Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
IN CLASSICAL ANTIQUITY
This work makes available for the rst time in one dedicated volume
Philip van der Eijks selected papers on the close connections that ex-
istedbetweenmedicine andphilosophy throughout antiquity. Medical
authors such as the Hippocratic writers, Diocles, Galen, Soranus and
Caelius Aurelianus elaborated onphilosophical methods suchas causal
explanation, denition and division, applying concepts such as the no-
tion of nature to their understanding of the human body. Similarly,
philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle were highly valued for their
contributions to medicine. This interaction was particularly striking
in the study of the human soul in relation to the body, as illustrated by
approaches to topics such as intellect, sleep and dreams, and diet and
drugs. With a detailed introduction surveying the subject as a whole
and a new chapter on Aristotles treatment of sleep and dreams, this
wide-ranging collection is essential reading for students and scholars
of ancient philosophy and science.
p h i l i p j . v a n d e r e i j k is Professor of Greek at the Uni-
versity of Newcastle upon Tyne. He has published widely on an-
cient philosophy, medicine and science, comparative literature and
patristics. He is the author of Aristoteles. De insomniis. De divinatione
per somnum(Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1994) and of Diocles of Carystus.
A Collection of the Fragments with Translation and Commentary
(2 vols., Leiden: Brill, 20001). He has edited and co-authored Ancient
Histories of Medicine. Essays in Medical Doxography and Historiogra-
phy in Classical Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 1999) and co-edited Ancient
Medicine in its Socio-Cultural Context (2 vols., Amsterdamand Atlanta:
Rodopi, 1995).
MEDICINE AND PHILOSOPHY
IN CLASSICAL ANTIQUITY
Doctors and Philosophers on Nature, Soul,
Health and Disease
PHILIP J. VAN DER EIJK
Professor of Greek at the University of Newcastle upon Tyne
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Contents
Acknowledgements page ix
Note on translations xiii
Note on abbreviations xiv
Introduction 1
i hi p p ocra t i c corp us a nd di ocl e s
of ca ry s t us
1 The theology of the Hippocratic treatise On the Sacred
Disease 45
2 Diocles and the Hippocratic writings on the method of
dietetics and the limits of causal explanation 74
3 To help, or to do no harm. Principles and practices of
therapeutics in the Hippocratic Corpus and in the work
of Diocles of Carystus 101
4 The heart, the brain, the blood and the pneuma: Hippocrates,
Diocles and Aristotle on the location of cognitive processes 119
i i a ri s t ot l e a nd hi s s chool
5 Aristotle on melancholy 139
6 Theoretical and empirical elements in Aristotles treatment of
sleep, dreams and divination in sleep 169
7 The matter of mind: Aristotle on the biology of psychic
processes and the bodily aspects of thinking 206
vii
viii Contents
8 Divine movement and human nature in Eudemian Ethics 8.2 238
9 On Sterility (Hist. an. 10), a medical work by Aristotle? 259
i i i l a t e a nt i qui t y
10 Galens use of the concept of qualied experience in his
dietetic and pharmacological works 279
11 The Methodism of Caelius Aurelianus: some epistemological
issues 299
Bibliography 328
Index of passages cited 379
General index 396
Acknowledgements
Since the original publication of these papers I have taken the opportunity
to make some, mostly minor, revisions to some chapters, mainly on points
of style and presentation, in order to enhance accessibility. Thus quotations
fromGreek and Latin are nowaccompanied by English translations or para-
phrase, and in several cases words in Greek script have been transliterated.
I have also in a number of cases taken account of publications that have
come out since the paper was rst published; there have, however, been
no changes to the substance, and all revisions have been clearly marked
by square brackets; in some cases I have presented them in the form of a
postscript at the end of the relevant chapter, so as to facilitate reference to
the original publication.
Chapter 1 was rst published in Apeiron 23 (1990) 87119, and is reprinted
(with slight, mainly stylistic alterations) with the kind permission of Aca-
demic Printing and Publishing.
Chapter 2 was rst published in R. Wittern and P. Pellegrin (eds.), Hip-
pokratische Medizin und antike Philosophie (Medizin der Antike, Band 1),
Hildesheim: Olms, 1996, 22957, and is reprinted here with the kind
permission of Olms Verlag; but the numeration of the Diocles frag-
ments, and the translation of fr. 176 printed here have been modied in
accordance with the relevant sections in my Diocles of Carystus, Leiden,
2000, which are reprinted here with the kind permission of Brill Academic
Publishers.
Chapter 3 is a slightly expanded version of a paper published under the
title The systematic status of therapy in the Hippocratic Corpus and in
the work of Diocles of Carystus, in I. Garofalo, D. Lami, D. Manetti and
A. Roselli (eds.), Aspetti della terapia nel Corpus Hippocraticum, Florence:
Olschki, 1999, 389404, reprinted with the kind permission of Olschki
Editore; an abbreviated version in Dutch appeared under the title Helpen,
of niet schaden. Enkele uitgangspunten van therapeutisch handelen in de
klassieke Griekse geneeskunde in Hermeneus 71 (1999) 6671.
ix
x Acknowledgements
Chapter 4 was rst published in Dutch under the title Hart en hersenen,
bloed en pneuma. Hippocrates, Diocles en Aristoteles over de localisering
van cognitieve processen in Gewina 18 (1995) 21429, and has been trans-
lated (and slightly adapted) for the present volume by Arachne van der
Eijk-Spaan.
Chapter 5 was rst published in German under the title Aristoteles uber
die Melancholie in Mnemosyne 43 (1990) 3372, and has been translated
(and slightly adapted) for the present volume by Arachne van der Eijk-
Spaan.
Chapter 6 is in its present form a new paper, although it is based on
material published in my book Aristoteles. De insomniis. De divinatione
per somnum, Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1994, and in three articles: The-
orie und Empirie in Aristoteles Besch aftigung mit dem Traum und mit
der Weissagung im Schlaf , in K. D oring and G. W ohrle (eds.), Antike
Naturwissenschaft und ihre Rezeption, vol. i v, Bamberg: Collibri Verlag,
1994, 3146; Aristotle on distinguished physicians and on the medical
signicance of dreams, in P. J. van der Eijk, H. F. J. Horstmanshoff and
P. H. Schrijvers (eds.), Ancient Medicine in its Socio-Cultural Context (Clio
Medica/The Wellcome Institute Series in the History of Medicine 289),
Amsterdam and Atlanta: Rodopi, 1995, vol. i i , 44759; and Aristotle on
cognition in sleep, in T. Wiedemann and K. Dowden (eds.), Sleep (Not-
tingham Classical Literature Series / Midlands Classical Series 8), Bari:
Levante Editori, 2003, 2540.
Chapter 7 was rst published in W. Kullmann and S. F ollinger (eds.),
Aristotelische Biologie. Intentionen, Methoden, Ergebnisse (Philosophie der
Antike, vol. vi ), Stuttgart: Steiner Verlag, 1997, 22158, and is reprinted
with the kind permission of Steiner Verlag.
Chapter 8 was rst published in Hermes 117 (1989) 2442, and is reprinted
(withalterations inpresentation) withthe kindpermissionof Steiner Verlag.
Chapter 9 was rst published in The Classical Quarterly 49 (1999) 490
502, and is reprinted with the kind permission of Oxford University Press.
Chapter 10 was rst published in A. Debru (ed.), Galen on Pharma-
cology. Philosophy, History and Medicine (Studies in Ancient Medicine 15),
Leiden: Brill, 1997, 3557, and is reprinted with the kind permission of Brill
Academic Publishers.
Chapter 11 was rst published in P. Mudry (ed.), Le traite des Maladies
aigues et des Maladies chroniques de Caelius Aurelianus: nouvelles approches,
Nantes: Institut Universitaire de France, 1999, 4783, and is reprinted with
the kind permission of the Institut Universitaire de France.
Acknowledgements xi
I should further like to express my gratitude to the institutions, colleagues
and friends who have provided nancial, professional and personal support
and encouragement during the many years in which the papers collected
in this volume were produced. The earlier papers were written when I
held a research assistantship, and subsequently a post-doctoral research
fellowship, at the Classics Department of Leiden University. I am grate-
ful to Leiden University for its institutional support, to the Univer-
sity Library for providing excellent resources, to the Leiden colleagues
for their departmental support, and to the Netherlands Organisation
for Scientic Research (NWO) for awarding the post-doctoral research
fellowship.
The more recent papers date from my tenure of a Wellcome Trust Uni-
versity Award in the History of Classical Medicine at the University of
Newcastle upon Tyne. I am grateful to the Governors of the Wellcome
Trust for awarding me this fellowship, to Newcastle University for its insti-
tutional support in general and for offering me a Personal Chair in Greek
in particular to the Newcastle University Arts and Humanities Research
Fund for providing nancial assistance towards the translation of chapters 4
and 5, to the Robinson Library for its support, and to my colleagues in the
Newcastle Classics Department for providing a most congenial academic
and social environment. I should further like to express my thanks to the
Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences (KNAW) for awarding
me a fellowship at the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Study (NIAS)
in 2000/1, which allowed me to pursue the study of ancient medicine in
comparative context.
The papers collected here have greatly beneted from the comments made
on oral presentations by audiences at a number of European and American
universities, and from the many colleagues and friends who generously
offered critical advice and encouragement on drafts. I should like to ex-
press a particular word of thanks to Jochen Althoff, Egbert Bakker, Lesley
Dean-Jones, Armelle Debru, Jeanne Ducatillon, Sophia Elliott, Klaus-
Dietrich Fischer, Hellmut Flashar, Sabine F ollinger, Elisabeth Foppen, Bill
Fortenbaugh, Ivan Garofalo, Mark Geller, Hans Gottschalk, Mirko Grmek,
Frans de Haas, Jim Hankinson, Donald Hill, Manfred Horstmanshoff,
David Langslow, Charles van Leeuwen, Geoffrey Lloyd, James Longrigg,
Daniela Manetti, Jaap Mansfeld, Phillippe Mudry, Vivian Nutton, Jan
van Ophuijsen, Dobrinka Parusheva, Peter Pormann, Jonathan Powell,
Marlein van Raalte, Amneris Roselli, Thomas R utten, Trevor Saunders,
xii Acknowledgements
Mark Schiefsky, Piet Schrijvers, Chris Sicking, Wesley Smith, Richard
Sorabji, Heinrich von Staden, Michael Stokes, Gisela Striker, Wim
Verdenius, Henk Versnel, J urgen Wiesner and Han Zuilhof.
I am grateful to Michael Sharp from Cambridge University Press for the
interest he has taken in this volume and for his patience, to the anonymous
referees for the Press for their comments onthe proposal, andto the editorial
staff at CUP for their care in bringing this publication to completion. I
am also indebted to Sarah Francis (Newcastle) for her assistance with the
technical preparation of the copy.
Finally, I owe a very special word of thanks to my wife Arachne, who
translated two of the chapters for this volume and who has provided in-
valuable support and encouragement throughout all my academic work. I
dedicate this volume to her with profound gratitude and affection.
Note on translations
All translations of Greek and Latin texts are my own, except in those cases
where I have used the following:
the translations of the Hippocratic writings by W. H. S. Jones and P.
Potter (quoted in the introduction and throughout part one), published
by Harvard University Press in the Loeb Classical Library as Hippocrates,
volumes 2/148 (1923), 4/ 150 (1931), 5/472 (1988) and 6/473 (1988);
the translation of Theophrastus On the Causes of Plants by B. Einarson
and G. K. K. Link (quoted in chapter 2), published by Harvard University
Press in the Loeb Classical Library as Theophrastus, De causis plantarum,
volumes 1/471 (1976) and 3/475 (1990);
the translation of Aristotles History of Animals, Book 10, by D. M. Balme
(quoted in chapter 9), published by Harvard University Press in the Loeb
Classical Library as Aristotle, History of Animals, Books VII-X, volume 11/439
(1991);
the translation of Theophrastus fragments by W. W. Fortenbaugh et al.
(quoted in chapter 2), published by Brill in 1992;
the translation of Theophrastus Metaphysics by M. van Raalte (quoted
in chapter 2), published by Brill in 1993;
the translation of Galens On Medical Experience by R. Walzer (quoted
in chapter 2), published by Oxford University Press in 1944 and reprinted
by Hackett in 1985;
the translation of Caelius Aurelianus On Acute Affections by I. Drabkin
(quoted in chapter 4), published by the University of Chicago Press in 1950;
and the translation of Platos Republic by G. Grube and D. Reeve (quoted
in chapter 6), published by Hackett in 1997.
xiii
Note on abbreviations
Abbreviations of authors names and works follow those used in the Oxford
Classical Dictionary, ed. S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth (3rd edn, Oxford,
1999), apart from works of Galen, which follow G. Fichtner, Corpus
Galenicum (T ubingen, 1990) and are explained in the text.
Hippocratic texts are normally cited by reference to the volume and page
numbers of the Littr e edition (L.): E. Littr e, uvres compl`etes dHippocrate
(10 vols., Paris, 183961). Thus 4.270 L. refers to vol. i v, p. 270, of Littr es
edition.
Works of Galen are referred to according to the volume and page numbers
of the edition by K uhn (K.): C. G. K uhn, Claudii Galeni opera omnia, 22
vols. (Leipzig, 182133, reprinted Hildesheim, 19645). Thus 5.244 K. refers
to vol. v, p. 244, of K uhns edition.
xiv
Introduction
Few areas in classical scholarship have seen such rapid growth as the study
of ancient medicine. Over the last three decades, the subject has gained
broad appeal, not only among scholars and students of Greek and Roman
antiquity but also in other disciplines such as the history of medicine
and science, the history of philosophy and ideas, (bio-)archaeology and
environmental history, and the study of the linguistic, literary, rhetorical
and cultural aspects of intellectual discourse. The popularity of the subject
even extends beyond the connes of academic communities, and ancient
medicine has proved to be an effective tool in the promotion of the public
understanding of medicine and its history.
The reasons for these changes are varied and complex, and to do justice
to all would require a much fuller discussion than I can offer here.
1
In this
introductory chapter, I will concentrate on what I perceive to be the most
important developments and in so doing set out the rationale of the present
collection of papers. Evidently, ancient medicine possesses remarkable ex-
ibility in attracting interest from a large variety of people approaching the
eld from a broad range of disciplines, directions and backgrounds, for a
number of different reasons and with a wide variety of expectations. The
purpose of publishing these papers in the present form is to make them
more easily accessible to this growing audience.
1 f r o m a p p r o p r i a t i o n t o a l i e n a t i o n :
d e v e l o p m e n t s i n t h e s t u d y o f
a n c i e n t m e d i c i n e
First, there has been a major shift in overall attitude and general perception
with regard to the history and historiography of medicine in classical anti-
quity. Until about thirty years ago it was customary for Greek medicine to
1
See also Nutton (2002).
1
2 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
be viewed as one aspect of what was sometimes referred to as le miracle grec
or the Enlightenment the sudden, surprising rise of Greek civilisation,
inexplicably emerging against the background of the primitive barbarism
of earlier times. Like Greek literature, philosophy, art, architecture and
democracy, ancient medicine was seen as one of those uniquely Greek con-
tributions tothe development of Europeanculture andhumanity. Rational
medicine, based on empirical observation and logical systematisation, and
devoid of any superstitious beliefs in supernatural powers intervening in
the human sphere, was believed to have been invented by the Greeks and to
have developed teleologically into the impressive edice of contemporary
biomedical science and practice as we know it today.
This appropriating claim was illustrated with such powerful examples
as the sharp clinical observations recorded in the case histories of the Hip-
pocratic Epidemics, the deant rejection of supernatural explanations of
disease by the author of On the Sacred Disease, the search for natural and
empirically observable causes by the author of On Ancient Medicine, and of
course the high ethical standards advocated by the Hippocratic Oath. These
and other documents constituted the medical part of the Greek miracle,
and they served very well as examples for classicists to cite when it came
to promoting the study of Greek and Roman culture and demonstrating
its relevance to the modern world. They also provided the cachet of a re-
spectable historical traditionwithwhichWesternmedicine believedit could
identify and, perhaps legitimately, claim to stand in a special relationship
of continuity, while at the same time taking pride in having emancipated
itself from this tradition through the spectacular achievements of medical
science in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.
Yet, curiously, these examples andthe underlying attitude andmotivation
for referring to them somehow also seem to have posed an obstacle to a
closer study of the actual evidence. For while, inmany other areas of classical
studies, the belief in this Greek miracle had long been eroded, if not
abandoned, the perception of Greek and Roman medicine as the paradigm
of rationality and the ancestor of contemporary biomedical science and
practice was remarkably persistent.
2
One of the reasons for this was that,
for a long time, the academic study of the eld was a rather narrowly dened
specialism, which very rarely had an impact beyond its own boundaries. It
was mainly the territory of medical historians, often employed in (or retired
from) medical faculties or other areas of the medical profession, and had
2
Two exceptions that should be mentioned here are Kudlien (1967a), which is a relatively early
examination of some of the more irrational elements in Greek medicine, and of course Dodds
(1951), although the latter does not deal specically with medicine. On Ludwig Edelstein see below.
Introduction 3
little appeal among classicists. Of course, there were exceptions on either
side, and the names of such eminent historians of medicine as Karl Sudhoff,
Henry Sigerist and Owsei Temkin, who devoted much attention to anti-
quity, could be paralleled by classicists such as Hermann Diels, Ludwig
Edelstein, Karl Deichgr aber and Hans Diller. But the reason why the latter
are well known to most classical scholars is that they published also on
mainstream, canonical classical subjects such as Aristophanes, Sophocles,
the Presocratics, Plato, Aristotle and Posidonius. And at any rate (with the
exceptionof Edelstein), their approach to ancient medicine had always been
rather strictly philological, focusing on the texts of the great masters such
as Hippocrates and Galen, but paying little attention to the social, cultural,
economic, institutional, geographical and religious environment in which
medical writing took place. For the rest, the subject was largely neglected:
the majority of classicists considered it too medical and too technical, while
the fact that the main texts were in Latin and Greek (and often in a quite
technical, austere kind of Latin and Greek at that) did not help to secure
the subject a prominent place in the attention of medical historians or
members of the medical profession at large.
Nothing could be further from my intention than to dismiss the con-
tribution of members of the medical profession to the study of ancient
medicine indeed, I myself have often beneted fromthe collaboration and
dialogue with medically trained colleagues when studying ancient Greek
medical texts. Still, it is fair to say that, especially in the rst half of the twen-
tieth century, the interest taken by medical people in Greek and Roman
medicine was often motivated, apart fromantiquarian intellectual curiosity,
by what we could call a positivist, or presentist, attitude. There often was
an underlying tendency to look for those respects in which Greek medicine
was, as it were, on the right track, and to measure the extent to which the
Greeks already knew or did not yet know certain things which contempo-
rary biomedicine now knows, or claims to know, to be true.
3
This attitude
led to a historiography of medicine (and science) which was predominantly
conceived as a success story and which was preoccupied with great discov-
eries such as the nervous system or blood circulation, with heroic medical
scientists such as Hippocrates, Galen, Harvey and Boerhaave, and with
retrospective diagnosis of diseases in the past on the basis of great liter-
ary masterpieces such as Thucydides account of the Athenian plague or
Daniel Defoes Journal of the Plague Year. In other words, it was inspired by
3
A striking example is the vigorous debate initiated by R. Kapferer in the 1930s on the question
whether the Hippocratic writers were familiar with the process of blood circulation; for a review of
this debate see Duminil (1998) 16974.
4 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
a kind of teleological progressivism that pays particular attention to those
aspects in which classical medicine still speaks to us today.
But times have changed. Postmodernism, pluralism, cultural relativism
and comparativism, as in so many other areas, have had their impact also
on the study of Greek medicine and science. Questions have been asked
about the uniqueness of Greek medical thought, and it has been suggested
that its debt to earlier, Near Eastern and Egyptian thinking may have been
much greater than was commonly assumed. Questions have also been raised
about the rationality of Greek medical thought, about the assumption that
Greek medicine developed from myth to reason,
4
and Greek medicine has
been shown to have been much more open and receptive to superstition,
folklore, religion and magic than was generally believed.
Furthermore, in the academic study of medical history and to a certain
extent also in the historiography of science signicant changes have oc-
curred over the past decades, especially in the area of medical anthropology,
the social, cultural and institutional history of medicine and science, the
history of medical ethics, deontology and value systems, and the linguistic
study and discourse analysis of medical texts. There has been an increasing
realisation of the social and cultural situatedness of medicine, healthcare
and knowledge systems: individuals, groups of individuals and societies at
large understand and respond differently to the perennial phenomena of
sickness and suffering, health and disease, pain and death; and these reac-
tions are reected in different medical ideas, different healthcare systems,
different value systems, each of which has its own social, economic and
cultural ramications. This appreciation of the variety of healthcare (and
knowledge) systems and indeed of the variety within one system is
no doubt related to the increasing acceptance of alternative or comple-
mentary medicine in the Western world and the corresponding changes in
medical practice, doctorpatient relationship and the public perception of
the medical profession. And the traditional assumption of a superiority of
Western, scientic medicine over non-Western, primitive, folklore or al-
ternative medicine has virtually reached the state of political incorrectness.
This shift inattitude has hadrather paradoxical implications for the study
of ancient medicine. In short, one could say that attention has widened
from texts to contexts, and from intellectual history to the history of dis-
courses beliefs, attitudes, perceptions, expectations, practices and rituals,
their underlying sets of norms and values, and their social and cultural
ramications. At the same time, the need to perceive continuity between
4
For a more extended discussion of this development see the Introduction to Horstmanshoff and Stol
(2004).
Introduction 5
Greek medicine and our contemporary biomedical paradigmhas given way
to a more historicising approach that primarily seeks to understand med-
ical ideas and practices as products of culture during a particular period
in time and place. As a result, there has been a greater appreciation of
the diversity of Greek medicine, even within what used to be perceived as
Hippocratic medicine. For example, when it comes to the alleged ratio-
nality of Greek medicine and its attitude to the supernatural, there has
rst of all been a greater awareness of the fact that much more went on in
Greece under the aegis of healing than just the elite intellectualist writing
of doctors such as Hippocrates, Diocles and Galen.
5
Moreover, it has been
shown that although the Hippocratic writers did not positively encour-
age recourse to divine healing, they did not categorically reject it either.
Thus, as I argue in chapter 1 of this volume, the author of On the Sacred
Disease, in his criticism of magic, focuses on a rather narrowly dened
group rather than on religious healing as such, and his insistence on what
he regards as a truly pious way of approaching the gods suggests that he
does not intend to do away with any divine intervention; and the author
of the Hippocratic work On Regimen even positively advocates prayer to
specic gods in combination with dietetic measures for the prevention of
disease. Questions have further been asked about the historical context and
representativeness of the Hippocratic Oath and about the extent to which
Hippocratic deontology was driven by considerations of status and reputa-
tion rather than moral integrity. And the belief in the superiority of Greek
medicine, its perceived greater relevance to modern medical science not
to mention its perceived greater efcacy compared with other traditional
healthcare systems such as Chinese or Indian medicine, has come under
attack. As a result, at many history of medicine departments in universi-
ties in Europe and the United States, it is considered nave and a relic of
old-fashioned Hellenocentrism to start a course in the history of medicine
with Hippocrates.
This change of attitude could, perhaps with some exaggeration, be
described in terms of a move from appropriation to alienation. Greek,
in particular Hippocratic medicine, is no longer the reassuring mirror in
which we can recognise the principles of our own ideas and experiences of
health and sickness and the body: it no longer provides the context with
which we can identify ourselves. Nevertheless, this alienation has brought
about a very interesting, healthy change in approach to Greek and Roman
medicine, a change that has made the subject much more interesting and
5
For an example see the case study into experiences of health and disease by ordinary people in
second- and third-century ce Lydia and Phrygia by Chaniotis (1995).
6 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
accessible to a wider group of scholars and students. An almost exclusive
focus on medical ideas and theories has given way to a consideration of
the relation between medical science and its environment be it social,
political, economic, or cultural and religious. Indeed science itself is now
understood as just one of a variety of human cultural expressions, and the
distinction between science and pseudo-science has been abandoned as
historically unfruitful. And medicine or healing, or attitudes and ac-
tions with regard to health and sickness, or whatever name one prefers
in order to dene the subject is no longer regarded as the intellectual
property of a small elite of Greek doctors and scientists. There is now a
much wider denition of what ancient medicine actually involves, partly
inspired by the social and cultural history of medicine, the study of medical
anthropology and the study of healthcare systems in a variety of cultures
and societies. The focus of medical history is on the question of how a soci-
ety and its individuals respond to pathological phenomena such as disease,
pain, death, how it constructs these phenomena and how it contextualises
them, what it recognises as pathological in the rst place, what it labels as
a disease or aberration, as an epidemic disease, as mental illness, and so on.
How do such responses translate in social, cultural and institutional terms:
how is a healthcare system organised? What status do the practitioners
or providers of treatment enjoy? How do they arrive at their views, the-
ories and practices? How do they communicate these to their colleagues
and wider audiences, and what rhetorical and argumentative techniques do
they use in order to persuade their colleagues and their customers of the
preferability of their own approach as opposed to that of their rivals? How
is authority established and maintained, and how are claims to competence
justied? The answers to these questions tell us something about the wider
system of moral, social and cultural values of a society, and as such they
are of interest also to those whose motivation to engage in the subject is
not primarily medical. As the comparative history of medicine and science
has shown, societies react to these phenomena in different ways, and it is
interesting and illuminating to compare similarities and differences in these
reactions, since they often reect deeper differences in social and cultural
values.
6
From this perspective, the study of ancient medicine now starts from the
basic observation that in the classical world, health and disease were matters
of major concern which affected everyone and had a profound effect on the
way people lived, what they ate and drank, how they organised their private
6
See the work of G. E. R. Lloyd, especially his (1996a), (2002) and (2003).
Introduction 7
and public hygiene and healthcare, and how they coped physically as well
as spiritually with pain, illness and death. In this light, the emergence
of Greek rational medicine, as exemplied in the works of Hippocrates,
Galen, Aristotle, Diocles, Herophilus, Erasistratus and others, was one
among a variety of reactions and responses to disease. Of course, this is not
to deny that the historical signicance of this response has beentremendous,
for it exercised great inuence on Roman healthcare, on medieval and early
modern medicine right through to the late nineteenth century, and it is
arguably one of the most impressive contributions of classical antiquity to
the development of Western medical and scientic thought and practice.
But to understand how it arose, one has to relate it to the wider cultural
environment of which it was part; and one has to consider to what extent
it in turn inuenced perceptions and reactions to disease in wider layers
of society. The medical history of the ancient world comprises the role of
disease and healing in the day-to-day life of ordinary people. It covers the
relations between patients and doctors and their mutual expectations, the
variety of health-suppliers in the medical marketplace, the social position
of healers and their professional upbringing, and the ethical standards they
were required to live up to.
7
And it also covers the material history of
the ancient world, the study of diseases and palaeopathology; for in order
to understand reactions to the pathological phenomena, and to explain
differences between those reactions, it is obviously of vital importance to
establish with as much certainty as possible the nosological reality of ancient
Greece and the Eastern Mediterranean.
8
As a result of these developments and greatly helped by scholarly ef-
forts to make the subject more accessible by means of modern translations
of the original texts increasing numbers of students of the Greek and
Roman world have now embraced ancient medicine as a new area of re-
search with very interesting implications for the wider study of classical
antiquity. It is almost by denition an interdisciplinary eld, involving
linguists and literary scholars, ancient historians, archaeologists and envi-
ronmental historians, philosophers and historians of science and ideas, but
also historians of religion, medical anthropologists and social scientists.
Thus, as we shall see in the next pages, medical ideas and medical texts
have enjoyed a surge of interest from students in ancient philosophy and
in the eld of Greek and Latin linguistics. Likewise, the social and cultural
history of ancient medicine, and the interface between medicine, magic
7
See, e.g., Nutton (1992) and (1995).
8
See Grmek (1983) and (1989); Sallares (1991) and (2003).
8 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
and religion has proved a remarkably fruitful area of research;
9
and similar
observations can be made about areas such as women and gender studies
and studies into the body.
10
2 p h i l o s o p h y a n d m e d i c i n e i n c o n t e x t
A second, more specic impetus towards the contextualisation of ancient
medicine has come from the study of ancient philosophy,
11
and this brings
us closer to the title and rationale of this book. Indeed, my own inter-
ests in ancient medicine were rst raised when I was studying Aristotles
Parva naturalia and came to realise that our understanding of his treat-
ment of phenomena such as sleep, dreams, memory and respiration can be
signicantly enhanced when placing it against the background of medical
literature of the fth and fourth centuries. Fifteen years later the relevance
of Greek medicine to the study of ancient philosophy is much more widely
appreciated, not only by historians of science and medicine but also by
students of philosophy in a more narrow sense.
Scholarship has, of course, long realised that developments in ancient
medical thought cannot be properly understood in isolation from their
wider intellectual, especially philosophical context.
12
But more recently
there has been a greater appreciation of the fact that Greek medical writers
did not just reect a derivative awareness of developments in philosophy
something which led to the long-standing qualication of medicine as a
sister or daughter of philosophy but also actively contributed to the
formation of philosophical thought more strictly dened, for example by
developing concepts and methodologies for the acquisition of knowledge
and understanding of the natural world. And even though this awareness
has occasionally led to some philosophical cherry-picking, it has done much
to put authors such as Galen, Diocles, Soranus and Caelius Aurelianus on
the agenda of students of ancient thought.
Furthermore, the study of ancient medicine has beneted froma number
of major developments within the study of ancient philosophy itself. First,
as in the case of medicine, the notion of philosophy too has been more
explicitly contextualised and historicised, and there is now a much greater
awareness of the difference between contemporary denitions of what con-
stitutes philosophical inquiry and what Greek thinkers understood when
9
See, e.g., section 3 in van der Eijk, Horstmanshoff and Schrijvers (1995).
10
See especially the works by Gourevitch, H. King, Dean-Jones, A. E. Hanson, Flemming and Demand
listed in the bibliography.
11
See especially the titles by Hankinson, Frede, Barnes and Longrigg listed in the bibliography.
12
See van der Eijk (2005c), sections fromwhich have been adopted and adjusted to the present chapter.
Introduction 9
using the word or if they did not, in what other terms they conceived
their own activities.
13
Secondly, the activity of philosophers in ancient
Greece and Rome is now increasingly understood in social and cultural
terms and with reference to their role in society, their practical activities
and the ideas and values they shared with the communities in which they
lived and worked.
14
Thirdly, and more specically, scholars in ancient phi-
losophy have come to realise that a number of philosophers too had their
own particular reasons for being interested in areas and themes that we
commonly associate with medicine and for pursuing these interests in a
variety of forms, theoretical as well as practical and, in so doing, were in-
teracting with medical writers in the setting of their agendas, the formation
of their ideas, concepts and methodologies and in their practical activities.
15
And fourthly, students of ancient philosophy have drawn attention to the
variety of modes and notions of rationality in Greek thought;
16
important
lessons can be learned from this for the claims about the rational nature
of Greek medical thought, and of rationality as such.
17
13
For an example of this regarding the early classical Greek period see Laks and Louguet (2002).
14
See, e.g., Grifn and Barnes (1989).
15
For an older account see Schumacher (1940); for a more recent discussion see Frede (1986).
16
See Frede and Striker (1996).
17
The notion of rational medicine has long been taken for granted, as it was felt that it was undeniable
that there was such a thing as Greek rational medicine, which was perceived to lie in the examples of
Hippocratic rationalism and empiricism as referred to above aspects in which Greek medicine was
perceived to be different from Egyptian or Babylonian medicine. As I have already indicated, this
notion of rational medicine, together with the presuppositions underlying it, has come under attack
more recently and is sometimes dismissed as an old-fashioned relic from a positivist way of thinking
that is regarded as something that has long been superseded. Nevertheless one needs to be careful
here and not give way too easily to relativism or deny to Greek medicine any distinctive character
compared to what preceded it. The crucial question here, though, is how one denes rationality.
As far as medicine is concerned, it seems that the discussion would be claried if an important
distinction were made between two uses of the word rational. First, there is the use of rational
as opposed to irrational or supernatural, by which the characteristic element of Greek medicine
is seen to lie in the absence of any appeal to gods or divine or supernatural powers. I have already
discussed this above, when we saw that the view that Greek medicine was free from such appeals is
too simplistic. In particular, one could ask what is so rational about the claim made by the author
of On the Sacred Disease that all diseases are divine and all are human (see ch. 1). Is this rational by his
standards, or by ours? Or what is rational about the assumption of the existence of four humours
in the body, which the writer of On the Nature of Man simply posits, or about the role of the number
seven in medicine, which the author of On Fleshes takes as a given? Examples like these could easily be
multiplied. Yet a different use of the word rational is in the sense in which ancient medical writers
themselves used it, where rational stands for rationalist, theoretical (logikos, rationalis) as opposed
to empirical/practical, thus denoting the speculative, theoretical nature of Greek medical thought
and its close relation with natural philosophy, epistemology, etc. On this view, one can safely say
and comparisons with other ancient medical traditions have conrmed that Greek medicine, with
its emphasis on explanation, its search for causes, its desire for logical systematisation, its endeavour
to provide an epistemic foundation for prognosis and treatment, and especially its argumentative
nature and urge to give account (logos, ratio) of its ideas and practices indebate, does showa distinctive
character.
10 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
The title of this volume still refers to medicine and philosophy as
distinct disciplines, and to some extent this is appropriate, for there were
important differences between the two areas. Yet the longer one studies
this material, the more one realises that too rigid a use of these and similar
labels is in serious danger of concealing the very substantial overlap that
existed between the various areas of activity. In particular, it is in danger of
misrepresenting the views which the main protagonists in Greek thought
had about the disciplines or intellectual contexts in which they positioned
themselves. Moreover, it would be quite misleading to present the relation-
ship between doctors and philosophers in terms of interaction between
science and philosophy, the empirical and the theoretical, the practi-
cal and the systematical, the particular and the general, or observation
and speculation. To do this would be to ignore the philosophical, spec-
ulative, theoretical and systematic aspects of Greek science as well as
the extent to which empirical research and observation were part of the
activities of people who have gone down in the textbooks as philosophers.
Thus Empedocles, Democritus, Parmenides, Pythagoras, Philolaus, Plato,
Aristotle, Theophrastus, Strato, but also later thinkers such as Sextus Em-
piricus, Alexander of Aphrodisias, Nemesius of Emesa and John Philoponus
took an active interest in subjects we commonly associate with medicine,
such as the anatomy and the physiology of the human body, mental ill-
ness, embryology and reproduction, youth and old age, respiration, pulses,
fevers, the causes of disease and of the effects of food, drink and drugs on
the body. As we shall see in chapter 3, according to one major, authori-
tative ancient source, the Roman author Celsus (rst century ce), it was
under the umbrella of philosophy (studium sapientiae) that a theoretical,
scientic interest in health and disease rst started, and it was only when
the physician Hippocrates separated the art of healing from this theoret-
ical study of nature that medicine was turned into a domain of its own
for the rst time yet without fully abandoning the link with the study
of the nature of things, as Celsus himself recognises when reecting on
developments in dietetics during the fourth century bce.
This perception of the early development of medicine and its overlap
with philosophy was more widely shared in antiquity, both by medical
writers and by philosophers. This is testied, for example, by ancient
historiographical and doxographical accounts of the history of medicine
and philosophy, which tend to provide an illuminating view of the
self-perception of ancient thinkers.
18
When reecting on the past history
18
See van der Eijk (1999a).
Introduction 11
of their own subject, medical authors such as Galen who wrote a trea-
tise advocating the view that the best doctor is, or should be, at the
same time a philosopher and the so-called Anonymus Londiniensis (the
rst-century ce author of a medico-doxographical work preserved on pa-
pyrus) treated Platos views on the human body and on the origins of
diseases as expounded in the Timaeus on a par with the doctrines of ma-
jor Greek medical writers; and Aristotle and Theophrastus continued to
be regarded as authorities in medicine by medical writers of later antiq-
uity such as Oribasius and Caelius Aurelianus. Conversely, as we shall
see in chapter 6, a philosopher such as Aristotle commented favourably
on the contributions by the more distinguished doctors to the area
of natural philosophy. And in the doxographical tradition of A etius,
in the context of physics or natural philosophy, a number of medi-
cal writers such as Diocles, Herophilus, Erasistratus and Asclepiades are
cited alongside philosophers such as Plato, Aristotle and the Stoics for their
views onsuch topics as change, the soul, the locationof the ruling part of the
soul (see chapter 4), dreams, respiration, monstrosities, fertility and sterility,
twins and triplets, the status of the embryo, mules, seventh-month children,
embryonic development, and the causes of old age, disease and fever.
19
The subtitle of this volume, nature, soul, health and disease indicates
some of the more prominent areas in which such interaction between
philosophers and medical writers was most clearly visible. It is no co-
incidence that Aristotles comments on the overlap between students of
nature and doctors are made in his own Parva naturalia, a series of works
on a range of psycho-physiological topics sense-perception, memory,
sleep, dreams, longevity, youth and old age, respiration, life and death,
health and disease that became the common ground of medical writers
and philosophers alike. And, not surprisingly, Aristotle makes similar re-
marks in his zoological works concerning questions of anatomy, such as the
parts of the body and structures like the vascular system, and embryology,
especially the question of the origins of life, the mechanisms of repro-
duction and the ways in which inherited features are passed on from one
generation to another, the question of the male and female contribution
to the reproductive process, the origin of the semen, questions of fertility
and infertility (see chapter 9), stages of embryonic development, the way
the embryo is nourished, twins and triplets, and suchlike. This whole area
was referred to in later antiquity as the nature of man, particularly mans
physical make-up, ranging from the lowest, most basic level of principles
19
See Runia (1999).
12 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
(archai) or elements (stoicheia) of organic substances through anatomical
structures such as bones and the vascular system, uids such as humours,
qualities suchas hot andcold, andphysiological proportions andblendings
(kraseis) right through to the most sophisticated psycho-physical functions
such as soul, sense-perception, thinking and reproduction. We perceive
this agenda in texts as early as the Hippocratic works On Fleshes, On the
Nature of Man and On Regimen, or in such later works as Nemesius On
the Nature of Man, Vindicianus On the Nature of the Human Race and in
the treatise On the Seed, preserved in a Brussels manuscript and attributed
to Vindicianus, and there are similar points of overlap in the doxographical
tradition. Even a philosopher like Plato, who seems to have had very little
reason to be interested in mundane matters like disease or bodily waste
products, deals at surprising length and in very considerable detail with
the human body and what may go wrong with it, using an elaborate clas-
sication of bodily uids and types of disease (physical as well as mental)
according to their physiological causes. Plato was of course not a doctor,
but he was clearly aware of the medical doctrines of his time and took them
sufciently seriously to incorporate them into this account of the nature of
the world and the human body as set out in the Timaeus.
Yet interaction was not conned to matters of content, but also took
place in the eld of methodology and epistemology. As early as the Hip-
pocratic medical writers, one nds conceptualisations and terminologi-
cal distinctions relating to such notions as nature (phusis), cause (aitia,
prophasis), sign (semeion), indication (tekmerion), proof (pistis), faculty
(dunamis), or theoretical reection on epistemological issues such as causal
explanation, observation, analogy and experimentation. This is continued
in fourth-century medicine, with writers such as Diocles of Carystus and
Mnesitheus of Athens, in whose works we nd striking examples of the use
of denition, explanation, divisionandclassicationaccording togenus and
species relations, and theoretical reection on the modalities and the ap-
propriateness of these epistemological procedures, on the requirements that
have to be fullled in order to make them work. In Hellenistic medicine,
authors such as Herophilus and Erasistratus made important theoretical
points about causation, teleological versus mechanical explanation, and
horror vacui, and in the sectarian debates between Empiricists, Dogma-
tists and Methodists major theoretical issues were raised about the nature
of knowledge and science. Subsequently, in the Imperial period, we can
observe the application and further development of logic and philosophy
of science in writers such as Galen (chapter 10) and Caelius Aurelianus
(chapter 11). And again, it is by no means the case that the medical writers
Introduction 13
were exclusively on the receiving end: theories about causation or inference
from signs constitute good examples of areas in which major theoretical
and conceptual distinctions were rst formulated in medical discourse and
subsequently incorporated in philosophical discussions.
20
It would therefore be quite wrong to regard Aristotles and Galens per-
ceptions of the overlap between medicine and philosophy as anachronistic
distortions or projections of their own preoccupations, or to believe that,
when philosophers had medical interests, these were nothing more than
eccentric curiosity. To the Greek thinkers, areas such as those mentioned
above represented aspects of natural and human reality just as interesting
and signicant as the movements of the celestial bodies, the origins of earth-
quakes or the growth of plants and trees, and at least equally revealing of
the underlying universal principles of stability and change. Nor were their
interests in the medical area limited to theoretical study or the pursuit of
knowledge for its own sake without extending to clinical or therapeutic
practice. Some are known to have put their ideas into practice, such as
Empedocles, who seems to have been engaged in considerable therapeutic
activity, or Democritus, who is reported to have carried out anatomical
research on a signicant scale, or, to take a later example, Sextus Empiricus,
who combined his authorship of philosophical writings on Scepticism with
medical practice.
Such connections between theory and practical application, and such
combinations of apparently separate activities, may still strike us as re-
markable. Nevertheless we should bear in mind, rst, that especially in the
period up to about 400 bce (the time in which most of the better-known
Hippocratic writings are believed to have been produced), philosophy was
hardly ever pursuedentirely for its ownsake andwas deemedof considerable
practical relevance, be it in the eld of ethics and politics, in the techni-
cal mastery of natural things and processes, or in the provision of health
and healing. Secondly, the idea of a division of labour which, sometimes
implicitly, underlies such a sense of surprise is in fact anachronistic. We
may rightly feel hesitant to call people such as Empedocles, Democritus,
Pythagoras and Alcmaeon doctors, but this is largely because that term
conjures up associations with a type of professional organisation and spe-
cialisation that developed only later, but which are inappropriate to the
actual practice of the care for the human body in the archaic and classical
period. The evidence for specialisation in this period is scanty, for doctors
20
See, e.g., Hankinson (1987) on the role of the Pneumatist physician Athenaeus of Attalia in the
development of the notion of antecedent causation.
14 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
as well as mathematicians and other scientists, and there is good reason
to believe that disciplinary boundaries, if they existed at all, were uid and
exible. As we get to the Hellenistic and Imperial periods, the evidence
of specialisation is stronger, but this still did not prevent more ambitious
thinkers such as Galen or John Philoponus from crossing boundaries and
being engaged in a number of distinct intellectual activities such as logic,
linguistics and grammar, medicine and meteorology.
3 a r i s t o t l e a n d h i s s c h o o l
A case in point here is Aristotle, to whom the middle section of this vol-
ume is dedicated. It is no exaggeration to say that the history of ancient
medicine would have been very different without the tremendous impact
of Aristotelian science and philosophy of science throughout antiquity, the
Middle Ages and the early modern period. Aristotle, and Aristotelianism,
made and facilitated major discoveries in the eld of comparative anatomy,
physiology, embryology, pathology, therapeutics and pharmacology. They
provided a comprehensive and consistent theoretical framework for re-
search and understanding of the human body, its structure, workings and
failings and its reactions to foods, drinks, drugs and the environment.
They further provided fruitful methods and concepts by means of which
medical knowledge could be acquired, interpreted, systematised and com-
municated to scientic communities and wider audiences. And through
their development of historiographical and doxographical discourse, they
placed medicine in a historical setting and thus made a major contribu-
tion to the understanding of how medicine and science originated and
developed.
Aristotle himself was the son of a distinguished court physician and had
a keen interest in medicine and biology, which was further developed by
the members of his school. Aristotle and his followers were well aware of
earlier and contemporary medical thought (Hippocratic Corpus, Diocles
of Carystus) and readily acknowledged the extent to which doctors con-
tributed to the study of nature. This attitude was reected in the reception
of medical ideas in their own research and in the interest they took in the
historical development of medicine. It was further reected in the extent to
which developments in Hellenistic and Imperial medicine (especially the
Alexandrian anatomists and Galen) were incorporated in the later history
of Aristotelianism and in the interpretation of Aristotles works in late anti-
quity. Aristotelianism in turn exercised a powerful inuence on Hellenistic
and Galenic medicine and its subsequent reception in the Middle Ages and
early modern period.
Introduction 15
Yet although all the above may seem uncontroversial, the relationship
between Aristotelianism and medicine has long been a neglected area in
scholarship on ancient medicine. The medical background of Aristotles
biological and physiological theories has long been underestimated by a
majority of Aristotelian scholars and if it was considered at all, it tended to
be subject to gross simplication.
21
Likewise, on the medico-historical side,
the contribution made by Aristotelianism to the development of medicine
has long been largely ignored, especially as far as the later history of the
Peripatetic school is concerned.
22
This seems to be due to a most un-
fortunate disciplinary dividing line between philosophers and historians of
medicine: while the former usedto regardthe medical aspects of Aristotelian
thought as philosophically less interesting, the latter usually did not engage
in Aristotelianism because it was believed to be philosophy not medicine.
