in themselves virtually
separate, or at least they were in Aristotle’s mind. Matthen concludes: «I want now

52
But the best critic of himself is Kahn himself, who in 2009 had the bright idea to collect all his
articles from the past fifty years dedicated to uses of eἶmai and publish them in a volume (Essays
on Being, Oxford 2009). Along with classics like The Greek Verb to ‘Be’ and the Concept of
‘Being’ (1966, pp. 16–40) or On the Terminology for Copula and Existence (1972, pp. 41–61),
which are of fundamental importance for my subject, Kahn also published a fairly recent essay
(2004) that corresponds greatly to the introduction to the second edition of The Verb ‘Be’ in
Ancient Greek (2003). It is entitled A Return to the Theory of the Verb Be and the Concept of
Being (pp. 109–142). In an extreme synthesis, Kahn is not willing to relinquish the central position
of the «copula uses of eἶmai» in his system. However, he does take into account the objections,
especially those of De Rijk, and concludes that the veridical and existential uses of eἶmai are of a
‘second order’, constructed on the underlying copulative use (of a ‘first order’).
53
«Kahn’s claim that a single occurrence of a verb is ‘overworked’, or ‘overdeterminated’—i.e.
that it has, simultaneously, two functions», (1983, p. 120).
2.5 Nature and Uses of eἶmai: The Contemporary Debate 57

to argue that Aristotle was explicitly aware of this feature of the copula, and makes
it an essential part of his account of being» (p. 121).
The first part of the article ends with these words. The second part (pp. 121–35)
is explicitly dedicated to «Aristotle on the syntax and semantics of ‘is’» (p. 121)
and is therefore of even more pressing relevance for our discussion. At the
beginning of this section, Matthen states that «In De Interpretatione 1-3 Aristotle
distinguishes between nouns and verbs. Both are significant (semantikos), he says,
but nouns signify, whereas verbs signify about. Moreover nouns do not carry tense,
whereas verbs do. Now, ‘is’ carries tense, and in this respect it is like a verb.
However, it is made clear that in other respects it is not like a verb. First, it is not
significant, as verbs are, but only consignificant: ‘by itself it is nothing, but it
consignifies some combination which cannot be thought of without the components
(16 b 24-6). Secondly, it is required in any whole sentence» (p. 121).54
Ultimately, «eἶmai is not a verb like the others», and it is not me, Kahn, Matthen,
or De Rijk who says so: Aristotle himself says it in De interpretatione. But let us
see what this implicates in Matthen’s view: «Here then is one plausible account of
Aristotle’s theory of the subject-predicate sentence: (a) It consists in the first
instance of two parts—a noun and a verb phrase. The noun carries no tense and
signifies the subject; the verb phrase carries tense and signifies about the ontological
subject. (b) The verb phrase can be split up into two functional (as opposed to
syntactic) parts. It instantiates the paradigm: ‘Copula equivalent + predicable
denoter’» (p. 122).55
Matthen also clarifies that the grammatical constituents might not be identical to
the semantic constituents, as in the case of the verb ‘runs’ (and in all verbs in
general), which must be reduced to the two constituents of the «verb phrase»
(copula equivalent + predicable denoter). In other words, runs becomes is running,
badίfei becomes badίfomsa eἶmai, just as we saw in De int. 12, 21 b 9-10 and in
Met. D, 7, 1017 a 27-30. But Matthen goes on and notes that this is perhaps a good
analysis of the dyadic use of eἶmai, but in De interpretatione there are no dyadic
uses as such. This statement is surprising but true. In De interpretatione, in fact, we
do not find sentences like ὁ ἄmhqxpo1 dίjaiό1 ἐrsi, but always only propositions
like ἔrsim ἄmhqxpo1, ἔrsi dίjaio1 ἄmhqxpo1.
Hence, the revolutionary proposal: We can imagine the dyadic (copula) and
monadic (assertion, truth) uses of eἶmai as being each obtainable from the other
through a rule of motion like those postulated by Chomsky in certain versions of his
generative grammar (‘move w’). In other words, just as ‘the man runs’ is a surface
structure whose underlying structure is ‘the man is running’, so also the man is

54
Also Barnesi s convinced that ‘is’ cannot be a verb; but he is erroneously convinced that the
copula has to be a ligament (rύmderlo1); cfr. Barnes 1996, pp. 187–192, especially note 48.
55
Diana Quarantotto rightly points out that for Matthen, is an operator that can be applied to both
nouns and verbs; in the first case, there is existential predication, in the second a verb phrase
(p. 123). Let us remember, however, that the «verb phrase», or verbal predicate, for Aristotle is not
a sentence. In fact, if I say ‘a man is’, the statement is uninformative and something of a paradox,
but correct; but if I say ‘white is’ or ‘is white’, the listener will want to ask me ‘Who is white?’
58 2 From Biology to Linguistics

running (copulative use) could be transformed into the running man is (veridical
use, corresponding to the Greek ἔrsim ἄmhqxpo1, ἔrsi dίjaio1 ἄmhqxpo1,
p. 124). «Could Aristotle not be assuming, in other words, that all uses of ‘is’
correspond to a monadic use, and in particular that the copula can be made monadic
by moving its complement to attributive position?» (p. 124).
Now, such a conclusion seems to be extremely elegant and theoretically significant:
most importantly, it reflects very well what we have illustrated about the uses of eἶmai
in Aristotle. But it must be stressed that Matthen’s proposal, at least when it is inter-
preted in De Rijk’s perspective, brings with it grave and unacceptable consequences.
As we have seen, De Rijk celebrated Matthen’s article enthusiastically («epoch-making
paper»), and he accuses him only of putting forth his ideas too quietly.56 Matthen’s
intuition is truly revolutionary: it explains, according to De Rijk, the surprising use of
kόco1, which is not an ambiguous term as many believe,57 but signifies simultaneously
‘content that can be asserted’ and ‘assertion’.58 Here, and as concerns the relationship
between kόco1 and pqᾶcla,59 I think De Rijk is right and that he liberates us from a
gross naivety, which is the belief that ‘facts’ (pqάclasa), for Aristotle, correspond to
real things, things of this world.60 As Owen and Wieland had already guessed,61 the
pqάclasa in Aristotle are ‘facts’ only as objects of a possible speech; every ὄm is, in
short, an ὂm kecόlemom.62
Let us return now, in conclusion, to Matthen and De Rijk. Not only does De Rijk
enthusiastically welcome the proposal of Matthen, he in fact takes possession of it.
Now I do not know if in doing so De Rijk interprets Matthen’s article correctly or if
he distorts it deeply. Matthen supposed in fact that according to Aristotle, «all uses
of ‘is’ correspond to a monadic use», while De Rijk asserts that all uses of eἶmai