These attitudes appear to have been based on what I regard as a misun-
derstanding of the Aristotelian view on the status of medicine as a science
and its relationship to biology and physics, and on the erroneous belief
that no independent medical research took place within the Aristotelian
school. Aristotles distinction between theoretical and practical sciences is
sometimes believed to imply that, while doctors were primarily concerned
with practical application, philosophers only took a theoretical interest in
medical subjects.
23
As we have seen above, there are important exceptions
to this rule; and Aristotles own activities in the medical domain, too, have
been more signicant than has sometimes been appreciated. It is true that
Aristotle was one of the rst to spell out the differences between medicine
and natural philosophy; but, as I argue in chapters 6 and 9, it is often
ignored that the point of the passages in which he does so is to stress
the substantial overlap that existed between the two areas. And Aristotle
is making this point in the context of a theoretical, physicist account of
psycho-physical functions, where he is wearing the hat of the phusikos, the
student of nature; but this seems not to have prevented him from dealing
with more specialised medical topics in different, more practical contexts.
That such more practical, specialised treatments existed is suggested by the
fact that in the indirect tradition Aristotle is credited with several writings
on medical themes and with a number of doctrines on rather specialised
medical topics. And as I argue in chapter 9, one of those medical works
may well be identical to the text that survives in the form of book 10 of his
History of Animals.
21
For a discussion of an example of such simplication see ch. 9.
22
Thus a recent medico-historical textbook like Conrad et al. (1995) devotes only two pages to Aristotle,
and makes no reference at all to Theophrastus or the later Peripatos.
23
For a fuller discussion see ch. 9.
16 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
Fortunately, there have recently been some encouraging signs of interest,
such as the greater scholarly appreciation of Aristotles awareness of, and re-
ceptivity to, Hippocratic and other medical literature (such as Diocles), the
interest taken in early Peripatetic physiological ideas, the opuscula and frag-
ments of Theophrastus, Strato, and the Problems (Problemata physica), and
in the Anonymus Londiniensis.
24
Still, the subject of Aristotles relationship
to medicine is a vast area, and the study of the role of Aristotelianism in
the development of ancient medicine is still in its infancy. Such a project
would rst of all have to cover the reception, transformation and further
development of medical knowledge in the works of Aristotle and the early
Peripatetic school. This would comprise a study of Aristotles views on the
status of medicine, his characterisation of medicine and medical practice,
and his use and further development of medical knowledge in the areas of
anatomy, physiology and embryology; and it would also have to comprise
the (largely neglected) medical works of the early Peripatos, such as the
medical sections of the Problemata and the treatise On Breath, as well as the
works of Theophrastus and Strato on human physiology, pathology and
embryology. It would further have to examine the development of medical
thought in the Peripatetic school in the Hellenistic period and the reception
of Aristotelian thought in the major Hellenistic medical systems of Praxago-
ras, Herophilus, Erasistratus and the Empiricists. Thirdly, it would have to
cover the more striking aspects of Galens Aristotelianism, such as the role
of Aristotelian terminology, methodology, philosophy of science, and tele-
ological explanation in Galens work; and nally, it would have to consider
the impact of developments in medicine after Aristotle for example the
Alexandrian discoveries of the nervous systemand of the cognitive function
of the brain, or the medical theories of Galen on later Aristotelian thought
and on the interpretation of Aristotles biological, physiological and psy-
chological writings in late antiquity by the ancient commentators, such as
Alexander of Aphrodisias, Themistius, Simplicius and John Philoponus, or
by authors such as Nemesius of Emesa and Meletius of Sardes. This is a
very rich and challenging eld, in which there still is an enormous amount
of work to do, especially when articial boundaries between medicine and
philosophy are crossed and interaction between the two domains is con-
sidered afresh.
In the present volume, chapter 9 is a rst step towards such a reassess-
ment. It is concerned with what I claim to be an Aristotelian discussion
24
In addition to older studies by Flashar (1962) and (1966) and Marenghi (1961), see the more recent
titles by King, Manetti, Oser-Grote, Roselli, Fortenbaugh and Repici listed in the bibliography.
Introduction 17
of the question of sterility, a good example of the common ground that
connected doctors and philosophers, in which thinkers like Anaxagoras,
Empedocles, Democritus and Aristotle himself were pursuing very much
the same questions as medical writers like the author of the Hippocratic
embryological treatise On Generation/On the Nature of the Child/On
Diseases 4 or Diocles, and their methods and theoretical concepts were
very similar.
But Aristotles medical and physiological interests are also reected in
non-medical contexts, in particular in the elds of ethics and of psycho-
physiological human functions such as perception, memory, thinking,
imagination, dreaming and desire. Thus his concept of melancholy (ch. 5)
presents a striking case study of an originally medical notion that is sig-
nicantly transformed and applied to a completely new context, namely
Aristotles analysis of the physical causes of exceptional human success or
hopeless failure, both in psychological and in ethical contexts. In the case
of Aristotles theory of sleep and dreams, too, there was a medical tradition
preceding him, which he explicitly acknowledges; but as we will see in
chapter 6, his willingness to accommodate the phenomena observed both
by himself and by doctors and other thinkers before him brings him into
difculties with his own theoretical presuppositions. A similar picture is
provided by the psychology and pathology of rational thinking (ch. 7), an
area in which Aristotle recognises the role of bodily factors in the workings
of the human intellect and where, again, an appreciation of the medical
background of these ideas is helpful to our understanding of Aristotles
own position. And, moving to the domain of ethics, there is a very in-
triguing chapter in the Eudemian Ethics, in which Aristotle tries to give an
explanation for the phenomenon of good fortune (eutuchia), a kind of
luck which makes specic types of people successful in areas in which they
have no particular rational competence (ch. 8). Aristotle tackles here a phe-
nomenon which, just like epilepsy in On the Sacred Disease, was sometimes
attributed to divine intervention but which Aristotle tries to relate to the
human soul and especially to that part of the soul that is in some sort of
intuitive, instinctive way connected with the human phusis the peculiar
psycho-physical make-up of an individual. Thus we nd a naturalisation
very similar to what we get in his discussion of On Divination in Sleep
(see chapter 6). Yet at the same time, and again similar to what we nd
in On the Sacred Disease, the divine aspect of the phenomenon does not
completely disappear: eutuchia is divine and natural at the same time. This
is a remarkable move for Aristotle to make, and it can be better understood
against the background of the arguments of the medical writers. Moreover,
18 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
the phenomenon Aristotle describes has a somewhat peculiar, ambivalent
status: eutuchia is natural yet not fully normal, and although it leads to
success, it is not a desirable state to be in or to rely on and as such it is
comparable to the exceptional performances (the peritton) of the melan-
cholic discussed in chapter 5. We touch here on yet another major theme
that has been fundamental to the development of European thought and
in which ancient medicine has played a crucial role: the close link be-
tween genius and madness, which both nd their origin in the darker, less
controllable sides of human nature.
4 p h i l o s o p h i c a l i n t e r e s t s o f m e d i c a l w r i t e r s
As in the case of the pursuits of the philosophers discussed above, it is,
conversely, no exaggeration to say that what a number of Greek people
whom we regard as medical thinkers were up to is very similar to, or at least
coterminous with these. The fact that many of these writers and their works
have, in the later tradition, been associated with Hippocrates and placed
under the rubric of medicine, easily makes one forget that these thinkers
may have had rather different conceptions of the disciplines or contexts in
which they were working. Thus the authors of such Hippocratic works as
On the Nature of Man, On Fleshes, On the Nature of the Child, On Places in
Man and On Regimen as well as the Pythagorean writer Alcmaeon of Croton
emphatically put their investigations of the human body in a physicist and
cosmological framework. Some of them may have had very little clinical
or therapeutic interest, while for others the human body and its reactions
to disease and treatment were just one of several areas of study. Thus it
has repeatedly been claimed (though this view has been disputed) that
the Hippocratic works On the Art of Medicine and On Breaths were not
written by doctors or medical people at all, but by sophists writing on
technai (disciplines, elds of systematic study with practical application)
for whom medicine was just one of several intellectual pursuits. Be that as
it may, the authors of On Regimen and On Fleshes, for instance, certainly
display interests and methods that correspond very neatly to the agendas of
people such as Anaxagoras and Heraclitus, and the difference is of degree
rather than kind.
A further relevant point here is that what counted as medicine in the
fth and fourth centuries bce was still a relatively uid eld, for which
rival denitions were continuously being offered. And medicine (iatrike ),
like philosophy, was not a monolithic entity. There was very considerable
diversity among Greek medical people, not only between the rational,
Introduction 19
philosophically inspired medicine that we nd in the Hippocratic writings
on the one hand and what is sometimes called the folk medicine practised
by drugsellers, rootcutters and suchlike on the other, but even among more
intellectual, elite physicians themselves. One of the crucial points on which
they were divided was precisely the philosophical nature of medicine the
question of to what extent medicine should be built on the foundation of a
comprehensive theory of nature, the world and the universe. It is interesting
in this connection that one of the rst attestations of the word philosophia
in Greek literature occurs in a medical context the Hippocratic work
On Ancient Medicine where it is suggested that this is not an area with
which medicine should engage itself too much. It is clear from the context
that what the author has in mind is approaches to medicine that take as
their point of departure a general theory about nature (phusis), more in
particular theories that reduce all physical phenomena to unproven postu-
lates (hupotheseis), such as the elementary qualities hot, cold, dry and wet
theories which the author associates with the practice of Empedocles,
who reduced natural phenomena to the interaction and combinations of
the four elements earth, re, water and air. The polemical tone of the
treatise suggests that such philosophical approaches to medicine were be-
coming rather popular, and this is borne out by the extant evidence such
as that provided by the Hippocratic treatises mentioned above. There were
a number of medical authors for whom what we call philosophy would
not have been an inappropriate term to describe their projects regardless
of whether or not they knew and used the term.
To this group certainly belongs the author of the treatise which is de-
servedly one of the most famous writings in the Hippocratic Corpus, On
the Sacred Disease. As I alluded to above, this work has long been read
as the paradigm of Greek fth-century rationalism. And it is certainly
true that this author, in claiming that epilepsy has a nature, is doing
something very similar to what the Presocratics did in inquiring into the
nature (phusis) of things, namely their origin, source of growth and identi-
fying structure be they earthquakes and solar eclipses, or bodily processes
and changes, illnesses, conditions, affections, symptoms, or substances like
foods, drinks, drugs and poisons and the effects they produced on the bod-
ies of human beings. And just like Ionian philosophers such as Anaximenes
and Anaxagoras in their explanations of earthquakes, solar eclipses, thun-
derstorms and other marvellous phenomena, he produces a natural ex-
planation for a phenomenon in his case the so-called sacred disease,
epilepsy that used to be seen as the manifestation of immediate divine
agency. Epilepsy, the author argues, like all other diseases (and, one may
20 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
add, like all other phenomena), has its own nature, its peculiar determined,
normal, stable and self-contained identity. Knowledge of this identity, and
of the regularity that results from this, will allow one to recognise and
understand individual instances of the phenomenon, to predict its future
occurrence and by medical intervention inuence it or even prevent it from
happening or spreading. And in making this claim, the author polemicises
against people whom he calls magicians, quacks, charlatans, who regard
the disease as a form of whimsical, unpredictable divine intervention or
even demonic possession and whose therapeutic practice is determined by
magical beliefs and procedures. He describes the development of the disease
fromits earliest, prenatal and indeed ancestral stages; he identies the brain
as the seat of consciousness (a theme I shall examine in greater depth in
chapter 4) and as the primary organ affected by the disease; he discusses a
whole range of additional factors, both internal and external, that set the
disease in motion or inuence its actual development; and he gives a vivid
account of the various stages of an epileptic seizure, relating each of the
symptoms to a particular underlying physiological cause.
Yet for all the emphasis on the naturalness and rationality of his ap-
proach, we shall see in chapter 1 that the author rules out neither the
divinity of the diseases nor the possibility of divine intervention as such.
He is distinguishing between an appropriate appeal to the gods for puri-
cation fromthe pollution (miasma) of moral transgressions (hamartemata)
that has disturbed the relationship between man and the gods, and an in-
appropriate appeal to the gods for the purication of the alleged pollution
of the so-called sacred disease. This is inappropriate, he says, for diseases
are not sent by a god to say so would be blasphemous, he insists they
are natural phenomena which can be cured by natural means, and they do
not constitute a pollution in the religious sense. The text has often been
read as if the author ruled out divine intervention as such. But in fact,
there is no evidence that he does indeed, he does not even rule out that
gods may cure diseases, if approached in the proper way and on the basis
of appropriate premises.
Such negative readings of the text attributing to the author the ruling
out of all forms of divine intervention have presumably been inspired by
a wishful belief among interpreters to rationalise or secularise Hippo-
cratic medicine a belief possibly inspired by the desire to see Hippocratic
medicine as the forerunner of modern biomedicine, and which can be par-
alleled with interpretative tendencies to demythologise philosophers such
as Parmenides, Pythagoras and Empedocles to make them t our concept
of philosophy more comfortably. Yet recently, there has been a renewed
appreciation of the mythical or religious aspects of early Greek thought,
Introduction 21
and a readiness to take documents such as the Dervenyi papyrus, the in-
troduction of Parmenides poem and the Purications of Empedocles more
seriously. Similar paradigm shifts have taken place in the study of Hip-
pocratic medicine, and there is now a much greater willingness among
interpreters
25
to accept the religious and rational elements as coexistent
and at least in their authors conception compatible. The question is not
so much to disengage fromtheir mythical context those elements which we,
or some of us, regard as philosophically interesting from a contemporary
perspective, but rather to try to see howthose elements t into that context.
Within this approach, the author of On the Sacred Disease can be regarded
as an exponent of a modied or puried position on traditional religious
beliefs without abandoning those beliefs altogether and, as such, he can be
said to have contributed also to the development of Greek religious or the-
ological thought; for his arguments closely resemble those found in Platos
outlines of theology in the second book of the Republic, or, as I said above,
Aristotles arguments against the traditional belief that dreams are sent by
the gods in his On Divination in Sleep (see also chapter 6).
One further, paradoxical aspect of On the Sacred Disease and its alleged
rationality is worth mentioning here. On the one hand, it is probably
the best known of all the Hippocratic writings after the Oath, and its
author (who is widely agreed to be also the author of Airs, Waters, Places)
has often been regarded as one of the most plausible candidates for being
identical with the historical Hippocrates. On the other hand, this is a fairly
recent development, which stands in marked contrast to the rather marginal
position the treatise occupied in ancient perceptions of Hippocrates. It
hardly gures in ancient lists of Hippocratic writings, and it is particularly
striking for its almost complete absence from Galens references to the
Hippocratic Corpus. This is all the more remarkable considering that it is
by far the most suitable piece of evidence for Galens claimthat Hippocrates
held an encephalocentric view of the mind (see chapter 4); there is even
a suggestion that Galen may have regarded the treatise as spurious. This
indicates the changeability of assessments of a treatises importance and
representativeness, and hence the danger of using ancient evaluations as
evidence in the so-called Hippocratic question.
5 m e d i c i n e b e y o n d h i p p o c r a t e s
I have already touched on the great diversity among the writings attributed
to Hippocrates and, at some time long after they were written, assembled
25
See, e.g., Jouanna (1998) and (2003); and Hankinson (1998c).
22 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
under the heading of Hippocratic Corpus. As has been recognised ever
since antiquity, these Hippocratic writings are not the work of one author;
rather, they constitute a heterogeneous group of over sixty treatises, which
display great differences in content and style. None of these writings men-
tion the name of their author, and none provide secure internal evidence
as to date and geographical or intellectual provenance. Whether any of
these works were written by the historical Hippocrates himself and, if so,
which, has been the object of centuries of scholarly debate, but none of the
proposed candidates have found widespread acceptance, and the question
has proved unanswerable.
26
More recently, however, even the assumption
that these works, regardless of the question of their authorship, all derive
directly or indirectly from a Hippocratic medical school or community
on the island of Cos has been exposed as the product of wishful thinking
by scholars (and of anachronistic extrapolation of early twentieth-century
models of medical institutional organisation) rather than something based
on evidence.
27
The upshot of all this is that there is no secure basis for regarding and
studying the Hippocratic writings as a collection and individual writings
as part of such a collection, even though this has been the norm for many
centuries. There is no intrinsic tie that connects these writings more closely
with each other than with the works of other authors, medical and philo-
sophical, of the same period that did not have the good fortune of having
been preserved. It is true that some Hippocratic writings clearly refer or re-
act to each other, or display such great similarities in doctrine and style that
it is likely that they derive from a common background (and in some cases
even from a common author). Yet similarly close connections can be per-
ceived between some of these works and the fragments of some Presocratic
philosophers (e.g. between the author of the Hippocratic On Regimen and
philosophers such as Anaxagoras or Heraclitus), or of non-Hippocratic
medical writers such as Philistion of Locri or Alcmaeon of Croton. To
suggest otherwise a suggestion still implicitly present in most talk of
Hippocratic medicine, Hippocratic thought and so on is in danger of
making misleading use of traditional labels. In fact, it is almost certainly
the case that none of these treatises were conceived and written with a view
to the collection in which later tradition grouped them together (and there
are good reasons to believe that the constitution of a Hippocratic Corpus
happened several centuries after they were written). The only thing the
26
For a discussion see Lloyd (1991a) and Jouanna (1999).
27
See Smith (1990a) for a discussion of the historical evidence.
Introduction 23
Hippocratic writings have in common is that they are written in the Ionic
dialect and that they were, at some stage of their tradition, attributed to,
or associated with, Hippocrates the latter on grounds we in most cases
do not know, and which may have been different from one case to another.
This fact of their being associated with Hippocrates may well have been
the reason why they have been preserved, whereas the works of the many
other medical and philosophical writers who are known to us by name only
survive in fragments. Their attribution to Hippocrates may also have been
the reason why the names of their original authors were suppressed their
anonymity, once stripped of their Hippocratic label, standing in marked
contrast to the condence with which contemporaneous prose authors like
Herodotus and Hecataeus put their names at the beginning of their works.
Whatever the answer to these questions may be, there is no intrinsic reason
to look for a unied doctrine in these works, and the fact that two treatises
have been handed down as part of the Hippocratic collection does not
provide any a priori indication regarding their intellectual afnity.
There is therefore every reason to study the Hippocratic writers in close
connection with the many other medical thinkers that are known to have
worked in the fth and fourth centuries, such as Diocles of Carystus,
Praxagoras of Cos, or the twenty-plus medical writers mentioned in the
Anonymus Londiniensis. Again, the realisation of their importance is a very
recent scholarly development, partly as a result of new discoveries or fresh
examinations of existing evidence;
28
and although their works survive only
in fragments, there is at least one respect in which these authors compare
favourably to the Hippocratic Corpus. They provide an opportunity to
form a picture of individual medical writers which we do not have in
the case of the Hippocratic Corpus, where, because of the anonymity of
the writings, it has become effectively impossible to appreciate the role of
individual doctors in the formation of Greek medicine. By contrast, with
people such as Diocles and Praxagoras, we have a considerable number of
titles of works that they are reported to have authored as well as fragments
reecting a wide range of different areas of interest. And although for
some of these works and areas our evidence is restricted to a few lines, it
nevertheless gives us a good idea of the sheer scope and extent of their
scientic interests and literary activity, which we simply cannot gain in the
case of the writers of the Hippocratic Corpus.
One such non-Hippocratic medical author was Diocles of Carystus,
whose importance in antiquity was rated so highly that he was given the
28
See van der Eijk (2000a) and (2001a); see also Manetti (1999a) and Orelli (1998).
24 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
title of younger Hippocrates or deemed second in age and fame to Hip-
pocrates. He practised in the fourth century bce, and although we know
very little of his life, we can safely assume that he was one of the most promi-
nent medical thinkers of antiquity.
29
His interests ranged widely, and he is
reported to have written at least twenty works (some of themin at least four
books) on a great variety of areas such as anatomy, physiology, digestion,
fevers, prognostics, pathology, therapeutics, bandages, gynaecology, embry-
ology, surgery, dietetics, hygiene and regimen in health, foods, wines, herbs,
vegetables, olive oil, drugs, poisons, sexuality, and possibly also mineralogy
and meteorology. He clearly had a keen interest in the phenomena and in
the practical aspects of medical care, and he rated the results of long-term
medical experience very highly. Yet at the same time Diocles was known for
his theoretical and philosophical outlook and for his tendency to build his
medical views on a general theory of nature. There are good reasons to be-
lieve that he was well in touch with the medical and philosophical thinkers
of his time, that he knew a number of the Hippocratic writings and that
he was familiar with, and to, Aristotle and Theophrastus. Furthermore, he
appears to have positioned himself prominently in the intellectual debates
of the fourth century, and to have played a major role in the communica-
tion of medical views and precepts to wider audiences in Greek society by
means of highly civilised literary writings in the Attic dialect. The basis for
his fame may lie partly in the impressive range of subjects he dealt with,
the almost encyclopaedic coverage of the subject of medicine and allied
sciences such as botany, biology, and possibly mineralogy and meteorology,
the considerable size of his literary production and the stylistic elegance his
work displayed. But a further possible reason may have been Diocles philo-
sophical and theoretical orientation and his tendency to relate his medical
views to more general theoretical views on nature (see frs. 61, 63, 64),
30
just
like the Hippocrates referred to by Socrates in the well-known passage
in Platos Phaedrus (270 cd). For from the remains of his work Diocles
emerges as a very self-conscious scientist with a keen awareness of ques-
tions of methodology, a fundamental belief that treatment of a particular
part of the body cannot be effective without taking account of the body
as a whole (fr. 61) and of the essence of disease (fr. 63), and a strong desire
for systematisation of medical knowledge. Diocles use of notions such as
pneuma, humours and elementary qualities, his use of inference from signs
29
For a collection and discussion of the evidence and an account of Diocles views and historical
importance see van der Eijk (2000a) and (2001a), from which the following paragraph is adapted.
30
References to Diocles fragments are according to the numeration in van der Eijk (2000a).
Introduction 25
(cf. fr. 56), his references to obscure causes (fr. 177), his interest in cogni-
tion, sense-perception and locomotion, and even in the eld of dietetics his
endeavours to develop and systematise dietetics into a detailed regimen for
health and hygiene aimed at disease prevention all this conrms the the-
oretical, philosophical nature of Diocles medical outlook. It must have
been these characteristics which prompted later Greek medical writers to
reckon Diocles among the so-called Dogmatist or Rationalist physicians,
who preferred to base medicine on a proper, theoretical and philosophical
foundation, and who wanted to raise medicine from a craft to a systematic
and explanatory intellectual discipline that obeyed the strict rules of logical
coherence.
Nevertheless, as we have seen, there was also a tradition in antiquity that
represented Hippocrates as being hostile to philosophy, indeed as the one
who liberated medicine as an empirical, practical art aimed at treatment
of diseases from the bondage of theoretical philosophical speculation (cf.
fr. 2). And there is that side to Diocles as well; for, as we shall see in
chapters 2 and 3, several fragments testify to Diocles awareness that the
use of theoretical concepts and explanatory principles constantly has to
be checked against the empirical evidence, and that their appropriateness
to individual circumstances has to be considered time and time again in
each individual case. Diocles reputation as the rst to write a handbook
on anatomy, in which he provided detailed descriptions of all the parts of
the human body including the female reproductive organs, and his status
as one of the leading authorities in the area of gynaecology, as well as the
fame of some of his surgical instruments and bandages all suggest that we
are dealing not only with a writer, communicator and thinker, but also with
an experienced practitioner.
Yet whatever the title of younger Hippocrates means, it certainly does
not imply, and perhaps was not meant to suggest, that Diocles faithfully
followed in the footsteps of the Father of medicine in all respects. For, as we
will see in chapter 2, several fragments of his works bear out that, whatever
the authority of Hippocrates may have been in Diocles time, it did not
prevent Diocles from taking issue with some ideas and practices that are
similar to what is to be found in texts which we call Hippocratic. Diocles
can therefore be regarded as an independent key gure in the interaction
between medicine and natural philosophy (at least in its epistemological
results) in one of the founding periods of Greek science who long exercised a
powerful inuence on later Greek medicine. Diocles provides an important
connection between Hippocratic medicine and Aristotelian science, and he
is a major contributor to the development of early Hellenistic medicine,
26 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
especially because of his anatomical research and discoveries, his views on
physiology, embryology and the role of pneuma, his views on gynaecology,
and his development of a theory of regimen in health, food, and lifestyle,
thus contributing to the increasing inuence of doctors and medical writers
on areas such as hygiene, cookery, gymnastics and sports.
Apart from Diocles more specically medical views, his relationship to
the Hippocratic writers is also manifest in two issues that reect the meta-
medical or philosophical nature of his approach to medicine. First, there
are the principles of Dioclean therapeutics, which are at the heart of the
question about the purposes of medical activity, and especially therapeutic
intervention, in the light of more general considerations regarding the eth-
ical aspects of medical practice and the question of the limits of doctors
competence with regard to areas not strictly concerned with the treatment
of disease (ch. 3). The Hippocratic writings, and especially the famous
Oath, rst of all reect on the duties and responsibilities the doctor has in
relation to the patient, for example in articulating such famous principles
as to do no harm, not to cause death, or in advocating condentiality,
self-restraint, discretion, gentleness, acting without fear or favour. Yet, in-
terestingly, they also emphasise the need for moral and religious integrity
of the practitioner and for correspondence between theory and practice.
Furthermore, in the eld of dietetics, the Hippocratics development of the
notions of moderation, the mean, and the right balance between opposites
provided concepts and ways of thinking that found their way into ethical
discussions as we nd them in Plato and Aristotle; and, paradoxically, their
tendency to naturalise aspects of human lifestyle such as sexual behaviour,
physical exercise, eating and drinking patterns by presenting these in terms
of healthy or harmful provided useful arguments to those participants in
ethical debates stressing the naturalness or unnaturalness of certain forms
of human behaviour.
A further issue that occupied the interests of philosophers as well as
medical writers like the Hippocratic writers and Diocles was the question
of the location of the mind, or the question of the cognitive function of
the heart, the blood and the brain (ch. 4). This was a question that later
attracted great interest in Hellenistic philosophy, where medical evidence
played a major (though by no means decisive) role in the discussion, but
the way for this debate was already paved in the medical writings of the fth
century, though in a slightly different context, for in their discussions of
disease, the Hippocratic writers frequently also discussed mental illness and
other disturbances of the mental, cognitive, behavioural or motor functions
of the body. What is striking here is that in many of these cases the authors
Introduction 27
do not make a categorical distinction between mind and body: all mental
affections are presented as being of a physical nature and having a physical
cause. And even those authors who speak about soul ( psuche ) as distinct
from the body, such as the author of On Regimen, still conceive of the soul
as something physical, whose workings and failings can be described in
material terms for example a particular blend of re and water and
inuenced by dietary measures.
In this connection, a further major medical writer beyond the Hippo-
cratic Corpus must be mentioned. Praxagoras of Cos is usually referred
to in the handbooks of the history of medicine mainly for his discovery
of the difference between veins and arteries, his doctrine of the pulse and
his assumption of the so-called vitreous humour. A closer study of the
extant material reveals interesting philosophical features such as reection
on inference from signs, distinctions between various types of causes and
symptoms; and of course Praxagoras presents a further intriguing exam-
ple of a doctor connecting Hippocratic medical views (after all, he came
from Cos), Alexandrian medicine (he was the teacher of Herophilus) and
Chrysippus and the early Stoa.
Praxagoras thus marks the transition from the classical to what has come
to be knownas the Hellenistic period. Here, again, interactionbetweenthe
domains of philosophy, medicine and science was particularly lively. To do
justice to all the relevant developments of that extremely signicant period
would require a separate volume; some brief remarks must sufce here,
which are important for the understanding of what is at issue in chapters 10
and 11. As in the case of Diocles and Praxagoras, our knowledge of the actual
views held by the main protagonists in Hellenistic medicine is obscured
by the fact that all their works have been lost and the remaining evidence
is fraught with difculties as a result of fragmentation and distortion by
the source-authors. Yet thanks in particular to some recent major scholarly
contributions, both with regard to the ancient philosophical schools and
their cultural context and to medicine and science, our view of the relevant
stages has been signicantly enhanced.
31
First, as I have already mentioned, there is the very signicant role of
Aristotelianism in the development of medical research, as testied by the
fragments of authors in the Peripatetic tradition itself such as Theophrastus
and Strato, or by the compilation of medical ideas as found in the Pseudo-
Aristotelian Problemata physica. But also later Peripatetics such as Clearchus
and Dicaearchus display a keen interest in medical and physiological
31
See especially von Staden (1989), Garofalo (1988) and Guardasole (1997).
28 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
questions; and moving on to the Imperial period, a particular mention
must be made of Alexander of Aphrodisias, the second-century ce philoso-
pher and commentator on Aristotles works. Two works on medical topics
(Medical Problems, On Fevers) are attributed to Alexander, and even though
their authenticity is disputed, there is no question that Alexander had a
great interest in medical issues (from a non-clinical, physiological point of
view). And he is clearly taken seriously as an authority in these areas by his
slightly later contemporary Galen. Furthermore, the two most striking rep-
resentatives of early Hellenistic medicine, Herophilus and Erasistratus, are
both reported to have held close connections with the Peripatetic school.
This is most evident in the case of Erasistratus, whose ideas on mechanical
versus teleological explanation mark a continuation of views expressed by
Theoprastus and Strato and to some extent already by Aristotle himself.
Likewise, Herophilus famous, if enigmatic, aphorism that the phenom-
ena should be stated rst, even if they are not rst, can be connected with
Aristotelian philosophy.
Yet to suggest that Erasistratus and Herophilus were Aristotelians would
do grave injustice to their highly original ideas and the innovative aspects
of their empirical research, such as Herophilus discovery of the nervous
systemandErasistratus dissections of the brainandthe valves of the heart. It
also ignores their connections with developments in other sciences, notably
mechanics, and with other philosophical movements, such as Scepticism
(in particular regarding whether causes can be known) and Stoicism.
The Hellenistic period was also the time in which the medical sects
came into being: Empiricism, DogmatismandMethodism. What separated
these groups was in essence philosophical issues to do with the nature of
medical knowledge, how it is arrived at and how it is justied. The precise
chronological sequence of the various stages in this debate is difcult to
reconstruct, but the theoretical issues that were raised had a major impact
on subsequent medical thinking, especially on the great medical systems of
late antiquity, namely Galens and Methodism.
Galen is one of those authors who have been rediscovered by classicists
and students of ancient philosophy alike, be it for his literary output,
his mode of self-presentation and use of rhetoric, the picture he sketches
of the intellectual, social and cultural milieus in which he works and of
the traditions in which he puts himself, and the philosophical aspects of
his thought both his originality and his peculiar blends of Platonism,
Hippocratism and Aristotelianism. Galens work, voluminous in size as
well as in substance, represents a great synthesis of earlier thinking and at
the same time a systematicity of enormous intellectual power, breadth and
Introduction 29
versatility. In chapter 10, I shall consider Galens theoretical considerations
about pharmacology, andinparticular his views onthe relationshipbetween
reason and experience. Although in the eld of dietetics and pharmacology
he is particularly indebted to the Empiricists, his highly original notion of
qualied experience represents a most fortunate combination of reason
and experience; and one of Galens particular strengths is his exibility
in applying theoretical and experiential approaches to different domains
within medical science and practice.
Among Galens great rivals were the Methodists, a group of medical
thinkers and practitioners that was founded in the rst century bce but
came to particular fruition in the rst and second centuries ce, especially
under their great leader Soranus. Although their approach to medicine was
emphatically practical, empirical and therapy-oriented, their views present
interesting philosophical aspects, for example in epistemology and in the as-
sumption of some kind of corpuscular theory applied to the human body.
Regrettably, most works written by the Methodists survive only in frag-
ments, and much of the evidence is biased by the hostile lter of Galens
perception and rhetorical presentation.
32
It is therefore most fortunate that
we have a direct Methodist voice speaking in the work of Caelius Aure-
lianus, the (presumably) fth-century ce author of several medical works,
including twomajor treatises onacute andchronic diseases. Caelius has long
been dismissed as an unoriginal author who simply translated the works of
Soranus into Latin. However, recent scholarship has begun to appreciate
Caelius originality and to examine his particular version of Methodism.
33
My discussion (chapter 11) of a number of epistemological issues in Caelius
work such as causal explanation, denition, inference from signs, and rea-
son and experience, ties in with this recent development.
6 t h e t e x t u a l i t y a n d i n t e r t e x t u a l i t y
o f m e d i c i n e a n d p h i l o s o p h y
We have seen that ancient medicine and ancient philosophy, rather than be-
ing completely separate disciplines, interacted and overlapped in a number
of ways. This overlap not only concerned the ideas, concepts and method-
ologies they entertained, but also the ways and forms in which they ex-
pressed and communicated these ideas, the modalities of dissemination
and persuasion, and the settings in which they had to work and present
32
For a collection of the fragments of the Methodists see now Tecusan (2004).
33
See Mudry (1999).
30 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
their ideas. I touch here on a further aspect in which the study of ancient
medicine and philosophy has recently been contextualised, and in this
case the impetus has come from a third area of research we need to consider
briey because of its particular relevance to the papers collected in this
volume, namely the eld of textual studies or, to use a more recent and
specic term,discourse analysis.
One only needs to point to the twenty-two volumes of K uhns edition
of the works of Galen or the ten tomes of Littr es edition of the works of
Hippocrates to realise that ancient medical literature has been remarkably
well preserved, at least compared with many other areas of classical Greek
and Latin literature. While much philological spade-work has been done to
make these texts more accessible, especially in projects such as the Corpus
MedicorumGraecorumor the Collection des Universites de France, many parts
of this vast corpus of literature, to which newly discovered texts continue
to be added, still await further investigation.
There still is, of course, a great basic demand for textual studies, edi-
tions, translations, commentaries and interpretative analyses and in this
respect, the triennial conferences on Greek and Latin medical texts have
proved remarkably fruitful. Yet apart from this, there is an increasing in-
terest being taken in medical, scientic and philosophical texts, not just
because of their intellectual contents but also from the point of view of
linguistics, literary studies, discourse analysis, narratology, ethnography of
literature (orality and literacy), rhetoric and communication studies. This
is related to a growing scholarly awareness of the communicative and com-
petitive nature of Greek medicine and science. Greek doctors, philosophers,
astronomers and mathematicians had to impress their audiences, to per-
suade them of their competence and authority, to attract customers and to
reassure them that they were much better off with them than with their
rivals. Medical, scientic and philosophical texts functioned in a specic
setting, with a particular audience and purpose, and served as vehicles not
only for the transmission of ideas but also for the assertion of power and
authority.
These developments have given rise to a whole new eld of studies and
questions regarding the ways in which knowledge was expressed and com-
municated in the ancient world: the modes of verbal expression, technical
idioms, stylistic registers and literary genres that were available to people
who laid a claim to knowledge (healers, scientists, philosophers) in order
to convey their views to their fellows, colleagues and their wider audiences;
the rhetorical strategies they employed in order to make their ideas intel-
ligible, acceptable, or even fashionable; the circumstances in which they
Introduction 31
had to present their ideas, and the audio-visual means (writing facilities,
diagrams, opportunities for live demonstration) they had at their disposal;
the interests and the expectations of their audiences, and the ways in which
these inuenced the actual form of their writings; and the respects in which
scientic, or technical, or expert language or discourse differed from
ordinary and literary language and discourse.
After many years of considerable neglect, the last two decades have thus
seen a signicant increase in attention being given to the forms of ancient
scientic writing, especially among students of the Hippocratic Corpus, but
also, for example, onLatinmedical literature, with some studies focusing on
strictly linguistic and textual characteristics, while others have attempted
to relate such characteristics to the wider context in which the texts were
produced.
34
Again, it is important to view these developments in their wider con-
text. First, general trends in the study of rhetoric and discourse analysis,
in particular the study of non-literary texts such as advertisements, legal
proceedings, minutes of meetings, political pamphlets and medical reports,
the study of rhetoric and persuasive strategies in apparently neutral scien-
tic writings, and the development of genre categories based on function
rather than form have led to a growing awareness among classicists that
even such seemingly unartistic, non-presumptuous prose writings as the
extant works of Aristotle, the Elements of Euclid and the notebook-like
Hippocratic Epidemics do have a structure which deserves to be studied
in its own right, if only because they have set certain standards for the
emergence and the subsequent development of the genre of the scientic
treatise (tractatus) in Western literature. It is clear, for example, to any
student of Aristotle that, however impersonal the tone of his works may be
and however careless the structure of his argument may appear, his writings
nonetheless contain a hidden but undeniable rhetoric aimed at making the
reader agree with his conclusions, for example in the subtle balance be-
tween condent explanation and seemingly genuine uncertainty, resulting
in a careful alternation of dogmatic statements and exploratory suggestions.
The study of these formal characteristics has further been enriched by
a growing appreciation of the role of non-literal, or even non-verbal as-
pects of communication (and conversely, the non-communicative aspects
of language). Aesthetics of reception, ethnography of literature and studies
in orality and literacy have enhanced our awareness of the importance of
34
For more detailed discussion and bibliographical references see van der Eijk (1997), from which the
following paragraphs are excerpted.
32 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
the situation in which a text has, or is supposed to have, functioned, for
example the audience for whom it is intended (as distinct from the audi-
ence by whom it has actually been received), the conditions in which it has
been produced, published and performed, the medium in which it has
been transmitted, and so on. Here, again, discourse studies and ethnogra-
phy of literature have provided useful instruments of research, for example
D. Hymes analysis of the speech event into a number of components that
can, not without some irony, be listed according to the initial letters of the
word speaki ng:
setting (time, place, and other circumstances),
scene (e.g. didactic, general or specialised audience, informal communi-
cation or festive occasion),
participants (speaker/writer, hearer/reader, addressee),
ends (objective of communication, e.g. conveying information, persua-
sion, entertainment),
act sequences (style, linguistic structure of the speech act),
keys (tone of communication, e.g. ironic, emotional),
instrumentalities (medium of communication: oral/written, letter/fax/
e-mail, illustrations, dialect, technical language),
norms (stylistic, social, scholarly),
genres.
35
Though not all of these components are equally relevant in each particular
case, models like this doprovide a heuristic frameworkwhichmay be helpful
to the understanding of the actual linguistic form of any text, including sci-
entic texts. Arecent German collection of articles on Wissensvermittlung
(transmission of knowledge) in the ancient world gives an impression
of the kind of questions and answers envisaged from such an integrated
approach.
36
Thus a number of syntactic peculiarities of texts like some of
the case histories of patients in the Hippocratic Epidemics might better be
accounted for on the assumption that they represent private notes made
by doctors for their own use; but further renement of such an explana-
tion comes within reach when stylistic variations within the Epidemics are
related to a development in scientic writing towards greater audience-
orientedness.
At this point, a most fortunate connection can be perceived between
linguistically inspired approaches within classical philology and the recent
surge of a contextual approach in the history of science, whereby the text
is seen as an instrument for scientists and practising doctors to use to dene
35
Hymes (1972) 58ff.
36
Kullmann and Althoff (1993).
Introduction 33
and assert themselves, to establish the position of their profession and to
gain authority and power.
37
To be sure, the rhetorical nature of some of the
Hippocratic writings has not been completely overlooked; but it used to be
regarded with disdain and suspicion by scholars (such as Diels), apparently
on the assumption that this was sheer stylistic, meaningless embellishment
used in order to mask lack of substance, and consequently the authors of
works such as On the Art of Medicine and On Breaths were deprecatingly
labelled as iatrosophists.
38
Historians of ancient science, however, have
recently pointed to the competitive setting in which Greek scientists had to
work and to the rhetorical devices doctors had to use to attract customers in
what has appropriately been called the medical marketplace:
39
in a situa-
tion where no independently recognised qualications and certicates were
available and where everyone could call himself doctor, the Hippocratic
physicians had to assert themselves not only against people they perceived
as drugsellers, quacks, magicians and practitioners of temple-medicine, but
also against intellectuals (such as Empedocles) who advocated healing on
the basis of philosophical postulates. Again, the variations the Hippocratic
Corpus displays with regard to the use of rhetoric (not only the well-known
Gorgianic gures of speech but also argumentative techniques, analogies,
metaphors, etc.) admit of greater appreciation and explanation if the so-
cial and cultural context (or, in Hymes terminology, setting and scene) in
which they were intended to function is taken into account.
40
Finally, evenwithinthe traditional, content-orientedapproachto ancient
scientic writing, there has been a growing awareness of the relevance of the
particular communicative situation of the text to its interpretation, such as
the audience for whom the text was intended or the occasion for which it
was produced. Such an awareness has led to greater caution in the establish-
ment of doctrinal parallels or inconsistencies between different works of
the same author, which would have been used as evidence of a development
in doctrine or even as a basis for declaring a work genuine or spurious. (We
will see interesting examples of this in chapters 8 and 9 below.) Indeed, it has
prompted greater restraint in the establishment of the authors intention
(in so far as it may be questioned whether it is appropriate to speak of an
author incases such as the Hippocratic Epidemics). Such cautionis inspired
by a consideration of differences in genesis (single or multiple authorship),
status (e.g. data collection, introductory work, rhetorical pamphlet, or
37
See Barton (1994); Lloyd (1979); van der Eijk, Horstmanshoff and Schrijvers (1995).
38
For a critical discussion of this concept see Jouanna (1988a) 48.
39
Nutton (1992).
40
On polemical writing in the Hippocratic Corpus see Ducatillon (1977).
34 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
comprehensive systematic account), intended audience (e.g. specialists or
laymen), occasion (e.g. oral performance or written communication), and
so on. Thus it has been attempted to relate varying degrees of philosophical
sophistication in some of Platos dialogues to differences between the au-
diences for whom they were intended (as indicated by the contribution of
the interlocutors),
41
and something similar has been attempted with regard
to differences in method and to some extent also doctrine between the
three treatises on ethics preserved in the Aristotelian Corpus.
42
Likewise,
in some cases apparent inconsistencies in one and the same Aristotelian
work can better be accounted for on the assumption of a didactic strategy
of the work and a progressive character of the exposition,
43
whereby the
reader is psychagogically led to a number of new insights, which may be
renements or indeed modications of views put forward in an earlier stage
of the treatise.
Similar formal characteristics of medical and philosophical texts affecting
the interpretation or evaluation of particular passages and their relation
to other passages in the same work or in other works lie in the eld of
genre, where, again, the sheer variety in forms of expression is particularly
striking. When, how and for what purposes prose came to be used for
the transmission of knowledge in the late sixth century bce and why
some writers (such as Parmenides and Empedocles, or in later times Aratus
and Nicander) preferred to write in verse when prose was available as an
alternative, is not inall cases easy tosay. Yet the Hippocratic Corpus provides
opportunities to gainsome idea of the process of text-productionand genre-
formation, and one can argue that medicine has played a decisive role in
the formation of scientic literature.
The variety of forms of writing referred to above is manifest already
within the Hippocratic Corpus itself. Some works (e.g. most of the
gynaecological texts) show hardly any organisation and present themselves
as seemingly unstructured catalogues of symptoms, prescriptions, recipes,
and suchlike, though in some cases (e.g. Epidemics books 1 and 3) this
lack of structure is only apparent. Other works, however (e.g. Airs, Waters,
Places; On the Sacred Disease ; On the Nature of Man), show a degree of care
and elaboration on account of which they deserve a much more prominent
place than they now occupy in chapters on prose in Greek literature.
The Corpus Aristotelicumpresents different problems. Here we do have
a large body of texts generally agreed to be by one author (although there
41
Rowe (1992).
42
For a summary of this discussion see Flashar (1983) 244; see also Lengen (2002).
43
Kahn (1966) 56.
Introduction 35
is disagreement about the authenticity of some of them). Yet any general
account of Aristotles philosophy is bound to begin with a discussion of the
problems posed by the formand status of his writings. Do they represent the
lecture notes writtenby Aristotle himself onthe basis of whichhe presented
his oral teaching? Or are they to be takenas the minutes or verbatims of his
oral teaching as written down by his pupils? Certainly, some characteristics
of his works may be interpreted as evidence of oral presentation;
44
and with
some (parts) of his works it is not easy to imagine how they might have
been understood without additional oral elucidation although this may
be a case of our underestimating the abilities of his then audience and an
extrapolation of our own difculties in understanding his work. However,
other parts of his work are certainly far too elaborate to assume such a
procedure.
45
Some works display a careful structure of argumentationwhich
may well be understood by reference to an audience which is supposed
to go through a learning process; and certainly the dialectical passages
where he deals with the views of his predecessors reect a very elaborate
composition.
46
All in all, it is clear that not much is gained by premature
generalisations and unreective categorisations (such as lecture notes),
47
and that we should allow for considerable variation in forms of expression
and degree of linguistic and structural organisation between the various
works in the Corpus Aristotelicum.
A further point that has attracted considerable attention is the relation
between orality and literacy. Although the details and the precise signi-
cance of the process are disputed, the importance of the transition from
orality to literacy for Greek culture and intellectual life can hardly be over-
stated. Since the majority of the Hippocratic writings were produced in the
late fth and early fourth centuries bce, the Corpus testies in a variety of
ways to this transition. Thus it can safely be assumed that several treatises,
especially the older gynaecological works On Diseases of Women and On
the Nature of the Woman, which contain long catalogues of prescriptions
and recipes, preserve traditional knowledge which has been transmitted
orally over a number of generations. Moreover, several treatises explicitly
refer to oral presentations of medical knowledge, such as the author of On
44
For examples see F ollinger (1993) and van der Eijk (1994) 97; for direct references to the teaching
situation see Bod e us (1993) 8396.
45
E.g. Metaphysics 1.1 or Nicomachean Ethics (Eth. Nic.) 4.3; for other examples see Sch utrumpf (1989)
and Lengen (2002).
46
E.g. Generation of Animals 1.1718.
47
On the problems inherent in this notion see Sch utrumpf (1989) 17880 with notes 12, 13, 17, 23 and
26.
36 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
Ancient Medicine
48
and the author of On Diseases 1, who seems to refer
to a similar situation of public question and answer on medicine.
49
It is
by no means inconceivable that some of the medical works preserved in
the Hippocratic Corpus were actually delivered orally for a predominantly
non-specialist audience, some possibly in the setting of a rhetorical contest;
and it is quite possible that, for example, On the Sacred Disease was among
this group too. Such a situation is almost certainly envisaged by the au-
thors of the two rhetorically most elaborate works preserved in the Corpus,
the already mentioned On the Art of Medicine and On Breaths, in which
Gorgianic gures of speech and sound effects abound, such as parallelism,
antithesis and anaphora.
50
As mentioned above, it has long been doubted
whether these works were actually written by doctors; yet their style and
character t in very well with the competitive setting of ancient medicine
referred to earlier, and they are apparently aimed at self-denition and self-
assertion of a discipline whose scientic nature (techne ) was not beyond
dispute.
However, the oral transmission of medical knowledge not only served the
purpose of self-presentation to a larger, non-specialised audience, but also
had a didactic, educational justication: medicine being the practical art
it naturally is, the importance of oral teaching and direct contact between
the teacher and the pupil is repeatedly stressed. Thus both Aristotle and
his medical contemporary Diocles of Carystus acknowledge the usefulness
of written knowledge for the medical profession, but they emphasise that
48
The author of On Ancient Medicine begins his work by referring to all who have attempted to speak or
to write on medicine and who have assumed for themselves a postulate as a basis for their discussion
(1.1, 1.570 L.); and later on, in ch. 20 of the same work, he expresses his disdain for whatever has
been said or written down by a sophist or a doctor about nature (20.2, 1.622 L.). Likewise, the author
of On the Nature of Man refers to an audience used to listening to people who speak about the nature
of man beyond what is relevant for medicine (ch. 1, 6.32 L.); and further on in the same chapter he
describes how the people referred to are engaged in a rhetorical contest in which they try to gain the
upper hand in front of an audience: The best way to realise this is to be present at their debates.
Given the same debaters and the same audience, the same man never wins in the discussion three
times in succession, but now one is victor, now another, now he who happens to have the most glib
tongue in the face of the crowd. Yet it is right that a man who claims correct knowledge about the
facts should maintain his own argument victorious always, if his knowledge be knowledge of reality
and if he set it forth correctly. But in my opinion such men by their lack of understanding overthrow
themselves in the words of their very discussions, and establish the theory of Melissus (6.34 L., tr.
Jones in Jones and Withington (192331) vol. i v, 5).
49
Anyone who wishes to ask correctly about healing, and, on being asked, to reply and rebut correctly,
must consider the following . . . When you have considered these questions, you must pay careful
attention in discussions, and when someone makes an error in one of these points in his assertions,
questions, or answers . . . then you must catch himthere and attack himin your rebuttal, On Diseases
1.1 (6.1402 L., tr. Potter (1988) vol. v, 99101).
50
A comprehensive account of these stylistic devices can be found in Jouannas edition of the two
works; Jouanna (1988a) 1024 and 16973.
Introduction 37
this is not sufcient and of no use to those lacking the experience to put it
into practice.
51
For what we know about the history of medical education
in the ancient world, these remarks indeed reect the standard situation.
52
The tradition of the viva vox as the preferred mode of teaching (not only in
medicine) continued also in times in which literacy had established itself
and in which medical literature was available on a very large scale; even
Galen, the most learned physician of antiquity, who frequently recom-
mends the use of the medical books written by the great authorities of
the past, stresses the importance of learning from the master by direct oral
teaching.
53
All these references suggest that at least some of the medical works pre-
served inthe Hippocratic Corpus were presented orally, and also that proba-
bly the majority of writtentexts were usedincombinationwithoral teaching
and transmission of knowledge. This means that they were not intended to
stand on their own, and this fact may provide an explanation for some of
the formal peculiarities they display and for some of the difculties involved
in their interpretation.
54
At the same time, however, the Hippocratic writings refer on numerous
occasions to written information that is available and should be taken into
account.
55
Thus at Epidemics 3.16 (3.100 L.) it is said that an important com-
ponent of the medical art is the ability to form a correct judgement about
what has been written down (ta gegrammena), that is, the case histories
of patients that have been put down in writing. Very similar instructions
are found elsewhere in the Corpus, suggesting that this use of written
information probably in addition to oral information and the doctors
own observations is by no means something self-evident, but needs to be
encouraged and to be done correctly. It is further noted at several points
51
In a comparison between legislation and medicine, Aristotle says: Neither do men appear to become
expert physicians on the basis of medical books. Yet they try to discuss not only general means of
treatment, but also how one might cure and how one should treat each individual patient, dividing
them according to their various habits of body; these [discussions] appear to be of value for men
who have had practical experience, but they are useless for those who have no knowledge about the
subject (Eth. Nic. 1181 b 26; cf. Politics 1287 a 35). And a report about Diocles reply to someone who
claimed to have purchased a medical book (iatrikon biblion) and therefore to be no longer in need
of instruction makes the same point: Books are reminders for those who have received teaching,
but they are gravestones to the uneducated (fr. 6).
52
See Kudlien (1970).
53
Galen, On the Powers of Foodstuffs 1.1.47 (6.480 K.); On the Mixtures and Powers of Simple Drugs 6,
proem (11.791 K.); On the Composition of Drugs according to Places 6.1 (12.894 K.).
54
The brevity andobscurity of the Hippocratic writings were already notedandexplainedas a deliberate
strategy by Galen; see the references mentioned by Langholf (1977) 11 n. 5, and the discussion by
Sluiter (1995a).
55
The evidence has been conveniently assembled by K. Usener (1990).
38 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
that a particular observation is worth writing down (axion graphes);
56
and
an interesting passage in On Regimen in Acute Diseases refers to initial codi-
cation (sungraphein) of the Cnidian sentences and subsequent revision
(epidiaskeuazesthai) by a later generation in the light of further discoveries
and growing experience (2.2248 L.). Another remarkable reference to the
use of written records is to be found at Epidemics 6.8.7 (5.346 L.), where
a section of text is introduced by the words (data) derived from the small
writing-tablet (ta ek tou smikrou pinakidiou), suggesting that the author
is drawing on an existing collection (an archive or database) of informa-
tion.
57
As Langholf has suggested, the fact that many chapters or sections
in the Hippocratic Epidemics are of approximately the same length, may
be explained by reference to the material conditions in which information
was stored, such as the size of writing-tablets.
58
These passages indicate that the Hippocratic writers gradually realised
the importance of written documents for the preservation and transmission
of knowledge; also that they regarded these written records not as the in-
tellectual property of one person, but as a common reservoir of knowledge
accessible to a group of physicians (who copied and used the same informa-
tion more than once, as can be seen from the doublets in the Hippocratic
writings) and admitting of additions and changes by this same group of
physicians. The signicance of this for our understanding of these texts can
hardly be overstated. Rather than claiming that in the case of Hippocratic
medicine the transition from orality to literacy brought about a change in
mental attitude and even in thinking, as has been suggested by Miller and
Lonie,
59
it seems more likely that, conversely, the development of prose
writing, and the various forms in which the Hippocratic writers expressed
themselves, is to be understood as a consequence of new ways of thinking
or rather as the result of a new attitude towards knowledge, resulting in
a desire to store data gained by practical experience, to systematise them
and to make them accessible for future use. It seems very likely that the
Hippocratic authors regarded writing as an instrument for the organisation
of knowledge concerning a great variety of phenomena, that is, not only
in order to prevent knowledge from being forgotten a desire they shared
with, for example Herodotus but also to keep knowledge available for
56
On Regimen in Acute Diseases 3 (2.238 L.); 16 (2.254 L.); On Joints 10 (4.104 L.).
57
For a discussion of this phrase, and in general of the material conditions for writing in the Hippocratic
Corpus, see Langholf (1989a); Nieddu (1993); Althoff (1993). Cf. also the Hippocratic Prorrheticon
2.4 (9.20 L.).
58
Langholf (1989a).
59
G. L. Miller (1990); Lonie (1983); more in general Goody (1968) and Havelock (1982a).
Introduction 39
practical application. And it seems entirely reasonable that medicine (rather
than, say, mathematics or astronomy) should play this part: for, on the one
hand, the empirical data reected in case histories such as the Epidemics
must soon have reached such unmanageable proportions and such a high
degree of detail that it could not possibly be remembered; so there was a
need for storage of information based on the belief that such information
might remain useful. On the other hand, since medicine was incessantly
confronted with new cases in which existing knowledge had to be applied
or against which it had to be checked and, if necessary, modied, it had to
be accessible in a conveniently retrievable form.
If all this is plausible, the emergence of the Hippocratic writings and
especially the variety of forms they display can be seen as a result of the
need for organisation of knowledge and research a need arising also from
the fact that their authors must have formed a community of scholars
rather than being single scientists working independently. This might also
suggest an alternative explanation of why all the Hippocratic writings are
anonymous (cf. p. 23): while the works of Herodotus and Hecataeus of
Miletus begin with a statement of the authors name, and this seems also
to have been the case with medical writers such as Alcmaeon of Croton,
the Hippocratic writings do not bear the name of their authors which
is not to deny that they are written by very self-conscious people who are
much more prominently and explicitly present in the text (with personal
pronouns and rst-person verb forms) than, say, Aristotle.
In the course of the fourth century the collection and organisation of
knowledge was further implemented and applied to a much broader area
by Aristotle and his pupils (or colleagues), and a similar process of data
preservation, common intellectual property and exchange of information
evidently took place in the Lyceum.
60
The above points illustrate in what respects a contextual approach to
medical and philosophical texts allows a better understanding of a number
of their formal features. More could be said from a contextual point of view
about these and other features of medical and philosophical discourse. For
example, there is the formation of a scientic terminology and its relation
to ordinary language, with stylistic and syntactic anomalies such as the
use of shorthand (brachylogy), aphoristic style and formulaic language,
or structural characteristics such as ring composition, paragraph division,
use of introductory and concluding formulae and other structuring de-
vices. Particularly interesting is the presence or absence of the author in
60
See Ostwald and Lynch (1992).
40 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
the text, for example by means of the use of the rst person singular in
expressions like I state or it seems to me, often lending great force to
what is being claimed,
61
or by means of the presence of direct addresses to
the reader or hearer. Furthermore, of great interest are the use of rhetorical
questions, formulae for ctional objections, modes of argument used by
the Hippocratic writers, Diocles and Aristotle, the use of metaphors and
analogies, and patterns of thought, such as antithesis, binary or quaternary
schemata, the various forms of overstatement, or the ways in which ancient
scientic writers, just like orators, tried to convey a certain ethos (in the
ancient rhetorical sense of personality) to their audiences, for example by
presenting themselves in a certain way or assuming a certain pose with re-
gard to their audience and their subject matter.
62
We can think here of the
exploratory style of some of Aristotles works, where an impression of uncer-
tainty on the authors part may be intended to suggest to the audience that
the author knows just as little about the subject matter as they do and thus
invite them to think along with him or to raise objections. Alternatively,
the author may present himself as a venerable authority, as a schoolmas-
ter ready to praise good suggestions and to castigate foolish answers, as a
dispassionate self-deprecating seeker of the truth, or a committed human
being who brings the whole of his life experience to bear on the subject he is
dealing with, and so on. As many readers of this volume will be aware from
their own experience with communication to academic audiences, these
are different styles of discourse, with different stylistic registers, types of ar-
gument, appeals to the audience, commonplaces, and suchlike; what they
were like in the ancient world deserves to be described, and the attempt
should be made to detect patterns, and perhaps systematicity, in them.
Ancient scientists, like orators, had an interest in captatio benevolentiae and
were aware of the importance of strategies such as a rhetoric of modesty,
a rhetoric of condence. In this respect the dialogues of Plato provide
good examples of these attitudes, and they may serve as starting-points for
similar analysis of scientic writing which is not in the form of a dialogue.
The works of Galen present a particularly promising area of study, for
one can hardly imagine a more self-conscious, rhetorical, argumentative,
polemicising and manipulating ancient scientic writer than the doctor
61
In chapter 1 we shall see an interesting example of a signicant alternation of singular and plural
by the author of On the Sacred Disease, where the author cleverly tries to make his audience feel
involved in a course of religious action which he defends and indeed opposes to the magical one
advocated by his opponents.
62
See Lloyd (1987b) for a discussion of the alternation of dogmatism and uncertainty in ancient
scientic writing.
Introduction 41
from Pergamum. And, as I have shown elsewhere, the works of Caelius
Aurelianus present a further example of medical literature full of rhetorical
and argumentative reworks.
63
The topics discussed above may give some idea of the problems to be
addressed in a study of the forms of ancient scientic writing and showhow
such a study should not focus exclusively on linguistic and textual matters,
but take into account also the contexts and circumstances that inuence
the form a scientic speech act takes. At the same time, it will have become
clear that these formal aspects of Greek and Latin medical writing are of
great signicance when it comes to the use of these texts as sources for
what used to be seen as the primary jobs of the medical historian, namely
the reconstruction of the nosological reality of the past and of the human
response to this reality.
7 h i s t o r i o g r a p h y , t r a d i t i o n a n d
s e l f - d e f i n i t i o n
When discussing the rhetoric of ancient medical, scientic and philosophi-
cal discourse, one further, related development in scholarship may nally be
mentioned here briey: the study of the self-denition or Selbstverst andnis
of Greek and Roman scientic writers, especially their understanding of
their own discipline and its historicity, and the way in which that under-
standing was expressed, both explicitly and implicitly, in their own work.
I have dealt with this area more elaborately in a separate collaborative vol-
ume on medical doxography and historiography.
64
It has, of course, long
been realised that reection on the achievements of the past was, from the
earliest stages of Greek thought up to late antiquity, an integral part of most
intellectual projects of some ambition and profoundly inuenced scientic
and philosophical practice and research as well as theoretical reection and
rhetorical presentationof ideas. Many ancient medical writers, philosophers
and scientists (as well as historians) regarded themselves as part of a long
tradition, and they explicitly discussed the value of this tradition, and their
own contribution to it, in a prominent part of their own written work, often
in the preface. Yet, more recently, scholarship has drawn attention to the
large variety of ways in which ancient scientic and philosophical discourse
received and reused traditional material and to the many different purposes
and strategies the description of this material served. Ancient writers on
science and philosophy received and constructed particular versions of the
63
See van der Eijk (1999c).
64
See van der Eijk (1999a), especially ch. 1.
42 Medicine and Philosophy in Classical Antiquity
history of their own subject, which were the product of a sometimes long,
possibly distorting and inevitably selective process of transmission, inter-
pretation, recycling and updating. The modalities of these processes have
turned out to be very complicated indeed, and it has become clear that the
subject of tradition in ancient thought comprises much more than just
one authoritative thinker exercising inuence on another.
Our understanding of doxography and other genres of ancient intel-
lectual historiography has been signicantly enhanced over the last two
decades, and it has contributed to a greater appreciation of the various
dimensions textual, subtextual and intertextual of much Greek and
Roman philosophical and medical discourse. In particular, it has shed
further light on the possible reasons behind the ways in which ideas are
presented in texts and the modes in which ancient authors contextualise
themselves, aspects which are of great relevance to the interpretation and
evaluation of these ideas.
p a r t i
Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
c h a p t e r 1
The theology of the Hippocratic treatise
On the Sacred Disease
1 i n t r o d u c t i o n
The author of the Hippocratic treatise On the Sacred Disease is renowned
for his criticism of magical and superstitious conceptions and modes of
treatment of epilepsy. He has been credited with attempting a natural
or rational explanation of a disease which was generally believed to be
of divine origin and to be curable only by means of apotropaeic ritual
and other magical instruments.
1
One interesting point is that he does not
reject the divine character of the disease, but modies the sense in which
this disease (and, as a consequence of this conception, all diseases) may be
regarded as divine: not in the sense that it is sent by a god, for example
as a punishment,
2
and is to be cured by this same god,
3
but that it shares
in the divine character of nature in showing a xed pattern of cause and
effect and in being subordinated to what may perhaps be called, somewhat
anachronistically, a natural law or regularity.
4
On the basis of these positive statements on the divine character of the
disease various interpreters have tried to deduce the writers theology or
religious beliefs, and to relate this to the development of Greek religious
thought in the fth century.
5
The details of this reconstruction will concern
us later; for the present purpose of clarifying the issue of this chapter it
sufces to say that in this theology the divine is regarded as an immanent
This chapter was rst published in Apeiron 23 (1990) 87119.
1
On the various possible reasons why epilepsy was regarded as a sacred disease see Temkin (1971)
610.
2
On the moral and non-moral aspects of pollution by a disease see Parker (1983) 235ff.
3
On the principle that he who inicted the injury will also provide the cure ( trsav ka setai),
as on other details of this belief, see Ducatillon (1977) 15979. The identity, claims and practices of
the magicians have also been studied by Lanata (1967); Temkin (1971) 1015; D olger (1922) 35977;
Moulinier (1952) 1347; Nilsson (1955) 798800.
4
On the meaning of the word divine (theios) and on the divinity of diseases see section 2 below.
5
Edelstein (1967a) 20546; Kudlien (1977) 26874; Lain-Entralgo (1975) 31519; Lloyd (1975c) 116;
Lloyd (1979) ch. 1; H. W. Miller (1953) 115; Nestle (1938) 116; N orenberg (1968); Thivel (1975);
Vlastos (1945) 581.
45
46 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
natural principle (or as a certain group of concrete natural factors) and is no
longer conceived as something supernatural. Consequently the inuence,
or the manifestations, of the divine are regarded as natural processes and
no longer as supernatural interventions of gods within natural or human
situations. On this view, the writer of On the Sacred Disease may be seen
as the exponent of a rationalistic or naturalistic religiosity, or in any
case as an adherent of a more advanced way of thinking about the divine,
which can be observed in some of the Presocratic philosophers as well (e.g.
Xenophanes, Anaximander; see n. 14 below), and which resembles opinions
found in the Sophistic movement, in some of the tragedies of Euripides
and in the Histories of Thucydides.
On the other hand, it has been recognised by several interpreters
6
that the
authors criticism of the magicians, which occupies the entire rst chapter
of the treatise (and which is echoed several times later on),
7
reects an
authentic religious conviction. This applies particularly to his repeated
accusations of impiety (asebeia) and even atheism (atheos) in sections 1.28
30 (6.35860 L.) and 1.39ff. (6.362ff. L.). In these passages the author shows
himself botha defender of religionanda critic of magic: he expresses denite
opinions on what he believes to be the different domains of human action
and divine action (1.2531, 6.35860 L.) and on the nature of the divine in its
relation to man (1.45, 6.364 L.), and he makes stipulations concerning the
truly pious manner of approaching the gods and making an appeal to their
cleansing power (1.41, 6.362 L.; 1.42, 6.362 L.; 1.46, 6.364 L.). The religious
belief which apparently underlies these passages is far more traditional
and less advanced than the naturalistic theology which is reected in the
statements on the divine character of the disease, since it appears that the
author of On the Sacred Disease believes in a supreme divine power which
cleanses men of their moral transgressions and which is accessible to cultic
worship in sacred buildings by means of prayer and sacrice.
The problem I intend to deal with in this chapter is how these two
different sets of religious ideas are related to each other. For if it is true,
6
See especially Ducatillon (1977) 163 and 1805; cf. McGibbon (1965) 3878 and the hesitant remarks
of N orenberg (1968) 746. None of these scholars, however, have satisfactorily solved the problem
of this apparently double-faced religiosity (see below).
7
There is no sharp dividing line between the polemical and the positive part of the treatise: the
polemical tone persists through the whole text (e.g. 2.67, 6.366 L.; 11.5, 6.382 L.; 12.2, 6.382 L.;
13.13, 6.386 L.; 17.110, 6.3924 L.; 18.12 and 6, 6.3946 L.), and in the polemical ch. 1 the author
repeatedly expresses his own opinions (e.g. 1.2, 6.352 L.; 1.1314, 6.356 L.; 1.256, 6.358 L.; 1.456,
6.364 L.). References to On the Sacred Disease follow the division into chapters and sections of
H. Grensemanns edition (1968c). Compared to the Loeb edition by W. H. S. Jones (vol. i i , 1923),
Grensemanns ch. 1 corresponds to Jones chs. i i v, then 2 to v, 3 to vi and so on up to ch. 16.15,
which corresponds to Jones ch. xi x; then 16.617.110 corresponds to Jones xx and 18 to xxi .
On the Sacred Disease 47
as Jeanne Ducatillon has claimed,
8
that the statements of the rst chapter
actually reveal an authentic religious conviction, we are obliged to dene
as accurately as possible how this conviction is related to the concept of the
divine as an immanent natural law and of its workings as natural processes.
But we must also consider the possibility (which Ducatillon appears to
have overlooked) that the accusations of the rst chapter are no more
than rhetorical or occasional arguments pour besoin de la cause which need
not imply the authors personal involvement, seeing that many of these
statements have an obviously hypothetical character.
9
I may, for instance,
criticise a person for acting contrarily to his own principles and I may even
dene how he should act according to these principles without endorsing
either his principles or the corresponding behaviour. Yet such a hypothetical
argument does reect my opinion on the logical connection between the
premise and the conclusion, since it shows what I believe to be a valid or a
non-valid conclusion from a given premise (a premise which I need not be-
lieve to be true). Thus the argument reects my sense of logic or necessity
and the presuppositions underlying the stringency of my argument.
One might object that our apparent problem is not genuine, and that
there is nothing strange about intellectuals participating in traditional cul-
tic activities such as prayer and sacrice, while at the same time holding
advanced religious or theological ideas which seem inconsistent with the
presuppositions underlying these cultic practices.
10
However, the problem
8
Ducatillon (1977) 1805.
9
Cf. the use of ti ot in 1.23 (6.358 L.), of ctcu ,p in 1.25 (6.358 L.), of ti ,p and ti on in 1.31 (6.360
L.) as well as the modal imperfects typnv in 1.41 (6.362 L.) and 1.43 (6.362 L.) (and toti in 2.7, 6.366
L.). It is probably this hypothetical character which has led most interpreters to refrain frombringing
these statements to bear on the discussion of the writers theological ideas (e.g. Lloyd (1975c) 13 n.
19). N orenberg (1968) 69 also claims that the sections 416 are put into the mouth of the magicians,
although later on (746) he suddenly takes them seriously as reecting the authors own opinion.
However, his own hypothetical remarks there on the moral signicance of the divine remain
inconclusive and partly contradict his earlier views on the divinity of nature. As will become clear in
the course of this chapter, I do not believe that the divine (to theion) mentioned in 1.45 is identical
with the divine (sc. character) of natural laws or that both the moral and the naturalistic aspects
of the divine are subordinated to a higher concept of divinity; nor do I see any textual grounds for
denying that the author of On the Sacred Disease believes in personal or anthropomorphic gods
(see section 4 below).
10
This is apparently the view taken by H. W. Miller (1953) 2 n. 3: This passage [i.e. 1.445, PJvdE]
as well as the following remarks concerning the true meaning of the use of purications, suggests
that the author would not refuse to accept and conform to the rituals of temple and civic religion
as would hardly be expected. His remarks reect, indeed, a genuine belief in the Divine, but, as
perhaps in the case of a Socrates or a Euripides, it is not simply a belief in the gods as traditionally
and popularly conceived. This is a complicated and controversial issue, and although I believe that
it does not affect my argument, I am aware that nothing strange about it does not do justice to
this discussion. At least three questions are important: (i) To what extent did intellectuals try to
harmonise their own theological conceptions with traditional beliefs and, if they did, then for what
48 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
does not concern a discrepancy between religious theory and religious prac-
tice or between theology and cult, but a tension between different ideas in
one and the same text. For there is a difference between intellectuals simply
participating (from habit or under social pressure) in cultic actions, and
intellectuals, such as the author of On the Sacred Disease, making explicit
statements and denitions about what they believe should be the right way
of approaching the gods. Moreover, the authors assertions not only con-
cern cult and ritual, but also characteristics of the divine and the way in
which it manifests itself within human experience. Therefore the problem
deserves to be considered, and we must try to nd out how these two sets
of religious opinions are related to each other.
I shall rst deal with the statements on the divine character of the disease
and consider whether these admit of being extrapolated into a theology.
This will for a substantial part consist in an attempt to evaluate and clarify
the interpretative debate on the authors claim that all diseases are divine
and all are human. Then I shall deal with the statements in his chapter 1
and relate these to the assertions about the divine character of the disease.
Finally I shall summarise my conclusions concerning the religious notions
which can, with some degree of certainty, be attributed to the author of On
the Sacred Disease.
2 t h e d i v i n i t y o f d i s e a s e s
In spite of the vast literature on this subject (see n. 5 above) we may say
that basically there are two different interpretations of the use of the words
divine (theios) and human (anthr opinos) with regard to diseases in On
the Sacred Disease, both of which have a strong textual basis.
11
I do not
reasons? On this question see Gigon (1952) 12766, esp. 1289 and 15664, and Vlastos (1952) 104 and
11213. (ii) To what extent were intellectuals at liberty to hold and propagate advanced ideas about
religious matters? On the one hand it is often stated that there was no institutionalised orthodoxy in
ancient Greece and no sacred books with authorised interpretations and that, consequently, many
different religious beliefs were tolerated (see Lloyd (1979) 1015). On the other hand it cannot be
denied that at the end of the fth century (in Attica at least) a growing intolerance manifests itself,
e.g. in the trials of impiety (asebeia). In this respect it is signicant that it is the author of On the
Sacred Disease himself who accuses his opponents of impiety and atheism (1.28ff.; 1.39ff.), charges
which later (in the fourth century) were frequently connected with magic (e.g. in the trials of asebeia
againt Ninos and Theoris). (iii) Did this apparent intolerance only concern participation in cult and
ritual, or did it concern religious ideas as well? On all these matters see Bryant (1986); Dover (1975);
Fahr (1969); Guthrie (1969) vol. i i i , 22649; Meijer (1981); Mikalson (1983) 91105; Sandvoss (1968)
31229; Versnel (1990) 12331.
11
For this reason I shall not discuss as a separate alternative the view that the author of On the Sacred
Disease has adopted the idea of the divinity of air fromDiogenes of Apollonia (cf. H. W. Miller (1953)
915), though I shall say something about this in the course of my comments on interpretation (1).
On the inuence of Diogenes on this treatise see Grensemann (1968c) 2930.
On the Sacred Disease 49
intend to offer a new one, but I believe that the debate would benet from
recognising that these interpretations are different and incompatible, and
fromacknowledging the presuppositions underlying bothviews. My second
a priori remark is that the use of terminological oppositions such as rational
versus irrational and natural versus supernatural in order to dene the
meaning of theios and anthr opinos is confusing rather than illuminating.
12
The correct questions to ask are, rst, in which respect (or, in what sense) a
disease, according to the author, is to be regarded as divine or human, and,
second, what connotations or associations of theios and anthr opinos enable
the author to apply these words to a disease.
The two interpretations are as follows:
(1) A disease is divine in virtue of being caused by factors ( prophasies; on
this term see below) which are themselves divine: the climatic factors
heat, cold and winds. These can, on this view, be called divine because
they are beyond human control (the author accepting aporos, hopeless,
impossible to resolve, as a proper associate of theios, cf. 1.34, 6.352
L.).
13
The disease is human in virtue of being caused by other factors
as well which are human, such as the particular constitution-type of
an individual, the constitution of his brain, his age, and so on. These
factors can be called human because they (or at least some of them) are
capable of being controlled, or inany case inuenced, by humanagency.
(2) A disease is divine in virtue of having a phusis, a nature, that is, a de-
nite character and a regular pattern of origin (cause) and growth (13.13,
6.368 L.: ,ivtoci sci tiv). The governing connotations of theios
12
This is not to suggest that the oppositions rationalirrational and naturalsupernatural are used
by modern scholars as if they were equivalent, but rather to avoid the anachronistic associations
these terms conjure up. Cf. the frequent use of rationalirrational in N orenberg (1968), e.g. 71:
Damit bekommt das tcv wie die q uoi, einen rationalen Charakter, der die Kritik an jeder ir-
rationalen Auffassung und so auch an den tci des Mythos und des Volksglaubens, bzw. dem
g anzlich irrationalen ociucvicv provozieren muss; and Kudlien (1974) passim. A more cautious use
of naturalsupernatural is to be found in Lloyd (1979) e.g. 267; but even with regard to the use
of phusis in On the Sacred Disease this opposition creates a distinction which is not to the point,
since the term supernatural does not apply to the position that the author of On the Sacred Disease
combats.
13
In 1.34 (6.352 L.) the author discusses the possible reasons why people came to regard epilepsy as
a sacred disease. One of these reasons, he says, may be the hopelessness (tcpin) with which the
disease confronted them. But he proceeds to show that this only applies to a cognitive hopelessness
(tcpin :c0 un ,ivcostiv); as for the therapeutic aspect, he says, these people claim to be well
provided with means to cure (t0tcpci) rather than hopeless (ctcpci). Cf. the distinction between
two respects of hopelessness made in 13.13 (6.368 L.): sci cootv to:i tcpc:tpn :cv ccv c0:t
icoci c0:t ,vcvci (and it [i.e. the disease] is not more hopeless than the others, neither as far
as curing nor as far as understanding it are concerned). Apparently the author accepts aporos as
a justied associate of theios, but he points out that these people are actually not aporoi at all. By
showing that the disease is caused by human factors as well (which are in their turn inuenced by
the divine factors mentioned) the author demonstrates that in his account a disease can be both
divine and human (i.e. both divine and curable).
50 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
are here constant, unchanging, imperishable not in the sense that
the disease itself is unchanging, but in that it shows a constant pattern
of development. These connotations, in fact, also led the Presocratic
philosophers to apply the word to their ultimate principles.
14
The dis-
ease is humaninvirtue of being capable of treatment and cure by human
beings, but in a more abstract sense than in the rst case (see below).
Both interpretations are based upon the following passages:
1.2 (6.352 L.): cootv :i ocst :cv ccv tic:tpn tvci vcocv coot tpc:tpn,
c qoiv utv tyti sci :c citc vconuc:c, ctv ,ivt:ci, qoiv ot c0:n sci
tpcqcoiv.
15
[This disease] does not seem in any respect to be more divine or more holy than
the others. It is rather that just as the other diseases have a nature from which they
arise, likewise this one has a nature and a cause.
2.13 (6.364 L.): :c ot vconuc :c0:c cootv :i uci ocst tic:tpcv tvci :cv
citcv, c qoiv utv tytiv sci :c cc vconuc:c, ctv tsco:c ,ivt:ci,
qoiv ot :c0:c sci tpcqcoiv, sci tc :c0 co:c0 tcv ,ivtoci q c:cu sci
:c cc tv:c, sci in:cv tvci cootv noocv t:tpcv s:.
16
It seems to me that this disease is in no respect more divine than the others, but
rather that just as the other diseases have a nature from which each of them arises,
likewise this one has a nature and a cause, and it derives its divinity from the same
source from which all the others do, and it is in no respect less curable than the
others . . .
18.12 (6.394 L.): c0:n ot n vc0oc, n pn sctcutvn tc :cv co:cv tpc-
qcoicv ,ivt:ci sci c citci, tc :cv tpcoicv:cv sci ticv:cv sci ytc,
14
See Jaeger (1980) 204 (on Anaximander DK a 15, b 3): What happens in Anaximanders argument
(and that of his successors in line) is that the predicate God, or rather the Divine, is transformed from
the traditional deities to the rst principle of Being (at which they arrived by rational investigations),
on the ground that the predicates usually attributed to the gods of Homer and Hesiod are inherent
in that principle to a higher degree or can be assigned to it with greater certainty. The predicates
in question are ,tvn:c, (ungenerated), cqcp:c, (imperishable), vc:c, (immortal) and
vctpc, (imperishable).
15
This sentence is put between square brackets by Grensemann (1968c) ad loc. on the grounds that it
is almost verbally repeated in 2.12 (6.364 L.), that c0:n (instead of :c0:c) is syntactically awkward
and that the sentence c cvpctci s:. (1.3) is in asyndeton with the preceding one. Each of these
arguments may be questioned: repetition of this kind is quite frequent in On the Sacred Disease (e.g.
2.6, 6.366 L. and 5.1, 6.368 L.; 13.13, 6.386 L. and 18.12, 6.394 L.) and obviously serves an organising
purpose; the word vc0oc,, to which c0:n refers, is mentioned in the immediate context, and the
alternation of vconuc and vc0oc, is so frequent in this text that they seem practically synonymous;
and the deletion of a whole sentence is more drastic than the insertion of o. Besides, after the
opening sentence (ttpi :n, pn, vcocu sctcutvn, cot tyti) it is more reasonable to expect an
exposition of what the author believes than the rejection of what other people believe.
16
On the sequel to this sentence, which contains an important qualication of the curability of the
disease, see below, pp. 712.
On the Sacred Disease 51
sci nicu sci tvtuu:cv ut:cccutvcv :t sci coottc:t :ptuicv:cv.
:c0:coto:i tc, co:t unotv tcspivcv:c:cvconuctic:tpcv :cv citcv
vcuitiv, c tv:c tc sci tv:c vpctivc, goiv ot tsco:cv tyti sci
ovcuiv tg tcu:c0, sci cootv ctcpcv to:iv coo unycvcv.
This disease which is called sacred arises from the same causes as the others, from
the things that come and go away and from cold and sun and winds that change
and never rest. These things are divine, so that one ought not to separate this
disease and regard it as being more divine than the others; it is rather that all are
divine and all are human, and each of them has a nature and a power of its own,
and none is hopeless or impossible to deal with.
The rst interpretation is mainly based upon the remark these things are
divine (:c0:c oto:i tc, 18.2); these things is taken as a reference to
the causes (tpcqoit,) mentioned in the previous sentence, the things
that come and go away, etc. (:cv tpcoicv:cv sci ticv:cv s:.). The
author derives the divinity of the disease from the divinity of its causes,
the climatic factors whose inuence has been discussed in 10.2ff. (cold and
heat; 6.378ff. L.) and chapter 13 (winds), and hinted at in 8.1 (6.374 L.),
8.7 (6.376 L.), 9.4 (6.378 L.) and 11.1 (6.3802 L.). And since these factors
are as the author claims the causes of all diseases, all diseases are equally
divine, so that none of them should be distinguished from the others as
being more divine.
At the same time all diseases are anthr opina, human. It is not stated
explicitly in either of these passages in what sense they are human,
17
but it
has been suggested that diseases are caused (or at least determined in their
development) by human factors as well.
18
These factors are not mentioned
here, probably for the very reason that they do not constitute the divine
character of the disease, which is the important issue here, and, perhaps,
because the importance of these factors varies from one disease to another,
which explains why they cannot be included in the same causes (:cv
co:cv tpcqcoicv). For these reasons, for instance, the brain (c t,stq-
cc,) is not mentioned in chapter 18, although the writer had stated ear-
lier (3.1) that it is the brain which is causally responsible (c:ic,) for this
disease (and for all important diseases), a claim which he has substan-
tiated at length in the preceding chapters 1417 (on this, as on possi-
ble differences of meaning between tpcqcoi, and c:ic,, see pp. 5960
17
This may be due to the polemical context: some diseases are called divine by the opponents, while
others are therefore regarded as human. But in the authors view all diseases are both divine and
human: the explanandum is not that all diseases are human, but in what sense all diseases are divine
as well.
18
N orenberg (1968) 714; Nestle (1938) 34.
52 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
below). Among the human factors determining the disease we should
probably also reckon the individuals constitution (phlegmatic or choleric:
2.45, 6.364 L.; 5.1, 6.368 L.), which depends on peculiarities and degrees
of prenatal and postnatal purgation (ch. 5), the individuals age (chs. 89),
the left or right side of the body (ch. 10), the length of time which has
elapsed since the beginning of the disease (ch. 11), and a few minor variable
factors which the author mentions in the course of his medical account of
epilepsy.
Adifculty of this viewis that not all of these factors seemto be accessible
to human control or even inuence, so that this connotation of anthr opinos
seems hardly applicable here. A mans constitution, for instance, is deter-
mined from his birth (5.1ff., 6.368ff. L.) and seems hardly capable of being
inuenced by human agency (although there is no reason why even this
could not be thought to be changeable by means of diet but the text does
not discuss this). Yet perhaps another association of the opposition theios
anthr opinos has prompted the author to use it here, namely the contrast
universalparticular, which also seems to govern the use of theios in the
Hippocratic treatise On the Nature of the Woman.
19
However, this interpretation is based upon several assumptions and pre-
suppositions deserving consideration.
Firstly, the meaning of the word phusis and the reason for mentioning it
in all three passages remains unclear. If, as is generally supposed,
20
phusis
and prophasis are related to each other in that phusis is the abstract concept
and prophasis the concrete causing factor (prophasies being the concrete
constituents of the phusis of a disease), then the mention of the word phusis
does not sufce to explain the sense in which the disease is to be taken as
divine, for the nature of a disease is constituted by human factors as well.
It is the fact that some of the constituents of the nature of the disease are
themselves divine which determines the divine character of the disease.
Secondly, in the sentence it derives its divinity from the same source
from which all the others do (2.1: ka p to ato qeon gnesqai f
19
On the Nature of the Woman 1 (7.312 L.); cf. Ducatillon (1977) 2023. I refrain from a systematic
discussion of the concept of the divine in other Hippocratic writings, partly for reasons of space but
also because such a discussion would have to be based on close analysis of each of these writings
rather than a supercial comparison with other texts. Besides, it is unnecessary or even undesirable
to strive to harmonise the doctrines of the various treatises in the heterogeneous collection which
the Hippocratic Corpus represents, and it is dangerous to use the theological doctrine of one treatise
(e.g. the supposedly divine character of climatic factors in On the Sacred Disease) as evidence in
favour of an interpretation of the word theios in another treatise (e.g. Prognostic; on this see n. 30
below). For general discussions see Thivel (1975); Kudlien (1974); and N orenberg (1968) 7786.
20
See N orenberg (1968) 647; Lloyd (1979) 26.
On the Sacred Disease 53
c:cu sci :c cc tv:c), we have to suppose, on this interpretation, that
when writing the same source (:c0 co:c0) the author means the climatic
factors, whose inuence is explained later on in the text (see above) and
whose divine character is not stated before the nal chapter. Now if a writer
says: this disease owes its divine character to the same thing to which
all other diseases owe their divine character, it is rather unsatisfactory
to suppose that the reader has to wait for an answer to the question of
what this same thing is until the end of the treatise. This need not be
a serious objection against this interpretation, but it would no doubt be
preferable to be able to nd the referent of :c0 co:c0 in the immediate
context.
Thirdly, this interpretation requires that in the sentence from the things
that come and go away, and from cold and sun and winds that change
and never rest (18.1: tc :cv tpcoicv:cv sci ticv:cv sci ytc, sci
nicu sci tvtuu:cv ut:cccutvcv :t sci coottc:t :ptuicv:cv)
the second kai (and) is taken in the explicative sense of that is to say. In
a sequence of four occurrences of kai this is a little awkward, since there
is no textual indication for taking the second kai in a different sense from
the others. Yet perhaps one could argue that this is indicated by the shift
from plural to singular without article, and by the fact that the expression
the things that come and those that go away is itself quite general: it may
denote everything whichapproaches the humanbody andeverything which
leaves it, such as food, water or air, as well as everything the body excretes.
21
On this line of reasoning, this expression would then be specied into the
following items: cold, sun and winds; without this specication food, air
and water as well as the corresponding excretions would be divine too,
which seems unlikely.
22
Besides, it must be conceded that the specication
of the things that come and go away (:cv tpcoicv:cv sci ticv:cv)
as the climatic factors mentioned is not without justication. At the end of
21
:c ticv:c is a common expression for excretions: cf. Epidemics 1.5 (2.632 L.) and 3.10 (3.90 L.;
for other instances see K uhn and Fleischer, Index Hippocraticus s.v.); in this sense the word is used
in On the Sacred Disease 5.8 (6.370 L.) as well (though this is Grensemanns emendation of the MSS
reading qiti). Against this specialised interpretation cf. Ducatillon (1977) 202: Ladjectif qui nous
int eresse [i.e. theios, PJvdE] sapplique ici ` a de nombreux objets. Il caract erise dune part ce qui entre
dans le corps et ce qui en sort, cest ` a dire lair et les aliments, dautre part le froid, le soleil, les vents,
bref, les conditions climatiques et atmosph eriques; cest donc la nature enti` ere, consid er ee comme
une r ealit e mat erielle qui est proclam ee divine.
22
As G. E. R. Lloyd reminds me, it could be argued that the divinity of air, water and food need not
be surprising in the light of the associations of bread with Demeter, and wine with Dionysus (cf.
Prodicus DK b 5). But even if these associations apply here (which is not conrmed by any textual
evidence), the unlikelihood of the divinity of the things that go out of the body (:c ticv:c)
remains.
54 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
chapter 13 the same expression is used (the wording of the whole sentence
13.13 is closely similar to that of 18.12),
23
and since in chapter 13 the author
has discussed the inuence of winds, it seems safe to conclude that the same
restriction is intended in 18.1.
Fourthly, this interpretation requires that the word theios in 18.2 is used
in two different ways without this shift of use being marked explicitly in the
text. First, in the sentence these things are divine, it indicates an essential
characteristic of the things mentioned, but in the following sentence it is
attributed to the disease in virtue of the diseases being related to divine
factors. This need not be a problem, since theios in itself can be used in
both ways; but it seems unlikely that in this text, in which the sense in
which epilepsy may be called divine is one of the central issues, the author
permits himself such a shift without explicitly marking it. The point of this
derived divinity becomes even more striking as the role assigned to the
factors mentioned here is, to be sure, not negligible but not very dominant
either. Admittedly, the inuence of winds is noted repeatedly and discussed
at length (cf. 10.2, 6.378 L.; ch. 13); but the effects of heat and cold can
hardly be said to play a dominant part in the authors explanation (see
above). This may also help us to understand the use of the word prophasis
here; for if the writer of On the Sacred Disease adheres to a distinction
between prophasis and aitios, with prophasis playing only the part of an
external catalyst producing change within the body (in this case particularly
in the brain),
24
this usage corresponds to the subordinated part which these
factors play in this disease. Then the statement about the divine character
of the disease acquires an almost depreciatory note: the disease is divine
only to the extent that climatic factors play a certain, if a modest part in
23
13.13: c0:c, c0:n n vc0oc, ,ivt:ci :t sci ti tc :cv tpcoiv:cv :t sci tiv:cv, sci
cootv to:iv tcpc:tpn :cv ccv c0:t icoci c0:t ,vcvci coot tic:tpn n c cci.
24
This is suggested by the use of aitios and prophasis in 3.1: the brain is causally responsible (aitios)
for this affection, as it is for the greatest of the other affections; in what manner and through
what cause (prophasis) it occurs, I am going to tell you clearly (c ,cp c:ic, c t,stqcc,
:c:cu :c0 ttc, cottp :cv ccv vconu:cv :cv ut,io:cv, c:c ot :ptc sci t
cn, tpcqoic, ,ivt:ci, t,c qpoc ocqtc,. Cf. 10.4, 6.378 L.; 10.7, 6.380 L.). But the whole
question, especially the meaning of prophasis, is highly controversial. N orenberg (1968), discussing
the views of Deichgr aber (1933c) and Weidauer (1954), rejects this distinction on the ground that,
if prophasis had this restricted meaning, then d urfte der Verfasser bei seiner aufkl arerischen Ab-
sicht und wissenschaftlichen Systematik gerade nicht so viel Gewicht auf die prophasies legen,
sondern er m usste vielmehr von den eigentlichen aitiai sprechen (67). However, I think that
the use of prophasis here (apart from other considerations which follow below) strongly suggests
that there are good reasons for questioning this aufkl arerische Absicht. On prophasis and aitia
see also Lloyd (1979) 54 n. 31, and Rawlings (1975); Nikitas (1976); Robert (1976); Hunter (1982)
32631.
On the Sacred Disease 55
its development. If this is true, it becomes difcult to read this statement
as the propagation of a new theological doctrine.