56
«Rather hesitantly as a somewhat conjectural suggestion». De Rijk acknowledges that Matthen
«was the first to recognize that in Aristotle’s perception statements such as “the man is running”
should be transformed into something like “the running man is”» (De Rijk 2002, p. 17, note 47).
57
For this aspect of the kόco1, observed in particular in Heraclitus, see Gianvittorio (2010).
58
See De Rijk 2002, vol. I, pp. 104–110; see also De Rijk 1987. The scholar thus corroborates the
not unworthy hypothesis of Snell, which proposes that kόco1 means Sinn; see Snell 1965, pp. 7,
19.
59
See De Rijk 2002, vol. I, pp. 104–111. The contribution of Nuchelmans on this topic is
important (1973) and De Rijk declares he was inspired by it in his remarkable commentary on the
Sophist (1987).
60
I cannot go without mentioning Franco Lo Piparo here, whose more than twenty years of
Aristotelian studies finally took shape in a successful monograph of 2003. In this monograph, Lo
Piparo gives us an indelible portrait of an Aristotle who uses the tools of language to paint reality,
his reality (see pp. 34–41 and relative notes). However, in the seventh chapter (pp. 164–186), we
discover that facts are things of this world and that between facts and the soul there is a
«mathematical relationship»—a conclusion that to me seems to contradict the initial assumptions
of the volume.
61
See Owen 1961 (1986, pp. 239–251), 1965 (1986, pp. 259–78); Wieland 19702, pp. 159–161
and notes. See also Berti 1989, pp. 52–60.
62
See Owen 1961, p. 85–6 (= 1986, p. 240), 1965, p. 92 (= 1986, p. 276), Wieland 1962, 19702,
ch. II (Die Sprache als Leitfaden), pp. 141–231, specifically pp. 145 and notes, p. 171.
2.5 Nature and Uses of eἶmai: The Contemporary Debate 59

(and of ὑpάqveim) in Aristotle are monadic. There would be in fact no copulative

use of eἶmai in the theoretical jargon of Aristotle.63 Ultimately, eἶmai, which in
Matthen’s proposal is a mobile operator (dyadic, which can be transformed into
monadic) in De Rijk becomes a fixed operator (only monadic); the veridical use,
consequently, is dangerously flattened onto the existential use. However, if we
consider eἶmai (or ὑpάqveim) an exclusively monadic operator, we arrive at con-
clusions that for Aristotle would be unacceptable and shocking, because, in so
doing all distinction between potential and action would thus be eliminated.
In Met. H 10, we read instead: «some things are always combined and cannot be
separated, and others are always separated and cannot be combined, while others
are capable either of combination or of separation, being (eἶmai) is being combined
and one, and not being (lὴ eἶmai) is being not combined but more than one».64
Regardless of the explanation that De Rijk gives,65 this fundamental passage
tells us: 1. that eἶmai has something to do with operations of unification and
division, which are necessarily performed on two addends. The old idea of Kahn—
that the dyadic uses of eἶmai are fundamental—in light of Met. H 10 does not seem
so bad. 2. That the distinction between ‘always combined’ or ‘always separated’
and ‘being sometimes combined, sometimes separated’ is used to distinguish
between necessity and chance. Now this would not be possible if eἶmai was
exclusively a monadic operator. An exclusively monadic operator would be a kind
of perennial glue that would no longer allow the elements to which it comes into
contact to be separated, or indeed to be represented as distinct elements. In short, it
would be the ἐόm of Parmenides, not the eἶmai of Aristotle. Now, if this is true, for
Aristotle eἶmai must first of all be an operator; and both a monadic and dyadic
operator.66

63
«No copulative ‘be’ in Aristotle’s protocol language». De Rijk 2002 vol. I, p. 31.
64
Met. H 10, 1051 b 9-13: eἰ dὴ sὰ lὲm ἀeὶ rύcjeisai jaὶ ἀdύmasa diaiqehῆmai, sὰ d' ἀeὶ
diῄqηsai jaὶ ἀdύmasa rtmsehῆmai, sὰ d' ἐmdέvesai sἀmamsίa (sὸ lὲm eἶmaί ἐrsi sὸ rtcjeῖrhai
jaὶ ἓm eἶmai, sὸ dὲ lὴ eἶmai sὸ lὴ rtcjeῖrhai ἀkkὰ pkeίx eἶmai).
65
See De Rijk 2002 vol. II, pp. 325–334.
66
Without the slightest claim to be exhaustive, let us now summarize briefly what happens after
Matthen (and De Rijk). In 1994, Lesley Brown published a discussion of Kahn’s work in a
collective volume entitled Language and dedicated to ancient linguistics. Brown’s criticism, in a
nutshell, is that Kahn not only failed to give sufficient importance to the veridical value of eἶmai,
but also distinguishes the copulative use of eἶmai from the veridical use, which distinction
according to him Aristotle does not make (1995, p. 236). But the passage from Met. H 10, in
which Aristotle distinguishes between essence and accident, refutes this. Also, if it is true that in
the linguistic protocol of De interpretatione eἶmai is used only as a monadic operator (De inter-
pretatione is essentially devoted to statements), it is so only in this context. Elsewhere, for example
in the analysis of the lemmas ἕm and ὄm in book D of Metaphysics, the dyadic uses of eἶmai seem to
be of primary importance; see Kahn 2009 (1966), pp. 20–23. For further publications, see Brown
1994.
Chapter 3
Conclusions

I will now briefly summarize the results of my work, highlighting the most original
aspects. I believe I am the first to recognize that the framework of the definitions of
rύmderlo1 and ἄqhqom of the Poetics (S1, S2, A1, A2) is a chiasmus. Any attempt
to expunge one of the two alleged repetitions (S1 or A2) unbalances the economics
of the structure; any attempt at interpreting S1 and A2 that does not explain their
extreme similarity will prove to be vain. The solution I propose is to see the two
lemmas as the expression of a hierarchy of strength: S1 refers to weak rύmderloi,
S2 to stronger rύmderloi; conversely, A1 refers to strong ἄqhqa, A2 to weaker
ἄqhqa. S1 and A2 also have the same grammatical referents. That is to say that
rύmderloi explicate their function either in the kέni1 eἰqolέmη or rtmdέrlῳ lίa
(unitary discourse thanks to a connector; S1), or in the kέni1 jasersqallέmη or
peqίodo1 (unitary discourse by itself; A2). But though the grammatical referents are
the same, the functions assigned to them are different. In the first case, rύmderloi
are connectors, junction points that allow us to build a more complex semantic unit
(kόco1 rtmdέrlῳ eἷ1) from several simple sentences; in the second case, they are
internal articulations of a speech with a unitary semantic project (kέni1
jasersqallέmη or peqίodo1). In this case, rύmderloi are actually ἄqhqa, hence
the almost identical text for the two definitions (S1 and A2).
So far, my results go hand in hand with the conclusions I reached in my 1997
volume. The novelty regards my interpretation of the first example of ἄqhqom (1457
a 7), for which I propose a new hypothesis. As I had already recognized in 1997, the
twentieth chapter of the Poetics is not a taxonomy of parts of speech; Aristotle’s
method of investigation is defined in his biological works. Aristotle’s ἄqhqom
cannot be identified therefore with the ‘article’ of subsequent grammatical tradition.
Based on the comparison between the principal biological definitions of ἄqhqom
and the definition of the Poetics, I hypothesize that in the kόco1 ἓm dηkῶm, ἄqhqom
is the predication operator, eἰlί, in itself asemantic (De int. 3, 16 b 23-5). In the
handwriting of the nineth and tenth centuries, the diphthong ei is made with a single
sign that could be described as a circle under a sort of oblique nick; there is thus a
certain resemblance between ei and φ. The same similarity is also found in some
© Springer International Publishing AG, part of Springer Nature 2018 61
P. Laspia, From Biology to Linguistics: The Definition of Arthron
in Aristotle’s Poetics, UNIPA Springer Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-77326-1_3
62 3 Conclusions