25
Fifthly, the remark that the climatic factors are divine is itself rather sur-
prising and has not been anticipated in the preceding chapters.
26
Nor does
the divinity of cold, sun and winds appear to be a self-evident idea which
the author can simply take for granted. Of the three factors mentioned, the
sun is least problematic, since the divinity of the celestial bodies was
hardly ever questioned throughout the classical period, even in intellectual
circles
27
although the focus of the text is not on the sun as a celestial body
but rather on the heat it produces (see 10.2, 6.378 L.). The divinity of cold
( psuchos) seems completely unprecedented, and the divinity of the winds
could only be explained as the persistence of a mythological idea. This is,
of course, not impossible, since the author has been shown to have adopted
other primitive notions as well.
28
Another possibility is to suppose that
he is inuenced on this point by Diogenes of Apollonia or by Anaximenes
(on this see n. 11 above); but neither of these explicitly deduces from the
divinity of air (aer) the divinity of winds, nor does the writer of On the
Sacred Disease say that air is divine although he does say that air is the
source of human intelligence ( phronesis, 16.2, 6.390 L.).
29
Nor is the divin-
ity of climatic factors attested in other Hippocratic writings.
30
In any case
25
A derogatory tone of the words these things are divine is also recognised by Thivel (1975) 66;
however, as will become clear, I do not agree with Thivels view that the author does not take the
divine character of the disease seriously (Vous cherchez du divin dans l epilepsie, dit-il ` a peu pr` es de
ses adversaires, mais tout ce quil y a de divin dans cette maladie, cest sa cause naturelle, cest-` a-dire
quil ny en a pas du tout), nor with his general views on the religious belief of the author (see n. 59
below).
26
See H. W. Miller (1953) 67: The basic question is why these forces or elements of Nature are
described as divine. I do not believe that the belief in the divinity of these factors can be derived
from 1.31 (for if a man by magic and sacrices causes the moon to eclipse and the sun to disappear
and storm and calm weather to occur, I would not call any of these things (totwn) divine, but
rather human, if indeed the power of the divine is controlled and subdued by human reasoning)
for totwn refers to the actions, not to the celestial and climatic factors.
27
With the possible exception of Anaxagoras (DK a 42, a 35); on this see Guthrie (1965) vol. i i , 3078.
28
On this Lloyd (1979) 434; Parker (1983) 213ff.; on the divinity of winds in Greek religion see Nilsson
(1955) 11617, and D. Wachsmuth (1975) 13801. One objection, however, to this interpretation is
the fact that this belief in the divinity of winds was frequently connected with magical claims and
practices which the author of On the Sacred Disease explicitly rejects as blasphemous in 1.2931
(6.35860 L.).
29
Contra H. W. Miller (1953) 78. On Diogenes see DK a 9; on Anaximenes views on winds see DK
a 5 and a 7. On the importance of air in On the Sacred Disease see also Miller (1948) 16883.
30
Kudlien (1977, 270) believes that in Prognostic 1 (p. 194,4 Alexanderson (2.212 L.)) the words some-
thing divine (ti qeon) also refer to climatic factors, but this is apparently based on On the Sacred
Disease 18.12 alone (on the danger of this sort of transference see n. 19 above). Moreover I am
not sure whether the text of Prognostic can bear this interpretation. In the passage in question
56 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
the statement sounds too strange to be accepted as a self-evident idea not
needing explanation.
Finally, as was already noted by Nestle,
31
the restricted interpretation of
the divine as the climatic factors is absent (and out of the question) in the
parallel discussion of the divine character of diseases in chapter 22 of Airs,
Waters, Places. Although the writer of Airs, Waters, Places, in accordance
with the overall purpose of his treatise, generally assigns to climatic factors
a fundamental role in his explanation of health and disease, he does not
say anything about their allegedly divine character and surprisingly does
not, in his discussion of the divinity of diseases in chapter 22, explain
this with an appeal to climatic factors. In the case discussed there (the
frequent occurrence of impotence among the Scythians) the prophasies of
the disease are purely human factors,
32
and no inuence of climatic factors
(,vv:c cov ypn :cv tctcv :cv :cic:cv :c, qoic,, cscocv ottp :nv ovcuiv tioiv :cv
ocu:cv, cuc ot sci t :i tcv tvto:i tv :noi vcocioiv, sci :c:cv :nv tpvcicv tsucv-
vtiv), the distribution of tc, (or vonuc, which is the varia lectio) and vc0oc, suggests that
in the authors opinion the rst thing for the physician to do is to identify the nature of the patho-
logical situation (which consists in diagnosis and, as the text says, in determining the extent to
which the disease exceeds the strength of the patients body) and at the same time to see whether
something divine is present in the disease in question. As the structure of the sentence (the use
of the participle ,vv:c and of the innitive tsucvvtiv) indicates, it cannot be maintained (as
Kudlien believes) that a distinction is made here between diseases which result in death and diseases
of divine, i.e. (in Kudliens view) climatic, origin; as the context shows, the physician should check
rst whether the disease is capable of being cured lest, if not, he will be blamed for the patients
death (vci:ic, cv tn), thus :noi vcocioi clearly refers to :cic:cv tctcv (the word vc0oc,
being now used because the qoi, of the tc, has been recognised), and :c:cv can only refer
to :cic:cv tctcv. Another objection to Kudliens view is that the wording t :i tcv tvto:i
tv :noi vcocioiv apparently implies that a certain disease may (but need not) contain a divine
element, whereas if meteorological or environmental medicine were referred to here, it would only
be possible to say that a disease has a climatic cause or that it has not. Nor is Kudliens reference
to ch. 25 convincing evidence for his view, for there the author is not concerned with causes of
diseases, but with symptoms. Besides, we may wonder whether his claim that in different areas the
signicance of the symptoms remains the same is compatible with the principles of environmental
medicine as stated in Airs, Waters, Places. I see no other possibility than to interpret the passage as
a recognition (which may be quite perfunctory or just in order to be on the safe side) that in some
cases a disease may be sent by a god and that, consequently, in these cases human treatment is useless
(so that the physician cannot be blamed for therapeutic failure) and, perhaps (though this is not
explicitly stated), that it can only be cured by divine agency; nor do I see why this interpretation
would be inconceivable (for a similar case cf. On the Nature of the Woman 1, where the possibility
that a divine element is present in diseases is recognised, without this possibility being specied or
explained or taken into account in the course of the treatise).
31
Nestle (1938) 45.
32
The explanation of the Scythians impotence is that owing to their habit of horse-riding they are
aficted with varicosity of the veins followed by lameness. Then they try to cure themselves by means
of cutting the vein which runs behind each ear. It is this treatment which causes their impotence.
Later on in the chapter (sections 1112 Diller, 2.80 L.) it is only the practice of horse-riding (with the
consequent swelling of the joints) which is mentioned as the prophasis of the disease, to which are
added their wearing trousers, as well as cold and fatigue (here psuchos is mentioned, but it obviously
refers to getting cold when riding on horseback for a long time).
On the Sacred Disease 57
is mentioned. Of course the validity of this argument depends on the
assumption of a common author of On the Sacred Disease and Airs, Waters,
Places and on the presumption that he has not changed his opinion on the
subject a long-standing issue which is still a matter of disagreement. It
is evident that this question would have to be settled on other grounds as
well, for possible divergencies in the concepts of the divine expressed in
the two treatises might equally well be taken as ground for assuming two
different authors.
33
Perhaps none of these considerations can be regarded as genuine objections.
But it can hardly be denied that the rst interpretation necessarily presup-
poses all of them and that the champions of this interpretation should
take account of them. It therefore remains to consider whether the second
interpretation (2) rests on less complicated presuppositions.
On this interpretation the disease is divine in virtue of having a phusis, a
nature (in the sense dened above: a regular pattern of origin and growth).
This appears to be closer to the text of the three passages quoted: the
mention of phusis in 1.2 and 2.12 in the immediate context of the claim
that epilepsy is not more divine thanother diseases caneasily be understood,
since it is exactly its having a nature which constitutes the divine character
of the disease. Afurther advantage of this interpretationis that the referent of
the same (i.e. origin) (:c0 co:c0) is immediately supplied by the context
(have a nature fromwhicheachof themarises, qoiv tytiv . . . ctv tsco:c
,ivt:ci) and that in 18.2 the sentence and each of them has a nature and a
power of its own, and none is hopeless or impossible to deal with (qoiv
ot tsco:cv . . . coounycvcv) can be taken as providing the explanation
of all are divine and all are human (tv:c tc sci tv:c vpctivc):
all diseases are divine in virtue of having a nature and a power of their
own, and all are human in virtue of being capable of human treatment and
cure, with the phrase none is hopeless or impossible to deal with (cootv
ctcpcv to:iv coounycvcv) answering it is in no respect less curable
than the others . . . (sci in:cv tvci cootv noocv t:tpcv) in 2.3 (6.364 L.).
This corresponds very well with the use of human (vpctivc,) in the
authors criticism of the magicians (1.25, 6.358 L.; 1.31, 6.360 L.): whereas in
their conception of the divinity of the disease divine and human exclude
each other, the author regards it as one of his merits to have shown that
33
On this question see, e.g., Heinimann (1945) 181206; a useful summary of the discussion is given by
N orenberg (1968) 911; on the signicance of similarities and discrepancies between the two treatises
for the question of their authorship cf. Grensemann (1968c) 718 and the interesting analysis by
Ducatillon (1977) 197226; see also van der Eijk (1991).
58 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
in his conception the words can perfectly well be predicated of the same
subject. Theios and anthr opinos refer to aspects of diseases, but not, as in
the rst interpretation, in the sense of their being caused by divine factors
and human factors (which would after all imply the incompatibility of
the two words).
34
On this reading, the problem of the derived divinity
or of the shift of the use of theios, as well as the need to take kai in
18.1 as explicative, disappears. Furthermore, on this view On the Sacred
Disease and Airs, Waters, Places express the same doctrine concerning the
divinity of diseases, and in both treatises the use of theios is justied by
the connotations unchanging, imperishable and eternal. The fact that
all diseases have a nature, a denite pattern of origin and growth or cause
and effect, constitutes the element of constancy which inheres in the word
theios. Perhaps also the connotation of oneness or deniteness is present
here, in that all the various and heterogeneous symptoms and expressions
of the disease, which the magicians attributed to different gods (1.329,
6.3602 L.), can be reduced to one xed nature underlying them.
35
There are, however, two difculties involved in this interpretation, the
rst of which is precisely the basis of the other view: the phrase these things
are divine (:c0:c o to:i tc, 18.2). To be sure, the divine character of
the factors mentioned in 18.1 might now, on the second interpretation,
be better understood, as these factors too probably have a phusis and are
therefore divine. But in order to understand the divinity of the disease
the mention of the divine character of these factors is, strictly speaking,
irrelevant, because it sufces for the author to have demonstrated that the
disease is caused by natural factors which constitute its phusis. It is the fact
of the disease having these causes (i.e. its having a phusis), not the allegedly
divine character of these causes, which determines its divinity.
A possible solution to this problem is to adopt the reading of the
manuscript (which is in general not less reliable than the other authority
34
As 1.25 (6.358 L.) and 1.31 (6.360 L.) show, the words theios and anthr opinos are not applied to concrete
factors, but to aspects which are expressed in the form of propositions: it belongs to divinity to . . .
or we use the word divine when . . . .
35
But it is dangerous to explain the authors connection of divine with having a nature by means
of associations like rational or the rationality of nature. It is highly questionable whether the
author of On the Sacred Disease can be credited with the identication of the divine with rational
or knowable: the only explicit statement which might support this association is his criticism of the
idea that what is divine cannot be known or understood (1.4: their hopelessness of not knowing,
tcpin :c0 un ,ivcostiv; 13.13: nor is it more hopeless [than other diseases] . . . neither as far as
curing nor as far as understanding it is concerned, cootv tcpc:tpn . . . c0:t icoci c0:t ,vcvci;
cf. n. 13 above); but this does not imply that the divine is (in the Platonic sense) the knowable par
excellence. Nor does the association of theios with the laws of Nature have any textual basis (on the
difference between the nature of the disease and Nature in general see below, pp. 60, 689).
On the Sacred Disease 59
M),
36
which has :c:n instead of :c0:c, and to take the diseases as the
subject of to:i: in this way (or, in this respect) they are divine (:c:n o
to:i tc). On this reading, in this way refers to their being caused by the
causes (tpcqoit,) just mentioned. Strictly speaking, this is syntactically
awkward, as in the preceding sentence the word vc0oc, (disease) is
used, which would demand a plural verb form (tioi); but to:i might be
defended by understanding :c vconuc:c (the diseases) as its subject, the
word vconuc being used in the immediately following dependent clause.
37
On this reading the problem of the shift of the use of theios disappears
as well.
One other problem remains, to which I see no completely satisfactory
answer. Even if, as a consequence of this interpretation, the enumeration
of causes in 18.1 is extended by understanding the things that come and go
away as referring to air, water and food, the absence of the brain, which
was claimed to be the cause of the disease (3.1, 6.366 L.), is striking. We
could suppose, as I have suggested above, that a distinction between aitios
and prophasis is implicitly present here: for it is true that, for instance,
chapters 1316 explain how the winds affect the brain and so cause diseases,
and the authors claimthat the brain is aitios leaves open various possibilities
for the account of the prophasies. But then the question remains why it is
only these prophasies which are mentioned here in chapter 18, for it seems
very improbable that they are more important as constitutive elements of
the nature of the disease than the cause of the disease, the brain. Perhaps
the point of mentioning them here is that they are the prophasies of all
diseases, and that by showing this the author only strives to put epilepsy
on an equal level with the other diseases. If this is correct, the reason for
not mentioning the brain and other internal factors is not that they are not
constitutive of the divine character of the disease (for on this interpretation
they are) but that they do not play a part in all other diseases (3.1: the
greatest, :cv ut,io:cv). Another possibility is to say that the divinity of
the disease resides in the regular pattern of the process of its origin and
36
See Grensemann (1968c) 319; Jones in Jones and Withington (192331) vol. i v, 1357. [Postscript:
See also Roselli (1996) 87 and 103 n. 105, who accepts this reading and translates quanto a questo
(le malattie) sono divine (though she does not print it in the Greek text on p. 86). Laskaris (2002,
122 n. 77) and Jouanna (2003, 1301) discuss the problem but prefer to stick to the reading :c0:c.]
37
An anonymous referee has pointed to the use of vconuc:c in the nal sentence of ch. 17. However,
it is hard to believe that, on the reading :c0:c, we should take this as referring to these vconuc:c,
since in the intermediate sentence (18.1) several neuter terms have been used. Alternatively, one
might perhaps even consider reading :c:n o to:i tin and understand c0:n n vc0oc, as the
subject (in this respect the disease is divine). But this makes :c vconuc difcult to account for,
and it is, of course, not just choosing between two variant readings but emending the text as well.
60 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
growth, and that the prophasies are mentioned because they are simply the
external starting-points of this process, which set the mechanismin motion.
It turns out that neither of the two interpretations is completely free from
difculties. Yet it seems that the problems involved in the rst are more
numerous and compelling than those inherent to the second; moreover,
the second is closer to the wording of the text. Therefore, it is preferable to
conclude that according to the author of On the Sacred Disease diseases are
divine in virtue of having a nature, and that the supposedly divine status
of their prophasies has nothing to do with it. But in any case, as far as the
question of the theology of the treatise is concerned, it sufces to say that
on both views the divine character of the disease is based upon natural
factors.
3 r e c o n s t r u c t i o n s o f t h e a u t h o r s t h e o l o g y
On the basis of either of these interpretations, or a combination of them,
scholars have tried to reconstruct the authors theology or religious thought.
These reconstructions have resulted in a conception in which the divine
(to theion) is regarded as an immanent natural principle or natural law
governing all natural processes and constituting the imperishable order
within the ever owing natural phenomena. It is sometimes stated that this
divine is identied with nature and that to theion is equal to he phusis or to
kata phusin.
38
As a consequence, it is claimedthat the author of Onthe Sacred
Disease does not believe in supernatural divine intervention within natural
processes and human affairs. For the practical interest of the physician this
conception has two important implications. First, diseases are no longer
regarded as concrete effects of deliberate divine dispensation or as god-
sent pollutions; second, for the treatment of the disease an appeal to the
healing power of the gods (as made in temple medicine) is unnecessary or
even useless, since the cure of the disease can be accomplished by ordinary
natural means.
Both implications seem to obtain for the writer of On the Sacred Disease,
for he explicitly denies the diseases are god-sent inthe traditional sense (1.44,
6.362 L.) and he claims that the disease can be cured by means of dietetic
measures (18.36, 6.3946L.). Inthis way his positive theological statements
might be viewedas providing the general philosophical frameworkonwhich
his aetiological and therapeutic views are based.
38
Lloyd (1979) 31; Ducatillon (1977) 202.
On the Sacred Disease 61
However, this extrapolation of a theology from the statements about
the divine character of the disease presupposes three generalisations which
are in themselves questionable, and which appear to be inconsistent with
other assertions in the treatise. First, it is ignored that there is a difference
between calling a particular phenomenon divine in virtue of a certain
aspect or characteristic, and speaking about the divine (to theion) in a
general and abstract way. As a result, it is tacitly assumed that by dening
the divine character of the disease as its being caused by natural factors (or
as its having a nature) the author implicitly connes the range of the divine
to nature or to the regularity which natural phenomena show (as if he not
only said Nature is divine, but also The divine is identical with nature).
Not only is such a generalisation of the use of the word theios dangerous in
itself, but it also lacks any textual justication, for in none of the positive
statements does the writer use the expression to theion in an abstract way.
In fact, the only instances of this use of to theion are 1.25 (6.358 L.), 1.27
(6.358 L.), 1.31 (6.360 L.) and 1.45 (6.364 L.), where the expression seems
equivalent to hoi theoi (the gods).
39
Secondly, it is assumed that what the writer says about the divine charac-
ter of diseases holds of every natural phenomenon or event (natural from
our modern point of view, e.g. earthquakes, solar eclipses, etc.) and that in
his view all these phenomena show a similarly regular pattern of origin and
development and are therefore divine in the same sense as diseases.
40
But,
strictly speaking, the author of On the Sacred Disease merely denies that
epilepsy has a divine origin in the traditional sense (in which theios implies
theopemptos, god-sent), and he asserts that it is not more divine than other
diseases. This need not imply that all other phenomena are divine in this
newsense of being natural ( panta, all, in18.2 refers tonosemata, diseases),
nor that a particular phenomenon is divine only in this sense. The author
leaves open the possibility that there are other things which may be the
effect of divine dispensation (in the traditional sense), for example divine
blessings, and the idea of divine dispensation or intervention as such is
nowhere rejected. We may even wonder whether the author really rejects
every appeal to divine healing, for in spite of his self-assurance concerning
the curability of the disease (18.36, 6.3946 L.), he admits that in some
39
For other instances of t qeon see 1.4 (6.352 L.), where the expression obviously means the divine
character (sc. of the disease); 1.11 (6.354 L.) is ambiguous: t qeon may be synonymous with o
qeo, but it may also mean the (allegedly) divine character of the disease, as in 1.20 (6.356 L.) and
1.26 (6.358 L.); in 1.28 (6.360 L.) t qeon atn is best translated the divine character they talk
about: there is no question of qeov meaning pious here (contra Ducatillon (1977) 199).
40
See N orenberg (1968) 75: Insofern ist alles bis zu dem Grade g ottlich, in dem es an diesen Naturge-
setzen teilhat.
62 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
cases the illness is too strong for medical drugs (2.3, 6.364 L.; 11.6, 6.382 L.).
It may be doubted whether the author would regard an appeal to the gods
in such cases as useless. Admittedly, one of his concerns is that epilepsy
should be treated no differently from any other disease; but he nowhere
categorically rejects any appeal to the gods for the healing of hopeless cases.
These remarks may seem speculative and ill-founded, but I will qualify this
issue below.
Thirdly, it is supposed that the word phusis is used here in the sense of
Nature or even the laws of Nature, or in any case of something general
and universal, an all-pervading principle, comparable to the use of phusis in
Presocratic philosophy, for example in treatises entitled On Nature ( peri
phuse os). But in the text of On the Sacred Disease the word phusis is used
almost exclusively to denote the specic nature or character of the disease
(18.2: each of them has a nature and a power of its own).
41
Admittedly in
some cases the author makes more general claims concerning the items of
his explanation,
42
but it cannot be maintained that his explanation of the
disease makes explicit use of general patterns or principles like the archai
of the Presocratic philosophers.
Apart from the question whether these generalisations are justied, there
is evidence fromthe text itself that it is wrong to attribute sucha naturalistic
theology to the author of On the Sacred Disease. In the polemical rst
chapter of the treatise, in his objections against the ideas and the practices
of the magicians, we can nd several implicit presuppositions which do
not make sense within such a naturalistic conception of the divine. This
applies particularly to the accusations of impiety (asebeia) and atheism
(atheos) which begin in 1.28 (6.358 L.) and which are continued in 1.39ff.
(6. 362 L.). First, the writer criticises his opponents for making impious
claims, for example that they can inuence the movements of sun and
moon and the weather. This claim, the author says, amounts to believing
that the gods neither exist nor have any power, and that what is said to
be divine actually becomes human, since on this claim the power of the
divine is overcome and has been enslaved (1.31, 6.360 L.: kratetai ka
dedolwtai) by human reason. I do not mean to say that we may infer
fromthis that the author of On the Sacred Disease believes the movements of
the sun and the moon and the weather-phenomena to be manifestations of
divine agency (cf. note 26 above). The hypothetical sentences (note the use
of e gr in 1.29 and 1.31) show that he blames his opponents for behaving
41
See N orenberg (1968) 4961, 80.
42
For instance 2.4 (6.364 L.), 3.1 (6.366 L.), 18.56 (6.396 L.).
On the Sacred Disease 63
contrarily to their own principles: they pretend to be pious men and to rely
on the gods for help, but in fact they make the impious claim to perform
actions which a pious man believes to be reserved to the gods alone. Yet the
author himself appears to have an explicit opinion on what is pious and
what is not (or what a truly pious man should and should not do).
This becomes clearer in the second accusation of asebeia in 1.39ff.
(6.362 L.). The impiety of his opponents, he points out, consists in their
practising puricatory rites and incantations, and in their cleansing the
diseased by means of blood as if they had a pollution (miasma) or were
possessed by a demon, or bewitched by other people. However, the writer
proceeds (1.41, 6.362 L.), they should act in the opposite way: they should
sacrice and pray and, having brought the diseased into the temple, make
supplications to the gods. Yet instead of this they practise purications and
conceal the polluted material lest anyone would get into contact with it.
However, the author claims again (1.43, 6.3624 L.), they should bring the
material into the temple and hand it over to the god, if this god were the
cause of it.
The remarks in sections 1.41 and 1.43 again show that the author has
denite opinions on the pious course of action when dealing with a dis-
ease which is believed to be of divine origin and for which an appeal is
made to divine healing. The contrast between sections 1.3940 and 1.41 is
clearly what we would call the contrast between magic and religion: in the
rst case man himself performs the purication by making the gods obey
his incantations (epa oidai); in the latter case man approaches the gods in
the temple and prays for help, but it is the god who performs the puri-
cation (cf. 1.445).
43
It has been suggested by Lanata that these precepts
concerning piety (eusebeia) are characteristic of the holy prescriptions of
temple medicine.
44
This is not inconceivable, since it is conrmed by our
knowledge of the holy laws of Asclepieia
45
although the precepts are so
general that they can hardly be regarded as exclusively characteristic of
temple medicine. Now, this is not to suggest that the author of On the
Sacred Disease, who has always been hailed as one of the rst champions
of an emancipated science of medicine, actually was a physician serving
in the cult of Asclepius
46
even though the borderlines between secular
43
See Nestle (1938) 2; Edelstein (1967a) 223, 237.
44
Lanata (1967) 38 n. 86. Cf. Ducatillon (1977) 164 n. 3.
45
On the ritual of temple medicine see Edelstein and Edelstein (1945) vol. i i , 1489; Parker (1983) 213
n. 31; Ginouv` es (1962) 34957; Krug (1985) 12834.
46
Contra Herzog (1931) 14951, who ignores the hypothetical wording of the sentence and whose
interpretation of the authors concept of the divinity of the disease is completely mistaken (cf. the
criticism of Lloyd (1975c) 13 n. 19).
64 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
medicine and temple medicine never were as sharp as we tend to think, the
co-operation of physicians in temple medicine being frequently attested;
47
nor does the suggestion itself seem unlikely, for it might well explain the
vigour with which the author attacks magic and defends religion. The
reason for not accepting this suggestion is simply that the text does not
support it (on 1.446 see below). Yet what it does show is that the author
has denite ideas on what one should do when invoking the help of the
gods for the healing of a disease, and he may very well be thinking of the
particular situation of temple medicine, with which he was no doubt famil-
iar (which does not, of course, imply that he was involved in these practices
or approved).
One may point to this hypothetical should and object, as I suggested at
the beginning of this chapter, that these remarks need not imply the authors
personal involvement, but are solely used as arguments ad hominem. He
may, for the purpose of criticising and discrediting his opponents, point out
how a man ought to act when making an appeal to divine help for the cure
of a disease, but this need not imply that he himself takes this way of healing
seriously (after all, invoking the gods for healing presupposes the belief in
a supernatural intervention in natural processes). To a certain extent this
objection is justied, for both sentences (1.41 and 1.43) are hypothetical and
depend on premises to which the author himself need not subscribe. One of
these premises is explicitly mentioned in 1.43: if the god is the cause of the
disease (ti on c tc, to:iv c:ic,). And one may point to the immediately
following sentence (1.44), where the validity of this premise itself is denied
by the author. In this way one might say that all the preceding stipulations
about impiety and piety are just made for the sake of argument and do not
reveal any of the authors own religious convictions: he may be perfectly
aware of the truly pious thing to do without being himself a pious man.
Yet this hypothetical character is absent from the following passage
(1.446, 6.3624 L.), which has to be quoted in full:
co utv:ci t,c,t icotc tc0 vpctcu ocuc uicivtoci, :c ttisnpc:c:cv
otc :c0 c,vc::cu, csci nv :u,yvn oq t:tpcu utuicoutvcv n:i tttcv-
c,, otc :c0 tc0 scciptoci cv co:c sci c,vitoci uccv n uicivtoci. :
, cov ut,io:c :cv cucp:nu:cv sci vcoic:c:c :c tcv to:i :c sccpcv
sci c,vicv sci puuc,ivcutvcv nuv, co:ci :t cpcu, :coi tcoi :cv pcv sci
:cv :tutvtcv tcotisvuutv, c, cv unoti, ottpcivn nv un c,vtn, toicv:t,
:t ttpippcivcutc coy c, uicivcutvci, t :i sci tpc:tpcv tycutv uoc,,
:c0:c qc,vicutvci. sci ttpi utv :cv sccpucv c0:c uci ocst tytiv.
47
See Lloyd (1979) 405; Edelstein and Edelstein (1945) vol. i i , 13941; Edelstein (1967a) 239; Krug
(1985) 120f. and 15963.
On the Sacred Disease 65
But I hold that the body of a man is not polluted by a god, that which is most
corruptible by that which is most holy, but that even when it happens to be polluted
or affectedby something else, it is more likely tobe cleansedfromthis by the godand
sanctied than to be polluted by him. Concerning the greatest and most impious
of our transgressions it is the divine which puries and sancties us and washes
them away from us; and we ourselves mark the boundaries of the sanctuaries and
the precincts of the gods, lest anyone who is not pure would transgress them, and
when we enter the temple we sprinkle ourselves, not as polluting ourselves thereby,
but in order to be cleansed from an earlier pollution we might have contracted.
Such is my opinion about the purications.
It seems that if we are looking for the writers religious convictions we
may nd them here. The rst sentence shows that the author rejects the
presuppositions of his opponents, namely that a god is the cause of a
disease; on the contrary, he says, it is more likely that if a man is polluted
by something else (teron, i.e. something different from a god), the god
will cleanse him from it than pollute him with it. There is no reason to
doubt the authors sincerity here: the belief that a god should pollute a
man with a disease is obviously blasphemous to him; and the point of the
apposition that which is most corruptible by that which is most holy (t
pikhrtaton p to gnottou) is clearly that no pollution (miasma)
can come from such a holy and pure being as a god. As for the positive
part of the statement, that a god is more likely to cleanse people of their
pollutions than to bestow these to them, one may still doubt whether this is
just hypothetical (more likely) or whether the author takes this as applying
to a real situation.
48
But this doubt disappears with the next sentence
(1.456), which evidently expresses the authors own opinion and in which
his personal involvement is marked by the use of ourselves (ato) and of
the rst person plural (mn . . . podeknumen . . . perirrainmeqa). This
sentence shows that the author believes in the purifying and cleansing
working of the divine. I do not think that the shift of the god ( qev)
to the divine (t qeon) is signicant here as expressing a reluctance to
believe in personal or concrete gods, for in the course of the sentence
he uses the expression the gods (tosi qeosi).
49
The use of to theion is
motivated by the contrast with to anthr opinon: cleansing is performed by
the divine, not as the magicians believe (1.39, 6.362 L.) by human
beings. In fact, this whole sentence breathes an unmistakably polemical
atmosphere: the marking off of sacred places for the worship of the gods was
48
But n kaqaresqai represents a potential optative rather than an unfullled condition.
49
Contra N orenberg (1968) 69ff. The distribution of qev, o qeo and t qeon in this context does
not admit of being used as proof that the author does not believe in personal gods.
66 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
already hinted at in 1.41 and 1.43; apparently the magicians practised their
purications outside the ofcial holy places. The use of the word sprinkle
(perirrainmeqa), which means ritual cleansing with water,
50
is opposed
to the impious use of blood in the puricatory rituals of the magicians
(1.40);
51
and the obscure clause not as polluting ourselves thereby, but in
order to be cleansed from an earlier pollution we might have contracted
(ocv miainmenoi, ll . . . fagniomenoi) probably contains a reaction
against the strange idea held by the magicians that the use of water may
entail pollution, which underlies their prohibition of the taking of baths
(1.12, 6.354 L.).
52
Thus interpreted, this sentence shows that the writer believes in the re-
ality of divine purication. Does this mean that he believes, after all, in
the divine healing of diseases as taking place in temple medicine? One
cannot be sure here, for the divine purication is explicitly dened by the
author as applying to moral trangressions (tn marthmtwn), indeed to
the greatest of these. This restriction is signicant in that it may indicate
that in the authors opinion an appeal to divine cleansing is only (or pri-
marily) appropriate in cases of moral transgressions. I would suggest, as a
hypothesis, that the author of On the Sacred Disease here aims at marking
off the vague boundaries between medicine and religion: in his opinion it
50
See Parker (1983) 19; Ginouv` es (1962) 299310.
51
On the use of blood in cathartic ritual, and on the criticism it generally provoked, see Parker
(1983) 3713 and Temkin (1971), 1213; cf. Theophrastus, On Piety, frs. 1314 P otscher (= fr. 584a
Fortenbaugh, Sharples and Sollenberger). The emphasis in 1.40 is on amati ktl., but perhaps also
on sper masm ti contav.
52
I am by no means sure that this is a correct interpretation of this difcult sentence (which is
omitted, from ll e ti onwards by MS , which is perhaps, as Jones suggests, due to haplography
of -menoi but which may also indicate that the text is not completely reliable). At any rate, the
phrase oc v miainmenoi obviously expresses a reaction against the admittedly strange idea that
the sprinkling of water entails pollution (on the prohibition to take baths see Ginouv` es (1962) 395
n. 8; Lanata (1967) 51f.; Parker (1983) 215; Moulinier (1952) 136; Ducatillon (1977) 169). However, as
Ginouv` es points out, there is a difference between a loutrn and a perirrantrion. Perhaps it is
preferable, as H. S. Versnel has suggested to me, to interpret the sentence as an extreme statement
of the authors belief (expressed in 1.445) that a god does not pollute a man but rather puries
him from a pollution: while crossing the border between the sacred and the profane we sprinkle
ourselves; this is, as I have said just now, not symbolic of a pollution which comes from the sacred
[which is obvious to everyone, because:] it is a purication performed by God of the delement
that originates from something else [i.e. the secular]. There is still another possible interpretation
which might be considered, which makes the sentence apply to the practice of temple medicine:
while entering the temple [for the healing of a disease], we sprinkle ourselves, not as if we were
polluted [by the disease, i.e. as if the disease were a pollution quod non: cf. 1.40] but in order to
cleanse ourselves from an earlier pollution we may have contracted. This would suit the authors
aim of distinguishing between moral transgressions (which are, in his opinion, forms of pollution,
mismata) and physical diseases (which are not) and would make sense of the words ti peponqv
in 1.44. However, on this interpretation prteron is difcult, and it would presumably require a
perfect participle (memiasmnoi) instead of the present miainmenoi.
On the Sacred Disease 67
is wrong to regard epilepsy (or any other disease) as a pollution (this seems
to be the point of the words sper masm ti contav in 1.40: as if a
disease were a pollution quod non). He obviously thinks that no moral
factor (punishment for crime or transgressions) is involved,
53
and that, as a
consequence, one should not believe that it can be cured by the gods alone.
As for the authors religious notions, we may deduce from these passages
that he believes in gods who grant men purication of their moral trans-
gressions and who are to be worshipped in temples by means of prayer
and sacrice. It is difcult to see how this conception of the divine (to
theion) can be incorporated within the naturalistic theology with which he
has often been credited.
54
If the divine mentioned in 1.45 is to be iden-
tied with the divine Nature or natural laws, it cannot be seen how this
moral purication should be conceived within such a theology (i.e., apart
from the question of what would be the point of the writer making stip-
ulations about ritual and cult if he held such a mechanistic conception
of the divine). But instead of concluding, therefore, that the statements
of the rst chapter are merely rhetorical remarks which do not reect the
authors own religious opinion (which is apparently the course taken by
most interpreters), I would throw doubt on the reality of this naturalistic
theology for which I have given other reasons as well. It seems better to
proceed in the opposite direction, which means starting from the religious
assertions of the rst chapter and then trying to understand the statements
about the divine character of the disease. In this way, the text can be un-
derstood as motivated by two interrelated purposes. First, by claiming that
epilepsy is not god-sent in the traditional sense, the author does not intend
to reject the notion of divine dispensation as such; his statements are to
be regarded as a form of corrective criticism of a traditional religious idea.
The author claims that it is blasphemous to hold that a holy and pure
being like a god would send diseases as a form of pollution; thus his re-
marks may be compared with statements by Plato which aim at correcting
and modifying the traditional concept of divine dispensation (theia moira)
without questioning the existence of this divine dispensation as such.
55
At
the same time and this is the second, but no doubt more urgent purpose
of the treatise the author strives to disengage epilepsy from the religious
domain and to put it on an equal level, both in its aetiology and in its
therapy, with all other diseases (an attempt which is easily understood from
53
See Jaeger (1980) 158.
54
Cf. the hesitant remarks of N orenberg (1968) 767.
55
Cf. Republic 379 a380 c (e.g. 380 c 89: God is not the cause of everything but only of what is
good) and Phaedrus 244 c.
68 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
the competitive character of early Greek medicine). To a certain extent this
may be viewed as an attempt to secularise the sacred disease; and from
this point of view the positive statements about the divine character of the
disease may be regarded as reluctant or even derogatory concessions rather
than as proclamations of a new advanced theology. And from this perspec-
tive it can further be understood why the author states that epilepsy is not
more divine than the other diseases instead of saying that all diseases are
just as divine as epilepsy.
56
For the purpose of clarity one might paraphrase
the authors intention, with some exaggeration, as follows (differentiating
according to the two interpretations distinguished above): If epilepsy is
divine, it is divine only in the sense in which all other diseases are divine;
well, the only divine aspect of diseases which can be discerned is the fact
that they are caused by factors which are themselves divine (interpretation
(1)) or, on interpretation (2), the only divine aspect of diseases which can
be discerned is the fact that they have a nature. As we have seen, on the
rst interpretation of the divine character of the disease (which posits its
divine character in its being caused by climatic factors), this restricted con-
ception of divinity may well be connected with the fact that the inuence
of these factors is rather limited (and with the use of the word prophasis).
On the second interpretation (and on the reading :c:n oto:i tc, in
this respect they [i.e. diseases] are divine) the emphasis is on :c:n: it is
(only) in this respect that they are divine. On both views the derogatory
tone of the statements can be understood from the authors attempt to
mark off the boundaries between medicine and religion and to purify the
concept of divine dispensation. And it can now also be understood why he
denes the divinity of the disease only in those contexts where he tries to
point out the difference between the sense in which his opponents believe
it to be divine and the sense in which he himself believes it to be so.
This does not imply that the sincerity of the authors statements about
the divine character of the disease should be doubted. Nor should their
relationship with developments in natural philosophy and with other con-
temporary ideas on religion and the divine be questioned. It is precisely
the philosophical search for unity and regularity in natural phenomena,
the enquiry into cause and effect, and the belief, expressed by at least some
of these philosophers, that in manifesting regularity and constancy these
phenomena have a divine aspect, which may have led the author to assign
a divine character to the disease in question. But the danger of stressing
this relationship with natural philosophy is that we read into the text ideas
56
Contra N orenberg (1968) 26 and 49, who ignores the rhetorical impact of these statements. In 18.2
(tv:c tc sci tv:c vpctivc) the emphasis is on tv:c.
On the Sacred Disease 69
which simply are not there. This danger is increased when this reading
is guided by modern ideas about what is primitive or mythic and what
is advanced and rational, so that by labelling an author as advanced or
enlightened we are too much guided in our interpretation of the text by
what we expect him to say. Nowhere in On the Sacred Disease do we nd
statements such as that Nature is divine; nowhere do we nd an explicit
rejection of divine intervention in natural processes or of divine dispen-
sation as such.
57
Caution is suggested not only by a consideration of the
plurality and heterogeneity of opinions on religious matters in the second
half of the fth century,
58
but also by the different forms in which reec-
tion on these matters has manifested itself. It is important to distinguish
between the corrective, cathartic criticism of traditional religious beliefs
and the exposition of a positive theology. It seems that the author of On
the Sacred Disease has been regarded too much as an exponent of the latter,
and that he has been regarded more as a philosopher or a theologian than
as a physician. Instead, I propose to regard as the authors primary concern
the disengagement of epilepsy from the religious domain (which implies
claiming it as an object of medicine) and his accusations of impiety as one
rather successful way to achieve this goal; in this way the corrective criticism
of a traditional idea (viz., that diseases are sent by the gods) is subordinated
to a primarily medical purpose.
Even if this interpretation is convincing, it cannot be denied that there
remains a tension between the authors belief in gods who cleanse men from
their moral transgressions and his statements about the divine character of
the disease. This tension becomes especially manifest when we confront
his categorical rejection of the idea that holy beings like gods send diseases
(which he labels as highly blasphemous) with his assertion, ten lines further
down, that diseases are divine in virtue of having a nature. The problem is
how this being divine of diseases is related to the purifying inuence of
the gods mentioned in 1.446. The author does not explain this, and we
may wonder whether he, if he was aware of this problem, would have been
capable of solving it. Of course, there are several possible solutions which
we might suggest, and we could speculate about the authors unexpressed
ideas on theodicy and on the relation between the gods and the world
in terms of providence, deism, determinism, and so on.
59
But I prefer to
57
Contra H. W. Miller (1948) 2.
58
On this Guthrie (1969) vol. i i i , 22649.
59
For such speculations cf. Thivel (1975) 678 and N orenberg (1968) 756. Thivel draws an almost
Aristotelian picture of the authors world-view: ces dieux . . . sont trop elev es pour intervenir dans
les affaires humaines. Tout se passe comme si . . . lunivers etait s epar e en deux r egions qui ne com-
muniquent pas: le monde terrestre (en termes aristot eliciens on dirait: sublunaire) o` u vivent
les hommes, et qui est r egi, y compris les maladies, par le d eterminisme (la nature, fsin ka
70 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
appreciate this tension and to accept it as a result of the polemical character
of the treatise or even, perhaps, as one of those paradoxes and ambiguities
which are characteristic of religious thought even the religious thought
of intellectuals.
60
It may be thought that this view amounts, after all, to the position
which I rejected at the end of the introduction, namely that we need
not be surprised to nd intellectuals holding or expressing religious ideas
which seem incompatible with each other (either for social or for private
reasons). But it will by now have become clear for what reasons (apart from
those mentioned ad loc.) I did not accept that position. We have seen that
the interpretation of the authors statements about the divine character of
the disease, as well as the attempt to deduce his theological ideas from these
statements, involved many problems. We have also seen the difculties
involved in the evaluation of the authors accusations of asebeia, and I have
shown that it is possible to discern, in spite of the hypothetical character
of most of these accusations, elements of the authors own conviction.
If the results of this discussion (especially my views on the range and
on the rhetorical impact of the assertions about the divinity of diseases)
are convincing, the discrepancy noted at the beginning of this paper has
decreased considerably, though it has not disappeared. Yet we are now in a
much better positionto formulate the problemmore adequately and to look
for an explanation that is more to the point than the one offered in section 1.
4 c o n c l u s i o n
It will by now have become clear why the word theology in the title of this
chapter has been put between quotation marks. It is certainly wrong to hold
that the author of On the Sacred Disease systematically exposes his religious
beliefs and his ideas on the nature of divine causation in this text. Yet what
he does show of these beliefs admits of the following conclusions. The
writer believes in gods who grant men purication of their transgressions
prfasin), et le monde c eleste, s ejour des dieux incorruptibles, qui habitent sans doute les astres.
Ainsi les ph enom` enes naturels, pluie et s echeresse, vents et saisons, qui entrent pour une bonne part
dans les causes des maladies, sont dus des enchanements aveugles, o` u la responsabilit e des dieux
nest nullement engag ee. But this view is a consequence of Thivels interpretation of 18.12, which
he takes as implying that natural phenomena have no divine aspect whatsoever (see n. 25 above). It
will be clear that I cannot endorse this interpretation. As for N orenberg see n. 9 above: his account
of the problem is closer to the text, but it is confused because of his failure to distinguish between
interpretations (1) and (2).
60
Similar ambiguities may be found in the religious thought of, e.g., Plato and Aristotle; see Verdenius
(1960); Babut (1974).
On the Sacred Disease 71
and who are to be worshipped in temples by means of prayer and sacrice.
The text is silent on the authors conception of the nature of these gods, but
there is, at least, no textual evidence that he rejected the notion of personal
or even anthropomorphic gods.
61
He has explicit opinions on how (and
in what circumstances) these gods should be approached, and he denitely
thinks it blasphemous to hold that these holy beings send diseases to men as
pollutions. Diseases are not the effects of divine dispensation; nevertheless
they have a divine aspect in that they showa constant and regular pattern of
originand development. Howthis being divine is related to the divine (or,
the gods) which cleanses men from moral transgressions is not explained.
The idea of divine dispensation as such is nowhere questioned in the text
of On the Sacred Disease. Gods are ruled out as causes of diseases; whether
they are ruled out as healers as well is not certain, since the text is silent on
this subject. As I remarked earlier, the author does not believe that epilepsy
can be cured by natural means in all cases: on two occasions (2.3, 6.364 L.;
11.6, 6.382 L.) he recognises that in some cases the disease can no longer be
cured. Of course we can only speculate what he would do in such cases, but
it does not seem alien to Hippocratic medicine to make an appeal to the
gods in such hopeless cases.
62
We have seen that the borderlines between
secular medicine and temple medicine were vague and that the relation-
ship between these was seldom hostile or antagonistic (see n. 47 above).
Nor is the combination of natural therapeutic measures with prayers and
sacrices unattested in the Hippocratic collection. Thus the writer of On
Regimen explicitly recommends this combination, and among his thera-
peutic remarks dietetic precepts and instructions concerning the gods to
whom one should pray are found side by side.
63
Of course, we should be-
ware of generalisation and not try to harmonise divergent doctrines, for On
Regimen has been claimed to reect a religiosity which is rather exceptional
in the Hippocratic corpus and which is, according to one critic, completely
different from that of On the Sacred Disease.
64
Now the theology of On
61
Contra N orenberg (1968) 78, whose claim is probably prompted by the idea that this would be
incompatible with the enlightening intention (aufkl arerische Absicht) of the author of On the
Sacred Disease.
62
This is speculative, since it is nowhere stated explicitly that in these cases the patient should make
an appeal to divine healing, though the case of Prognostic 1 (see n. 30 above) seems to imply this.
But the recognition that in some cases medicine fails to help is frequently attested (see On the Art
of Medicine 8). On hopeless cases see Edelstein (1967a) 2435; Krug (1985) 1201; Thivel (1975) 60.
63
On Regimen 4.87 (6.642 L.): prayer is a good thing, but while calling on the gods one should also
put in effort oneself (sci :c utv t0ytoci ,cv. ot ot sci co:cv oucuvcv:c :cu, tcu,
ttisctoci); cf. 89.14 (6.652 L.), 90.7 (6.656 L.) and 93.6 (6.662 L.) (references are to the edition
of R. Joly and S. Byl (1984)). [For a fuller discussion see van der Eijk (2004a).]
64
Kudlien (1977) 274; cf. N orenberg (1968) 778.
72 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
Regimen is another matter which cannot be discussed here though here,
too, interpreters have been misguided by a priori conceptions of mythic re-
ligiosity.
65
It will be clear that on the above interpretation of On the Sacred
Disease the positions advanced in the two treatises are not so far removed
from each other. An important point is that the author of On Regimen
recommends prayers in various sorts of diseases, whereas the writer of On
the Sacred Disease would probably do so only if ever in hopeless cases.
On the other hand it must be conceded that the author of On Regimen
substantiates his claim to the ability to cure far more elaborately than the
author of On the Sacred Disease, who connes himself to just a few general
remarks on therapy which may apply to any disease.
66
But the treatises
differ so widely in purpose and method that comparisons are problematic.
The sole object of mentioning On Regimen is to show the danger of us-
ing apparent differences in theology or religiosity between the various
Hippocratic treatises as evidence for establishing the relative dates of the
treatises.
67
Postscript
Major discussions of On the Sacred Disease that have come out since the
original publication of this paper are Stol (1993), Roselli (1996), Hankinson
(1998c), W ohlers (1999), Laskaris (2002), Jouanna (2003) and Lloyd (2003)
4350. While some scholars (Hankinson, Jouanna, Roselli) have accepted
my position regarding the authors religious beliefs, others (Laskaris, Lloyd)
prefer to read the authors arguments in chapter 1 predominantly as rhetor-
ical and not necessarily expressing the authors own views. My suggestion
to prefer the reading tath in 18.2 has been adopted by Roselli, though
65
See N orenberg (1968) 78: Trotz seiner medizinischen Kenntnisse verschiedener Di aten und
krankhafter Zust ande unterliegt dieser Verfasser noch ganz dem Aberglauben; and Thivel (1975)
64: Il existe probablement, dans la Collection hippocratique, peu de trait es qui se tiennent aussi
eloign es du v eritable esprit scientique. Both Kudlien and N orenberg point to the belief in divine
dreams (4.87.1) as evidence of this; but this belief was hardly ever questioned throughout the classical
period (with the exception of Aristotle). One of the interesting characteristics of On Regimen 4 is that
the author states that he will not deal with divine dreams, but only with those dreams which have a
physical origin, while at the same time incorporating religious instructions among his therapeutic
remarks. This is, of course, not an inconsistency or a sign of the alleged compilatory character of
the book (as van Lieshout (1980, 1867) seems to think), but an interesting example of the surprising
relations between science and religion of which Greek medicine provides evidence (see Lloyd (1979)
42).
66
This may be because his claims concerning the curability of the disease are actually quite weak (see
Lloyd (1979) 22, 49 and 567), but it may just as well be due to the purpose of the treatise, which
does not aim at giving therapeutic details. [It should further be noted that the author of On Regimen
is rst of all concerned with the prevention of disease rather than its cure; see van der Eijk (2004a).]
67
Contra Kudlien (1977) 274 and N orenberg (1968) 78.
On the Sacred Disease 73
Laskaris and Jouanna prefer to keep the other reading tata. According
to Jouanna, the author in the course of his argument develops the notion
of prophasis in the sense of external catalyst (cause d eclenchante due aux
facteurs ext erieurs) and in the end distinguishes it from that of phusis, the
natural cause or law determining the development of the disease (cause
naturelle et lois de d eveloppement de la maladie). He concludes that there
is no contradiction, since both external causal factors and the internal na-
ture of the disease are subject to the same natural laws and therefore divine
(Il ny a aucune contradiction selon lauteur entre une maladie divine ` a
cause de sa phusis ou ` a cause de sa prophasis. Tout cela est de lordre du
divin dans la mesure o` u tous ces ph enom` enes ob eissent ` a des lois naturelles
qui sont les m emes aussi bien ` a lext erieur de lhomme quen lhomme, lois
qui sont ind ependantes de lintervention humaine (2003, 1301)). I still
think that this does not fully address the problems I raise in my discussion
of this passage and reads too many elements in the text which are not ex-
plicitly stated (e.g. the notion of natural law), although I concede, as I did
in my original paper, that my suggestion to read tath is not free from
difculties either.
I have discussed the relationship between On the Sacred Disease and Airs,
Waters, Places in van der Eijk (1991), arriving at the view that there is no
reason to believe that the two treatises are by different authors; similar
conclusions have been arrived at (apparently independently) by Bruun
(1997); see also Jouanna (1996) 713 and (2003) lxxlxxiv. I have discussed
the similar structure of the argumentation in On the Sacred Disease and
in Aristotles On Divination in Sleep in van der Eijk (1994) 2945 (see also
Hankinson (1998c) making a similar point). I have dealt at greater length
with the religious beliefs of the author of On Regimen in van der Eijk
(2004a).
On the question of the divine in other Hippocratic treatises see
Lichtenthaeler (1992) on Prognostic, and Flemming and Hanson (1998)
on Diseases of Young Women.
c h a p t e r 2
Diocles and the Hippocratic writings on the method
of dietetics and the limits of causal explanation
1 i n t r o d u c t i o n
In antiquity Diocles of Carystus enjoyed the reputation of being a younger
Hippocrates, or second in fame and venerability to Hippocrates.
1
Yet this
did not prevent him from developing his own ideas and from writing med-
ical treatises in his own style in the Attic dialect. To be sure, later reports on
his doctrines often represent him as being in perfect agreement with Hip-
pocrates on various subjects;
2
but the fragments of his works that have
been preserved, show that the authority of the great Coan did not prevent
himfromtaking issue with some ideas and practices that are similar to what
is to be found in texts which we call Hippocratic.
3
Of course we do not
know whether Diocles, if he had actually read these works, took them to
be by Hippocrates in fact, if we accept Wesley Smiths suggestion that the
Hippocratic Corpus was created by third-century Alexandrian philologists
who brought together a number of anonymous medical works into one col-
lection under the name of Hippocrates,
4
we may wonder whether anything
like Hippocratic authority already existed in Diocles time (not to mention
the fact that Diocles date itself is the subject of another controversy). It is
not even certain that Diocles had ever heard of Hippocrates or was familiar
with any of his genuine works.
5
This chapter was rst published in R. Wittern and P. Pellegrin (eds.), Hippokratische Medizin und antike
Philosophie (Hildesheim, 1996) 22957.
1
(Pseudo-)Vindicianus, On the Seed 2 (Diocles, fr. 3); Pliny, Natural History 26.10 (Diocles, fr. 4). The
Diocles fragments are numbered according to my edition (2000a, 2001a), which replaces the edition
by Wellmann (1901).
2
See, for example, frs. 26, 27, 28, 33, 36 and 52.
3
See, for example, frs. 55a, 55b and 57.
4
Smith (1990a) 618.
5
Notwithstanding Wellmanns view (1901, 64) that Diocles was familiar with many Hippocratic writ-
ings and even was the creator of the Hippocratic Corpus, there are no verbatim attestations that
Diocles knew Hippocrates name or that he took several writings to be Hippocratic. The only excep-
tion is fr. 55b (Stephanus of Athens, Commentary on Hippocrates Aphorisms 2.33, p. 210,30ff. Westerink
(CMG xi 1, 3, 1)), where Diocles is quoted as arguing explicitly against Hippocrates, but this seems
to be a doxographic construction (Stephanus is generally believed to rely on Galens commentary
74
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 75
This heaping up of uncertainties at the beginning of this chapter may
appear a rather weak rhetorical strategy. Yet it throws some light on my
reasons for selecting Diocles fragment 176 for discussion in the context
of an examination of the relationship between Hippocratic medicine and
ancient philosophy, and it may serve to illustrate an approach to it which
I would rather try to avoid. For the fragment in question one of the
few longer verbatim fragments of Diocles we possess has repeatedly been
interpreted as being related to, and perhaps even directed against, certain
Hippocratic texts.
6
Moreover, it has fallen victim to what I believe to be
exaggerated and unjustied interpretations of Diocles own position. It
has, for instance, been read as a foreshadowing of medical Empiricism or
even Scepticism,
7
or as the culmination of the Aristotelian development
from speculative philosophy to an empirically minded study of particular
phenomena.
8
I shall be the last to deny that the fragment is important or
that it testies to Diocles awareness of questions of methodology; and I
shall argue that in this respect we may speak of an original contribution
to dietetics by Diocles, which may be seen as a partial correction of the
direction that dietetics had taken in the Hippocratic texts On Regimen
and On Ancient Medicine; but it should not be seen as the great fragment
on method (das groe Methodenfragment) in which Diocles expounded
his philosophy of science and from which extrapolations concerning his
general medical outlook can be safely made.
9
The chapter is structured as follows. First, I shall interpret the fragment
itself in some detail (section 2).
10
Then I shall try to reconstruct the views
Diocles is criticising and consider to what extent these correspond to what
we nd in the Hippocratic Corpus and to what extent the critical elements
on the Aphorisms in which the verbatim quotation is not present); see Jaeger (1938a) 27 n. 1. In fr.
57 Galen has preserved a verbatim quotation of an argument used by Diocles against Hippocrates
assumption of the existence of fevers recurring every ve, seven or nine days. However, although
Diocles addresses someone in the second person singular, we cannot be certain that his objection
was originally directed against Hippocrates. For caution with regard to Diocles acquaintance with
the name and reputation of Hippocrates see Smith (1979) 187ff.
6
See Wellmann (1901) 163; Fredrich (1899) 16973; Torraca (1965) 10515 (with Italian translation of
the fragment); W ohrle (1990) 175ff.
7
Kudlien (1963) and (1964), both reprinted in Flashar (1971) 192201 and 28095.
8
See the publications by Werner Jaeger (1938a), (1938b), (1940) (reissued in German translation in
[1951]), (1952) and (1959). The reactions Jaegers views provoked are conveniently discussed by von
Staden (1992).
9
In this I endorse a view which was recently stated by von Staden (1992) 240.
10
See also the commentary on the fragment in van der Eijk (2001a) 32134. Further discussions of
the fragment (other than the ones already mentioned) can be found in Deichgr aber (1965) 274 n. 3;
Bertier (1972) 323; Kullmann (1974) 3503; Smith (1979) 1836 (with an English translation), (1980)
439ff. and (1992) 267; Frede (1987a) 129 and 235, 238 and (1985) xxii; von Staden (1989) 1201.
76 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
in Diocles argument can be compared with the polemical remarks we nd
in such Hippocratic treatises as On Regimen and On Ancient Medicine
(section 3). Finally, some remarks will be made about what I believe the
fragment tells us (and what it does not tell us) about Diocles own practice
in dietetics and medical science as a whole (section 4).
2 i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f f r a g m e n t 1 7 6
The fragment is preserved by Galen in the introductory chapter of his
voluminous dietetic work On the Powers of Foodstuffs (De alimentorum
facultatibus, De alim. facult.). Having stated the importance of this subject,
Galen says that it has generated great disagreement among medical writers,
and that it is therefore necessary to judge which of these writers are right
and which are wrong. The Greek text runs as follows:
11
(1) ttti ot :cv tcotitcv pyci oi::ci sc:c ,tvc, tioiv (n ,cp t
cionotc, n ts vcnotc, tvcp,c0, tcotii, :t sci tio:i, cpyt:ci
tcoc), sci nuc, vc,sccv to:iv n c:tpc :c:cv n uqc:tpci,
ypnococi tpc, :nv :c0 tpcstiutvcu ostuuc:c, spioiv. (2) coocv ot
:cv oic :c0 c,cu spiotcv coy ctcoiv cucic, tott:cv, tttion sci
ouvt:cv tvci ypn qoti sci ,t,uuvoci sc:c :nv tcioisnv nisicv tv
:c, n,cuoi ucnucoi :cv c,ioucv, cutivcv tc :n, ttipc, cpco-
ci sci uio c:i oic :c:n, ucvn, topnoci :c, ouvuti, :n, :pcqn,
cos ci,ci :cv ic:pcv ttqnvcv:c. (3) :cv utv cov tuttipiscv oc,
cv :i, sc:cqpcvnotitv tp,cv sci otcocouc tttcinutvcv qic:iuc,
v:it,tiv :c, topioscutvci, oic :c0 c,cu (4) Aicsn, ot sci:ci
oc,uc:isc, cv c0:c sc:c tiv t,pctv tv :c tpc:c :cv tpc,
ltio:cpycv Y,itivcv
(5) c utv cov otccuvcv:t, :c :cu, cucicu, tycv:c yucu, n
couc, n tpuc:n:c, n cc :i :cv :cic:cv tv:c :c, co:c, tytiv
ouvuti, co scc, ccv:ci tcc ,cp tc :cv c0:c, cucicv vc-
ucic otititv cv :i, ,i,vcutvc. (6) coot on :cv oicycpn:iscv n
copn:iscv n cnv :ivc ovcuiv tycv:cv otcnt:tcv tsco:cv
tvci :cic0:cv, oic:i tpucv n uypcv n cuupcv to:iv, tttittp
co tv:c :c ,ustc sci opiutc sci cuupc sci :c citc :cv
11
The text is reproduced from the edition by G. Helmreich (CMG v 4, 2), with one exception: at
the end of section 1, I emend spioiv instead of the MSS readings t0ptoiv and cpcioiv. See on
this van der Eijk (1993c). Surprisingly, Jaeger seems not to have used Helmreichs edition, and his
discussion of some textual problems (1938a, 256 and 37) should therefore be read with caution.
[The translation printed here is the one printed in van der Eijk (2001a) 2835.]
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 77
:cic:cv :c, co:c, tyti ouvuti,, (7) c :nv cnv qoiv ci:icv t-
vci vcuio:tcv :c:cu, c:iontc:c0v t co:cv tso:cu ouucivtiv
tctv. c0:c ,cp cv nsio:c oicucp:vci :i, :n, ntic,.
(8) ci:icv o c utv cicutvci otv tq tso:cu t,tiv, oi nv :pcqi-
ucv n oicycpn:iscv n copn:iscv n cc :i :cv :cic:cv tsco:cv
to:iv, ,vctv tciscoi tpc:cv utv, c:i tpc, :c, ypnoti, co tcsi,
:c :cic0:cv vc,sccv to:iv, ttti c:i tcc :cv cv:cv :pctcv
:ivc pyc, :ioiv tcist sc:c qoiv, co:t un tcpcotytoci :cv ottp
ci:icu c,cv (9) tpc, ot :c:ci, oicucp:vcuoiv tvic:t, c:cv ,-
vccutvc sci un cucc,cutvc sci ticvc cuvcv:t, scvc,
ccv:ci t,tiv :nv ci:icv. (10) :c, utv cov c0:c, ci:icc,c0oi sci
:c, tv:cv cicutvci, otv t,tiv ci:icv co ot tpcotytiv, tio:ttiv
ot uccv :c, ts :n, ttipc, ts tcc0 ypcvcu sc:cvtvcnutvci,
(11) ci:icv ot :cv tvotycutvcv ot n:tv, c:cv utn tcp co:c
:c0:c ,vcpiuc:tpcv n tio:c:tpcv ,i,vtoci :c t,cutvcv.
(12) c0:n utv n :c0 Aicstcu, pnoi, to:iv ts ttipc, ucvn, t,vcoci
:c, tv :c, :pcqc, ouvuti, n,cuutvcu sci un: ts :n, sc:c spcoiv
tvotitc, un: ts :n, sc:c :cu, yuuc,. (13) c0on, ot sci cn, :n,
sc:c :c ucpic :cv qu:cv cos tuvnucvtuotv co:n,. (14) t,c ot sc:c
:c ucpic :cv qu:cv tvotiiv, n tpc, :c, cci, typnoc:c Mvnoitc,
t:tpc, utv ouvuti, tv :c, pici, tvci :cv qu:cv tcotisv,, t:tpc, o
tv :c, scuc,, cottp ,t sv :c, qci, sci scptc, sci ottpucoiv
cc,.
(1) Since there are two different kinds of starting-points of scientic demon-
strations (for every demonstration and argument starts from either percep-
tion or clear insight), it is necessary for us, too, to use either one of these or
both for the purpose of judging the present problem. (2) Now, judgements
through reason are not equally easy for all people, since one has to be in-
telligent by nature and to be trained during youth in the disciplines that
sharpen reasoning. Therefore, it is better to start from experience, espe-
cially so because many doctors have declared that it is through experience
only that the powers of food have been discovered. (3) Now, one might
perhaps despise the Empiricists, who have taken great pains over argu-
ing contentiously against the things which are discovered through reason;
(4) however, Diocles, though being a Dogmatist, in the rst book of his
Matters of Health to Pleistarchus writes the following, and I quote:
(5) Those, then, who suppose that [substances] that have similar avours
or smells or [degrees of ] hotness or some other [quality] of this kind all
78 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
have the same powers, are mistaken; for it can be shown that from
[substances] that are similar in these respects, many dissimilar [effects]
result; (6) and indeed, one should also not suppose that every [substance]
that is laxative or promotes urine or has some other power is like that for
the reason that it is hot or cold or salt, seeing that not all [substances] that
are sweet or pungent or salt or those having any other [quality] of this
kind have the same powers; (7) rather must one think that the whole
nature is the cause of whatever normally results from each of them; for
in this way one will least fail to hit the truth.
(8) Those who believe that with every single [substance] one should
state a cause why each one of such [substances] is nutritious or laxative or
promotes urine or has some other similar power, apparently do not know,
rst, that for the use [of these substances] something like that is not often
necessary, and further, that many of the [things] that are [the case] in
some way look like some sort of starting-points by [their] nature, so that
they do not admit of the [kind of ] account that deals with [their] cause.
(9) In addition, they sometimes make mistakes when, while accepting
[things] that are not known or are disputed or implausible, they think
that they state the cause sufciently. (10) Therefore, one should not pay
attention to those who state causes in this way or to those who believe
that one should state a cause for all [things]; rather, one should give
credence to the [things] that have been well grasped on the basis of
experience over a long time. (11) One should look for a cause [only] of
the [things] admitting one, whenever it is by this that what is said turns
out to be better known or more reliable.
(12) These are the words of Diocles, who believes that the powers contained
in foodstuffs are known on the basis of experience only and not on the
basis of an indication according to mixture or an indication according to
humours. (13) There is still another [form of indication], namely the one
according to the parts of plants, but he did not mention this. (14) By
indication according to the parts of plants I mean the one used in addition
to the others by Mnesitheus in his demonstration that powers in the roots
of plants are different from those in the stems, just as those in the leaves
are different, and those in the fruits, and those in the seeds.
It is important to note that both in the introduction to the fragment
and immediately after the verbatim quotation Diocles view is presented
by Galen as advancing an exclusively empirical approach to the question of
the powers of foodstuffs (section 2: through experience only, di tathv
mnhv; section 12: on the basis of experience only, k perav mnhv). I
shall return to Galens association of Diocles with Empiricism, and the
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 79
apparent tension involved with his belonging to the Dogmatist tradition,
later on.
The rst claim that Diocles attacks is that substances
12
that have sim-
ilar qualities have the same powers. I use the word quality to refer to
characteristics such as those mentioned in section 5 being juicy or dry,
having a particular smell, having a certain degree of hotness although
the Greek text has no separate term to denote this category. Power is used
for dunamis, which is the power to produce a certain effect in the body
of the consumer (examples mentioned in the text are provoking urine
and laxative in section 6 and nutritive in section 8). This distinction will
concern us later on. It is important to note that the claim Diocles criticises
does not explicitly say that there is a causal connection between having a
certain quality and having a certain power: it just states the combination
of the two. Yet even this is shown by Diocles to be wrong on empirical
grounds; he refutes the claim by means of a judgement based on experi-
ence (a spioi, tc ttipc,, to use the words with which Galen introduces
the quotation from his work) by pointing out that not all substances that
are similar in respect of having a certain quality, say, A (section 5: similar in
these respects, c0:c, cucicv), produce results that indicate the presence
of a certain power, say, B.
13
In section 6 this is immediately followed by the denial of a second claim,
which Diocles does not explicitly put in the mouth of the same group,
but which he presents as a consequence of the rst claim (and indeed,
one should also not . . . , coot on). This consequence is easy to see. For
claim one does not say, but by its wording at least suggests, that there is a
causal connection between having a particular quality and the possession of
a particular power. This connection may take various forms: for instance,
sweetness may be the cause of being laxative; or (perhaps less likely) being
laxative may be the cause of being sweet; or, thirdly, sweetness and being
laxative may both be results or effects of an underlying cause (in which
case sweetness could be regarded as a sign of being laxative). Diocles only
mentions the rst of these possible consequences which is also the most
obvious and he refutes it by means of the same empirical evidence he
adduced against the rst claim: experience shows that not all things that
have the same quality have the same powers.
12
Throughout the fragment, Diocles Greek does not specify what we have to think about; Galens text
suggests that foodstuffs (:pcqci, oi:ic, totouc:c) are meant (see section 12), but drinks (tcuc:c)
and possibly also drugs (qpucsc) may also be included. [Hence I have now preferred substances
over the foodstuffs of my (1996) translation.] Jaeger translates Dinge or Mittel, Torraca sostanze,
Smith foods.
13
Diocles refutation ignores the possibility that a foodstuff may have a particular power but does not
actualise it in a certain case (on this possibility cf. Aristotle, Metaph. 1071 b 19, 23).
80 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
Diocles does not deny that in all cases where a certain power B is present,
quality A is present as well (his argument allows the possibility that, for
instance, all things that are laxative are sweet as well). But he points out that
not all foodstuffs with quality A have power B, and the consequence of this
is that even in those cases in which power B and quality A are both present,
we cannot say that quality A is the cause of power B. Such an explanation
is not sufcient (not kanv, to use a word which Diocles mentions later
on in the fragment in section 9), because it does not account for situations
in which quality A is present but not power B. Nor does Diocles deny that
qualities may play a part in the production of a certain effect; but he insists
that they do not necessarily produce the effect in question, and that, if
they incidentally do so, they need not be the only factors involved in this
production. He thereby shows that claim one, apart from being sometimes
counterfactual, is also misleadingly formulated or to put it in Aristotelian
terms: it is not qua being sweet that a foodstuff is laxative, and the statement
sweet foodstuffs are laxative is not true universally.
Instead, in section 7 Diocles alleges that what normally results from
each of them (i.e. the substances we are talking about) is caused by the
whole nature. The very fact that Diocles gives an explanation of this kind
already indicates that any attempt to associate him with Empiricism or
Scepticism is not very likely to be correct.
14
But what do these words the
whole nature (tn lhn fsin) refer to? Most likely, I believe, is that
the nature of the substance is meant, the sum or total conguration of
elements, constituents or qualities the foodstuff consists of and the way
they are structured or interrelated for instance, the proportion between
qualities such as warm and cold, dry and wet by which it is characterised.
15
14
As will become clear below, this nature is not something which can be perceived empirically: it is
probably made up both from imperceptible entities such as humours, primary qualities, etc., and
from perceptible qualities such as avours, tastes, etc. Cf. the disjunction in Galen, On the Natural
Faculties (De naturalibus facultatibus) 2.8 (p. 191,1011 Helmreich): Some have discovered the power
of the substance by indication from the very nature of it, while others have done so on the basis
of experience only (o mn k tv fsewv ato tn dnamin ndeixamnhv erntev, o d k tv
perav mnhv).
15
See Torraca (1965) 108: la composizione generale della sostanza . . . non essendo possibile schematiz-
zare e ridurre la causa ad una sola propriet` a, and Kullmann (1974) 351, followed by W ohrle (1990)
174. This interpretation is in accordance with Galens use of the concept of the whole nature (lh
fsiv) or the whole essence (lh osa) to denote the cause of the power a foodstuff or drug
has, for instance in On the Mixtures and Powers of Simple Drugs (De simplicium medicamentorum
temperamentis ac facultatibus, De simpl. med. fac.) 5.1 (11.705 K.); On the Composition of Drugs ac-
cording to Kinds (De compositione medicamentorum secundum genera, De comp. med. sec. gen.) 1.16
(13.4356 K.); On Mixtures (De temperamentis, De temper.) 3.2 (1.655 K.). For other references see
Harig (1974) 10810; R ohr (1923) 11820. Smiths translation is ambiguous on this point: Rather,
one must consider that the whole nature (physis) is responsible (aitios) [for what usually occurs for
each].
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 81
This interpretation has the advantage that the referent of phusis is immedi-
ately supplied by the context; moreover, as we shall see below, it has some
support from what follows in section 8. A second possible interpretation
is that the whole nature refers to the sum of natural factors that play a
part in the production by a certain substance of a certain dietetic effect
with a certain patient. Indeed, a number of such factors are mentioned
by Galen in the pages following on the Diocles fragment: not only the
peculiar essence (cistic cooic) of the substance itself, but also climate,
geographical area, season, a patients natural constitution, his way of life (:c
tti:notuc:c), his age, particular characteristics of the stomach and the
intestines determine the effect a foodstuff produces in a particular case.
16
Yet it may be objected against this interpretation that the words are used to
occur (ouucivtiv tctv) indicate that Diocles is here concerned with the
general rather than with the particular although the very use of used to
(tctv), in combination with the words least fail to hit the truth (nsio:c
oicucp:vci :n, ntic,) in section 7, suggests an awareness on Diocles
part that the effect a substance produces cannot be predicted for all cases. A
third interpretation of the whole nature has been proposed by Jaeger, who
argued that the nature of the consuming organism is meant, that is, the
constitution of its body, its age, and so on.
17
This interpretation introduces
an element which is not provided by contextual evidence, for the consumer
or his body is nowhere mentioned in the fragment. It therefore seems best
to interpret the words the whole nature as referring to the nature of the
foodstuff.
In section 8 Diocles criticises a third claim, which is, like the rst, pre-
sented as a view which is actually being held by a certain group (those
who believe . . . , c . . . cicutvci). The claim seems to be that in every par-
ticular case, one should state the cause why a thing (again we may think
of a foodstuff ) has a certain dietetic power. At rst sight, this claim looks
rather different from the ones discussed earlier, for what is at issue is not
the identity or the kind of causes sought for but the search for causes itself.
Moreover, there is a shift of attention from the universal (all, tv:c in
section 5) to the particular (each, tq tso:cu in section 8). Diocles refu-
tation of it calls for close consideration. His rst argument seems rather
obvious: for practical purposes, causal explanation is not often necessary.
For instance, when we know that a certain foodstuff is protable for people
16
Galen, De alim. facult. 1.1.16ff. (pp. 207ff. Helmreich, 6.462ff. K.).
17
Jaeger (1938a) 29; in the sequel to Galens argument, this is referred to as the body of the living
being that takes in the nourishment (:c :c0 :ptqcutvcu ccu ocuc, see, e.g., 1.1.27, p. 210,13
Helmreich, 6.469 K.), but there is no indication for this in Diocles words themselves.
82 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
suffering from a certain disease, that will do for the practical purpose of
healing a patient suffering from this disease.
His second objection is that a causal explanation of a substances having
a certain power is in many cases not possible. As for the words many of
the things that are, tcc :cv cv:cv, it seems that we have to think not
only of things or separate entities (e.g. foodstuffs, drugs), but also of facts
and states of affairs (e.g. honey is sweet; or, garlic affects the eyes).
18
The use
of expressions such as in some way (:pctcv :iv) and look like (tcist)
seem to serve the same purpose of not committing oneself to a statement
without qualication: Diocles does not say that many states of affairs are
principles, but only that they resemble them, show some characteristics of
them; nor does he say that this applies without qualication, but only in
a certain way (a way which is explicated in the clause so that they do not
admit . . . , co:t un tcpcotytoci s:.). It is not clear from the text
whether by starting-points Diocles means fundamental physical states of
affairs or logical postulates that should be accepted as valid without further
demonstration, comparable to the logical postulates discussed by Aristotle
in Metaphysics ,
19
but perhaps this is not relevant to the point he wants to
make: honey is laxative (to mention just an imaginary example) is similar
to a postulate like a statement p and its negation not-p cannot both be
true at the same time under the same conditions in that it does not admit
of demonstration.
20
This is not to say that the two have the same degree
of fundamentality: the point of the use of tcist is that there is a similarity
between a statement like honey is laxative and a logical postulate like the
one mentioned, and this similarity is expressed in the sentence so that
they do not admit of the [kind of ] account that deals with [their] cause
(co:t un tcpcotytoci . . . c,cv). Whereas a real principle like a logical
postulate is undemonstrable without qualication (ctc,, one is tempted
to say), foodstuffs and their effects are so only in some way (:pctcv :iv).
What this some way is, becomes clearer when we consider the words sc:c
qoiv. These are usually translated in an Aristotelian-like way by naturally,
by nature, or normally, suggesting as Diocles intention that it is in the
18
Cf. the translations by Jaeger (vieles in der Wirklichkeit Gegebene), Kullmann (viele Gegeben-
heiten); Torraca translates molti fenomeni reali, Smith many things.
19
Jaeger (1938a, 42) states without argument that Das Wort pyci weist hier nicht auf Prinzipien
der Art hin, wie die Naturphilosophen sie gesucht hatten, die Urgr unde der Physis, sondern auf
Prinzipien im logischen Sinne oder oberste Beweisgr unde. Armelle Debru has suggested to me as
an alternative that we may think here of basic or simple (ctn) foodstuffs (as against complex
ones); but then it is difcult to see why Diocles says that many things (i.e. foodstuffs) look like basic
entities, instead of saying that they are basic.
20
Cf. Aristotle, Gen. an. 788 a 13: this is what it means to be a starting-point, being itself the cause of
many things, without there being another cause for it higher up (:c0:c ,p to:i :c pynv tvci,
:c co:nv utv ci:icv tvci tccv, :c:n, o cc cvctv untv).
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 83
nature of things that many things look like, or are taken as, principles.
21
However, that would be a remarkable statement which would have no
justication in the context. Yet if we connect the use of the word phusis
here with that in section 7 above, a more comprehensible view emerges:
phusis again refers to the nature of the substance in question, for example
the foodstuff, and kat fsin means according to their nature, in virtue
of their nature. In section 7 the whole nature was said to be the cause
of the effect the foodstuff normally produces; thus it is relatively easy to
understand the statement that in virtue of their nature these foodstuffs and
their producing such-and-such an effect are like principles. For the purpose
of clarity, let me paraphrase what I think Diocles line of thought in this
whole fragment amounts to. A foodstuff has its effect due not to one of its
particular qualities but to its nature as a whole; as soon as we descend to a
level that is lower (e.g. more elemental) than this whole nature, for instance
by considering the constituents or qualities of the foodstuff in isolation, we
lose the wholeness, the total sum of these constituents or qualities and the
structure or proportion according to which they are interrelated whereas
this very nature was said to be responsible for the effect in question. To
be sure, we might be able to explain why honey is sweet (which is, after
21
Jaeger: von Natur; Torraca: secondo natura. Kullmann takes kat fsin as belonging to rcav:
Viele Gegebenheiten gleichen in gewisser Weise bestimmten naturgem aen Prinzipien, so da sie
keine Darlegung uber die Ursache zulassen (1974, 351) and he comments on p. 352: Es kommt
Diokles gerade darauf an, da diese Prinzipien naturgem a und nicht k unstlich sind, um die Frage
nach abstrakten Letztursachen ein f ur allemal auszuschlieen. But this is difcult to accept because
of the word order. Smiths translation (many things are in some fashion like rst principles in nature)
is not explicit on this point, like Fredes paraphrase: He also maintained that we should treat many
facts of nature as primitive, rather than try to explain them in terms of some questionable theory
which would serve no further purpose (Introduction, 1985, xxii). Bertiers paraphrase goes too far
beyond what is in the text: Apport insigniant des th eories explicatives, dans la mesure o` u les r ealit es
contiennent en elles-m emes le reet de leurs principes, et o` u la th eorie nest quune r ep etition de
la description du fait (1972, 32). H. Gottschalk (private correspondence) understands the whole
sentence as follows: (a) archai, because they are archai, cannot be explained or demonstrated, and
(b) any train of reasoning, even if it does not start from the most universal and ultimate archai, must
start from something accepted as true for the purpose of that argument, a quasi-arche not subjected
to further analysis or demonstration, and he takes the words kat fsin as expressing that Our
using such propositions [e.g. honey is laxative] as archai is arbitrary, yet it is in the nature of things
that we reason in this way, but he admits that Diocles has not expressed himself very clearly, perhaps
because he was trying to t an Aristotelian idea into a context determined by older ways of thinking.
[After the original publication of this paper, I became aware of the paraphrase of fr. 176 by A. L.
Peck in his 1928 Cambridge PhD thesis Pseudo-Hippocrates Philosophus; or the development of
philosophical and other theories as illustrated by the Hippocratic writings, with special reference to
De victu and De prisca medicina, pp. 11617, of which the following parts are worth quoting: and
that many of the substances we have bear a considerable resemblance in their nature to some of the
rst principles, so that there is no place left for an account of the cause (of their effects) . . . when
they think that they have given a satisfactory account of the cause by getting hold of something that
is not known nor generally agreed upon nor even plausible; in a footnote to the words so that there
is no place left, Peck adds: Because it is not possible to trace out a cause further back than a rst
principle. Peck further agrees that Hippocrates On Regimen comes under Diocles condemnation.]
84 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
all, a question of elementary physics or pharmacology), but this does not
contribute anything to our understanding of why honey produces certain
dietetic effects. On the level of its nature and with regard to the effect it
produces, a foodstuff resembles (tcist) a genuine undemonstrable starting-
point although it is not a starting-point in the absolute sense: the words
in some way serve the purpose of qualifying the resemblance that exists
between a genuine starting-point and a foodstuff which, from a certain
point of view, behaves like a starting-point. To say it with some exaggeration
(which goes beyond what is in the text): there is a causal gap between the
nature of a foodstuff as being causally responsible for certain dietetic effects
on the one hand, and the nature of the foodstuff as being the result of a
certain sum of elements or qualities.
In section 9 Diocles states additional criticism. Since no subject of make
mistakes (oicucp:vcuoiv) is specied, it seems that he is still referring
to the same group as in section 8 (but see below). These people, he says,
miss the truth (note the similarity to the wording at the end of section 7),
because their explanations are ill-founded. Accept (cuvtiv) is to be
taken in the sense of postulate, take as a starting-point.
22
It is not quite
clear whether things that are not known (,vccutvc) should be taken
in the sense of invisibles (the conc), namely things unknown to human
perception
23
(which, of course, would please those who read the fragment
as an anticipation of Empiricism) or in the sense of not known to them,
in which case Diocles means something like they do not know what they
are talking about.
24
The second objection is obvious: disputed things do
not serve as an appropriate starting-point; apart from being wrong perhaps,
they are unconvincing. The third objection of implausibility introduces
the notion of persuasiveness of the doctors statements an element which
is also reected in section 11 in the words more reliable (tio:c:tpcv) and
which is familiar from the Hippocratic writings.
25
In sections 1011 Diocles summarises his criticism and states his own
alternative. It is important to note the use of rather (uccv), and
to see to what exactly the habit of putting more trust in the results of
long-term experience is said to be preferable: the ill-founded and undue
22
Cf. Aristotle, Mete. 357 b 234: nut, ot t,cutv pynv ccv:t, :nv co:nv nv sci tpc:tpcv (let
us discuss this adopting the same starting-point as we have adoptedbefore) andPol. 1290b223: oic:i
ot tticu, :cv tipnutvcv sci :ivt, sci oic :i t,cutv pynv ccv:t, :nv tipnutvnv tpc:tpcv
(And because there are more [sc. forms of constitution] than those mentioned, let us discuss what
they are and why they are different, adopting as starting-point the one we have mentioned earlier).
For other linguistic resemblances to Aristotle see n. 42 below.
23
On Ancient Medicine 1.3 (p. 119,5 Jouanna, 1.572 L.): :c qcvtc :t sci tcptcutvc (the things that
are invisible and difcult to know). For Diocles views on invisibles see frs. 177 and 56b.
24
In view of the use of ,vcpiuc:tpcv in section 11, the latter is perhaps more likely.
25
Cf. Prognostic 1 (2.110 L.) and Langholf (1996).
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 85
causal explanations of the groups mentioned in the above.
26
There is no
question of an absolute priority of experience over reasoning, and the last
sentence (section 11) shows that Diocles acknowledges that causal expla-
nation, in all those cases where it is possible,
27
may make the physicians
account more informative and reliable. While those who believe that one
should state a cause for all [things] (:c, tv:cv cicutvci, otv t,tiv
ci:icv) clearly refers to the group criticised in section 8, it is less clear who
are meant by the words those who state causes in this way (:c, utv cov
c0:c, ci:icc,c0oi). The most likely possibility is that it refers to those
who are criticised in the sentence immediately preceding it, that is those
who make mistakes because their causal explanations are ill-founded; but
this is not quite compatible with section 9, where the lack of a change of
subject suggests that Diocles additional criticism (in addition, tpc, ot
:c:ci,) still applies to the same group. Another possibility is that those
who state causes in this way are the ones criticised in the rst part of
the fragment (the champions of claims one and two), although it is a bit
awkward to take the phrase in this way (c0:c,) as referring not to the
ill-founded stating the cause (t,tiv :nv ci:icv) mentioned just before
but to what was discussed in section 7.
Perhaps this difculty becomes less urgent when we consider how the
three claims Diocles criticises are interrelated. As I said, at rst sight it seems
that in his refutation of claim three in section 8, Diocles is arguing against a
rather different group from the one which is his target in the earlier part of
the fragment (claims one and two). Yet after reading the whole fragment,
it is easy to see why he discusses these claims in the same context and
in this order. The rst claim is the weakest, in that it does not commit
itself to the assumption of a causal nexus between quality and power;
consequently, its empirical refutation is likewise easy. Subsequently, this
empirical refutation is used by Diocles as an argument against the second
claim, which is one of the possible implications of the rst claim. Finally,
this second claim can in its turn be seen as a possible instance of the third
26
See Smith (1979) 184. The similarity of this sentence to On Ancient Medicine 2.1 (p. 119,13ff. Jouanna,
1.572. L.): sci :c topnutvc tc :t sci scc, tycv:c t0pn:ci tv tcc ypcvc (and the things
that have been discovered, which are manifold and are rmly established, have been discovered
over a long time) was noted also by von Staden (1992) 240. Torraca (a quelli che fondano le lore
deduzioni sull esperienza fatta per lungo tempo) and Smith (those who reached understanding
from experience through much time) wrongly take the participle as masculine; sc:cvctc means
observe, perceive, learn (see LSJ s.v.). Bertier rightly concedes that Diocles does not reject causal
explanation altogether (1972, 32).
27
Following Jaeger (1938a) 38 and 40, I take tvotytoci in the same sense as tcpcotytoci in section
8: :c tvotycutvc are those things that admit of this, i.e. of being causally explained (although I do
not accept Jaegers far-reaching conclusions drawn from linguistic resemblances to Aristotle on this
point). I cannot endorse Smiths translation But we must seek a cause for what we accept.
86 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
claim: it provides an example of what Diocles regards as an insufcient
causal explanation, because it is ill-founded and not based on knowledge of
the facts (,vccutvc). It seems that Diocles is criticising views he believes
to be erroneous rather than addressing distinct groups, each of which held
one of the views in question. Thus we may understand why Diocles in
section 10 syntactically presents the two groups as different, while at the
same time marking a close connection between them (those who state
causes in this way, :c, utv otwv ci:icc,c0oi). Both claim one and
claim two can easily be understood as manifestations or consequences of
too strict an application of the quest for causes, which is what claim three
amounts to. As for Diocles own position, if the above explanation of the
words the whole nature and by nature is acceptable, both sections of the
fragment are closely interrelated and rooted in a consistent conviction.
3 t h e i d e n t i t y o f d i o c l e s o p p o n e n t s
I turn now to the question of the identity of the group or groups Diocles is
opposing a problem which has attracted more attention than the text of
the fragment itself, especially from scholars of ancient medicine at the end
of the nineteenth century such as Carl Fredrich and Max Wellmann, who
seemed to impose on Greek medicine a model which closely resembles
the institutional organisation of the universities of their own time. The
history of medicine was regarded as an ongoing process of exchange of ideas
between members of the same school, of indiscriminate acceptance of the
views of greater authorities (inuence) or of vigorous polemics against
them. A striking example of this search for identication with regard to the
Diocles fragment under discussion is provided by Fredrich.
28
He argued
that Diocles, in his criticismof what I have called claimone (section 5 of the
fragment), was opposing the same groupas that against whomthe writer (or,
in Fredrichs words, the Compilator) of the Hippocratic work On Regimen
(De victu) 2.39 was polemicising.
29
However, he also argued that Diocles
criticismof what I have calledthe thirdclaim(section8) was directedagainst
28
Fredrich( 1 899) 1713.
29
On Regimen 2.39 (CMG i 2, 4, p. 162,918 Joly and Byl): All those who have undertaken to give a
generalising account about the power of foods and drinks that are sweet or fatty or salt or any other of
such nature, are wrong. For the foods and drinks that are sweet do not all have the same power, nor is
this the case with the fatty or any other such things. Some sweet foods and drinks are laxative, others
are stopping, yet others drying, yet others moistening. And in the same way, of those that are heating
and all the others some have this power, some have another. It is impossible to give a general account
of how these things are: but what power each of them individually has, I will set forth (2i:icv
ot sci tcu:cv ovcuiv tso:cv sci :nv sc:c qoiv sci :nv oic :tyvn, cot ypn ,ivcostiv.
coci utv kat pantv tttytipnocv tittv ttpi :cv ,ustcv n itcpcv n cuupcv n ttpi
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 87
the tendency of searching for causes at any cost which Fredrich found
characteristic of the same Compilator.
30
Now there is in itself nothing
implausible about one person criticising another person in one respect
but praising him in another; besides, not too much consistency can be
expected from a Compilator. But Fredrichs construction of the debate
becomes problematic when he suggests that Diocles shows a common front
with the Hippocratic author of On Ancient Medicine, who in his turn is
said by Fredrich to be criticising the author of On Regimen for having the
temerity to attribute to individual foods and drinks the properties cold,
hot, dry or wet.
31
Within the space of three pages and in a dazzling course of
argument, Fredrich applied a complete metamorphosis to claimone, which
was rst said to be the claim that On Regimen is opposing, but which is
later associated with what On Ancient Medicine and Diocles are opposing
and which is identied by Fredrich as the view held by the compiler of On
Regimen.
On this kind of identication it may be appropriate to quote Josef-Hans
K uhn, who with regard to a similar question concerning the opponents
of On Ancient Medicine made the following remark: The tendency to
make connections between the few treatises from antiquity that have been
preserved is understandable and justied. On the other hand, the sheer
number of works dealing with medical topics must have been so large that it
would be a great coincidence if the rather arbitrary selection of the tradition
had preserved precisely those treatises which refer to each other.
32
K uhn
concludes that the best we can do is to regard the writings that have been
preserved as examples of a no longer extant but presumably much broader
spectrum of medical views, and to restrict ourselves to a reconstruction of
the view that is being criticised without immediately putting a label on it
or associating it with another treatise that has been preserved. Yet I would
ccu :ivc, :cv :cic:cv :n, ouvuic,, cos cpc, ,ivcoscuoiv. co ,cp :nv co:nv ovcuiv
tycuoiv c0:t :c ,ustc ncioiv c0:t :c itcpc c0:t :cv ccv :cv :cic:cv cootv.
tcc ,cp :cv ,ustcv oicycpt, :c o o:noi, :c ot npcivti, :c ot o,pcivti. coc:c, ot
sci :cv ccv ctv:cv to:i ot cooc o:qti sci oicycpt:ci, :c o copt:ci, :c ot coot:tpc
:c:cv. coc:c, ot sci :cv tpucv:iscv sci :cv ccv ctv:cv cnv cc ovcuiv tyti.
ttpi utv cov ctv:cv coy cv :t oncnvci ctc :iv to:i sc tsco:c ot, nv:ivc ovcuiv
tyti, oioc).
30
Fredrich (1899) 171; this point has been misunderstood by Torraca (1965) 108.
31
Fredrich (1899) 169: den einzelnen [Speisen und Getr anken] die Eigenschaften Kalt, Warm, Trocken
oder Feucht beizulegen.
32
J.-H. K uhn (1956) 84: Die Neigung, innerhalb der wenigen uberlieferten Schriften der Antike immer
wieder direkte Bezugsverh altnisse herstellen zu wollen, ist verst andlich und berechtigt. Andererseits
mu die F ulle der Arbeiten, die sich mit medizinischen Fragen besch aftigen, so gro gewesen sein,
da es ein groer Zufall w are, wenn die mehr oder minder zuf allige Auswahl unserer
Uberlieferung
gerade die Schriften erhalten h atte, welche aufeinander Bezug nehmen.