texts of the Papiri philosophici Graeci in the period around the sixth and seventh
centuries; this allows us to date the confusion prior to the hyperarchetype common
to the Arab and Byzantine tradition, as the Arabic text of the definition of ἄqhqom
requires. I therefore venture to suggest that φ.l.i. in the text should be read as eἰlί
and that eἰlί is the first example of ἄqhqom of the Poetics.
I now briefly discuss some possible objections, some that have occurred to me
and others that have been suggested by others.
1. eἶmai is not an ἄqhqom: «Speaking about ‘copula’ in Aristotle is anachronistic.
The word ‘copula’ was used for the first time by Abelardo in his Dialectica».1
An opinion such as this has the same urgent necessity as a deduction similar to:
‘America did not exist before Christopher Columbus’. I believe that this is erro-
neous, and from several points of view. In the first place, the term ‘copula’ is not
used for the first time by Abelardo. According to De Rijk (vol. I, p. 237), the first to
use it was Garlandus Compotista (do you know him?), Bishop of Agrigento, who
died February 25, 1100, and who apparently used it frequently. Do we want to
question the opinion of De Rijk on this matter? Second, as I have said elsewhere, to
assert that mammals did not exist before the invention of the term ‘mammal’ does
not seem wise.2 Finally, today I no longer speak of eἶmai (and of ἄqhqom) as a
copula, but as predication operator, both monadic and dyadic. This will certainly
seem even more anachronistic to some, but that, let me say, is their problem.
Aristotle certainly did not speak of monadic and dyadic operators, nor of copula,
nor of deep structure. This terminology is useful to us to understand his point of
view, in which linguistic analysis is carried out in light of biology, and language is
an analogy of the body and its vital functions, as evidenced by the strict parallelism
established here between De interpretatione and Poetics on the one hand, and De
partibus animalium, and more generally, the biological works on the other.
2. Is it possible that eἰlί in Aristotle’s Poetics is used as a metalinguistic term (the
basic form of the verb ‘to be’) as in modern dictionaries?
As you can see, this objection is much more serious than the first. It was made by my
friend and colleague Giorgio Di Maria, whom I thank for his perceptive observation.
To respond to the objection, we must first answer the following question: When does
the metalinguistic use of verbs in the first person singular (as eἰlί = basic form of the
verb ‘to be’) begin? The metalinguistic use of linguistic terms begins, as far as I
know, with the Sophist of Plato. Therein are found three examples out of context:
‘walks’, ‘runs’, ‘rests’3; there are two examples in context: ‘Theaetetus sits’ and
‘Theaetetus flies’4. All examples are in the third person singular.

1
«Parlare di ‘copula’ in Aristotele è quantomeno anacronistico. Il termine ‘copula’ è usato per la
prima volta da Abelardo nella sua Dialectica» (Melazzo 2002, p. 147, note 30).
2
Laspia (2018), p. 20, note 37.
3
Soph. 262 a: badίfei, sqέvei, jaheύdei.
4
Soph. 263 a: Heaίsηso1 jάhηsai, Heaίsηso1 pέsesai.
3 Conclusions 63

In Aristotle, examples of the metalinguistic use of nominal and verbal forms are
far more numerous. We cannot list them all here because it would become another
sort of work. I merely observe that the use of the third person is still prevalent, but
not exclusive. We also find different uses of the infinitive form (e.g., eἶmai) and one
of the participle sὸ ὄm, but it is probably an explicit allusion to Parmenides and
Plato (De int. 3, 16 b 21-3). To my knowledge, there are as yet no metalinguistic
uses of the verb in the first person singular.
After Aristotle, and beginning with the Stoics, there are many examples of
metalinguistic uses of the verb in writings about grammar, and these are usually in
the first person singular. This is the state of the facts. Nothing prevents Aristotle
from being an innovator also in this (tiny) detail. But nothing proves it either. That
said, I would remark that all forms and diatheses of eἶmai are predication operators.
If I say ‘Tom is a fool’, ‘is’ here acts obviously as the predication operator, but does
so also if I say ‘I am a fool’—which, besides, is less rude. So this, in the final
analysis, cannot be an objection.
3. De int. 11, 21 a 25-33 with its examples ‘Homer is’, ‘Homer is a poet’. «It is
here, if anywhere, that Aristotle could have used che concept of ‘copula’, if he
had one. Instead he was obliged to rely to the ambiguous notion of ‘accidentally
predication’», observes Kahn acutely.5 I must say that this observation kept me
awake a few nights in the last years. Now I have reached the conclusion that
Aristotle had no concept of ‘copula’; for him eἶmai is an ἄqhqom, an operator
that is both monadic and dyadic. To isolate only the dyadic use and call it
‘copula’, i.e., a kind of rύmderlo1, would be insane for him.6
4. De int. 10, 19 b 19-22: ὅsam dὲ sὸ ἔrsi sqίsom pqorjasηcoqηhῇ, divῶ1
kέcomsai aἱ ἀmsihέrei1. kέcx dὲ oἷom ἔrsi dίjaio1 ἄmhqxpo1, sὸ ἔrsi sqίsom
φηlὶ rtcjeῖrhai ὄmola ἢ ῥῆla ἐm sῇ jasaφάrei. This is truly a difficult
passage. Of course, I refer especially to 21–22. Here in fact, Aristotle seems to
say that ἔrsi is added as a ‘third’ thing (sqίsom) «whether noun or verb», which
is obviously nonsense. The current translation, that of Ackrill, reads as follows:
«here I say that the ‘is’ is a third component—whether name o verb—in the
affirmation»7. Now, given the example, which the parenthesis “whether name o
verb” seems intended to illustrate (ἔrsi dίjaio1 ἄmhqxpo1), and given all that
Aristotle says in De interpretatione about predication de tertio adiacenti, which
we have already illustrated, we would all expect something here like «is a third
component within name and verb in the affirmation». I am sure that this is what
Aristotle meant. But the text as it is does not say this. Many solve the problem
by tweaking the text: I have not done so thus far and certainly do not intend to
begin now. But the statement is unsettling. A vast and sophisticated debate on
the issue arose, whose protagonists were not so much Ackrill, who comes away