88 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
like to add a second caveat, which has to do with the nature of polemical
writing in antiquity. Even if we can nd a text A, the contents of which
completely correspond with the ideas criticised by the author of another
text, say, B, and a text C which only shows some similarities with what
is criticised in B, the statement that B is consciously opposing A and not
C can at best remain a plausible hypothesis. For we cannot rule out the
possibility that Bis actually aiming at Cin a way which is according to our
standards just unfair: he may represent the ideas of his opponent in a very
distorted and caricaturist way by ignoring several important specications
or relevant details, or by isolating separate items from their context. Such
a distortion need not be a manifestation of malevolence; it may also be a
result of the fact that the way in which the author of B views text Cis rather
different from our perception of it. Especially in the case of an author, such
as Diocles, whose writings have been lost, we should be very careful not
to pretend that we can creep into his skin and perceive with his eyes the
other text which is supposed to be criticised and which represents only a
very small part of a literature that must have been of considerable size.
These remarks may appear unduly sceptical or a tedious example of
stating the obvious. Yet the practice of ancient polemical writers in cases
where they do mention their opponents by name and in which the writings
of these opponents are preserved as well (e.g. the polemics of Christian
writers such as Origen or Tertullian against the Gnostics), shows that fair
polemics were the exception rather than the rule.
33
Fredrichs identications are, of course, an extreme example, and most
scholars dealing withthis fragment have expressedthemselves inmuchmore
cautious terms. Yet the substantial similarity between Diocles criticism of
the rst claim and the critical remarks of the author of the Hippocratic
text On Regimen 2.39 is accepted, and it has been suggested that both On
Regimen 2.39 and Diocles are arguing against generalisations of a type the
physician Mnesitheus in fragment 22 Bertier (and perhaps also the writer
of the Hippocratic text On Affections 55) provides evidence of which is
reinforced by the fact that Galen in the immediate context of this same
fragment presents Diocles as disagreeing with Mnesitheus on a related
subject (although it is not certain that chronology admits of the possibility
that Mnesitheus actually was the target in either, or both, of these cases).
34
33
On Origens polemics against the Gnostics see, for instance, Norelli (1992) and Castagno (1992).
34
Mnesitheus, fr. 22 Bertier (Athenaeus 3.121 d): Salty and sweet avours all have a relaxing effect on
the belly, while those that are acid and sharp release urine. Those that are bitter are rather diuretic,
while some of them also have a relaxing effect on the belly. Those that are sour, <retain> excretions
(Mvnoitc, o c Anvcc, tv :c ttpi toto:cv c cusci, qnoiv, sci ,ust, yuuci tv:t,
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 89
While it has also been argued very frequently that Diocles here shares the
sceptical attitude towards theoretical approaches of dietetics found in the
treatise On Ancient Medicine,
35
Fredrichs view that the third claim Diocles
is criticising corresponds with the actual practice of the writer of On Ancient
Medicine has been received with mixed feelings.
36
However, it seems very questionable to me whether it is correct to present
Diocles as making a commonstand withthe authors of On Ancient Medicine
and On Regimen. As for On Ancient Medicine, this seems to misunderstand
both the claims that Diocles is opposing (especially claimone) and Diocles
own position. The scope of the Diocles fragment is rather different from
what is at issue in On Ancient Medicine. Diocles does not object to the
postulation of warm and cold, nor does he object to referring to these pos-
tulates as causes per se: he simply warns against premature generalisations.
His argument allows for cases in which a things having the quality hot
causes it to produce such-and-such an effect, but he points out that this
does not imply that all things that have that quality produce that effect (for
instance because of the combination with other factors, or because it is only
an incidental cause), nor that all cases where this effect is produced are due
to this very quality. Diocles points out that one should look for the essential
cause: sweet things may cause certain effects, but not necessarily so and not
in so far as they are sweet. Nor does Diocles make the distinction between
ot,cuoi :c, sciic,, c o ct, sci opiut, cuoi :nv c0pnoiv. O ot tispci uccv utv tioiv
copn:isci, cuoi o co:cv tvici sci :c, sciic,. c ot o:puqvci :c, tsspioti,). On Mnesitheus
being a possible target see Smith (1980) 444, and von Staden (1992) 240; a more sceptical attitude is
taken by Bertier (1972) 301.
35
Apart fromFredrich (1899) 171 (Kurz, Diokles vertritt denselben Standpunkt wie der Autor von ttpi
pycin, in:pisn,, der auch Praktiker ist) see also W ohrle (1990) 175; Jaeger (1938a) 38; Kullmann
(1974) 352; von Staden (1992) 240. The passage which comes closest to Diocles views is On Ancient
Medicine 17.12 (pp. 141,15142,2 Jouanna; 1.612 L.), where the Hippocratic writer bluffs his way out
of the problem of fever: I think personally that this is the most important proof that it is not simply
through heat that people get fever, nor that this is the only cause of feeling unwell; rather it is the
combination of bitterness and heat, or sharpness and heat, or saltiness and heat, and innumerable
other things and, again, the combination of cold with other properties ( L,c ot :c0: uci
ut,io:cv :tsunpicv n,t0uci tvci c:i o di t qermn plv tupt:civcuoiv c cvpctci
coot :c0: tn :c c:icv :n, scscotc, uc0vcv, to:i sci tispcv sci tpucv :c co:c sci
cu sci tpucv sci cuupcv sci tpucv sci cc upic sci tiv ,t uypcv ut:c ouvcuicv
t:tpcv).
36
See W ohrle (1990) 175: Auch der zweite Teil des Textabschnittes, in dem sich Diokles gegen die
Atiologen wendet, kann sich kaum auf den Katalog des zweiten Buches von De victu beziehen.
Denn erstens wird dort nur zu einem geringen Teil eine Erkl arung f ur die Wirkung bestimmter
Nahrungsmittel gegeben, undzweitens liegt diesenAusf uhrungenkeinstreng hypothetisches Schema
zugrunde (imGegensatz zur Feuer-Wasser-Theorie des ersten Buches). On the other hand, Fredrichs
view seems to have been accepted by Kullmann (1974) 352: Fredrich, der zugleich einleuchtend
Polemik des Diokles gegen die hippokratische Schrift ttpi oici:n, vermutet) and by D uring (1966)
527 n. 105. On this see below.
90 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
primary and secondary qualities that is so important to the author of On
Ancient Medicine; he rather distinguishes between qualities and powers, for
it is the combination of these two that is supposed to be signicant. Besides,
there are more general reasons which should make us reluctant to associate
Diocles with the author of On Ancient Medicine. The picture of Diocles that
emerges not just from this single fragment, but from the more than two
hundred that are preserved from him, shows that in matters of physiology
and pathology Diocles opinions display many speculative characteristics in
whose company the author of On Ancient Medicine would have felt himself
quite uncomfortable. Diocles acceptance of the four primary qualities and
of concepts such as innate pneuma and humours is frequently attested, and
his use of them in the causal explanation of diseases in his work Affection,
Cause, Treatment (Pqov, ata, qerapea) is well documented.
37
One may
object that this information is based on testimonies (not on verbatim frag-
ments such as fragment 176) supplied by sources which are perhaps not
very reliable; but as far as this fragment is concerned, there is no reason for
doubt concerning the validity of these reports, for they are perfectly com-
patible with it. Fragment 176 does not present itself as (nor claims to be) a
methodological programme for medical science as a whole: it is concerned
with dietetics, with the powers of foodstuffs and with the practical prob-
lems the physician has to face. It is far from self-evident that what Diocles
says here also applies to anatomy, pathology and general physiology or
even if it would apply, what the implications of this would be.
38
Moreover,
if the interpretation of the fragment given above is correct, we should say
that even within the eld of dietetics Diocles is not hostile towards causal
explanations as such; he is just concerned with their limitations and with
their correctness. He points out that there are many cases in which causal
37
On Diocles physiology see frs. 258; on his pathology see, e.g., frs. 109 (on which see Smith (1979)
186, and Flashar (1966) 503), 78, 95, 98, 117. Alarge number of Diocles aetiological views on diseases
are reported in the treatise on acute and chronic diseases by the so-called Anonymus Parisinus Fuchsii,
edited by Garofalo (1997). It is remarkable that many of these aetiologies (e.g. frs. 72, 78, 98) are
in the form of a denition stating the nature of the affection in question, while others describe the
conditions under which (or the places where) the disease occurs (frs. 80, 87); moreover, fr. 98 seems
to imply that Diocles distinguished different kinds of causes. Although we should take into account
the possibility that in many cases it is the Anonymus who is responsible for the precise wording
of the aetiologies, the testimonies nevertheless point to a sophisticated use of causal explanation by
Diocles in dealing with diseases. The question of the reliability of the Anonymus (which is too often
approached from an a priori negative point of view, for instance by Kudlien (1963) 462) can only be
answered on the basis of an unbiased study of the whole text, which has only recently been made
available in its entirety by Garofalo (1997); see also van der Eijk (1999b).
38
An extreme example of this is Kudliens view (1963, 461) that this fragment casts doubt on the
reliability of doxographic reports that attribute to Diocles a doctrine of humours. On this see
Flashar (1966) 54 n. 5; Sch oner (1964) 72ff.; Smith (1979) 1856 n. 12.
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 91
explanation is impossible, and that there are also cases in which it may be
possible, but unnecessary for practical purposes and one could imagine
that in this respect the author of On Ancient Medicine would not have been
too happy with Diocles criticism of claim three, for On Ancient Medicine
is one of the rst among the Hippocratic treatises to proclaim the urgency
of stating the cause in dietetics.
39
However, as sections 1011 of the frag-
ment show, Diocles recognises that there are also cases albeit perhaps a
minority in which a causal explanation increases our understanding of
the subject and adds to the plausibility of dietetic prescriptions.
As for On Regimen, I believe that Fredrich was right in detecting a very
strong, almost indiscriminate application of the search for causes in the
chapters on the powers of foodstuffs of this treatise (4056). The use of
words indicating causal links such as because, since, as a result of (oic:i,
c:t, c:i, oi) inthese sections is very frequent indeed. But it is especially the
nature of these explanations which calls for consideration, for the fact is that
many of them suffer from defects that might be interpreted as provoking
the kind of criticism Diocles is expressing, such as circularity no clear
distinction being made between the level of qualities and that of powers
shifting the problem, and tautology explanandum and explanation being
stated in the same terms. Let us consider some of these explanations:
On Regimen 2.40 (p. 162,26 Joly and Byl): yti [sc. ucc] utv diti uypc 0oc:i
o,pn t,tvt:c (it [sc. maza] cools because it is moistened with cold water);
40
2.42 (p. 164,2226 Joly and Byl): oicycpt ot ti :cytc, ttoot:ci . . . oicycpt
ot ti :c ,usu sci oicycpn:iscv :c0 tupc0 ouuutuis:ci (it passes, because
it is soon digested . . . it passes because it is mixed with the sweet and laxative part
of the wheat);
2.52 (p. 174, 68 Joly andByl): tnuctpucivti sci o,pcivti sci ot,ti tpucivti
utv, c:i civcot,, granei d, ti trfimon, ot,ti ot, c:i ,usu sci tpc,
kaqhyhmnon to:iv (Boiled-down wine warms, moistens, and sends to stool. It
warms, because it is vinous, moistens because it is nutritious, and sends to stool
because it is sweet and moreover boiled-down);
2.54 (p. 174,15 Joly and Byl): oicycpt ot sci copt:ci di :c sccp:iscv (It
promotes stools and urine because of the purgative qualities it possesses);
39
Science must therefore be causal or it is not science, J. Jouanna (1999, 255) comments on the well-
known cheese example in ch. 20 of On Ancient Medicine. The most prominent instances where the
importance of causal explanation is stated are: 20.34 (pp. 146,15147,10 Jouanna; 1.622 L.); 21.2
(p. 148,713 Jouanna; 1.624 L.); 23.1 (p. 153,56 Jouanna; 1.634 L.); 2.3 (p. 120,711 Jouanna; 1.5724
L.); 11.1 (p. 131,1112 Jouanna; 1.594 L.).
40
Translations adopted, with slight adaptations, from W. H. S. Jones in the Loeb Classical Library,
Hippocrates, vol. i v.
92 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
2.56 (p. 178,1314 Joly and Byl): tv xei ot :t:cpiytuutvc tpucivti utv noocv
di t xov (When preserved in vinegar they [sc. meats] are less warming because
of the vinegar).
Considering these examples, we may be inclined to say that Diocles
warnings against too automatic an application of causal explanation, as well
as his prescription(insection11 of fr. 176) that causal explanationmust make
the physicians account more informative (,vcpiuc:tpcv), may well be
understood as applying to the occasionally just truistic explanations found
in On Regimen.
4 d i o c l e s p o s i t i o n i n d i e t e t i c s a n d i n t h e
p h i l o s o p h y o f s c i e n c e
It is not my intention to suggest that Diocles has the authors of the treatises
On Ancient Medicine and On Regimen in mind as his targets, but only to
state some objections against associating Diocles own position with that of
these two Hippocratic writers. It rather seems to me that Diocles is arguing
against what he believes to be inthe context of dietetics some undesirable
consequences of the search for causes or principles, or to put it in other
words, against too strict an application of what in itself and in Diocles
opinion too remains a sound scientic procedure. These consequences
seem to have pervaded Greek scientic thought in the fourth century to
such an extent that opposition to it was also expressed by Aristotle and
Theophrastus (in their case, the opposition is probably directed against
certain tendencies in the early Academy). There are a number of passages
which reect a similar awareness in Aristotle and Theophrastus of the
limits of causal explanation.
41
Indeed the whole Diocles fragment shows
41
Cf. Aristotle, Metaph. 1006 a 69: for it is characteristic of a lack of education not to know of what
things one should seek demonstration, and of what one should not; for it is absolutely impossible for
there to be a demonstration of everything (for that would go on indenitely, so that there would
be no demonstration) (to:i ,cp tciotuoic :c un ,i,vcostiv tnwn de zhten pdeixin ka
tnwn o de cc, utv ,cp ctv:cv ovc:cv tcotiiv tvci (ti, cttipcv ,cp cv coici,
co:t uno c0:c, tvci tcotiiv)). Theophrastus, Metaphysics 9 b 113: Wherefore this too is
problematical or at any rate not easy to say, up to which point and of which entities one should seek the
cause, in the objects of sense and in the objects of thought alike: for the innite regress is foreign
to their nature in both cases and destroys our understanding. Both of them are starting-points in
some way: and perhaps the one for us, the other absolutely, or, on the one hand, the end and the
other a starting-point of ours. Up to some point, then, we are capable of studying things causally,
taking our starting-point from sense-perceptions in each case; but when we proceed to the extreme
and primary entities, we are no longer capable of doing so, either owing to the fact that they do
not have a cause, or through our lack of strength to look, one would say, at the brightest things
(n sci :c0: ctcpcv n co poicv ,t tittv, mcri psou ka tnwn zhthton atav cucic,
tv :t :c, cion:c, sci vcn:c, n ,cp ti, cttipcv coc, tv uqcv c:pic sci nairosa
t fronen. pyci ot :pctcv :ivc cuqc :yc o n utv nuv n o ctc,, n :c utv :tc, n o
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 93
many resemblances to Aristotelian and Peripatetic language and style of
argument. For example, Diocles way of expressing himself in section 8
certainly reminds us of Aristotle, who also often uses the combination
of in a certain way (:pctcv :iv) and look like (tcist) in order to
qualify the similarities he sees between different entities or phenomena; the
combination pyc, tcist (look like starting-points) is also attested several
times in Aristotles works.
42
The sophisticated way in which Diocles argues
nut:tpc :i, pyn. utypi utv cov :ivc, ouvutc oi ci:icu tcptv pyc, tc :cv cionotcv
cuvcv:t, c:cv ot tt co:c :c spc sci tpc:c ut:ccivcutv cost:i ouvutc, t:t oic :c
un tytiv ci:icv t:t oic :nv nut:tpcv otvticv cottp tpc, :c qc:tivc:c:c tttiv; tr. van
Raalte (1993) 57, slightly modied); Theophrastus, fr. 159 Fortenbaugh et al.: For just as the person
who thinks that everything can be demonstrated does away above all with demonstration itself, in
the same way the person who looks for explanations of everything turns completely upside down all the
things there are, and their order which proceeds from a certain denite rst principle (cottp ,cp
c tv:c tcotis:c vtvcuisc, co:nv uio:c :nv tcotiiv vcipt, :c0:cv :cv :pctcv sci 6
v:ov oi:o, tiy:v cponv vc:pttti :c cv:c tv:c sci :nv :iv co:cv :nv tc :ivc,
cpioutvn, pyn, tpcc0ocv, tr. Fortenbaugh et al. (1992) vol. i , 321); Aristotle, Ph. 256 a 289:
if, then, something causes movement by being itself moved, this must come to a standstill and not
go on indenitely (ti cov sivcutvcv :i sivt, v,sn o:nvci sci un ti, cttipcv itvci); Aristotle,
Metaph. 1070 a 24: it will go on to innity, if it is not only the bronze that becomes round but
also that which is round, or that bronze comes to be; it is necessary for this to come to a halt (ti,
cttipcv cov toiv, ti un ucvcv c ycsc, ,i,vt:ci o:pc,,c, c sci :c o:pc,,cv n c
ycsc, v,sn on o:nvci). On undemonstrable principles see Aristotle, Top. 158 b 1ff. On the
limits of teleological explanation see Aristotle, Part. an. 677 a 1617: for this reason, one should not
seek a nal cause of everything; rather, because some things are like that [i.e. having a nal cause],
many others occur of necessity as a result of these (co unv oic :c0:c ot n:tv tv:c tvts :ivc,
c :ivcv cv:cv :cic:cv t:tpc t v,sn, ouucivti oic :c0:c tc). Eth. Nic. 1098 a
33b 3: one should not ask for the cause in all cases in a similar way; in some things it is sufcient that
the fact is well established, as is the case with the principles; the fact is primary, and a principle (cok
oi:y:cv 8 co8t :jv oi:ov tv ooiv 6co,, scvcv tv :ioi :c c:i otiynvci scc,,
ccv sci ttpi :c, py,. :c o c:i tpc:cv sci pyn).
42
I performed Pandora complex searches on the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae CD Rom #D for com-
binations of forms of pyn with forms of tcisc within three lines of context in the Hippocratic
Corpus, Plato, Aristotle and Theophrastus and found the following results: Aristotle, Hist. An. 511
b 1015: since the nature of the blood and that of the blood vessels resembles a starting-point . . . it is
difcult to observe . . . the nature of the most principal blood vessels is invisible (ttti o pyJ tciktv
n :c0 cuc:c, qoi, sci n :cv qtcv . . . ouotcpn:cv . . . conc, n qoi, :cv supic::cv
qtcv). Aristotle, Metaph. 1059 b 2939: for these [i.e. the highest classes of things, i.e. being and
unity] are supposed to contain everything that is and most to resemble starting-points, because they are
naturally primary . . . but inasmuch as the species are destroyed together with the genera, it is rather
the genera that resemble starting-points; for that which also causes destruction to something else,
is a starting-point (:c0:c ,cp uio: cv otcnqtin ttpitytiv :c cv:c tv:c sci uio:c
pyo, tcikvoi oic :c tvci tpc:c :n qoti . . . n ot ouvcvcipt:ci :c, ,tvtoi :c ton, :c ,tvn
:o, pyo, tcikt uccv pyn ,cp :c ouvcvcipc0v). [Aristotle], Mag. mor. 1190 a 24: the end
looks like some sort of starting-point, and every individual thing is for the sake of that (:c ot :tc,
pyJ :ivi tciktv, sci :c:cu tvtstv to:iv tsco:cv). [Aristotle], Mag. mor. 1206 b 28: this is why
an emotion that is in a good disposition towards virtue looks more like a starting-point than reason
(oic uccv pyJ tciktv tpc, :nv pt:nv :c tc, to oicstiutvcv n c c,c,).
Similar searches for combinations of :pctcv :ivc and a form of tcisc yielded the following
results: Aristotle, Gen. an. 758 a 30b 3: That some of these animals come into being through
copulation, others spontaneously, has been said before, and in addition that some produce grubs
and for what reason. For pretty much all animals in some way seem to produce grubs to start with;
94 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
against claims one and two sounds very Aristotelian (although he does not
use the typically Aristotelian terminology of sc co:c, sc:c ouutnsc,,
or the qualier n). The advice not to take unknown, disputed or implausible
items as starting-points is perfectly in keeping with the principles and the
practice of Aristotelian dialectic.
43
the most imperfect embryo is of this kind, and also in all viviparous and oviparous animals the
rst embryo grows to perfection while being undifferentiated . . . in those animals that produce a
living being within themselves the embryo in some sort of way becomes egg-like after its formation;
for the moisture is contained within a ne membrane, as when one takes away the shell of an
egg (c:i utv cov :c utv t cytic, ,i,vt:ci :cv :cic:cv :c o co:cuc:c tpc:tpcv ttyn,
tpc, ot :c:ci, c:i oscnsc:cst sci oic :iv ci:icv oscnsc:cst. oytocv ,cp oike tv:c
trpon tin oscnsc:cstv :c tpc:cv :c ,cp :tto:c:cv snuc :cic0:cv to:iv, tv tcoi
ot sci :c, cc:csc0oi sci :c, cc:csc0oi :tticv ccv :c snuc :c tpc:cv oicpio:cv cv
cuvti :nv c0noiv . . . :c o tv co:c, cc:csc0v:c trpon tin ut:c :c oo:nuc :c t
pyn, cctiot, ,ivt:ci ttpityt:ci ,cp :c o,pcv outvi tt:c, scttp cv t :i, qtci :c
:cv ccv co:pcscv). Theophrastus, On the Causes of Plants 2.9.89: Seeing that it is the opening
of the fruit that makes it remain on the tree by producing ventilation and drainage, the process in
the Egyptian mulberry seems in some sort of way similar; but some dispute this fact of opening and
say that when the insects enter the g they do not make it open but make it shut; and so one can
give the opposite cause for retention and assert that caprication aims at closing the fruit. For once
the g is closed neither dew nor drizzle can make it miscarry, and it is dew and drizzle that get
warmed and cause the drop, as with the pomegranate blossom. That these are responsible (and they
are cited by some people) is indicated by what happens: there is more dropping of the fruit when
light rain follows its rst appearance ( Eoike o tttp n cvcii, tcit :nv ttiucvnv t0tvciv :t
sci ttpcoiv tcic0oc tcpctnoicv trpon tin [:c] ouucvcv sci tti :cv tv Ai,t:c
ouscuivcv c :c0:c oicuqion:c0oi :ivt, c, cp cos vci,cuoiv c nvt, c ouuutiv
tcic0oiv c:cv tioocoiv ctv sci :nv ci:icv to:iv ts :c0 tvcv:icu qtptiv c, :c:cu ypiv
tpivccutvcv tcv ,cp ouuucoiv c0 n opcoc, c0:t :c csoic ovc:ci oicqtiptiv oq
cv tctit:cuoi oiu,pcivcutvci cottp sci c s:ivci :cv pccv c:i ot :c0:c c:ic unvti
:c ouucvcv c on sci t,cuoi :ivt, tccuoi ,cp uccv ooc:icv tti,ivcutvcv; tr.
Einarson and Link, slightly modied); Theophrastus, On the Causes of Plants 5.2.5: What happens
in plants that ower progressively from the lower parts upward closely resembles in a way what
happens here ( Eoike ot tcpctnoicv trpon tin :c ouucvcv :c, sc:c utpc, vc0oiv
tc :cv s:ctv pycutvci,; tr. Einarson and Link, slightly modied); Theophrastus, On the
Causes of Plants 6.9.4: by and large all fragrant substances are bitter. We shall deal with the reason for
this later. It seems that of the two opposites, namely sweet and bitter, the sweet is the origin (as it were)
of good avour, whereas the bitter is the origin of fragrance and in some way the bitter is to a greater
extent the origin of fragrance. For it is hard to nd any fragrant thing that is not bitter, but many
non-sweet things have excellent avour (, tti tcv ot : , t0couc tv:c tisp :c:cu utv
cov :nv ci:icv 0o:tpcv ts:tcv. Eoike ot oucv cv:civ tvcv:icv ccv :c0 :t ,ustc, sci tispc0
:c utv ccv toyuic, pyn :c o tocouic, tvci sci trpon tin uccv :c tispcv :n, tocouic,.
L0coucv ,cp tp,cv ctv un tispcv t0yuuc ot tcc sci un ,ustc, tr. Einarson and Link,
slightly modied). I am aware that linguistic resemblances do not prove intellectual exchange or even
similarity of doctrine (for the abuse of linguistic evidence by Jaeger see von Staden (1992) 2347)
and that the Aristotelian corpus is so much larger than the Hippocratic that the signicance of the
fact that only occurrences in Aristotle and Theophrastus are found may be doubted (the computer
also found Plato, Phaedo 100 e 6a 1: oc, utv cov c tisc :pctcv :ivc cos tcistv, but this
passage is not quite comparable with the Diocles fragment). It will be clear that much linguistic
work still needs to be done here. The resemblance (both linguistic and doctrinal) between Diocles,
fr. 176, and a passage in ch. 9 of the Pseudo-Aristotelian text De spiritu (485 a 28ff.) was pointed out
by Roselli (1992) 122.
43
Cf., for instance, Aristotles well-known denition of the common opinions (tvocc) in Top. 100
b 20ff.
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 95
Connections of Diocles views with Aristotles have, of course, been
made by earlier scholars, especially by Werner Jaeger, in whose picture
of Diocles as a pupil of Aristotle fragment 176 played a central part. He
argued that the fragment could not have been written without the inuence
of the great Stagirite on the Carystian physician, and from this and other
considerations drew far-reaching conclusions concerning Diocles date.
44
Jaegers views have met with much criticism and opposition from various
scholars, not just because of the authoritative way in which he presented
them or because of the claim of inevitability he held with regard to the
conclusions he drew from his observations.
45
Most of these criticisms ap-
pear completely justied to me, and I have little to add to them. Yet this
should not make us a priori hostile to any attempt to associate Diocles
with the Lyceum. The resemblance is not so much between Diocles ar-
gument that knowledge of the cause is often not necessary for practical
purposes and similar statements found in Aristotles Nicomachean Ethics
(which Jaeger emphasised) it has been shown that what is at issue in
those passages is rather different from what Diocles is concerned with.
46
More important in this respect is the point which Diocles makes in section
8 and which is repeated in section 10 that many things or states of
affairs do not admit of a causal explanation. While, to my knowledge, no
parallels of this idea can be found in the Hippocratic Corpus, it clearly re-
sembles statements in Aristotle and Theophrastus (see note 41) to the effect
that the search for causes should stop somewhere and that further analy-
sis even destroys our understanding. It will probably remain a matter of
dispute whether this resemblance is actually to be interpreted as evidence
of intellectual exchange between Diocles, Aristotle and Theophrastus.
47
Moreover, if the interpretation of section 8 given above is correct, Diocles
reason for saying that many things cannot be causally explained is slightly
44
See n. 8 above; for earlier associations of Diocles with the Peripatos see von Staden (1992) 229 n. 11,
12 and 15. For a more recent attempt see Longrigg (1993) 16175 and (1995).
45
The most comprehensive and convincing refutation of Jaegers arguments has been given by von
Staden (1992). It should be noted, however, that Jaegers views have been setting the agenda for
Dioclean studies for quite a long time and are sometimes still determining the kind of questions
asked by scholars who are at the same time in doubt concerning the validity of his conclusions (see,
e.g., the article by Longrigg quoted in the previous note). For a plea for a study of Diocles in his
own right (with the question of his date and his being inuenced by this or that particular school
being kept away from the study of the individual fragments as long as possible) see van der Eijk
(1993b) and (2001a) xxixxxviii.
46
See Kullmann (1974) 350ff.; von Staden (1992) 238.
47
H. Gottschalk (private correspondence) points out to me that the doctrine of the limits of causal
explanation, which is a very sophisticated piece of philosophy, is presented by Aristotle as his
invention, whereas Diocles alludes to it very briey: his sentence presupposes a knowledge of
Aristotle or something very like it.
96 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
different from the ones given by Aristotle and Theophrastus. The latter are
either in the case of real undemonstrable principles such as denitions
or logical postulates concerned with the avoidance of an innite regress
or with the consideration that within the limits of a particular branch of
study some things should be accepted as starting-points, the demonstra-
tion of which belongs to another discipline: the ignorance of this is seen
by them as a sign of being uneducated (paideusa). While Aristotles
warnings against pursuing causal analysis too far in these latter contexts
look like methodological prescriptions based on considerations of fruit-
fulness and economy (one should not ask for a cause here because it is
useless although it may be possible to state one), Diocles point is that
in the eld of dietetics many things simply do not allow of explanation,
because when pursuing the search for causes too far, one passes the level of
the whole nature of a foodstuff and loses the connection with the actual
explanandum.
On the other hand, it is not unlikely that some sort of contact between
Diocles and the Lyceum took place. Diocles enjoyed a good reputation
in Athens although our source for this does not specify in what times
he did.
48
Moreover, there is the reference to a Diocles in Theophrastus
On Stones 5 (fr. 239a). It has been doubted whether this should be taken
as applying to the Carystian physician, seeing that the name Diocles was
very common in Greek and that several persons named Diocles in fourth-
century Athens are known from literary and epigraphical sources.
49
Yet I do
not see any compelling reason against assuming that the Diocles to whom
Theophrastus refers is identical with the Carystian physician. The fact that
he is credited by Theophrastus with an opinion on a mineralogical topic is
a weak argument, which is based on doubtful presuppositions concerning
a division of labour between the sciences. Diocles may have had various
interests, just as Theophrastus himself, or Aristotle, or the authors of such
48
(Pseudo-)Vindicianus, On the Seed 2: Diocles, a follower of Hippocrates, whom the Athenians
gave the name of younger Hippocrates (Diocles, sectator Hippocratis, quem Athenienses iuniorem
Hippocratem vocaverunt). The use of the Attic dialect may be an indication that Diocles lived or
practised in Athens (although several fragments preserved in Oribasius also in some manuscripts
show Ionic forms [see van der Eijk 2001a, xxiv n. 51]); but the characterisations by Kullmann (1974,
350: Der in Athen lebende Arzt Diokles) and W ohrle (1990, 177: Die Weltstadt Athen, in der
Diokles lebte) go beyond what is known with certainty.
49
See Edelstein (1940) 4839; Kudlien (1963) 462ff.; von Staden (1992) 2524. The fact that Theophras-
tus refers to Diocles without further specication is regarded by Eichholz as evidence that the Carys-
tian is meant (1965) 1078; but this argument will not do, for two different people named Diocles
are also mentioned in the will of the Peripatetic Strato (Diogenes Laertius 5.623). We can only say
that it must have been evident to Theophrastus and his audience which Diocles was meant [see van
der Eijk (2001a) 41619].
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 97
Hippocratic writings as On Fleshes or On Regimen for that matter.
50
Nor
are the words a certain Diocles (Diocli cuidam) in Plinys paraphrase of
this Theophrastean testimony (fr. 239b) to be interpreted as evidence that
Theophrastus referred to another Diocles:
51
they indicate that Pliny was
(just as we are, andperhaps for similar reasons) indoubt whether the Diocles
mentioned by his source Theophrastus was identical with the Diocles of
Carystus known to him from other sources.
52
If Pliny knew for certain
that another Diocles was meant and how could he do so otherwise than
because of autopsy of the text of this other Diocles or because he knewfrom
other sources that Theophrastus referred to a text by another Diocles he
would never have expressed himself in this way. Of course we cannot prove
that the Diocles mentioned by Theophrastus is the Carystian physician;
but then there are a great number of other testimonies about a Diocles
where this proof cannot be given.
What we can say, I think, is that Diocles marks a methodological aware-
ness of the limits of causal explanation that was not anticipated in the
Hippocratic Corpus and that showed several signicant resemblances to
remarks found in Aristotle and Theophrastus. These resemblances may
have been the result of intellectual exchange and discussion between them
(the existence of which is likely), but this cannot be proved, and we are in
no position to decide who was inuenced by whom.
Finally, it seems that any association of Diocles with Empiricism or
Scepticism should be abandoned once and for all. Those who have read
the fragment in this way not only seem to have extrapolated Diocles re-
marks about dietetics to all other branches of medicine (on the question
whether this is justied, see above), but also, as far as dietetics itself is con-
cerned, to have been guided by Galens presentation of it, that is, as propa-
ganda for an exclusively empirical approach to the search for the powers of
50
It has been argued by von Staden (1992, 253) that there is no independent evidence of mineralogist
interest by Diocles. But in fr. 22 Diocles displays a detailed interest in the cohesion between various
sorts of objects, including wood and stones. The fragment is quoted by Galen in the context
of embryology, but there is no evidence that in its original context it just served the purpose of
analogy (as it does for Galen). Moreover, as von Staden concedes, in the immediate context of the
Diocles fragment in On Stones, Theophrastus mentions dietetic and physiological factors affecting
the magnetic force of the lyngourion although I agree that this does not prove that the Diocles
mentioned was Diocles of Carystus.
51
Pliny, Natural History 27.53: what Theophrastus attributed to a certain Diocles (quod Diocli cuidam
Theophrastus quoque credidit).
52
Contra Kudlien (1963, 4623), who infers from this that the Theophrastus testimony mit aller
Wahrscheinlichkeit and offenbar refers to another Diocles; and von Staden (1992, 253), who says
that Plinys wording implies that the two [i.e. the Diocles mentioned by Theophrastus and the
Diocles of Carystus known to Pliny from other sources] are not identical.
98 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
foodstuffs.
53
Compared with the verbatim fragment itself, Galens intro-
duction of Diocles as a champion of the view that the powers of foodstuffs
are found by means of experience only (note the use of ucvc, in sections 2
and 12, both just before and immediately after the quotation) is certainly a
gross overstatement just as his characterisation of Diocles as a Dogmatist
and his association with the Empiricists evidently suffers from anachronis-
tic distortion. In fact, when reading Galens own discussion of the right
method of dietetics in the pages following on the fragment, it turns out
that Diocles position as reected in the fragment (especially in his crit-
icism of claims one and two) perfectly meets the requirements of what
Galen himself calls qualied experience (oicpioutvn ttpc; see chapter
10 below). By this concept, which Galen presents as his own innovation, he
means an empirical approach which takes into account the conditions un-
der which a dietetic statement like rock sh are difcult to digest is true.
54
Some of the factors Galen enumerates as being relevant in this respect have
already been mentioned above: climate, season, geographical area, the pa-
tients natural constitution, age, way of life, and so on. All these should
be considered, Galen points out, before any generalising statement about
the power of a particular foodstuff is allowed. Galen represents Diocles as
being completely unaware of these factors and as being more one-sided
than he actually was and it would seem that Galen is doing so not for
lack of understanding but in order to articulate his own rened position as
against Diocles unqualied acceptance of experience as the only way to get
to know the powers of foodstuffs.
55
That Galen is making forced efforts to
distinguish himself from Diocles may also be indicated by the fact that later
in the same introductory chapter of On the Powers of Foodstuffs Galen once
more mentions Diocles,
56
and blames him for not even having mentioned
53
See Torraca (1965) 109; Smith (1979) 184.
54
See De alim. facult. 1.1.45 (p. 216,5 Helmreich; 6.479 K.); 1.1.46 (p. 216,14 H.; 6.479 K.); 1.12.1
(p. 233,23 H.; 6.508 K.); On the Method of Healing (De methodo medendi ) 2.7 (10.27 K.); 3.7
(10.204 K.); De simpl. med. fac. 2.7 (11.483 K.); 3.13 (11.573 K.); 4.19 (11.685 K.); 4.23 (11.703 K.); 6.1
(11.800 K.); 7.10 (12.38 K.).
55
See Smith (1979) 1846.
56
Fr. 177 (Galen, De alim. facult. 1.1.27, p. 210,15 Helmreich (6.469 K.)) a testimony which is not listed
as such in Wellmanns collection but only referred to at the end of fr. 176 (Wellmann fr. 112) by vgl.
Gal. vi 649, although there is little to be compared in the two passages: The [substances] that are
even with respect to their mixtures and have no mastering quality are just foodstuffs, not drugs: they
do not provoke emptying of the belly, nor do they stop, strengthenor relax the stomach, just as they do
not stimulate or stop sweat or urine, nor do they bring about another state in the body characterised
by hotness, coldness, dryness or wetness, but they preserve in every respect the body of the animal
that is fed [by it] in the state in which they found it. But here too there is a highly useful qualication,
itself, too, not mentioned by Diocles, just as also none of the others we have discussed until now [was
mentioned by him] (:c :civuv utoc :c, spotoiv cootuicv ttispc:c0ocv tycv:c tcic:n:c
Diocles of Carystus on the method of dietetics 99
the highly useful distinction (oicpiouc,) between foodstuffs (:pcqci)
and drugs (qpucsc) that is to say, for not having pointed out under
what circumstances a particular substance acts like a foodstuff (which only
preserves the state of the body) or as a drug (which changes the state of
the body) just as he failed to deal, Galen adds maliciously, with the other
distinctions discussed by him in the previous paragraphs.
In fact, in the context of another treatise, namely On Medical Experience
(De experientia medica, De exp. med.),
57
Galen expresses himself in a much
more positive way on Diocles position, although his characterisation of it
seems to be based on the same passage from Diocles Matters of Health to
Pleistarchus:
As for me, I am surprised at the sophists of our age, who are unwilling to listen to
the word of Hippocrates when he says: In the case of food and drink experience
is necessary, and are not content to accept for themselves and their followers
an opinion concerning which the generality of men are completely unanimous,
to say nothing of the elite. For if everything which is ascertained is ascertained
only by reasoning, and nothing is ascertained by experience, how is it possible
that the generality, who do not use reason, can know anything of what is known?
And how was it that this was unanimously asserted among the elder doctors,
not only by Hippocrates, but also by all those who came after him, Diogenes,
Diocles, Praxagoras, Philotimus, and Erasistratus? For all of these acknowledge that
what they know concerning medical practice they know by means of reasoning in
conjunction with experience. In particular, Diogenes and Diocles argue at length
that it is not possible in the case of food and drink to ascertain their ultimate effects
but by way of experience.
In this testimony, the view of Diocles and the other ancient authorities
is obviously referred to in order to support Galens argument against an
exclusively theoretical approach to medicine. And although we should not
assign much independent value to this testimony which, apart from its
vagueness, is a typical example of Galens blufng with the aid of one of
his lists of Dogmatic physicians it is compatible both with the picture
of Diocles general medical outlook that emerges from the collection of
fragments as a whole and with his approach to dietetics as reected in our
fragment 176. Diogenes and Diocles are mentioned by Galen in particular
:pcqci ucvcv tioiv, co qpucsc, un ot,cv:c ,co:tpc . . . oicqu::cv:c ot tv:n :c
:c0 :ptqcutvcu ccu ocuc :cic0:cv, ctccv tcptctv. c sv:c0c oicpiouc, :i, to:i
ypnoiuc:c:c, coo co:c, otc :c0 Aicstcu, tipnutvc,, cottp coot :cv ccv :i,, cocu,
cypi :c:cu oincv).
57
Fr. 16 (Galen, De exp. med. 13.45, p. 109 Walzer, whose translation I have adopted, except for
the translation of logos, which Walzer leaves untranslated but which I have rendered by reason)
[see n. 58]; this fragment is also (but obviously for different reasons) lacking in Wellmann.
100 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
for having pointed out that experience is an indispensable (but not neces-
sarily the only) instrument for ascertaining the ultimate effects of food and
drink. This reference to the ultimate effects
58
is in accordance with the in-
terpretation of section 8 given above: this ultimate effect does not admit of
further causal explanation; we can only make sure what it is by experience,
by applying the foodstuff in a given case and seeing how it works out.
Postscript
Discussions of this fragment that came out after the original publication of
this paper can be found in Hankinson (1998a), (1999) and (2002), in van
der Eijk (2001a) 32134, and in Frede (forthcoming).
58
[In the original version of this paper I suggested that the Greek original may have been something
like n toy:n oitoi,, which could be related to what Diocles in fr. 176,21 says on the whole
nature (:nv cnv qoiv) of a foodstuff or drink: this whole nature, rather than the individual
constituents of a foodstuff, should be held responsible for the effects it produces; and this can only
be ascertained by experientially seeing how it works in practice. But a re-examination of the Arabic
would seem to make this interpretation less plausible. A literal translation of the Arabic would
read as follows: It is not possible to ascertain in the case of food and drink where their last things
(akhiriyatuha?) return to/develop into (ta ulu) but by way of experience. On this reading, it is the
ultimate effects of foodstuffs which are meant, and this suggests that the Greek may have contained
a word such as :ttu:cc, or :ttu:c, or perhaps tccivc (cf. Diocles, fr. 184,32). The idea
is then that although a Dogmatist might speculate theoretically about the power (ovcui,) of a
particular foodstuff, e.g. on the basis of its known constituents or on the basis of comparison or
analogy with the known effects of other, similar foodstuffs, one can only ascertain the effects of
any particular foodstuff by seeing experientially how it works out in practice. Thus the position
attributed to Diocles here corresponds closely with that attributed to him by Galen in fr. 176; and it
is plausible to assume that the fragment from Diocles Matters of Health quoted in fr. 176 is also at
least part of the basis of Galens report on Diocles position here. (I am indebted to Peter Pormann for
his help here.) A different interpretation was proposed by Walzer, who translated the present phrase
there is no way of ascertaining the ultimate disposal of foods and drinks except by experience. This
would suggest that Galen is referring to how foods and drinks are ultimately disposed of; but this
would seem to be quite inappropriate to the context.]
c h a p t e r 3
To help, or to do no harm.
Principles and practices of therapeutics
in the Hippocratic Corpus and in the work
of Diocles of Carystus
1 i n t r o d u c t i o n
Ina well-knownpassage fromthe Hippocratic Epidemics, the doctors duties
are succinctly characterised as follows:
[The doctor should] declare what has happened before, understand what is present,
and foretell what will happen in the future. This is what he should practise. As
to diseases, he should strive to achieve two things: to help, or to do no harm.
The (medical) art consists of three components: the disease, the patient, and the
doctor. The doctor is servant of the art. The patient should combat the disease in
co-operation with the doctor.
1
The principle that the doctor is there to help, to refrain from anything that
may be harmful, and to use his skill and knowledge and all the relevant
information about the disease and the patient in order to assist the patient
in his battle against the disease is an idea that frequently recurs in Greek
medicine. It is succinctly summarised here in the words to help, or to do
no harm (cqttv n un t:tiv), a formula which is often quoted or
echoed both in the Hippocratic Corpus and in later Greek and Roman
medical literature.
2
This formula is interesting in that it reects an early awareness of the
possibility that medical treatment can also cause harm. The Hippocratic
Oath, which explicitly mentions the well-being of the patient as the doctors
This chapter was rst published in slightly different form in I. Garofalo, D. Lami, D. Manetti and
A. Roselli (eds.), Aspetti della terapia nel Corpus Hippocraticum (Florence, 1999) 389404.
1
t,tiv :c tpc,tvcutvc, ,ivcostiv :c tcptcv:c, tpct,tiv :c tocutvc utt:cv :c0:c. ostv
ttpi :c vconuc:c oc, cqttv n un t:tiv n :tyvn oic :picv, :c vconuc sci c vcotcv sci
c in:pc, c in:pc, otnpt:n, :n, :tyvn, ottvcv:ic0oci :c vconuc:i :cv vcotcv:c ut:c :c0
in:pc0. Epidemics 1.11 (2.6346 L.).
2
E.g. On Affections 47 (6.256 L.); 61 (6.270 L.); for a later echo see Scribonius Largus (rst century ce),
Compositiones, pref. 5: medicine is the science of healing, not of doing harm (scientia enim sanandi,
non nocendi est medicina).
101
102 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
guiding principle,
3
understands this causing harm in the sense of delib-
erately terminating a persons life or otherwise purposively causing disad-
vantage to his or her situation. Thus, according to the Oath, the doctor is
not allowed to give a woman an abortive, nor to administer a lethal poison,
not even when being asked to do so; and the doctor is instructed to refrain
fromevery kind of abuse of the relation of trust that exists between himand
the patient. Yet it is also possible as the word or suggests to take the
formula in the sense of unintended harm: To help, or at least to cause no
harm, that is to say, the doctor should be careful when treating the patient
not to aggravate the patients condition, for example in cases that are so
hopeless that treatment will only make matters worse, or in cases which
are so difcult that the doctor may fail in the execution of his art; and as
we shall see, there is evidence that Greek doctors considered this possibility
too.
In this chapter I will examine how this principle to help, or to do no
harm is interpreted in Greek medical practice and applied in cases where
it is not immediately obvious what helping or causing harm consists in. I
will study this question by considering the therapeutic sections of a number
of Hippocratic writings (most of which date from the period 425350 bce)
and in the fragments of the fourth-century bce medical writer Diocles of
Carystus.
2 t h e e a r l y h i s t o r y o f t h e r a p e u t i c s
In the preface to his On Medicine (De medicina), the Roman encyclopaedic
writer Celsus (rst century ce) gives an account of the early history of
medical therapy from its beginnings in the Homeric era to the epistemo-
logical dispute between Dogmatists and Empiricists of his own time. This
passage has received ample attention in scholarship, and it is not my in-
tention to give a detailed interpretation or an assessment of its historical
reliability.