5
On the Terminology of Copula and Existence, (1972), in Kahn 2009, pp. 41–61, see pp. 47–8.
6
Hence, this is the opinion expressed in Barnes 1996, p. 189, note 48.
7
Ackrill 1963, p. 54.
64 3 Conclusions

rather unscathed in the comment to this passage, as Rapp (1991), who devotes a
short but penetrating paper to the question, Nuchelmans (1992), Weidemann
(1994), and of course, De Rijk (2002). The reader may consult these authors for
the full scope of the debate.8 As for me, I dare to say that Aristotle relies on
brachylogy and anacoluthon, which he uses quite skillfully, and which usually
have the effect (at least for me) of making his wording and examples as clear as
day. In this passage, however, not. It is as dark as night and seems most
inappropriate. I am sure that Aristotle meant that ἔrsi is predicated as a third
thing together with ὄmola and ῥῆla—but I cannot prove it. In short, to use the
words of Barnes: «I have no idea».9
With this paper, I hope to have also dispelled some common myths. In the first
place, Aristotle is not an incomprehensible author. Second, he is not boring.
Thirdly, he has a distinctive and unmistakable style. The constant, incessant
hammering of the sentences without a verb, with which Aristotle represents to
himself and others the mounting pressure of necessity, is an unforgettable thrill. It is
almost an impalpable contact with the author, after all these millennia. Through his
pages, «it is easy to imagine that you can overhear Aristotle talking to himself».10
Aristotle is, in short, the last follower of an oral style. His word is the true dialogue
of the soul with itself. This assumption deserves to be better argued, but I cannot do
it here, not now.
Finally, Aristotle is an author who offers his faithful readers unique joys
(ἀlηvάmot1 ἡdomά1).11 His words are an experience you will not forget. They
remain impressed on the heart and indelibly mark one’s life. Perhaps because,
although we cannot be eternally in a cheerful state of mind, —only He eternally is,
the Unmoved Mover, whose act is also pleasure.12—Aristotle knew, as none of us
other humans did, the supreme pleasure of intelligence. Aristotle’s thought is life
because «the actuality of thought is life».13

8
De Rijk 2002, vol. I, pp. 306-314 and relative notes.
9
However, he was talking about something else: of the Iliad as an example of kόco1; see 2007,
p. 180. Such an idea seems far less mysterious in light of what we have said about kόco1 as a
recursive structure.
10
«It is easy to imagine that you can overhear Aristotle talking to himself» (Barnes 1982, p. 6; p. 7
ed. it). On the subject, see also Dirlmeier (1962), cited in the interesting article by Sabine
Föllinger, Mündlichkeit und Schriflichkeit als Ausdruck wissenschaftlicher Methode bei Aristoteles
(1993), pp. 263–280, in particular p. 263, and, finally, the interesting article by Quarantotto (2011).
11
Part. an. A 5, 645 a 7-10: jaὶ cὰq ἐm soῖ1 jevaqirlέmoi1 aὐsῶm pqὸ1 sὴm aἴrhηrim jasὰ sὴm
hexqίam ὅlx1 ἡ dηliotqcήrara φύri1 ἀlηvάmot1 ἡdomὰ1 paqέvei soῖ1 dtmalέmoi1 sὰ1
aἰsίa1 cmxqίfeim jaὶ φύrei φikόroφoi. Aristotle is speaking here of the extraordinary pleasures
that Mother Nature is able to provide to those who by their nature love knowledge (ὁ φύrei
φikόroφo1), that is, of himself. But I speak of the extraordinary pleasures that reading Aristotle
has given me for the last thirty years. Ergo: after two thousand five hundred years or so, Aristotle
works on his reader like a force of nature.
12
Met. K 7-8, 1072 b 14-15: diacxcὴ d′ ἐrsὶm oἵa ἡ ἀqίrsη lijqὸm vqόmom ἡlῖm. oὕsx cὰq ἀeὶ
ἐjeῖmo (ἡlῖm lὲm cὰq ἀdύmasom), ἐpeὶ jaὶ ἡdomὴ ἡ ἐmέqceia soύsot.
13
Met. K 7-8, 1072 b 26-7: ἡ cὰq moῦ ἐmέqceia fxή.
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Index Locorum

Apollonius Dyscolos
Conj.
4 Schneider: 4 (1 n. 15)

Aristoteles
An. post.
B, 93 b 31: 8 (1 n. 34)

An. pr.
A, 15, 34 b 7–8: 51 (1 n. 37)
40, 49 b 10 ff: 34 (1)

De an.
C 10, 433 b 21–25: 31 (1 n. 129), 42 (1)

De int.
1, 16 a 17–18: 51 (1 n. 37)
3, 16 b 7: 21 (1 n. 94)
16 b 18: 51 (1 n. 37)
16 b 19–20: 40 (2, n. 13: 1)
16 b 21–23: 62 (1)
16 b 19–25: 8 (1 n. 31), 45 (1)
16 b 23–25: 60 (1)
16 b 24–26: 57 (1)
16 b 26–17 a 7: 50 (1)
© Springer International Publishing AG, part of Springer Nature 2018 73
P. Laspia, From Biology to Linguistics: The Definition of Arthron
in Aristotle’s Poetics, UNIPA Springer Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-77326-1
74 Index Locorum

4, 17 a 5: 4 (1 n. 13)
5, 16 b 17 a9, 15–17: 42 (1 n. 16)
17 a 9: 6 (1 n. 23)
17 a 9–12: 50 (2)
17 a 10–12: 45 (1 n. 24)
17 a 11 f.: 53 (1 n. 41)
8, 18 a 12–13: 44 (1 n. 22)
10, 19 b 5–16: 50 (3)
19 b 12–15: 45 (1 n. 24)
19 b 14–15: 32 (1)
19 b 15–16: 52 (1)
19 b 19: 32 (1)
19 b 19–22: 62 (1)
20 b 1–2: 44 (2)
11, 20 b 12–21: 44 (1 n. 23)
20 b 25–33: 52 (1)
20 b 42–43: 8 (1 n. 33)
21 a 25–33: 62 (1)
12, 21 b 9–10: 44 (4, n. 21: 2), 44 (1 n. 21), 57 (1)
21 b 20 f: 53 (1 n. 41)

De motu
1, 698 a 8–b 1: 43 (1)
698 a 8–b 2: 31 (1 n. 127)
8, 702 a 21–32: 31 (1 n. 127), 43 (1)
De part. an.
A 1, 639 b 11–640 a 10: 39 (1 n. 8)
640 b 19–641 a 5: 38 (1), 39 (1 n. 6)
641 a 1–3: 39 (1 n. 8)
5, 645 a 7–10: 63 (1 n. 11)
645 b 15–17: 41 (1)
B 1, 646 a 12–24: 40 (1 n. 11)
646 b 11–12: 40 (1)
646 b 12–13: 41 (1)
647 a 4–9: 41 (1)
C 4, 667 a 6–8: 34 (1 n. 143)
Index Locorum 75

Hist. An.
A 15, 493 b 30–494 a 2: 43 (1 n. 19), 31 (1 n. 127)
C 5, 515 b 3–5: 43 (1 n. 19), 31 (1 n. 127)

Met.
C 1, 1003 a 33–35: 54 (1)
3, 1005 b 11–34: 56 (1 n. 36)
D 6, 1015 b 36–1016 a 10: 6 (1 n. 23)
6, 7, 1015 b 16–1017 b 9: 6 (1 n. 23)
7, 1017 a 27: 44 (2, n. 21: 1), 53 (1 n. 41)
1017 a 27–30: 44 (1 n. 21), 57 (1)
Z 4, 1030 a 9, b 5–10: 37 (1 n. 2)
H 6, 1045 a 12–14: 37 (1 n. 2)
H 10, 1051 b 9–13: 59 (1 n. 64)
K 8,7, 1072 b 14–15: 63 (1 n. 12)
8,7, 1072 b 26–7: 63 (1 n. 13)
10, 1076 a 4: 55 (1 n. 49)

Poet.
20, 1456 a 26–28: 21 (1)
1456 b 20–21: 46 (1)
1456 b 22–23: 40 (1)
1456 b 35–36: 40 (1)
1456 b 38–1457 a 10: 2 (1), 3 (1 n. 8), 14 (Illustration 1)
1457 a2–3: 3 (1)
1457 a 3–10: 18 (1)
1457 a 6: 3 (1)
1457 a 6–7: 42 (1)
1457 a 7: 32 (1), 46 (1), 60 (1)
1457 a 6–8: 33 (1)
1457 a 8–9: 3 (1)
1457 a 10–18: 40 (1)
1457 a 16: 8 (1 n. 33)
1457 a 18–9: 41 (1)
1457 a 23–27: 38 (1 n. 3), 40 (1)
1457 a 24–27: 38 (1 n. 3)
1457 a 27–30: 37 (1 n. 2)
1457 a 28–30: 6 (1 n. 23)
76 Index Locorum

21, 1457 b 27–28: 38 (1)

23, 1459 a 20–21: 38 (1 n. 5)
25, 1460 b 8: 38 (1 n. 5)

Probl.
XIX 20, 919 a 23–26: 7 (1 n. 28), 10 (1 n. 40)

Rhet.
C 2, 1404 b 26–27: 11 (1 n. 52), 50 (1 n. 33)
5, 1407 a 19–30: 17 (1 n. 73)
1407 a 26–27: 10 (1 n. 40)
1407 b 39–1408 a 1: 10 (1 n. 40)
9, 1409 a 35–1409 b 1: 33 (1)
12, 1413 b 29, 32–34: 42 (1 n. 16)

Dionysius Halicarnassensis:
De comp. verb.
2, 7, 2 (= Dem 48, 232, 20 ff): 10 (1 n. 47)
2, 8, 1: 10 (1 n. 45)

Homerus
Il.
B 204–5: 54 (1)

Plato
Phaedr.
264 b–c: 38 (1 n. 5)

Soph.
262 a: 61 (1 n. 3)
263 a: 61 (1 n. 3)
Index Locorum 77

Tim.
74 a–e: 31 (1 n. 127)

Quintilianus
Inst.
I, 4, 18: 10 (1 n. 46)

Rhet. ad Alex.:
25, 1435 a 34–b 14: 10 (1 n. 48)

Simplicius
In Arist. Cat. (Kalbfleisch 10, 24): 11 (1 n. 52)
Index Verborum

ἄqhqom: XI (3, n.1: 1), XII (1), XIV (4), XV (8), IV (4), 1 (4, n. 1: 1), 2 (2), 3 (3, n.
8: 1), 4 (3), 5 (7, n. 20: 2), 6 (1), 7 (5), 8 (6, n. 30: 1, n. 31: 2), 9 (5, n. 39: 2), 10 (12,
n. 41: 1, n. 43: 1, n. 44: 2, n. 48: 3), 11 (6, n. 52: 2), 12 (14, n. 53: 5), 13 (11, n. 60:
1), 14 (2, n. 61: 1), 15 (11, n. 64: 1, n. 65: 2, n. 66: 1), 16 (10, n. 67: 6), 17 (9, n. 72:
2, n. 74: 1), 18 (6), 19 (3), 20 (3, n. 86: 1, n. 88: 1), 21 (3, n. 90: 1), 22 (2), 23 (7),
24 (1 n. 101), 25 (3), 26 (3), 27 (6, n. 112: 1), 28 (11, n. 114: 1, n. 116: 2), 29 (3),
30 (8, n. 123: 1), 31 (11), 32 (5, n. 135: 1, n. 138: 1), 33 (10, n. 139: 1), 34 (8, n.
141: 2, n. 142: 1), 35 (5, n. 150: 2, n. 153: 1), 36 (8), 37 (3), 38 (2), 39 (2, n. 7: 1),
41 (4), 42 (8), 43 (3), 44 (7), 45 (1), 46 (4, n. 29: 1), 48 (2, n. 31: 1), 51 (1), 52 (1),
53 (1 n. 41), 55 (1 n. 48), 60 (8), 66 (4), 62 (2), 63 (1)

eἶmai: XIV (1), XV (2), 2 (2), 7 (2 n. 28), 32 (1 n. 138), 34 (1), 38 (2 n. 3), 39 (1

n. 6), 42 (1) 43 (2), 44 (11, n. 21: 1), 45 (17), 46 (8), 50 (5, n. 32: 1, n. 33: 1), 51
(5, n. 37: 2), 52 (13, n. 40: 1), 53 (9, n. 41:1), 54 (7), 55 (5, n. 48: 1), 56 (5, n.
52: 3), 57 (6), 58 (6), 59 (17, n. 64: 3, n. 66: 5), 60 (1), 61 (2), 62 (4)

jalpή: 31 (1), 43 (3)

kέni1: 8 (2 n. 29, 1 n. 33), 10 (1 n. 48), 11 (2, n. 52: 1), 25 (1), 29 (4, n. 119: 3),
30 (1), 31 (3, n. 131: 1), 32 (1), 33 (5), 28 (2, n. 155: 1), 39 (2, n. 7: 1), 50 (1),
60 (3)

kόco1: 2 (2), 6 (1 n. 23), 7 (4, n. 28: 2), 8 (4, n. 33: 2, n. 34: 1), 11 (5, n. 52: 4),
13 (2), 21 (2), 22 (1), 27 (2), 29 (4 n. 119), 32 (2), 33 (5, n. 140: 4), 37 (7, n. 2:

© Springer International Publishing AG, part of Springer Nature 2018 79

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in Aristotle’s Poetics, UNIPA Springer Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-77326-1
80 Index Verborum

1), 38 (5, n. 3: 3), 38 (3, n. 7: 1), 40 (2), 41 (9), 42 (3), 43 (1), 44 (5), 45 (1), 50
(13, n. 32: 3, n. 33: 1), 54 (1), 58 (5, n. 57: 1, n. 58: 1), 65 (2), 68 (2 n. 9)

kόco1 ὀmolasώdη1: 8 (1 n. 34)

lέqη sῆ1 kέnex1: XV (1), 4 (1), 8 (3 n. 29), 9 (1 n. 35), 11 (2 n. 52), 33 (1 n.