4
Instead, I will use it as a starting-point for a consideration of
some aspects of therapeutics in classical Greek medicine that may be sub-
sumed under the heading of what I would call the systematic status of
therapy in medicine. By this I mean the position and relative importance
of therapeutics within the eld of medicine as a whole, which gives rise to
3
I will use dietetic measures to the benet of the patients . . . I will keep themfromharmand injustice
(oici:nucoi :t ypnocuci tt cqttin :cv scuvv:cv . . . tti onnoti ot sci oisic tptiv).
4
See the commentary by Mudry (1982); Serbat (1995) xxxviiiliii. For more general assessments of
Celsus as a source for the history of medicine see Smith (1979) 22630 and (1989) 7480; von Staden
(1994b) 77101 and (1999b); Stok (1994) 6375; Temkin (1935) 24964.
To help, or to do no harm 103
questions such as the following: Are therapeutics and medicine identical?
Or is therapeutics a part of medicine, or perhaps an aim (or even the aim)
of medicine? Or is therapy just one among several different activities the
doctor carries out? And how are the various components, or methods, of
therapy interrelated? Do they all have the same purpose, and are they all
considered to be equally important? Is there a special status for dietetics
(which does not necessarily aim at healing)? The answers to these questions
are by no means obvious, yet they are of fundamental importance to an
understanding of what Greek doctors of this period were up to and what
they believed the purposes of their activities to be.
As is well known, in sections 58 of the proem Celsus discusses the
early period when the medical art was in Celsus view perniciously
incorporated within the theoretical study of the nature of things (rerum
naturae contemplatio) and he presents, with obvious approval, Hippocrates
as the one who emancipated medicine out of the bondage of philosophy
(studiumsapientiae), the pursuit of knowledge for its ownsake, whichCelsus
claims to be so fundamentally harmful to the body:
Ergo etiam post eos de quibus rettuli, nulli clari uiri medicinam exercuerunt donec
maiore studio litterarum disciplina agitari coepit (6) quae, ut animo praecipue
omnium necessaria, sic corpori inimica est. Primoque medendi scientia sapien-
tiae pars habebatur ut et morborum curatio et rerum naturae contemplatio sub
isdem auctoribus nata sit, (7) scilicet iis hanc maxime requirentibus qui corpo-
rum suorum robora quieta cogitatione nocturnaque uigilia minuerant. Ideoque
multos ex sapientiae professoribus peritos eius fuisse accipimus, clarissimos uero
ex his Pythagoran et Empedoclen et Democritum. (8) Huius autem, ut quidam
crediderunt, discipulus, Hippocrates Cous, primus ex omnibus memoria dignus,
a studio sapientiae disciplinam hanc separauit, uir et arte et facundia insignis.
5
After those, then, of whom I have just spoken, no man of any fame practised
the art of medicine until literary activity began to be practised with greater zeal,
(6) which, while being most necessary of all for the mind, is also harmful to the
body. At rst the knowledge of healing was regarded as a part of wisdom,
6
so that
both the treatment of diseases and the study of natural things came into being
under the same authorities, (7) clearly because those who most required it [i.e.
medicine] were those who had weakened the strength of their bodies by their
sedentary thinking and their wakeful nights. For this reason, as we hear, many
of those who claimed expertise in wisdom were experienced in it [i.e. medicine],
the most famous of them indeed being Pythagoras, Empedocles, and Democritus.
(8) But a pupil of this last, as some believed him to be, Hippocrates of Cos, the
5
Text according to Serbat (1995) 35.
6
Sapientia clearly covers both science and philosophy.
104 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
rst of all to deserve mention, separated this discipline from the study of wisdom;
he was a man outstanding both for his skill [in medicine] and for his eloquence.
7
In the sequel to this passage, Celsus describes a further stage in the develop-
ment of the medical art. He presents Diocles, Praxagoras and Chrysippus,
as well as Herophilus and Erasistratus, as men who exercised the art to
such an extent that they developed different ways of healing, and he points
out that also, in the same period a divison of medicine took place into
regimen, pharmacology, and surgery:
Post quem Diocles Carystius, deinde Praxagoras et Chrysippus, tum Herophilus
et Erasistratus, sic artem hanc exercuerunt ut etiam in diuersas curandi uias pro-
cesserint. (9) Isdemque temporibus in tres partes medicina diducta est ut una es-
set quae uictu, altera quae medicamentis, tertia quae manu mederetur. Primam
diaithtikn, secundam farmakeutikn, tertiam ceirourgan Graeci nomi-
narunt.
After him Diocles of Carystus, and later Praxagoras and Chrysippus, and then
Herophilus and Erasistratus practised the art in such a way that they even pro-
ceeded into diverse modes of treatment. (9) Also, in the same times, medicine was
divided into three parts, so that there was one which healed by regimen, another
by drugs, and a third manually. The Greeks named the rst dietetics, the second
pharmaceutics, the third surgery.
However, Celsus then seems to suggest that within dietetics (eius autem
quae uictu morbos curat) a renewed interest in theoretical speculation took
place: for he says that there were famous authorities who, out of a desire for
deeper understanding, claimed that for this purpose knowledge of nature
was indispensable, because without it medicine was truncated and impotent
(trunca et debilis).
Eius autemquae uictu morbos curat longe clarissimi auctores etiamaltius quaedam
agitare conati rerum quoque naturae sibi cognitionem uindicarunt, tamquam sine
ea trunca et debilis medicina esset. (10) Post quos Serapion, primus omnium nihil
hanc rationalem disciplinam pertinere ad medicinam professus, in usu tantum et
experimentis eam posuit. Quem Apollonius et Glaucias et aliquanto post Hera-
clides Tarentinus et aliqui non mediocres uiri secuti ex ipsa professione se empiricos
appellauerunt. (11) Sic in duas partes ea quoque quae uictu curat medicina diuisa
est, aliis rationalem artem, aliis usum tantum sibi uindicantibus, nullo uero quic-
quam post eos qui supra comprehensi sunt agitante nisi quod acceperat donec
Asclepiades medendi rationem ex magna parte mutauit.
Yet as for that part of medicine which cures diseases by regimen, by far the most
famous authorities also tried to deal with some things at even greater depth and
also claimed for themselves a knowledge of the nature of things as if, without this,
7
Translation according to van der Eijk (2000a) 35.
To help, or to do no harm 105
medicine were incomplete and impotent. (10) After these, Serapion was the rst
to claim that this theoretical discipline had no bearing on medicine at all and that
it [i.e. medicine] was a matter of practice and experience only. He was followed by
Apollonius, Glaucias, and some time later by Heraclides of Tarentum and several
other very distinguished men, who on the strength of the very claim they made
gave themselves the name of Empiricists. (11) Thus that part of medicine which
heals by regimen was also divided into two parts, some claiming for themselves
that it was a theoretical art, others that it was a matter of practice only. After those
who have just been dealt with, however, no one indeed added anything to what
he had accepted from his precursors until Asclepiades made major changes to the
method of healing.
Four brief comments on this passage are in order here:
(i) The art of medicine as practised by Hippocrates is presented by Celsus
in a rather narrowsense of the art of healing (curare), namely treatment
or therapy, which raises the question what place, if any, is left for
anatomy, physiology, prognostics and pathology areas which are
well represented in the Hippocratic Corpus.
(ii) Progress in this art is said to have led to a differentiation of modes
of treatment (in diuersas curandi uias) which occurred shortly after
Hippocrates (8).
(iii) It is said (9) that in the same times a tripartition of medicine oc-
curred. It is unclear, however, what Celsus means by the same times,
and whether this tripartition is identical to, or a consequence of,
the differentiation mentioned in the previous sentence, or in other
words, how the sentences Post quem . . . processerint and isdemque tem-
poribus . . . nominarunt are related to one another.
(iv) The renewal of interest in the theoretical study of nature as well as
the subsequent criticism this provoked among the Empiricists (911)
is said to have taken place within the specic area of dietetics, which
in its turn, and as a result of this development, was divided into two
branches.
I shall be brief about point (i), for it may be, and often has been, argued
that this perception of Hippocratic medicine reects, to a much greater
extent than the other three points, Celsus personal view of the priorities
in medicine.
8
Yet in at least one respect the surviving evidence does seem
to agree with the picture he presents. The Hippocratic Corpus provides
evidence of an increasingly self-conscious medical profession, which is re-
ecting on and promulgating its own principles, setting high standards
8
OnCelsus as a reporter of Rationalist medicine see vonStaden(1994b); onCelsus viewof Hippocrates
see Serbat (1995) liiilvii; Mudry (1977) 34552; Castiglioni (1940) 8626.
106 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
to the execution of these principles and clearly trying to emancipate itself
from philosophical speculation. Thus, as is well known, the author of the
Hippocratic work On Ancient Medicine criticises what he calls philosophy
9
and its inuence on medical practice, and he refers disparagingly to the use
of postulates such as the elementary qualities hot and cold as all-pervading
explanatory principles in the understanding and treatment of the human
body.
10
The author of another Hippocratic work, On the Art of Medicine,
defends medicine against accusations to the effect that it is not really a skill
and that its successes are a matter of good luck. Interestingly, he counters
the criticism that medicine is not in all cases capable of restoring health
by pointing out that this is not due to lack of skill or poor performance of
doctors (although this may of course be the case), but due either to lack of
co-operation by the patient or to the fact that the disease is, or has become,
incurable and in such cases, he argues, it is actually to the doctors credit
to be realistic and to refrain from treatment.
11
As far as point (ii) is concerned, what Celsus says here would again
seem to receive conrmation from the surviving evidence of fth- and
fourth-century medical literature. For while the Hippocratic Corpus does
not contain works specically devoted to therapeutics as such, two lead-
ing medical writers of the subsequent generation, Diocles of Carystus and
Praxagoras of Cos, are both reported to have written extensively on ther-
apeutics per se in works entitled On Treatments (per qerapein), at least
four books being attested in the case of Diocles and three for Praxagoras;
12
and it may be noted that Aristotle, too, is credited with a work On Reme-
dies (De adiutoriis, in Greek probably per bohqhmtwn).
13
In the case of
Diocles, we further know that this work On Treatments was different from
the more frequently attested work Affection, Cause, Treatment (pqov ata
qerapea, in one book).
14
Regrettably, our information on the nature of
these two works and their possible differences is severely restricted by the
fact that Diocles works survive in fragments only; and in this particular case
the problem is aggravated by the fact that all information about Diocles
9
On Ancient Medicine 20 (1.620 L.).
10
On Ancient Medicine 1 (1.570 L.).
11
On the Art of Medicine 8 (6.1214 L.).
12
Diocles, frs. 99 (libro curationum), 136 (secundo libro curationum), 100 (tertio libro de curationibus),
125 (quarto libro de curationibus) in van der Eijks edition (2000a); Praxagoras, frs. 100, 101, 102, 103,
104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 111, 112 in the edition of Steckerl (1958).
13
Aristotle, fr. 360 (= Caelius Aurelianus, Acute Affections 2.13.87) in the edition of Gigon (1983).
14
Diocles, frs. 49, 73, 79, 85, 92, 99, 100, 103, 109, 111a, 114, 116, 120, 123, 125, 128, 129, 131, 132a, 136, 139
in van der Eijk (2000a). To be sure, in frs. 116, 131 and 139 Caelius Aurelianus refers to the books
(libris) Diocles wrote on diseases, causes, treatments, but the fact that in the overwhelming majority
of references to this work he speaks of a book (libro) and that Caelius, when he refers to this work,
never species in which book Diocles said such and such, suggests that these three cases are just due
to lack of accuracy on Caelius part.
To help, or to do no harm 107
On Treatments is provided by the Methodist writer Caelius Aurelianus, who
is not a very sympathetic reporter of Diocles therapeutic views. Yet some
fragments allow us to get some impression of the difference of emphasis
between the two works. Thus in Acute Affections 3.17.159 (= Diocles, fr.
125), Caelius discusses Diocles views on the treatment of ileus (intestinal
disorder):
Diocles autem libro, quo de passionibus atque causis et curationibus scribit, phle-
botomat in passione constitutos atque cataplasmatibus curat ex polline, quod
Graeci omen lysin uocant, et adipe et uino et faece. tunc praepotat atque clyster-
izat ex abrotani semine cum mulsa ex aceto et aristolochia et cumino et nitro et
foeniculi radice decocta ex uino admixta aqua marina uel passo uel acriore uino
siue lacte cum decoctione lini seminis et mellis uel similibus. Quarto autem libro
de curationibus
Iuuenes, inquit, atque habitudine robustos et magis, quibus dolor ad latera
fertur phlebotomandos probo ex manu dextera <uel> interiore[m] uena[m] et
submittendos in aquam calidam, fotis uentri inicere admixto sale clysterem et
rursum in aquam calidam deponere et fouere.
praepotandos autem iubet etiam medicamentis, hoc est panacis dimidia drachma
in mulso ex aceto tepido resoluta et myrrhae obolos duos cum peristereonis herbae
foliis in uino albo uel cumino Aethiopico.
Adiuuat etiam plurimos plumbi catapotium transuoratum, impellit enim pon-
dere et excludit obtrudentia.
diurnis inquit praeterea diebus sitientibus potandum uinum dulce uel aqua[m]
temperatum aut marinam cum uino albo aut centauream herbam aut nitrum uel
eius spumam, ut ea, quae potuerit, soluat.
Danda etiamsorbilia uel cantabria lotura cummelle uel bromi sucus uel ptisanae
aut cumfarina olera cocta, alia ex adipe, alia ex alica atque sale; sorbendumetiam
et iuscellum scari piscis et carabi et bucinarum et cancrorum. tunc resumptio,
inquit, adhibenda,
cuius quidem materies percurrerit, quas superuum est recensere. etenim ex supra-
dictis uana atque iners commixtio materiarum demonstratur. Non enim solos
oportet iuuenes phlebotomari, sed etiam alios in aliis aetatibus constitutos, neque
semper e dextera manu uel interiore uena, sed etiamex sinistra atque exteriore facta.
detractio enimtumentia relaxat, usus autem<clysterum> acrimoniae causa erigit in
feruorem tumentia. est praeterea uexabilis praebibendi medicaminis potio. etenim
sunt acria atque mordentia et quae non sint mitigatiua celeritatis neque tumoris
relaxantia. plumbum uero transuoratum premit quidem atque impellit pondere,
sed tactu necessario frigidat atque intestina densitate coacta uexatione distendit.
iuscella autemin corruptione<m> facilia et inantia esse noscuntur, itemptisana[e]
eadem percere, uinum quoque in augmento inimicum.
15
15
Text according to Bendz and Pape (19903) vol. I, 3868.
108 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
Diocles, in the book in which he writes on affections, causes and treatments,
applies venesection to those in whom the affection [sc. ileus] has established itself
and treats them with poultices from the our which the Greeks call ome lusis, fat,
wine and lees. Then he gives them something to drink rst and applies a clyster
consisting of the seed of abrotanum mixed with oxymel, and of birthwort, cumin,
nitre, fennel root decocted in wine mixed with sea water, or raisin wine, or more
acid wine, or milk with a decoction of linseed and honey, or similar things. Again,
in the fourth book on treatments he says:
For young people and those whose normal constitution is strong, and all the
more for those in whom the pain stretches to the sides [of the body], I recom-
mend venesection from the right hand, or from the internal vein, and bathing
in hot water, and when they have got warm to inject in the belly a clyster mixed
with salt, and then again to put them in hot water and to warm them.
But he prescribes also that they should be given drugs to drink rst, namely half
a drachm of allheal dissolved in lukewarm oxymel, and two obols of myrrh with
leaves of holy vervain in white wine, or with Ethiopian cumin.
Most patients also benet from swallowing a lead pill, for it drives the obstruct-
ing material away by its heaviness and expels it.
Moreover, he says that patients who are thirsty should daily be given wine that is
sweet or mixed with water, or sea water mixed with white wine, or centaury, or
nitre, or soda, in order to dissolve as much as possible.
One should also give soupy food, such as bran water with honey, or a gruel of
oats or of pearl barley, or vegetables cooked with our, some with fat, others
with spelt groats and salt; the patient should also swallow a broth made from
parrot wrasse, craysh, bucinas and crabs. Then, he says, a convalescense cure
should be applied,
of which he lists the materials, which it is superuous to enumerate; for from the
above it is evident that this mixture of stuffs is useless and unskilful. For one should
venesect not only young people, but also people of other ages, and not always from
the right hand or the interior vein, but also from the left hand and from the exterior
vein. For after a withdrawal has been carried out, this gives relief to the swelling
parts, but the use of clysters, due to their acid quality, causes the swelling parts to
burn. Moreover, the drinking of drugs beforehand is irritating, for these are sharp
and biting, and [are things] that do not soothe the acute state nor bring relief to
the swelling parts. Swallowed lead, to be sure, presses and drives [the obstructing
material] by its heaviness, but necessarily on contact cools and stretches the densely
compacted intestines in an irritating manner. Broths are known to go off easily
and to cause atulency, and barley gruel to bring about the same effect; wine, too,
is harmful when the disease is in its increasing phase.
16
16
Translation according to van der Eijk (2000a) 21317.
To help, or to do no harm 109
A comparison between the two accounts shows that the therapeutic in-
structions derived from On Treatments are much more detailed and show
greater differentiation according to the individual patient. The fact that
a lead pill is not mentioned in the report of the therapeutic section of
Affection, Cause, Treatment may be a matter of coincidence, or of Caelius
selectivity in reporting, but it may be signicant that such a pill is also men-
tioned in another testimony where the two works are compared, in Caelius
discussion of Diocles treatment of epilepsy (Chronic Affections 1.4.132).
17
Moreover, in this text, as in Acute Affections 3.8.87 (which deals with the
treatment of tetanus), Caelius suggests that the therapeutic section of
Diocles Affection, Cause, Treatment differentiated according to the cause of
the disease, as one would expect from a work with this title.
18
17
Again, Diocles, in the book in which he wrote on affections, recommends venesection for those
who have caught this affection because of excessive drinking or eating of meat, [thereby] considering
antecedent causes rather than present ones. Yet for those who have incurred this affection because
of the usual state of their body, he recommends the withdrawal of a thick humour, which he called
phlegma. He also applies drugs that stimulate the urinary passages, which people call diuretica, and
also walking and being carried around. Yet even if these were real remedies, because of the smallness
of their number and of their power it could hardly be said that they are strong enough against this
great affection, or that they are sufcient for its destruction. Again, in the book of treatments he
applies venesection and uses as medicine a pill which turns the stomach and causes vomiting after
dinner by lling the head with exhalations. He gives vinegar to drink, and by causing sneezing
before the patients fall asleep he troubles the sensory passages at a highly untimely moment. He also
gives wormwood, centaury, asss milk, and the scab of horses or mules not indicating the time these
measures shouldbe appliedbut aficting the patients withdreadful things (ItemDiocles libro, quo de
passionibus scripsit, in his, qui ex uinolentia uel carnali cibo istampassionemconceperint, phlebotomiam
probat, antecedentes potius quam praesentes intuens causas. in his uero, qui ex corporis habitudine in
istam uenerint passionem, humoris crassi detractionem probat adhibendam, quem appellauit phlegma.
utitur etiam urinalibus medicamentis, quae diuretica uocant. item deambulatione ac gestatione, quae si
etiam uera essent adiutoria, ob paruitatem tamen numeri et magnitudinis suae, magnae passioni difcile
possent paria pronuntiari aut eius destructioni sufcere. Item libro curationum phlebotomans utitur
medicamine catapotio, quod stomachum euertit atque post cenam uomitum facit, exhalationibus implens
caput. potat etiam aceto <et> sternutamentum commouens priusquam in somnum ueniant aegrotantes,
profecto intemporaliter commouet sensuales uias. dat etiam absinthium, centaurion et lac asininum et
equorum impetigines uel mulorum neque tempus adiciens factis et odiosis aegrotantes afciens rebus);
Diocles, fr. 99 vdE; the title de passionibus is an abbreviation for de passionibus atque causis earum et
curationibus; the singular libro curationum is not in accordance with the other references to the work
(see n. 12 above), which is possibly, again, due to lack of precision on Caelius Aurelianus part. On
the relative infrequence of the use of pills in early Greek medicine see Goltz (1974) 2067.
18
Diocles, in the book in which he wrote on affections, causes and treatments, says that with people
suffering from tetanus one should apply drugs that promote urine, which he called diuretics, and
then one should purge and evacuate the stomach. He also gives raisin wine mixed with water to drink
to children or to those who have contracted the affection because of a wound. He also prohibits the
giving of food and he prescribes the application of vapour baths to the [parts] that are stiffened by
the affection and to make them exible. Again, in the third book On Treatments, he similarly uses a
clyster and gives sweet wine to drink and applies vapour baths, sometimes dry ones, sometimes wet
ones, and he anoints the affected parts with wax-salve and covers them with wool (Diocles libro, quo
passiones atque causas atque curationes scripsit, tetanicis inquit adhibenda mictoria medicamina,
quae appellauit diuretica, tumuentremdeducendumatque <e>uacuandum. dat etiambibendumpassum
110 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
It is hazardous, with so little information of such questionable reliability,
to draw any rm conclusions, but there is some plausibility in the hypoth-
esis that Diocles On Treatments was a more specialised work, which paid
more attention to therapeutic detail (apparently arranged by disease) but
less to causal explanation or symptomatology, whereas his briefer patholog-
ical work Affection, Cause, Treatment dealt with the therapy of diseases in
a wider, more general framework. Further titles and fragments of Diocles
works indicate that he wrote separate works on regimen in health, anatomy,
physiology (digestion), external remedies, toxicology, prognostics, gynae-
cology, fevers, catarrhs, evacuations, bandages, surgery, vegetables, rootcut-
ting, and possibly cookery and sexuality.
19
Although there may have been
a substantial overlap in subject matter between some of these works, these
titles suggest that by the time of Diocles medicine had increasingly become
compartmentalised, and this well accords with Celsus reference to Diocles
proceeding into diverse ways of treatment.
20
As far as point (iii) in Celsus text about the tripartition of medicine is
concerned, some interpreters seem to take the words in the same times
(isdemque temporibus) as referring to the times of Diocles, Praxagoras and
Chrysippus, Herophilus and Erasistratus, and this would mean that the
division of medicine is presented as a post-Hippocratic development.
21
aquatum pueris uel his, qui ex uulnere in passionem ceciderunt. prohibet etiam cibum dari et iubet ea,
quae passione tenduntur, uaporari et emolliri. item tertio libro de curationibus similiter clystere utitur
et uinum dulce dat bibendum adhibens uaporationes nunc siccas, nunc humectas, et ungit cerotario atque
lanis patientia contegit loca; Diocles, fr. 100 vdE).
19
See the list of preserved titles in van der Eijk (2000a) xxxiiixxxiv. Apart from the titles mentioned,
there is also a work by Diocles entitled Archidamos (fr. 185), which dealt, among other things, with
the use of olive oil for hygienic purposes. Wellmanns assumption of a work by Diocles per purv
ka rov (fr. 20 W.) is based on the (highly doubtful) presupposition that the anonymous source
to which (Ps.-)Vindicianus refers by means of formulae such as inquit, ait, is Diocles; a refutation of
this view has been offered by Debru (1992); see also Debru (1996) 31127 and van der Eijk (2001a)
7991.
20
I prefer to interpret this phrase as referring to variety within the healing practices of individual
physicians rather than as suggesting that each physician developed his own peculiar method(s) of
treatment as distinct from those of the others (von Staden (1999b) 268) or as referring to the divisions
within the Dogmatist tradition between Erasistrateans, Herophileans, etc. (Smith (1989) 76: alludes,
apparently, to the divisions between Erasistrateans and Herophileans, and perhaps to other dogmatic
sects; the latter seems unlikely as the difference is said to lie in methods of treatment rather than
in theoretical justication for this). But many commentators have expressed uncertainty about the
precise meaning of this phrase; cf. Smith (1989, 76): I am uncertain what differences Celsus may
have had in mind and Serbat (1995, xxxix: observation assez enigmatique), and the translations by
Spencer: so practiced this art that they made advances even towards various methods of treatment;
Serbat: pratiqu` erent cet art en le faisant m eme progresser dans des voies th erapeutiques diff erentes;
and Mudry (1982, 67): pratiqu` erent cet art de telle sorte quils avanc` erent encore dans des voies
diff erentes).
21
Mudry (1982) 67; von Staden (1989) 99; Serbat (1995, xxxix) takes it as a reference to the times of
Herophilus and Erasistratus.
To help, or to do no harm 111
However, on this interpretation it is slightly strange to introduce a new
paragraph at section 9, as Mudry does,
22
for this suggests that a new issue is
to be discussed, whereas both sentences seem to be expressing more or less
the same idea: progress leading to different methods of treatment and divi-
sion of the art of medicine into three areas which are also dened by the way
in which they provide treatment (quae uictu . . . quae medicamentis . . . quae
manu mederetur) seem to amount to the same thing.
23
Instead, I would
suggest taking isdemque temporibus as a less specic reference to the times
mentioned in the previous section (thus including both Hippocratic and
post-Hippocratic medicine) and reading the section from isdemque tempo-
ribus onwards as making a new point (as is indicated by the use of que), that
is to say, a development running parallel to the events that were described
in section 8 (Hippocrates emancipation of the art of healing from the study
of wisdom and the subsequent further renement of medicine by Diocles
and the others). It is important to see for what purpose Celsus has inserted
the tripartition of healing into his argument.
24
It enables him to present the
subsequent relapse into the theoretical study of nature as something taking
place within dietetics,
25
thus arriving at the paradoxical, perhaps slightly
tragic picture of medicine making fast progress towards greater renement
but this same differentiation allowing theoretical speculation to sneak in
again through the back door of dietetics.
26
For although Celsus does not
state whom he means when referring to by far the most famous authori-
ties (longe clarissimi auctores) in dietetics, it is hard not to think of Diocles
and Erasistratus (and perhaps Mnesitheus, although he is not mentioned
by Celsus), who had just been mentioned as those who had made further
progress in medicine, but who are also known for their theoretical outlook
in general and indeed it is hard not to think of the most philosophical
treatise on dietetics that has come down to us, the Hippocratic On Regimen.
Thus interpreted, Celsus report is consistent with the fact (which there
was no reason for him to ignore) that the Hippocratic Corpus itself already
provides evidence of a division of therapeutic activities roughly correspond-
ing to the tripartition into dietetics, surgery and pharmacology. Although
22
See also Spencer (1935) 6, and Serbat (1995) ad loc.
23
On the interpretation of this phrase see n. 20 above.
24
Surgery and pharmacology had already been identied as parts of medicine in section 4 (dealing
with the Homeric age). Dietetics is presented by Celsus as a more recent method of treatment.
25
See Mudry (1982) 74.
26
It may be disputed whether Celsus really values this development negatively (see von Staden (1994b)
85), considering his cautious approval of theory in section 47 of the proem; however, there the
discussion is about fevers and wounds, not about dietetics, and theory is just presented as adding
a special but not strictly necessary quality to medicine; and in section 59 (where the wording is
strikingly similar to that of section 9) he is clearly being sarcastic about the value of theory.
112 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
this division is nowhere stated explicitly in either the texts of the Hip-
pocratic writers
27
or the fragments of Diocles, Praxagoras or any other of
the physicians mentioned,
28
nevertheless there is evidence that Hippocratic
doctors regarded pharmacology and surgery as special types of treatment
separate from the more regular dietetic measures.
As for pharmacology, the treatise On Affections (Aff. ) frequently refers
for further details about the drugs to be administered to a (lost) work
entitled Pharmakitis or Pharmaka.
29
Judging from these references, this
work not only dealt with the preparation of drugs,
30
but also with their
workings and the conditions under which they were to be administered.
31
Furthermore, the author of On Regimen in Acute Diseases refers to a separate
(not extant) discussion of composite drugs (ovt:c qpucsc).
32
Again,
in other nosological works, such as On Internal Affections (Int. Aff. ) and
Appendix to On Regimen in Acute Diseases, it is frequently stated that in
addition to a number of measures a drug (qpucscv) should be given or
a treatment with drugs (qcpucsttiv) should, or should not, be adopted.
33
Similarly, surgical measures are frequently referred to in a way suggesting
that they are considered to belong to a separate category. Thus On Diseases
1.14 distinguishes between letting blood from the vessels of the arms and
a regimen.
34
The author of Appendix to On Regimen in Acute Diseases
27
The formulations that come closest are Oath: oici:nucoi :t ypnocuci . . . co ococ ot coot qp-
ucscv . . . co :tutc(I will use dietetic measures . . . I will not give a drug . . . nor will I use the knife),
and On the Art of Medicine 6 (6.10 L.) and 8 (6.14 L.): qpucsc . . . oici:nuc:c . . . :cv tv in:pisn
scicv:cv . . . t0p . . . :cv ccv coc :n in:pisn ouvtp,t (drugs . . . dietetic measures . . . medical
instruments that burn . . . re . . . all other instruments of the medical art).
28
For the dubious evidence in the case of Diocles see the discussion in van der Eijk (2001a) 6 n. 15 and
801.
29
E.g. in chs. 4 (6.212 L.), 9 (6.216 L.), 15 (6.224 L.) and 18 (6.226 L.).
30
Aff. 4 (6.212 L.): one should at once give gargles, preparing them as has been described in the books
on drugs (tcpcypnuc utv :coiv vc,cp,cpio:cioi ypnoci, ostucv c, ,t,pct:ci tv :c,
1cpusci,).
31
Aff. 27 (6.238 L.): In the case of cholera, if the patient has pain, one should give what has been
described in the books on drugs as stopping pain (:n ot yctpn ouuqtpti, nv utv covn tyn,
oiocvci ,t,pct:ci tv :c, 1cpuscioi tccv:c :n, covn,).
32
On Regimen in Acute Diseases 64 (2.364 L.): this [i.e. the use of drinks and the correct time of their
usage] will be described in relation to this disease, as will be done with the other composite drugs
(,t,pt:ci tcp co:c :c vconuc:i ctcottp sci :cc :cv ouvt:cv qcpuscv).
33
E.g. Int. Aff. 15 (7.204 L.); 17 (7.208 L.). Appendix to On Regimen in Acute Diseases 8 (2.408 L.), 12
(2.418 L.), 27 (2.448 L.), 32 (2.462 L.); Aff. 20 (6.230 L.). Cf. Aphorisms 1.20 and 1.14 (4.4646 L.). On
Hippocratic pharmacology see Stannard (1961) 497518. For the special status of drugs over dietetic
measures cf. also Diocles, frs. 153,23 and fr. 183a, lines 25, 48 and 623 (although this fragment is of
dubious authenticity); and Plato, Timaeus 89 b 34.
34
On Diseases 1.14 (6.164 L.): It benets such patients [i.e. those suffering from suppuration of the
lung], when one undertakes to treat them in the beginning, to let blood from the vessels in the hands,
and to give them a regimen that is most drying and bloodless (uuqtpti ot :coi :cic:cioiv, nv
sc: pyc, n, co:t tpctttiv, qtt, titutvci ts :cv ytipcv sci oici:c oq n, to:ci c,
npc:c:c, :t sci vciuc:c:c,).
To help, or to do no harm 113
distinguishes between treatment by drugs, venesection and clystering,
35
and elsewhere between regimen, fomentations and drugs;
36
and the author
of On Internal Affections distinguishes on one occasion between treatment
by fomentations, drugs, foods and exercises,
37
and on another occasion
between treatment by drugs, drink, food and exercises.
38
With dietetics, matters seem to be more complicated. The verb diaitan
(oici:cv) is often used by Hippocratic authors to describe a treatment
consisting of measures characteristic of what we would call dietetics, such
as foods and drinks, walking, baths, exercise and sleep. But sometimes it
just seems to be equivalent to treatment, as in a well-known statement of
the doctors primary requirements in Epidemics 3.16;
39
and indeed in the
treatise On Ancient Medicine dietetics seems to be just what medicine is
all about although even here a brief reference to cupping instruments
indicates that, to this author, medicine is not entirely a matter of food,
drink and exercise.
40
At the same time this work, as well as the explicitly
dietetic writings such as On Regimen and On Regimen in Acute Diseases,
make it clear that dietetics is not only used for therapeutic purposes, that
is, for the treatment of diseases, but also for the preservation and promotion
of health (o,itiv) and the prevention of disease.
41
This raises the question whether it is correct to regard dietetics as a part
or branch of therapeutics. It could be argued that it should rather be dened
more generally as a care for the body both and perhaps predominantly
in healthy states as well as (perhaps secondarily) in unhealthy states, or on
the interface between the two, as seems to be the position of the author of
On Regimen.
42
More importantly, as far as unhealthy states are concerned,
dietetics seems to be a care for the body which does not necessarily aim
35
Appendix 4 (2.400 L.): qcpucsttiv . . . qtc:cuin . . . suoucv.
36
Appendix 567 (2.50810 L.): cuc . . . qcipttiv . . . iucs:cvttiv sci cvcv qcipttiv co:c. ttti:c
:n oici:n :c tticitc co:cv sci tupinoiv tvisucioi tpttut . . . souc:i . . . qcpucst0oci.
37
Int. Aff. 50 (7.292 L.): utt:cv . . . tupinoi sci qcpuscioi sci totoucoi sci :ccitcpinoiv.
38
Int. Aff. 24 (7.228 L.): qcpuscioi sci tc:coi sci pc:coi sci :ccitcpinoi. Cf. the well-
known Hippocratic Aphorism 7.87 (4.608 L.): Diseases that are not cured by drugs, the iron will
cure; and those that are not cured by the iron, re will cure; and those that are not cured by re one
should consider incurable.
39
Epidemics 3.16 (3.102 L.): To know about these things means to know whom one should treat by
regimen and when and how (tioc:i ttpi :c:cv to:iv tiotvci c0, sci c:t sci c, ot oici:cv).
40
On Ancient Medicine 22 (1.626 L.): On the other hand, cupping instruments, which are broad and
tapering, have been designed for this purpose, that they withdraw and attract [material] from the
esh, and there are many other instruments of a similar kind (:c0:c ot ci oisci tpcoccutvci
t toptc, t, o:tvc:tpcv ouvn,utvci tpc, :c0:c :t:tyvtc:ci tpc, :c tstiv ts :n, ocpsc, sci
ttiotcoci, cc :t tcc :cicu:c:pctc). On this see Festugi` ere (1948) 667. See also, in the
same treatise, ch. 12 (1.596 L.), where the mention of many species of medicine (tcc totc sc:
in:pisnv) seems to envisage different parts of medicine.
41
On Ancient Medicine 3, 5 and 7 (1.574, 580 and 584 L.).
42
On Regimen 1.2 (6.4702 L.); 3.67 (6.592 L.); 3.69 (6.606 L.).
114 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
at restoring the health of a sick body,
43
but rather at bringing about the
least harmful, or least painful, state for a sick body, which may amount
to combating symptoms such as pain
44
or, more generally, to making the
disease more tolerable.
If Celsus is correct in portraying dietetics as a relatively late development
in Greek therapeutics,
45
this must refer to dietetic medicine, the application
of dietetic principles to the treatment of diseases. Rather than thinking
that dietetics was originally a part of medicine and was only later, under
the inuence of changing social and cultural circumstances,
46
divided into
a therapeutic part (the treatment of diseases) and a hygienic part (the
preservation of health and hygiene), one may also defend the view that
dietetics as a way of looking after the body was of an older origin and
had, by the fth century bce, developed into an established corpus of
knowledge primarily based on experience which was subsequently applied
to the treatment of diseases.
47
3 t h e a i m s o f t h e r a p e u t i c a c t i v i t y
With these considerations we are at the heart of what may be called, with the
usual caveats and reservations about the diversity the Hippocratic writings
display, Hippocratic medicine. For the ambivalence just noted preser-
vation of health, or treatment of disease, or providing palliative care is, in
a way, characteristic of Hippocratic approaches to health and disease as a
whole. Here the need for terminological clarication makes itself particu-
larly felt, for neither the Greek tpcttic nor its English derivative therapy
is specic with regard to this question about the aim(s) to be achieved. This
brings us to a consideration of the terms in which the doctors activities are
referred to in the Hippocratic Corpus.
As Nadia vanBrock has shown,
48
among the various words usedto signify
the doctors activity such as inoci (cure), tpctttiv (treat), utt:cv
(care), cqttv (help, benet), cntv (remedy, assist), uttocivtiv
(care), ut:cytipitoci (treat), quootiv (protect) perhaps tc-
ootiv (set free, release), o,itiv (make healthy), and the passive o,in,
43
See On Regimen in Acute Diseases 41 (2.310 L.) and 44 (2.31618 L.).
44
E.g. On Diseases 3.16 (7.150 L.): This also stops the pains (:c0:c sci :c, covc, tcti).
45
For other evidence to suggest that this was the case, see Longrigg (1999).
46
On this see Edelstein (1967a) 30316.
47
See On Ancient Medicine 7 (1.586 L.): How do these two [i.e. development of a regimen in health
and the use of regimen as treatment of disease] differ, except in that the latter has more different
kinds and is more varied and requires more effort? But the former is the starting-point, and came
before the latter (pyn ot tstivn n tpc:tpcv ,tvcutvn).
48
N. van Brock (1961).
To help, or to do no harm 115
,ivtoci (get healthy) and ottsqu,,vtiv (be released from) are the
only terms that really indicate a full restoration of health;
49
and of the vari-
ous translations available for these words (e.g. therapy, treatment, cure,
care, attention, etc.), healing is very often not the appropriate rendering.
Accordingly, recommendations of particular modes of treatment are often
expressed in terms such as ouuqtpti (it is protable), tti:noticv to:i (it
is suitable), pn,ti (it is appropriate) and cpucti (it is tting).
As such, these terms and expressions provide a good illustration of the
way in which the principle to help, or to do no harm is interpreted in prac-
tice. We can see this principle at work particularly in the actual treatment
advocated by the authors of the nosological works (On Diseases 1, 2, 3, On
Internal Affections). In these works symptomatology, causal explanation and
therapy of diseases are fairly consistently adopted as distinctive categories
and as such they resemble the apparently even more systematic discussion
of diseases and their treatment as offered by Diocles in the work Affec-
tion, Cause, Treatment mentioned above. Reading through the therapeutic
sections of these works, three points are particularly striking. The rst is
that on several occasions in On Internal Affections and On Diseases 2 and
3 a course of treatment is recommended in the full awareness of the lethal
nature of the disease.
50
One of the reasons for doctors such as the author
of On Internal Affections to adopt this attitude is clearly that they realise
that it is very difcult to establish whether a particular case is hopeless or
not, indeed that a certain mode of treatment may, by provoking a certain
physical reaction, provide clarication on this,
51
or alternatively that by
postponing treatment for too long, the disease may further exacerbate and
become denitely incurable (though not necessarily fatal).
52
On the other
hand, there are cases in which the doctor is advised to wait and see how
the disease develops before deciding whether to treat it or not,
53
or to infer
fromcertain symptoms whether the disease is curable or not.
54
Yet there are
also several cases where the patients chances of survival are considered to be
negligibly small, but where treatment is nevertheless recommended.
55
The
purpose of treatment in such cases is not always stated, but it may be, as
49
An interesting collocation of the terms tpctttiv, tcootiv, utt:cv and inoci is found in
Int. Aff. 26 (7.234 L.).
50
On degrees of mortality see von Staden (1990) 7980. The idea that Hippocratic doctors did not
engage, or were reluctant to engage, in treatment of hopeless cases though not without some
textual support, e.g. On the Art of Medicine 8, On Diseases 2.48 has been shown to be untenable
in its generalising claims by Wittern (1979) and von Staden (1990). For a more recent discussion of
this issue see also Prioreschi (1992).
51
Int. Aff. 27 (7.238 L.); 41 (7.270 L.).
52
Int. Aff. 26 (7. 236 L.); 47 (7. 284 L.).
53
E.g. On Diseases 3.2 (7.120 L.).
54
Int. Aff. 22 (7.220 L.).
55
E.g. On Diseases 2.57 (7.8890 L.); 3.1 (7.118 L.); 3.5 (7.122 L.); 3.6 (7.124 L.); 3.10 (7.130 L.); 3.11
(7.132 L.); 3.14 (7.1346 L.); Int. Aff. 6 (7.182 L.); 29 (7.244 L.).
116 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
On Internal Affections 10 shows, in order to bring about the best condition
or mode of living (oic,c,n) of a patient who is almost certainly going
to die:
When the case is such, the patient wastes away sorrily for a year, and dies; you must
treat him very actively and strengthen him. . . If treated in such a way, the patient
will fare best in the disease; the disease is usually mortal, and few escape it.
56
Furthermore, in a passage from On Diseases 3.15 the doctor is even advised
to tell the patient about the hopelessness of his case before engaging in
treatment:
If the sputum is not being cleaned out effectively, if respiration is rapid, and if
expectoration is failing, announce that there is no hope of survival; unless the
patient can help with the cleaning. But still treat as is appropriate for pneumonia,
if the lower cavity cooperates with you.
57
In these writings, then, treatment is recommended in virtually all cases
whatever the outcome. The outcome is sometimes said to be that the patient
will become healthy again;
58
but there are also several cases in which the
result is left vague.
59
A second, striking, fact is that it is often left at the doctors discretion
whether to follow a particular course of treatment, or even whether to
engage in treatment at all. The tentative, by no means rigid character of
Hippocratic treatment is indicated by expressions such as if you wish, if
you think it is right, if you treat him, if you wish to treat him,
60
if you do
not want to give him the drug.
61
This is not to say that, for the Hippocratic
doctors, treatment does not aim at restoring health; indeed, apart from the
many cases where treatment is said to result in a recovery of health, there
are several occasions where treatment is advocated not because lack of
treatment would result in the patients death but because it would cause
the disease to become chronic and to age with (ou,sc:c,npostiv),
62
or
56
Int. Aff. 10 (7.190 L.): co:c, csc:cv c0:c tyti, tvic:c qtipcutvc, qcc, vnosti utt:cv ot
ypn c, uio:c sci vcscuitiv . . . co:c, c0:c utt:cutvc, pnio: cv oi,ci tv :c vconuc:i.
n ot vc0oc, cvcoiun, sci tc0pci oicqu,,vcuoi (tr. Potter (1998) vol. vi , 105). See also Int.
27 (7.238 L.): :n, o covn, tvtsc, and von Staden (1990) 108 (about On Diseases 1.6): easing the
patients condition or prolonging his or her life; also Int. Aff. 12 (7.196 L.): :c0:c nv tcitn pnicv
coti :nv vc0ocv (although this case is not hopeless).
57
7.140 L. (tr. Potter (1988) vol. vi , 37). On verbal intervention see von Staden (1990) 10911.
58
E.g. Int. Aff. 9 (7.188 L.); 12 (7.198 L.); 21 (7. 220 L.).
59
E.g. On Diseases 2.15 (7.28 L.); 2.29 (7.46 L.).
60
On Diseases 3.3 (7.122 L.); 3.7 (7.126 L.); 3.13 (7.134 L.); 3.17 (7.156 L.).
61
Int. Aff. 10 (7.192 L.): nv ot un cn oc0vci :c qpucscv.
62
E.g. On Diseases 2.73 (7.112 L.).
To help, or to do no harm 117
to die with (ouvctcvnostiv),
63
the patient which reminds one of what
is sometimes said about incurable but non-fatal conditions (such as chronic
fatigue syndrome): It is not that you die of it, you die with it. It is clear
that Hippocratic doctors regarded this as something highly undesirable:
disease is something to be resisted and to be fought against, not something
to resign onseself to.
64
But this has to be done in the awareness of the
limitations of the art.
65
Thirdly, as a passage in On Internal Affections indicates, treatment does
not stop after recovery: If the patient is not cared for after he has recovered,
and does not keep a watch over himself, in many the disease has returned
and killed them.
66
The body needs to be looked after not only when it
is healthy or when it is sick, but also when it has turned from sickness to
health.
This comprehensive approach to therapeutics is continued and further de-
veloped by Diocles, whose dietetic fragments, in their meticulous attention
to even the slightest detail, display an impressive degree of sophistication
some might say decadence.
67
Yet, as we have seen, in Diocles work dietetics
and therapeutics seem to constitute two distinct areas of the overarching
category medicine. This is further reected in a fragment of Diocles con-
temporary Mnesitheus of Athens, who divided medicine into two branches,
the preservation of health and the dispelling of disease.
68
These classica-
tions may be related to an increasing sense of unease in Greek society
63
Int. Aff. 5 (7.180 L.); 46 (7.280 L.).
64
Epidemics 1.11 (2.636 L.): ottvcv:ic0oci :c vconuc:i :cv vcotcv:c ut:c :c0 in:pc0.
65
See On the Art of Medicine 8 (cf. Arist. Rh. 1355 b 12: nor is it the purpose of medicine to make
a patient healthy, rather it is to promote this only in so far as is possible; for even those who are
incapable of recovery can nevertheless be treated (coot ,cp ic:pisn, [sc. :tc,] :c o,ic tcinoci,
c utypi co tvotyt:ci, utypi :c:cu tpcc,c,tv to:i ,cp sci :cu, ouv:cu, ut:cctv
o,itic, cuc, tpctt0oci).