140), 46 (1 n. 29)

ὄmola: 8 (4, n. 33: 2), 10 (1), 11 (5, n. 52: 4), 12 (1), 13 (1), 15 (1), 21 (1), 27
(1), 32 (1), 38 (1 n. 3), 39 (1), 46 (8, n. 29: 2), 41 (1), 44 (2), 45 (2), 46 (1 n. 29),
50 (6, n. 33: 1), 52 (1), 62 (1), 63 (1)

peqίodo1: 31 (3, n. 127: 1), 32 (2), 33 (2), 34 (1), 42 (3), 44 (1), 60 (2)

psῶri1: XV (1), 10 (1), 12 (1), 13 (2), 41 (1), 46 (2), 50 (1 n. 32)

ῥῆla: XV (1), 8 (3 n. 33: 2), 10 (2), 11 (5, n. 52: 4), 12 (1), 13 (3), 21 (1), 27
(1), 38 (2 n. 3), 39 (1), 40 (2, n. 13: 1), 44 (2), 45 (1), 46 (8, n. 29: 2), 50 (6, n.
32: 1, n. 33: 1), 51 (2), 52 (6), 53 (1 n. 41), 62 (1), 63 (1)

rsoiveῖom: 8 (2, n. 32: 1), 11 (2 n. 52) 13 (1), 22 (1), 27 (1), 39 (1), 42 (2, n. 11: 1)

rtkkabή: 8 (2, n. 32: 1), 12 (1), 13 (3, n. 59: 1), 19 (1), 22 (1), 38 (1), 39 (1), 40 (1)

rύmderlo1: XI (1 n. 1), XIV (1), XV (1), 1 (4, n. 1: 1), 2 (1), 3 (4, n. 8: 1), 4 (4, n.
15: 2), 5 (7, n. 20: 2), 6 (3, n. 23: 2), 7 (6, n. 28: 1), 8 (4, n. 31:1), 9 (7, n. 39: 2), 10
(6, n. 40: 2, n. 44: 1), 11 (4, n. n. 50: 1, n. 52: 1), 12 (3, n. 53: 1), 13 (3), 16 (2), 17
(12, n. 72: 2, n. 73: 2), 18 (5), 19 (1), 20 (3, n. 86: 1, n. 88: 1), 21 (2, n. 90: 1), 22 (3,
n. 98: 1), 23 (4), 24 (6, n. 101: 2), 25 (2), 27 (4, n. 112: 1), 28 (3, n. 114: 1), 29 (2),
30 (7, n. 123: 2, n. 124: 1), 31 (5) 32 (3), 33 (14, n. 139: 1, n. 140: 2), 34 (2), 36 (2),
37 (4, n. 2: 2), 39 (1), 41 (7), 42 (2), 45 (2), 46 (1), 48 (1 n. 31), 55 (1 n. 48), 57
(1 n. 54), 60 (7), 62 (1), 33 (1), 34 (1 n. 179), 38 (1n. 196), 42 (8), 43 (1)

uxmή: 2 (10), 3 (3), 4 (2), 5 (1), 12 (1), 26 (2), 33 (1), 38 (1 n. 3), 39 (1), 40 (1),
41 (1), 42 (2), 44 (1 n. 23), 45 (2), 46 (2), 52 (1)
Index of Ancient Authors

Apollonius Dyscolus: 4 (4, n. 15: 3), 28 (1 n. 117)

Aristarcus: 16 (1, n. 67)
Aristides Quintilianus: 26 (1)
Atticus: XVI (1, n. 11)

Cicero: XVI (1)

Empedocles: XVI (1)

Dionysius Halicarnassensis: 10 (1), 11 (4), 23 (1), 26 (1)

Dionysius Thrax: 16 (1 n. 67), 17 (1 n. 73), 28 (1 n. 117), 31 (1)

Heraclitus: XVI (2), 58 (1 n. 57)

Hesiodus: XIII (1)
Homer: XIII (1), 31 (1), 52 (2), 54 (3, n. 45: 1), 62 (2)
Isocrates: 17 (2 n. 72: 1)

Quintilianus: 10 (1), 11 (2 n. 49: 1), 22 (1), 23 (1)

Rhetorica ad Alexandrum: 10 (2 n. 48: 1), 11 (4 n. 49: 1, n. 52: 1), 12 (3, n. 55:

1), 13 (1), 15 (1)

Parmenides: XVI (1), 45 (1), 53 (1), 59 (1), 62 (1)

© Springer International Publishing AG, part of Springer Nature 2018 81
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in Aristotle’s Poetics, UNIPA Springer Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-77326-1
82 Index of Ancient Authors

Philoponus: 8 (1 n. 34)
Pindarus: XIII (1), 51 (1)
Plato: XIII (1), XVI (2), XVII (1), XVIII (1), 19 (1), 21 (1), 31 (1 n. 127), 38 (1),
39 (1, n. 8), 45 (1), 53 (1), 66 (1), 67 (1)
Posidonius: 4 (1 n. 15), 24 (1 n. 100)

Simplicius: 11 (2, n. 52 : 1), 23 (1), 26 (1)

Socrates: 52 (1), 56 (4)
Sophocles: XIII (1)
Suda: XVI (1 n. 11)

Theophrastus: 11 (1), 19 (2 n. 81: 1), 26 (2)

Index of Modern Authors

Abelardo P.: 66 (3, n. 1: 1)

Ackrill J. L.: 45 (1 n. 27), 62 (3, n. 7: 1)
Ademollo F.: 2 (1 n. 4), 9 (1 n. 36)
Ax W.: 21 (1 n. 95)

Baratin M.: 21 (1 n. 95)

Barnes J.: XV (1), 3 (1 n. 8), 4 (2, n. 15: 1), 5 (3 n. 17), 6 (1 n. 24), 8 (2, n. 31: 1,
n. 34: 1), 10 (2, n. 41: 1, n. 42: 1), 11 (1 n. 50), 12 (1 n. 53), 16 (2, n. 68: 1, n.
70: 1), 17 (1 n. 75), 21 (3, n. 90: 1, n. 93: 2), 27 (1 n. 112), 33 (1 n. 140), 36 (2),
39 (1 n. 7), 42 (2 n. 17), 44 (1 n. 21), 45 (2, n. 26: 1, n. 27: 1), 51 (1 n. 35), 57 (2
n. 54), 62 (1 n. 6), 68 (2 n. 10: 1)
Belardi W.: 12 (1 n. 58), 15 (1 n. 64), 17 (1 n. 72, 1 n. 74), 24 (1 n. 100), 30 (1
n. 125), 39 (1 n. 7)
Belli G.: 4 (1 n. 15), 17 (1 n. 73), 24 (1 n. 100)
Bennekom R. (van): 5 (1 n. 19, 1 n. 21, 1 n. 22), 16 (1 n. 71), 19 (1), 25 (5), 26
(1), 29 (3, n. 120: 1), 32 (1 n. 134), 35 (3, n. 150: 1), 36 (1), 55 (3 n. 48)
Benveniste E.: 51 (2, n. 34: 1)
Berti E.: 51 (1 n. 36), 58 (1 n. 61)
Branca P.: 48 (1 n. 31)
Brown L.: 54 (1 n. 47), 59 (3 n. 66)
Brugmann K.: 55 (1)
Bywater I.: 2 (1 n. 6), 3 (1), 4 (1), 21 (2 n. 89), 30 (1 n.123), 34 (1 n. 141), 37 (1
n. 1)

Castelvetro L.: 12 (1 n. 58)

Cavini, W.: 34 (1 n. 146), 52 (1 n. 38)
Centrone B.: 10 (2 n. 40)
Cerami C.: 19 (1 n. 81)
© Springer International Publishing AG, part of Springer Nature 2018 83
P. Laspia, From Biology to Linguistics: The Definition of Arthron
in Aristotle’s Poetics, UNIPA Springer Series,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-77326-1
84 Index of Modern Authors

Cerri B.: 45 (1 n. 27)

Chiron P.: 11 (1 n. 49, 1 n. 51), 12 (1 n. 55)
Chomsky N.: 39 (1), 53 (2 n. 44), 57 (1)

Davis M.: 12 (1 n. 53)

Detienne M.: XVI (2, n. 10 : 1)
Desbordes F.: 21 (1 n. 95)
Di Maria G.: 66 (1)
Dirlmeier F.: 68 (1 n. 10)
Donini P.: 3 (2 n. 8)
Dupont-Roc R.: 2 (1 n. 6), 3 (1 n. 8), 4 (2, n. 15: 1), 5 (1 n. 19), 6 (1 n. 24, 1 n.
26), 10 (1 n. 41), 16 (1 n. 67), 19 (1) , 26 (1), 28 (1), 29 (2), 30 (2), 32 (1 n. 133,
1 n. 134), 34 (1 n. 141)

Else G. F.: 4 (3, n. 11: 1, n. 12: 1)

Falcon A.: XVI (2 n. 11), 19 (2 n. 81)

Fazzo S.: 10 (1 n. 40)
Flashar H.: 10 (1 n. 40)
Follieri H.: 46 (1)
Föllinger S.: 63 (1 n. 10)
Fowler R. L.: 31 (1 n. 131)
Fragstein (von) A.: 8 (2 n. 31), 17 (1 n. 74), 32 (1 n. 135), 46 (1 n. 28), 53 (2 n.
41)

Gallavotti C.: 3 (1 n. 7), 4 (2, n. 14: 1), 5 (3, n. 18: 1 n. 20: 1), 9 (1 n. 38, 1 n.
39), 15 (1 n. 62), 18 (1 n. 77, 1 n. 78), 22 (6, n. 96: 2, n. 97: 2), 23 (6, 99: 1), 24
(7, n. 100: 2), 25 (1), 28 (1), 35 (1 n. 151), 38 (1 n. 3), 46 (1 n. 30)
Garlandus Compotista: 61 (1)
Gianvittorio L.: XI (1), XVI (1), 29 (1 n. 119), 58 (1 n. 57)
Gilson E.: 55 (2, n. 50: 1)
Giuffrida P.: 10 (1 n. 40), 43 (1 n. 18)
Graffi G.: 21 (2 n. 95), 29 (1 n. 119)
Guastini D.: 3 (1 n. 8), 29 (1 n. 119)
Gudeman A.: XV (1), 1 (2, n. 1: 1), 3 (1), 5 (4, n. 18: 1, n. 20: 1, n. 22: 1), 6 (3,
n. 24: 1), 9 (1 n. 35), 10 (1 n. 41), 19 (1), 20 (4, n. 88: 2), 21 (5, n. 89: 3), 22 (6,
n. 95: 2), 23 (1), 24 (1, n. 101), 33 (1 n. 139), 36 (1), 38 (2 n. 3), 39 (1 n. 7)
Guilielmus de Moerbeka: 18 (1)
Guiraud Ch.: 51 (1 n. 34, 1 n. 35)
Index of Modern Authors 85

Gusmani R.: 14 (1 n. 61), 46 (1 n. 29)

Gutas D.: 3 (6, n. 9: 1), 6 (1), 17 (1), 18 (2 n. 77, 2 n. 78), 48 (4 n. 31)

Halliwell S.: 10 (1 n. 44)

Hardy J.: 10, (1 n. 44), 34 (1 n. 141)
Harris Z. S.: 53 (1 n. 44)
Hartung G.: 12 (1 n. 53), 14 (1), 24 (1), 25 (1), 23 (3, n. 113: 1), 29 (1), 30 (1),
35 (1 n. 148)
Humbert J.: 51 (1 n. 34)

Ildefonse F.: 4 (1 n. 15), 6 (1 n. 24), 16 (1 n. 70), 29 (1 n. 120)

Jaeger W.: XIII (2, n. 6: 1)

Kahn, C.: XVI (2), 45 (1 n. 25, 1 n. 26), 52 (n. 39: 2, n. 40: 1), 53 (9, n. 42: 2, n.
44: 1), 54 (7), 55 (12, n. 48: 2, 50: 1, 51: 2), 56 (9, n. 52: 3, 53: 1), 57 (1), 59 (4,
n. 66: 3), 200: 3), 62 (2, n. 5: 1)
Kassel R.: XVII (1), 2 (1), 3 (1 n. 8), 18 (n. 76: 1, n. 77: 1), 25 (1), 27 (1), 38 (1
n. 3)
Kennedy G. A.: 31 (1 n. 131)
Kuhn T.: XI (1)
Kühner, R.: 55 (1)

Lakatos I.: XII (1 n. 3)

Lallot J.: 2 (1 n. 6), 3 (1 n. 8), 4 (2, n. 15: 1), 5 (1 n. 19), 6 (1 n. 24, 1 n. 26), 10
(1 n. 41), 16 (1 n. 67), 19 (1), 26 (1), 27 (1 n. 112), 28 (2), 29 (3), 30 (2), 32 (1 n.
133, 1 n. 134), 34 (1 n. 141), 46 (1 n. 29)
Lanza D.: 12 (1 n. 56), 16 (2, n. 69: 1)
Laspia P.: XI (2, n. 1: 1), XII (2 n. 2: 1, n. 4: 1), XIII (1 n. 8), XIV (1 n. 9), 1 (1
n. 2), 2 (2 n. 3, 1 n. 5), 6 (1 n. 25), 8 (1 n. 32, 1 n. 34), 9 (1 n. 36), 11 (1 n. 52),
12 (1 n. 54, 1 n. 56), 13 (1 n. 59), 14 (1 n. 65, 1 n. 66), 18 (1 n. 79), 21 (1 n. 92),
26 (1), 27 (1 n. 109), 39 (1 n. 119, 1 n. 120), 30 (1), 37 (1 n. 127, 1 n. 128, 1 n.
131), 32 (1 n. 132, 1 n. 133, 1 n. 137), 34 (1 n. 144, 1 n. 145), 38 (1 n. 4), 40 (1
n. 9, 1 n. 10, 1 n. 11), 41 (1 n. 15), 43 (1 n. 19, 1 n. 20), 44 (1 n. 21), 53 (1 n.
41), 61 (1 n. 2), Lennox J. G.: XII (2 n. 3), 19 (1 n. 82)
Lloyd G. E. R.: 9 (1 n. 36)
Lo Piparo: 39 (1 n. 7), 58 (2 n. 60)
Lucas D. W.: 10 (1 n. 44), 11(1 n. 50), 16 (1 n. 67)
86 Index of Modern Authors

Margoliouth D. S.: 12 (1 n. 53)

Marenghi G.: 10 (1 n. 40)
Matthen M.: 29 (1 n. 119), 39 (2 n. 7), 45 (1 n. 25), 54 (1), 55 (5, n. 51: 2), 56
(8), 57 (6, n. 55: 1), 57 (8, n. 56: 1), 59 (2, n. 66: 1)
Meillet A.: 55 (1)
Melazzo L.: 12 (1 n. 54), 14 (1 n. 61), 39 (1 n. 7), 41 (2 n. 14), 61 (1 n. 1)
Montanari E.: 45 (1 n. 27), 46 (1 n. 28)
Morpurgo-Tagliabue G.: 3 (1 n. 7), 4 (1 n. 11), 9 (1 n. 35), 10 (1 n. 43), 12 (1 n.
58), 17 (2 n. 72), 28 (2, n. 115: 1)

Nuchelmans G.: 58 (1 n. 59), 62 (1)

Owen G. E. L.: 40 (3, n. 61: 1, n. 62: 1)

Pagliaro A.: 2 (1 n. 6), 7 (2), 9 (1 n. 37), 11 (1 n. 52), 12 (2), 13 (1 n. 60), 14 (1

n. 61), 18 (1 n. 79), 22 (1 n. 98), 23 (1), 24 (1 n. 100), 26 (7, n. 104: 1, 105: 1,
106: 1), 27 (9, 107: 1, 108: 1, 109: 1), 28 (8, n. 113: 1, n. 114: 1, n. 115: 1, n.
116: 1), 33 (1), 35 (1 n. 150), 36 (1), 39 (1 n. 7)
Pignatone M. A.: 19 (1 n. 81)
Pohlenz M.: 4 (1 n. 16)

Quarantotto D.: 39 (1 n. 8), 57 (1 n. 55), 62 (1 n. 10)

Rapp Ch. (von): 31 (1 n. 131), 68 (1)

Rashed M.: 10 (1 n. 40)
de Rijk L. M.: 29 (1 n. 119), 39 (1 n. 7), 45 (1 n. 27), 53 (3, n. 42: 2), 54 (5, n.
46: 1), 55 (8, n. 48: 1, n. 51: 1), 56 (2, n. 52: 1), 57 (1), 58 (14, n. 56: 2, n. 58: 2,
n. 59: 2), 59 (5, n. 63: 1, n. 65: 1, n. 66: 1), 62 (3, n. 8: 1)
Ricoeur P.: 29 (1 n. 119)
Rosén H.: 7 (1 n. 27), 8 (1 n. 29), 13 (1 n. 60), 16 (1 n. 71), 18 (1 n. 77, 1 n. 78),
26 (1), 29 (n. 119: 1, n. 120: 1), 30 (5, n. 125: 1), 32 (1 n. 136), 34 (1), 35 (1 n.
147), 40 (1 n. 12)
Rostagni A.: 10 (1 n. 43), 12 (1 n. 53), 16 (1), 17 (1 n. 74)
Ruijgh C. G.: 54 (1), 55 (5 n. 48)

Saussure (de) F.: 27 (1)

Scarpat G.: 8 (1 n. 34), 15 (1 n. 63), 29 (1 n. 119), 32 (2 n. 138), 45 (1 n. 26), 46
(1 n. 29), 51 (1 n. 35)
Schmitt A.: 4 (1 n. 16), 20 (1 n. 83)
Index of Modern Authors 87

Schramm M.: 2 (1 n. 6), 5 (1 n. 19, 1 n. 22), 6 (1 n. 26), 7 (3, n. 27: 1), 10 (1 n.

43, 1 n. 45), 12 (1), 14 (1 n. 61), 15 (1 n. 62), 16 (1 n. 71), 17 (1 n. 74), 18 (1 n.
79, 1 n. 80), 19 (1), 26 (2, n. 103: 1), 27 (3), 29 (1 n. 120), 31 (1 n. 130), 32 (1 n.
134), 33 (5), 34 (7, n. 142: 1, n. 145: 1), 35 (7, n. 147: 1, n. 149: 1, n. 150: 1, n.
152: 1, n. 153: 1), 36 (1), 44 (1 n. 21), 46 (1 n. 29), 53 (1 n. 41)
Sedley D.: XIII (1 n. 8)
Sisson E. O.: 45 (1 n. 26, 1 n. 27)
Snell, B.: 54 (1 n. 45), 58 (2 n. 58)
Somville P: 4 (1 n. 11)
Steinthal H.: 4 (1 n. 16), 9 (1 n. 36), 10 (1 n. 44), 12 (1 n. 57), 19 (1), 20 (6, n.
84: 2), 37 (1), 44 (1 n. 21)
Susehmil F.: 16 (1)
Swiggers P.: 8 (1 n. 29, 1 n. 30), 29 (1 n. 120, 1 n. 122), 46 (1 n. 29)

Tanner G.: 39 (2 n. 7)
Tarán L.: 3 (6, n. 9: 1), 17 (1), 18 (3, n. 77: 1, n. 78: 1), 48 (1 n. 31)
Thornton A. M.: 21 (1 n. 95)
Tyrwhitt, T.: 25 (1), 35 (1 n. 148)

Vahlen J.: 11 (1 n. 52), 21 (2 n. 89), 34 (1 n. 141, 1 n. 146)

Valgimigli M.: 12 (1 n. 53), 17 (1 n. 74), 21 (1 n. 94)
Vegetti M.: 2 (1 n. 4), 6 (2 n. 36)

Waitz T.: 45 (1 n. 26, 1 n. 27)

Wartelle A.: 12 (1 n. 53), 32 (2 n. 133), 34 (1 n. 141)
Weidemann H.: 62 (1)
Whitaker C. W. A.: 46 (1 n. 28), 51 (1 n. 35)
Wieland W.: 58 (3, n. 61: 1, n. 62: 1)
Wouters A.: 8 (1 n. 29, 1 n. 30), 29 (1 n. 120, 1 n. 122), 46 (1 n. 29)

Zanatta M.: 17 (3 n. 72, 1 n.74)