66
Int. Aff. 1 (7.172 L.): nv ot un tpcttn:ci o,in, ,tvcutvc, sci nv un tv qucsn tyn tcu:cv,
:c, tcc, otc:pctococ, n vc0oc, tctotv. Cf. On Ancient Medicine 14 (1.600 L.): and it
is these things [i.e. food and drink] on which life completely depends, both for the healthy person
and for the one that recovers from illness and for the sick person (sci oic :c:cv tc, c ic,
sci o,icivcv:i sci ts vcocu vco:ptqcutvc sci suvcv:i); On Regimen 2.76 (6.620 L.): and
if the patient recovers in a month, one should subsequently treat him with what is proper; but if
some (of the disease) remains, one should continue the treatment (sci nv utv tv unvi scio:n:ci,
tpctttoc :c citcv :coi tpconscuoiv nv ot :i otccitcv n, ypnoc :n tpcttin).
67
See Diocles Regimen in Health in fr. 182, and the discussion by Edelstein (1967a) 30316.
68
Mnesitheus, fr. 11 Bertier: Mnesitheus said that the doctor either preserves health for those who are
healthy or provides treatment of disease to those who are sick (tt,t :civuv c Mvnoitc, c:i c
ic:pc, n :c, o,icivcuoi qu::ti :nv o,ticv, n :c, vconocoi tpcttti :c, vcocu,). See
also the Galenic Denitiones medicae 9 (19.351 K.): Medicine is the art that treats healthy people
by regimen and sick people by therapeutics (ic:pisn to:i :tyvn oici:n:isn o,icivcv:cv sci
tpcttu:isn vcocv:cv).
118 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
with regard to the claims of dietetics and indeed medicine as a whole in
the fourth century and, perhaps, with regard to the competence of the
practitioners of dietetics. For the Hippocratic and Dioclean conception of
medical care, combined with a growing awareness of the need for preven-
tion of disease by means of a healthy lifestyle, seems to have led to a rapid
expansion of the territory for which Greek physicians claimed expertise.
Such a medicalisation of daily life was strengthened by the intellectual
cachet and rhetorical elegance of medicine which Celsus refers to, and to
which the extant fragments of Diocles works certainly testify; but it is easy
to see how it may have met with resistance an unease which is reected,
as far as the application of dietetic principles to the treatment of diseases is
concerned, by Platos well-known attack on dietetics in the Republic.
69
In the light of such unease and doubts about the qualications and
competence of the practitioners of medical care, it is understandable that
doctors started to specialise. This is illustrated by the fragment of Diocles
contemporary Mnesitheus just quoted, and also by a fragment of Erasistra-
tus,
70
in which a distinction between medicine (atrik) and the care for
health (t giein) is connected with a distinction between two different
practitioners: the healer (atrv) and the health specialist (gieinv). It
is also illustrated ve centuries later by Galens treatise Thrasybulus, which
deals with the question Whether the care for the healthy body belongs
to medicine or to gymnastics. But this specialisation, or indeed compart-
mentalisation, of medical care meant that the unity of therapeutics which
the Hippocratic doctors had insisted on, was gradually lost: the distance
between patient and doctor steadily increased a development that has
continued up to the present day, and which clearly goes against what I
would still call the spirit of Hippocratic medicine.
69
403 e ff., on which see W ohrle (1990) 1224.
70
Fr. 156 Garofalo.
c h a p t e r 4
The heart, the brain, the blood and the pneuma:
Hippocrates, Diocles and Aristotle on the
location of cognitive processes
1 t h e d e b a t e i n a n t i q u i t y o n t h e l o c a t i o n
o f t h e m i n d : o r i g i n , d e v e l o p m e n t
a n d m i s r e p r e s e n t a t i o n
In one of the rst chapters of his systematic account of the treatment of
acute and chronic diseases, the Latin medical author Caelius Aurelianus
(fth century ce) discusses phrenitis, a psychosomatic disorder with symp-
toms including acute fever, mental confusion, a weak and fast pulse and
various forms of abnormal behaviour such as the picking of threads out of
clothing.
1
Caelius Aurelianus, himself belonging to the medical school
called the Methodists,
2
begins his argument, as usual, with a survey of
the views on the nature and origin of this disease held by doctors belonging
to other schools of thought, in particular their views on the question of
which part of the body is affected by the disease. His main reason for doing
so is to show the contrast between his own and only correct treatment of
the disease and the general confusion among other doctors:
What part [of the body] is affected in phrenitis? This question has been raised
particularly by leaders of other sects so that they may apply their treatments ac-
cording to the different parts affected and prepare local remedies for the places
in question . . . Now some say that the brain is affected, others its fundus or base,
which we may translate sessio [seat], others its membranes, others both the brain
and its membranes, others the heart, others the apex of the heart, others the mem-
brane which incloses the heart, others the artery which the Greeks call aorte, others
the thick vein (Greek phleps pacheia), others the diaphragm. But why continue
in this way when we can easily clarify the matter by stating what these writers
really had in mind? For in every case they hold that the part affected in phrenitis
This chapter was rst published in Dutch in Gewina 18 (1995) 21429.
1
For the problem of identifying phrenitis see Potter (1980) 110; Pigeaud (1981a) 72.
2
For an outline of the Methodists medical views see Edelstein (1967b); Pigeaud (1991); Gourevitch
(1991); Pigeaud (1993) 56599. The epistemological principles of the Methodists are discussed by
Frede (1983) and by Lloyd (1983) 182200. [On Caelius version of Methodism see also ch. 11 below.]
119
120 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
is that in which they suspect the ruling part of the soul to be situated . . . Now
we hold that in phrenitis there is a general affection of the whole body, for the
whole body is shaken by fever. And fever is one of the signs that make up the
general indication of phrenitis, and for that reason we treat the whole body. We
do hold, however, that the head is more particularly affected, as the antecedent
symptoms indicate, e.g., its heaviness, tension, and pain, head noises, ringing in
the ears, dryness, and impairment of the senses . . . eyelids stiff, eyes bloodshot and
bulging out, cheeks red, veins distended, face puffed up and full, and tongue rough.
But there are those who argue as follows: We determine the part affected on the
basis of the theory of nature (Greek phusiologia), for we know in advance that
the ruling part of the soul is located in the head, and conclude that that must be
the source of mental derangement. Our answer to them is that, to begin with, the
place of this ruling part is uncertain. But the number and variety of symptoms
occurring in the head have shown us that this organ is more particularly affected
than the rest of the body.
3
In this fragment Caelius Aurelianus refers to a great variety of views on
where to locate the affection of phrenitis in classical antiquity, which can
be traced back to the fth century bce. This discussion was to a certain
extent determined by a lack of clarity about the evidential value of the
etymological relation between the name of the disease and the Greek word
phrenes, which had been used since Homer to indicate the midriff (later, the
common term for this became diaphragm, as used here by Caelius). Some
advocates of the location in the diaphragm appealed to this etymology,
4
others were of the opinion that the name of the disease should not be related
to any part of the body (be it affected or not), but to the faculty that was
affected (phronein, phron esis, standard terms in Greek for what we would
call intelligence or consciousness).
5
Others thought that the name given
to a disease was arbitrary and did not offer any indication of its location.
Another signicant fact is that Caelius Aurelianus criticises his predeces-
sors strong desire to locate the condition in one particular place in the body,
and their presupposition that this place should also be the seat of the mind
(the faculty affected in the case of phrenitis).
6
Following typically Methodist
principles, Caelius is of the opinion that the disease cannot be located in
3
Caelius Aurelianus, On Acute Affections 1.8.536, tr. Drabkin (1950).
4
For this use of the term phrenitis on the basis of the affected part (apo topou) see Diocles, fr. 72 (all
references to Diocles are to van der Eijk (2000a)); cf. Anonymus Londiniensis i v 1315 (ed. Diels
(1893a)); [Hippocrates], On the Sacred Disease 17 (6.3946 L.); see Grensemann (1968c).
5
Cf. the view of the medical writer Erasistratus (third century bce), fr. 176 (ed. Garofalo (1988)).
6
An example of a medical writer to whom this presupposition does not apply is Diocles of Carystus:
according to the so-called Anonymus Parisinus (see Diocles, fr. 72 vdE), Diocles assumed that the
disease affects the diaphragm but that the mind is seated in the heart. The psychological disorders
arise as a result of sumpatheia, i.e. because the heart also suffers from the fact that the diaphragm is
heated.
Heart, brain, blood, pneuma 121
any particular place, but that the entire body is ill and therefore the entire
body requires treatment. Another characteristic of the Methodists is that
speculations on the location of the mind are rejected for being pointless, as
it is impossible to reach conclusions on the matter on empirical grounds,
and the doctor should abstain from expressing any opinions (rst of all it
is still uncertain which part of the body is the leading part). This attitude
is inspired by the close connection between the epistemological views of
the Methodists and those of the philosophical school of the Sceptics, who
on principle refuse to express opinions on any non-perceptible matters. In
addition, the Methodists consider such questions irrelevant to therapeutic
practice, which they regard as the focus of medical science.
Whether Caelius Aurelianus does justice to all his medical predecessors
by presenting matters as he does is very much the question. Recent research
into the principles andmethods of doxography (the descriptionof the doxai,
the characteristic doctrines of authorities in a certain subject) has revealed
that the question What is the leading principle in man and where is it
located? more or less assumeda life of its owninlate antiquity, separate from
the scientic context fromwhich it originated. It became a favourite subject
for practising argumentation techniques (comparable to questions such as
Is an embryo a living being?),
7
whereby contrasting views were taken
in an articial debate (sometimes even views that, although theoretically
possible, have, as far as we know, never actually been supported), which
were subsequently attributed to authorities in the eld, and which served as
exercise material for nding and using arguments both for and against. Such
dialectic staging of a debate bears little relation to a historically faithful
rendition of a debate that actually took place in the past.
It is most probable that Caelius Aurelianus summary of views as quoted
above is part of sucha doxographical tradition, andtherefore highly schema-
tised. In his presentation, the views of those to whom he refers without
mentioning their names
8
imply a number of presuppositions regarding
empirical evidence and theoretical concepts in respect of which it is ques-
tionable whether the authorities concerned actually held them. A question
like What is the leading principle of the soul and where is it located?
presupposes that there is such a thing as a leading part or principle in the
soul and that it can be located somewhere. The debate to which Caelius
7
On this see Mansfeld (1990), and for embryology Tieleman (1991).
8
The doctors and philosophers to whom Caelius Aurelianus refers can be identied by studying other
doxographic authors (for this purpose see the discussion by Mansfeld mentioned in n. 7). Further
down in the same book Caelius Aurelianus discusses the therapeutic views on phrenitis held by
Diocles, Erasistratus, Asclepiades, Themison and Heraclides.
122 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
Aurelianus is referring concerns the so-called h egemonikon or regale. This
term is probably of Stoic origin (c. 300 bce) and refers to the leading
principle in the soul (commonly indicated as nous or intellectus, which is
usually translated as thought or intellect). The use of this term implies
the possibility of grading various psychic parts or faculties, some of which
are subordinate to others, and presupposes an anatomical and physiological
relationship underlying such a hierarchy. On the one hand such a presen-
tation presupposes a rather elaborate psychological theory, free from the
difculties and obscurities that, for instance, Aristotle points out when he
discusses the psychological views of his predecessors in the rst book of his
On the Soul (De anima ). It will be clear that a presentation such as that
by Caelius Aurelianus, in which all doctors and philosophers are called to
the fore to express their views on the matter, puts opinions in their mouths
that many of them (probably) never phrased in these terms. On the other
hand, such a presentation does not do justice to thinkers such as Aris-
totle and some authors of the Hippocratic Corpus, as it often obscures the
subtle differences in meaning between the various terms used for psychic
faculties by these thinkers. We will see below that as early as the fth and
fourth centuries bce, doctors and philosophers carefully differentiated be-
tween cognitive faculties such as practical, theoretical, and productive
thinking; insight; understanding; opinion; and judgement.
9
Indeed,
the possibility of location was a matter of dispute too. Thus Aristotle was
credited in late antiquity with the view that the soul, or at least its leading
principle (the arch e), is seated in the heart. We will see that this is a mis-
representation of Aristotles views, which, strictly speaking, leave no room
for location of the highest psychic faculty, the nous. Similarly, the author
of the Hippocratic work On Regimen (at the start of the fourth century
bce) presupposes a view of the soul that does not specify where exactly it is
located in the body; he even appears to assume that the location may vary.
In short, this doxographic distortion attributes to doctors and philosophers
answers to questions which some of them would not even be able or willing
to answer as a matter of principle.
Finally, Caelius Aurelianus upholds a long tradition of contempt for
the so-called phusiologia. This tradition dates back to the author of the
Hippocratic writing On Ancient Medicine (c. 400 bce). He was opposed
to some of his colleagues tendency to build their medical practice on
general and theoretical principles or postulates (hupotheseis) derived from
9
Aristotle lists a range of terms for cognitive faculties (nous, phron esis, epist em e, sophia, gn om e, sunesis,
doxa, hupol epsis) in book 6 of the Nicomachean Ethics; however, it remains uncertain to what extent
the subtle differences in meaning that Aristotle ascribes to these terms are representative for Greek
language in general.
Heart, brain, blood, pneuma 123
natural philosophy, such as the so-called four primary qualities hot, cold,
dry and wet. By contrast, he adopted a predominantly empirical approach
to medicine, which in his view was tantamount to dietetics, the theory
of healthy living. His approach was based on insights into the wholesome
effects of food, insights that had been passed down from generation to
generation and rened by experimentation. He even went so far as to claim
that in reality physics does not form the basis for medicine, but medicine
for physics.
The question of to what extent a doctor should be concerned with, or
even build on, principles derived from physics (or metaphysics) remained a
matter of dispute throughout antiquity. What made the problemeven more
urgent was that in many areas of controversy, such as that on the location
of the mind, it remained unclear to what extent these could be resolved on
empirical grounds. The doctors desire to build views concerning the correct
diagnosis and treatment of psychosomatic disorders such as mania, epilepsy,
lethargy, melancholia and phrenitis on a presupposition about the location
of the psychic faculties affected, which could not be proved empirically,
differed according to his willingness to accept such principles, which were
sometimes complimentarily, sometimes condescendingly labelled philo-
sophical.
10
This group of doctors with a profoundly philosophical interest
included, for instance, Diocles of Carystus (fourth century bce) and the
author of the Hippocratic work On the Sacred Disease (end fth century
bce). They corresponded to an ideal proclaimed rst by Aristotle and later
by Galen, namely that of the civilised or distinguished physician, who is
both a competent doctor and a philosopher skilled in physics, logic, and
rhetoric.
11
Caelius Aurelianus derogatory remark shows that this ideal was
by no means beyond dispute. Yet in this dispute, too, the variety of views
on the matter was much wider than his general characterisation suggests.
It is therefore highly likely that Caelius Aurelianus presentation intends to
exaggerate the differences in opinion between the doctors mentioned, in
order to make his own view stand out more clearly and simply against the
background of confusion generated by others.
These introductory observations may sufce to provide an outline of the
debate on the seat of the mind, which was the subject of erce dispute
10
The rst time the word philosophia is attested in Greek literature is in ch. 20 of the Hippocratic
writing On Ancient Medicine (1.620 L.). The word is used in a clearly negative sense, to describe
the practice of scrounging from physics, which is rejected by the author. The name Empedocles is
mentioned in this context.
11
For this Aristotelian ideal see below, ch. 6, pp. 1937. Galen wrote a separate treatise entitled and
devoted to the proposition that The Best Physician is also a Philosopher (i.e. skilled in logic, physics,
and ethics; see 1.5363 K.).
124 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
throughout classical antiquity (and remained so until the nineteenth cen-
tury), and to which no denitive answer was found. In so far as antiquity
is concerned, there were at least three causes for this: the reasons for asking
the question (and the desire to answer it) differed depending on whether
ones purposes were medical, philosophical or purely rhetorical; the status
of the arguments for or against a certain answer (such as the evidential value
of medical experiments) was subject to uctuation; and the question itself
posed numerous other problems related to the (to this day) disputed area of
philosophical psychology or philosophy of the mind, such as the question
of the relationship between body and soul, or of the difference between the
various psychic faculties, and so on. Whenfollowing the debate fromits in-
ception until late antiquity, one gets the impression that the differences
manifest themselves precisely in these three areas. Whereas the doctors
of the Hippocratic Corpus were mainly interested in the question of the
location of the mind in so far as they felt a need for a treatment of psycho-
logical disorders based on a theory of nature, later the situation changed
and medical-physiological data were no more than one of the possible (but
by no means decisive) factors to build arguments for one of the positions
taken on.
Inthe sectionbelowI will pay particular attentiontothe early phase of the
debate (fth and fourth centuries bce), concentrating on the main authors
of the Hippocratic Corpus, Aristotle and Diocles, with brief references to
Plato.
2 g r e e k d o c t o r s a n d p h i l o s o p h e r s o f t h e
f i f t h a n d f o u r t h c e n t u r i e s b c e
It can be inferred from remarks made by Plato, Aristotle and in the
Hippocratic Corpus
12
that as early as the fth century bce doctors and nat-
ural philosophers disagreed on the question which bodily factors (organs,
tissues or substances) played the most important part in performing facul-
ties we would call psychic or mental. These include thinking, perception,
feeling, remembering, and so on. Secondary literature on this issue usually
distinguishes betweenthe encephalocentric, cardiocentric andhaematocen-
tric viewon the seat of the mind.
13
The encephalocentric viewwas allegedly
12
Plato, Phaedo 96 b; Aristotle, Metaph. 1013 a 4ff. and 1035 b 25ff.; [Hippocrates], On the Sacred
Disease 17 (6.392 L.).
13
See, among others, Manuli and Vegetti (1977). A selection from the extensive range of literature
on this subject: Bidez and Leboucq (1944); Byl (1968); Di Benedetto (1986) 3569; Duminil (1983);
Gundert (2000); Hankinson (1991b); Harris (1973); Manuli (1977); Pigeaud (1981b) 72; Pigeaud
(1980); Pigeaud (1987); Revesz (1917); R usche (1930); B. Simon (1978); P. N. Singer (1992).
Heart, brain, blood, pneuma 125
takenby the fth-century medical writer Alcmaeonof Croton(South Italy),
who was thought to be the rst to discover the existence of the optic nerve,
by the author of the Hippocratic work On the Sacred Disease, and by Plato
(in the Timaeus). The cardiocentric view was represented in the Hippo-
cratic writings On Diseases 2 (fth century bce), On the Heart (end of the
fourth/start of the third century bce) and by Aristotle, Diocles of Carystus
and Praxagoras of Cos (fourth century bce). The haematocentric view was
taken by Empedocles and the authors of the Hippocratic writings On Dis-
eases 1 and On Breaths (all fth century bce). Although this division may
be largely appropriate in terms of the period concerned, it is already too
much a product of the schematisation mentioned above, which became
characteristic of the debate in later doxography. Strictly speaking, only the
authors of On the Sacred Disease and On the Heart express an opinion on the
location of what they consider the highest psychic faculty, the former choos-
ing the brain, the latter the heart. Apart from this, the division into three
areas presents the matter in too static a way: most of the authors mentioned
appear to regard psychic activities mainly as processes, in which some parts of
the body are more involved than others, but which are in principle based on
the interaction between a number of anatomical and physiological factors.
It would be better to ask in which terms ancient doctors from the fth
and fourth centuries bce thought about these matters, and which types of
arguments they used to substantiate their views. The following categories
can be discerned:
faculties (thought, perception, feeling, etc.)
parts of the body (heart, brain, diaphragm, etc.)
substances (blood, air, phlegm, etc.)
processes (decay, constipation, etc.)
relations/proportions (balance, mixture, etc.)
In the discussions which doctors devote to the subject, they employ terms
that on the one hand refer to a certain part of the body or otherwise
anatomical-physiological material, and on the other hand to an activity
or faculty exercised or enabled by it: the part of the body contributes to,
is the instrument of or the material substrate of a faculty or ability.
It is not always immediately obvious to what extent the medical authors
made a distinction between mental processes as such and physiological
processes.
14
Most authors of the Hippocratic Corpus appear to assume a
kind of continuum between body and mind: in lists of symptoms, psycho-
logical phenomena are mentioned among purely physical ones without any
14
See the discussion in Singer (1992) 13143.
126 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
categorical difference, and the cause for mental disorders is virtually always
sought in bodily factors.
Mental faculties are given a more independent role in the Hippocratic
writing On the Sacred Disease, in which the function of the brain is char-
acterised as interpreting (herm eneus) what is derived from the air outside.
This is in many respects a key text, not least because of the authors polemic
stance to rival views:
For these reasons I believe that the brain is the most powerful part in a human
being. So long as it is healthy, it is the interpreter of what comes to the body from
the air. Consciousness is provided by the air. The eyes, ears, tongue, hands and
feet carry out what the brain knows, for throughout the body there is a degree
of consciousness proportionate to the amount of air which it receives. As far as
understanding is concerned, the brain is also the part that transmits this, for when
a man draws in a breath it rst arrives at the brain, and from there it is distributed
over the rest of the body, having left behind in the brain its best portion and
whatever contains consciousness and thought. For if the air went rst to the body
and subsequently to the brain, the power of discerning thinking would be left to
the esh and to the blood vessels; it would reach the brain in a hot and no longer
pure state but mixed with moisture from the esh and from the blood so that it
would no longer be accurate. I therefore state that the brain is the interpreter of
consciousness.
The diaphragm (phrenes), however, does not have the right name, but it has
got this by chance and through convention. I do not know in virtue of what
the diaphragm can think and have consciousness (phronein), except that if a man
suddenly feels pleasure or pain, the diaphragm leaps up and causes throbbing,
because it is thin and under greater tension than any other part of the body, and
it has no cavity into which it might receive anything good or bad that comes
upon it, but because of the weakness of its structure it is subject to disturbance
by either of these forces, since it does not perceive faster than any other part
of the body. Rather, it has its name and reputation for no good reason, just
as parts of the heart are called auricles though they make no contribution to
hearing.
Some say that we owe our consciousness to our hearts and that it is the heart
which suffers pain and feels anxiety. But this is not the case; rather, it is torn just
like the diaphragm, and even more than that for the same reasons: for blood vessels
from all parts of the body run to the heart, and it encapsulates these, so that it can
feel if any pain or tension occurs in a human being. Moreover, it is necessary for the
body to shudder and to contract when it feels pain, and when it is overwhelmed by
joy it experiences the same. This is why the heart and the diaphragmare particularly
sensitive. Yet neither of these parts has any share in consciousness; rather, it is the
brain which is responsible for all these. (1617 [6.3904 L.])
15
15
Translation Jones in Jones and Withington (192331) vol. i , modied; section divisions according to
Grensemann.
Heart, brain, blood, pneuma 127
This passage is part of a rather complicated explanation of epilepsy (for
details on this see the next paragraph). The brain plays a pivotal role in
this explanation as it is the point from where bodily and psychic faculties
are co-ordinated, but also because it is particularly sensitive to harmful
inuences from the environment, such as climate and season (so long as
it is healthy). These inuences can therefore be additional factors that
contribute to the course the disease takes. The author emphasises this
crucial role of the brain as part of his polemic against two rival factions
which consider the diaphragmor the heart to be the central organ that is the
source of consciousness. He dismisses the etymological argument of the rst
faction (phrenes phron esis) as invalid, and accommodates the empirical
fact that both factions put forward the hearts leaping in case of sudden
gladness or sadness into his own theory, which is also based on empirical
observations (namely the delicacy of the diaphragm and the veins going
to the heart). In a previous chapter he employed an empirical argument
to support his conviction that the disease is caused by an accumulation of
phlegm in or around the brain. He claimed that if one were to open the
skull of a goat that died as a result of an epileptic t, one would nd a large
amount of uid (phlegm) around the brain.
16
It is striking that a distinction is made here between consciousness
(phron esis) and understanding (sunesis): the latter is apparently related to
the discerning thinking (diagn osis) which is mentioned later in the text,
and which requires a certain degree of purity and precision that is adversely
affected by contact with organs and tissues. In this context phron esis clearly
means more than thinking or intelligence, as the word is commonly
translated. It means having ones senses together and refers to a universal
force by which a living being can focus on its surroundings and can un-
dertake activities; it also implies perception and movement.
17
Phron esis can
be found throughout the body, whereas understanding is restricted to the
brain. Another thing that is striking is that the author is of the opinion that
the brain is also the source of feeling although he admits that the heart
and diaphragm take part in this as well.
A text in which mental phenomena are even more clearly classied as
a separate category is the Hippocratic writing On Regimen.
18
The author,
a particularly philosophically inspired mind, presents psuch e (sometimes
16
11.35 (6.382 L.). As to the question whether this indeed concerns an experiment in the modern
sense of the word, see Lloyd (1979) 234.
17
See H uffmeier (1961) 58. See too H. W. Miller (1948) 16883.
18
Edition with a translation and commentary by Joly and Byl (1984). There is a dispute about the date
of this work: most scholars date it to the beginning of the fourth century bce, but some argue in
favour of a much later date (second half of the fourth century bce).
128 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
also referred to as dianoia) as a distinct entity, separate fromthe body (s oma).
This distinction manifests itself in particular during sleep (4.867). How-
ever, this does not imply that the soul is immaterial. The soul consists of wa-
ter and re (the elements which, according to this author, have the greatest
inuence on the constitution of the human body), which stand in a certain
proportion to each other. Fluctuations in this proportion result in differ-
ences between individual peoples cognitive skills, such as acuteness, a good
memory, precision of the senses and proneness to certain emotions (1.35).
When the balance between these two elements is seriously disturbed, it will
give rise to psychological disorders, but these can be cured by changing eat-
ing and drinking habits and adopting a certain lifestyle (1.36). According to
this author, the soul is therefore a material entity, yet it does not have a xed
location: it moves through the body via passages (poroi ). The condition of
these passages (for instance their widthor narrowness) is a further inuential
factor in someones mental functioning. In the state of wakefulness, the soul
distributes itself over the entire body and carries out certain tasks for the
benet of the body, including hearing, seeing, touching and movement.
During sleep, or rather when the body is asleep, the soul remains awake
and withdraws in its own home (oikos), where it carries out the activities of
the body independently. These include seeing, hearing, walking, touching,
grieving, thinking: they are called enhupnia or dreams. Yet the author does
not venture an opinion on the location of the soul and its home.
A presentation like this shows how inadequate terms like materialism
and dualism are to describe ancient theories onbody and mind. The author
of On Regimen may be called a materialist to the extent that he holds an
entirely material view on the soul; yet at the same time he assumes two
separate entities which may normally co-operate and mutually inuence
each other, yet one of them (the soul) can also function independently, as,
for instance, in sleep.
19
The greatest renement in the denition of the status of mental phe-
nomena can be found in Aristotle, although his comments on the topic,
too, show a certain amount of uctuation. He expresses the view that the
soul is not a separate entity, which might exist independently of the body:
soul to Aristotle is the form of the body, that which causes a body to live,
which gives it structure and enables it to exercise its faculties.
20
Yet this
19
For the psychology of On Regimen see Palm (1933) 447; Joly and Byl (1984) 2967; Hankinson
(1991b) 2006; Jouanna (1966) xvxviii; Cambiano (1980) 8796; Van Lieshout (1980) 1003.
20
For this interpretation of Aristotles understanding of the soul see Sorabji (1974) 6389 and Kahn
(1966) 4381, both reprinted in Barnes, Schoeld and Sorabji (1979) 4264 and 131; van der Eijk
(2000b). For other attempts to reformulate Aristotles view on the mindbody debate in modern
terms see the volume by Nussbaum and Rorty (1992), with comprehensive bibliography.
Heart, brain, blood, pneuma 129
does not prevent him from repeatedly speaking of experiences typical to
the soul, activities a human being carries out with his soul, or perceptions
which penetrate the soul. According to Aristotle, the functioning of the
dual entity that body and soul constitute is governed by a large number of
organs and material factors. The heart is assigned the role of beginning or
origin (arch e), both as a source of essential bodily heat (required among
other things for the digestion of food) and as the seat of the central sense
organ, which is connected with the limbs and the separate sense organs and
co-ordinates the data it receives from them.
21
Furthermore, in exercising
this co-ordinating task the heart is supported by the blood (as a medium
for transporting sensory information) and air (pneuma, for the transmis-
sion of motor signals). Their role is important, yet not fully dened.
22
The
size of the heart, which differs in each species of animal, has an inuence
on certain character traits and on susceptibility to certain emotions;
23
the
condition of the blood (pure, turbid, cold, hot) inuences the quality and
speed of sense perception.
24
The brain is not involved in all this: it has no
cognitive faculties and serves only as a chilling element in the body, for
tempering the heat that radiates from the heart.
25
An even more elaborate physiological theory is presented by Diocles of
Carystus (fourth century bce). He assumes interaction between the heart
(to him the real seat of the mind), the brain (which plays a pivotal role in
sense perception) and the so-called psychic pneuma, a delicate substance
that is responsible for transmitting sensory and motor signals.
26
It is clear, then, that many medical authors of the fth and fourth cen-
turies bce assume a cognitive centre somewhere in the body from where
abilities such as perception and movement are transported or transferred
to peripheral organs. Organs for perception, limbs and other parts of the
body are assumed to be connected to each other and to a centre via cer-
tain passages (poroi, phlebes, neura).
27
Through these passages air or blood
are conducted; an accumulation of certain bodily uids (such as phlegm
or bile) can cause the passages to get blocked. The assumption of the
existence of this network of passages and the ideas about their course and
ramications are highly speculative and hardly based on what we would
21
On Youth and Old Age (De iuventute et senectute, De iuv.) 468 b 32ff.
22
There is much debate on the question whether it is the blood or pneuma which, according to
Aristotle, carries sensory information in the body. A summary and standpoint can be found in van
der Eijk (1994) 817.
23
Part. an. 667 a 1020.
24
Part. an. 656 b 5; 648 a 2ff.; 650 b 19ff.
25
Part. an. 2.7.
26
Diocles, frs. 78 and 80 vdE.
27
In this respect it should be noted that nerves were not discovered until after Aristotle, in third-century
Alexandria.
130 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
call focused anatomical research.
28
More elaborate views on the network of
cognitive faculties in the body are only rarely based on empirical observa-
tions, as in the case with the above-mentioned Alcmaeon, who is believed
to have arrived at an encephalocentric view on the mind on the basis of
the connection between the eyes and the brain. Yet the fact that this obser-
vation was known both to the author of the Hippocratic work On Fleshes
and to Aristotle, who nevertheless do not attribute any signicant role
in cognition to the brain, proves that it might equally give rise to other
interpretations.
The authors mentioned do in fact employ rather sophisticated termi-
nology for what we would call psychological, mental or spiritual faculties,
but they assume a close connection between these faculties and anatomical
and physiological factors. When speaking about exercising these faculties,
they virtually always do so in terms of certain substances (such as blood, air
or water) or qualities (hot, cold, dry, wet) and of processes such as owing
and distributing or, in case the psychic faculties have been disturbed, of
stagnation, constipation, blockage, and so on. Another recurring element
is the emphasis on balance (isonomia, summetria, eukrasia) and on the risk
of an excess or shortage of a certain substance or quality.
An exception to this rule is Aristotles idea that the highest cognitive
faculty, thought, is not bound to a physical substrate. It is a kind of epiphe-
nomenon that, although it is unable to function without sense perception
(and therefore without physiological processes), cannot be located in a par-
ticular place of the body.
29
For this reason it is, strictly speaking, not correct
to attribute a cardiocentric view on the mind to Aristotle, as has frequently
been done both in antiquity and in modern literature.
30
The only text in
which the mind is explicitly located in the heart is in the Hippocratic work
On the Heart, which offers a remarkably detailed description of the anatomy
of the heart. The author of this presumably post-Aristotelian writing claims
that gn om e (mind, insight) has its seat in the left ventricle of the heart,
from where it issues its decrees about the other (part of the) soul (all e
psuch e), which is situated in the rest of the body. To prove his stance, the
author argues that if autopsy were carried out on a body of a living being
that had just been killed, the aorta would still contain blood, but the left
28
See Lloyd (1979) 1469; for views on the vascular system see the studies mentioned in Harris (1973)
and Duminil (1983).
29
De an. 429 a 235, 278. As stated above, the heart is given a leading role in co-ordinating perception,
movement and nutrition (see Part. an. 3.4 and De iuv. 34).
30
For instance by Duminil (1983) 310; on the absence of statements by Aristotle on the location of
the mind see, e.g., Mansfeld (1990) 321216. For the problems raised by Aristotles view see Barnes
(19712) 11012, reprinted in Barnes, Schoeld and Sorabji, vol. i v (1979) 3940.
Heart, brain, blood, pneuma 131
ventricle would not;
31
this maintains contact with the blood by means of a
process of evaporation and radiation.
3 t h r e e a p p r o a c h e s t o e p i l e p s y
I will conclude by discussing an example of the way in which various pre-
suppositions about body and mind and about the location of the mind
played a part in the medical debate on the disease of epilepsy. As we have
seen before, the medical authors of the period we are discussing do not
consider the question of the seat of the mind an isolated issue, but a matter
that becomes relevant when treating diseases which, although they have a
somatic cause like other diseases, also manifest themselves in psychic disor-
ders. Of the four classic psychosomatic diseases, mania (a chronic disorder),
phrenitis, melancholia and epilepsy, epilepsy was by far the most dreaded.
It was also known as the big disease or the sacred disease; possession by
the gods seemed the obvious explanation, but at the same time the physical
aspects of the disease were so prominent that there could be no doubt as to
its pathological status (as opposed to mania and melancholia, which were
considered to manifest themselves in positive forms as well).
32
The author of the Hippocratic writing On the Sacred Disease ercely
opposes the view that epilepsy is sent by the gods and can only be cured
by applying magic (incantations, rituals involving blood, etc.) [see chap-
ter 1 in this volume]. After a long philippic against those adhering to this
view he expounds his own theory. Epilepsy is the result of an accumu-
lation of phlegm (phlegma) in the passages that divide themselves from
the brain throughout the body and enable the distribution of the vital
pneuma (this air is indispensable for the functioning of the various organs).
This accumulation is a result of insufcient prenatal or postnatal puri-
cation (katharsis) of phlegm in the brain according to the author this is
a hereditary phenomenon. This obstruction can occur in different places
in the body and, accordingly, manifest itself in different symptoms. Near
the heart, it will result in palpitations and asthmatic complaints; in the
abdomen, in diarrhoea; in the veins, in foaming at the mouth, grinding
of teeth, clenched hands, rolling eyes, disorders in consciousness, and a
lack of bowel control. This way the author explains the various symptoms
that can present themselves during epileptic ts and which he describes in
considerable detail in chapter 7 of the treatise.
31
On this experiment see Harris (1973) 93ff.
32
The classical, still very useful monograph on the history of epilepsy is Temkin (1971). Another useful
book is Stol (1993). See also the discussion in ch. 1 above.
132 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
The structure of the explanation is clear: the disease is caused by a
blockage of the passages which tentacle out from a cognitive centre over the
rest of the body and which are responsible for transporting consciousness-
bearing material, in this case pneuma. The brain is the cause (aitios) of
the disease, and its condition can be inuenced by a number of external
causal factors (prophaseis) such as age, climate, season, the right or left side
of the body, and the like.
A haematocentric approach to epilepsy can be found in the Hippocratic
writing On Breaths. The author of this highly rhetorical treatise (probably
written at the end of the fth century bce) assigns a pivotal role to air
(pneuma, phusa) in the life of organisms. He takes the view that the main
cause of diseases consists in a shortage or excess of air in the body or in
the contaminated state of this air. This may either have external causes or
be due to bad digestion of food, which also contains air, in the body (for
instance because there is too much of it in the body) which causes all kinds
of harmful gases to form. Such a disturbing effect of air due to a surplus
of it is also what causes the so-called sacred disease. It is again striking
how the author incorporates the empirically perceptible phenomena of the
disease in his own explanation:
In my view, the same cause is also responsible for the disease called sacred . . . I
believe that none of the parts of the body that contribute to consciousness in any-
one is more important than blood. So long as this remains in a stable condition,
consciousness, too, remains stable; but when the blood undergoes change, con-
sciousness also changes. There are many things that testify that this is the case. First
of all, an affection which is common to all living beings, namely sleep, testies to
what has just been said. When sleep comes upon the body, the blood is chilled,
for it is the nature of sleep to cause chill. When the blood is chilled, its passages
become more sluggish. This is evident; the body leans and gets heavy . . . the eyes
close, and consciousness is changed, and certain other thoughts remain present,
which are called dreams . . . So if all of the blood is brought in a state of complete
turmoil, consciousness is completely destroyed. . . . I state that the sacred disease
is caused in the following way. When much wind has been mixed throughout
the body with all the blood, many obstructions arise in many places in the blood
vessels. Whenever therefore much air weighs, and continues to weigh, upon the
thick, blood-lled blood vessels, the blood is prevented from passing on. So in
one place it stops, in another it passes slowly, in another more quickly. When the
progress of the blood through the body becomes irregular, all kinds of irregularities
occur. The whole body is torn in all directions; the parts of the body are shaken in
obedience to the troubling and disturbance of the blood; distortions of every kind
occur in every manner. At this time the patients are unconscious of everything
deaf to what is spoken, blind to what is happening, and insensible to pain. So
greatly does a disturbance of the air disturb and pollute the blood. Foam rises
Heart, brain, blood, pneuma 133
through the mouth, as is likely. For the air, passing through the vessels, itself rises
and brings up with it the thinnest part of the blood. The moisture mixing with the
air becomes white, for the air being pure is seen through thin membranes. For this
reason the foam appears completely white. When then will the victims of this dis-
ease rid themselves of their disorder and the storm that attends it? When the body
exercised by its exertions has warmed the blood, and the blood thoroughly warmed
has warmed the breaths, and these thoroughly warmed are dispersed, breaking up
the congestion of the blood, some go out along with the respiration, others with
the phlegm. The disease nally ends when the foam has frothed itself away, the
blood has re-established itself, and calm has arisen in the body.
33
The structure of this explanation is very similar to the one found in On
the Sacred Disease, yet there is a signicant difference: air is not obstructed
in its course, but air itself is the obstructing factor. Air causes the blood
to become chilled, it ows more slowly and therefore it is less capable of
providing the body with consciousness. Another interesting factor is the
comparison with sleep: a non-pathological state is employed to illustrate a
more serious disorder resulting from the same physiological mechanism.
34
The association with sleep returns in Aristotle, who dwells briey on
the subject of epilepsy in his treatise On Sleep and Waking (De somno et
vigilia, Somn. vig.). Aristotle considers sleep a form of epilepsy, albeit not a
pathological one. Sleepis a result of the digestionof food: after consumption
food is carried to the centre of the body and cooked or digested by the
heat of the heart. The process of cooking gives rise to the evaporation
(anathumiasis) of food; the air (pneuma), saturated by these hot vapours, is
carried upwards from the heart to the brain and causes the head to become
heavy. The brain causes these vapours to be chilled and return to the heart.
Thus the heart is chilled, which is what actually causes the sensory faculties
to fail (the formal cause, i.e. the denition of sleeping).
35
Sleep arises from the evaporation due to food . . . Young children sleep deeply,
because all the food is borne upwards. An indication of this is that in early youth
the upper parts of the body are larger in comparison with the lower, which is due
to the fact that growth takes place in the upward direction. Hence too they are
liable to epilepsy, for sleep is like epilepsy; indeed, in a sense, sleep is a type
of epileptic t. This is why in many people epilepsy begins in sleep, and they
are regularly seized with it when asleep, but not when awake. For when a large
amount of vapour is borne upwards and subsequently descends again, it causes
the blood vessels to swell and it obstructs the passage through which respiration
passes. (Somn. vig. 457 a 411)
33
On Breaths 14.14 (6.11012 L.), tr. Jones in Jones and Withington (192331) vol. i i , modied.
34
For the ambivalent status of sleep in ancient medicine see Debru (1982) 30.
35
For precise details of this process see Wiesner (1978) 24180.
134 Hippocratic Corpus and Diocles of Carystus
This explanation shows a strong similarity to the one in On Breaths, yet
without mentioning blood. The main argument is that epilepsy is viewed
as tightness of the chest or suffocation generated by the obstruction of
the airways: the passage through which breath ows is unlikely to refer
to anything else but the windpipe. One air current, the air saturated by
food vapours, obstructs the other, respiration. Aristotle does not speak
about disorders in perception that are among the symptoms of epilepsy
(and which apparently can be explained as analogous to the state of sleep,
that is, as a result of the heat of the heart becoming chilled). Nor does
he speak about other symptoms characteristic of epileptic ts. Yet he does
make selective use of empirical data by stating that young children are
particularly prone to the disease (a widely known fact in antiquity) and
that the disease often manifests itself during sleep.
Lastly, the views of Diocles and his contemporary Praxagoras should be
discussed. Both consider the heart to be the seat of the mind, but both also
attribute an important role to the brain and to the mediation between the
two by what they call psychic pneuma:
Praxagoras says that it [i.e. epilepsy] occurs around the thick artery, when phleg-
matic humours form within it; these form bubbles and obstruct the passage of the
psychic breath coming from the heart, and in this way this [the breath] causes the
body to be agitated and seized by spasms; when the bubbles die down, the affection
stops.
Diocles himself, too, thinks that it is an obstruction occurring around the
same place, and that for the rest it happens in the same way as Praxagoras says it
occurs . . .
36
Comparedto Onthe Sacred Disease it is signicant that Diocles andPraxago-
ras consider the heart, not the brain, to be the starting-point for the psy-
chic pneuma. In all other respects the explanations are virtually identical:
the basic thought is that the passages through which the breath ows are
obstructed or blocked; the obstruction is caused by phlegm (phlegma).
Furthermore, Diocles and Praxagoras are the only doctors from the period
concerned of whom we know some of the therapeutic measures they took
in case the disease occurred. The authors of On the Sacred Disease and On
Breaths restrict themselves to some very general remarks on curing the dis-
ease (by restoring the balance between the four primary qualities hot, cold,
dry and wet; curing it by means of contrasting qualities). Diocles, on the
other hand, is known to have based his treatment on the type of cause he
established for the disease: purgative measures to remove phlegma, walking
36
Anonymus Parisinus 3 (published by I. Garofalo (1997)); tr. van der Eijk (2000a) 177.
Heart, brain, blood, pneuma 135
and carrying around for those who contracted the disease due to their phys-
ical constitution, bleeding for those who contracted it by eating meat or
due to dipsomania.
37
Our source of information is the above-mentioned
Caelius Aurelianus (Chronic Affections 1.4.1312), who remarks that these
measures are far from adequate. On the other hand, Caelius Aurelianus is a
sufciently uncongenial informant for us to assume that Diocles provided
more than just some vague indications. But in this respect the sources leave
us in the dark.
The examples given show how each of the authors mentioned arrives at a
different explanation of epilepsy, based on an a priori view on the physical
aspects of cognitive processes, and how in their opinion the empirically
perceptible symptoms of the disease can be tted into this explanation.
There is no empirical verication of such presuppositions in the modern
sense of the word, apart from a rather haphazard use of empirical facts (yet
not discovered in any targeted way), employed in the authors own defence
or in his criticism of rival views. Much has been written about the reasons
for this scientic attitude; in this respect it should be noted that systematic
attempts at falsifying theories by gathering counter-examples in empirical
reality were the exception rather than the rule in antiquity.
38
The pivotal
role of the heart, both with respect to its position and with respect to its
function, was a self-evident and undeniable fact; the same applies to the
vital role of the blood. For this reason the encephalocentric view on the
location of the mind needed quite some scientic and rhetorical force to
secure its position in the debate.
37
Fr. 99 vdE.
38
The rst thinker to appear to be aware of such a principle is Aristotle (see, for instance, Gen. an.
760 b 27ff.), yet he does not apply this in any way consistently either (see Lloyd (1979) 20025).
p a r t i i
Aristotle and his school
c h a p t e r 5
Aristotle on melancholy
1 i n t r o d u c t i o n
In a number of his writings Aristotle discusses a type of people he calls the
melancholics (hoi melancholikoi), without ever giving a denitionof melan-
choly; indeed he does not even mention the term melancholia.
1
He only
mentions, in passing, some typical features of a melancholic, sometimes
adding a short psychological or physiological explanation, yet without re-
lating these features to each other or to an underlying physiological theory.
There is just one chapter (30.1) of the Problemata physica (Pr.), a collection
of knowledge attributed to Aristotle, that contains a rather extensive dis-
cussion of melancholy. However, it is unlikely that the form in which this
collection has come down to us dates back to Aristotle.
2
Recent scholar-
ship has attributed the theory in this chapter to Theophrastus rather than
Aristotle; according to Diogenes Laertius (5.44), Theophrastus wrote a trea-
tise On Melancholy (Peri melancholias) and the chapter in the Problemata
is thought to be a summary or a revised version of this (lost) text.
3
So far no attempt has been made to describe Aristotles concept of melan-
choly as based on his undisputed works, and to compare it to the theory
presented in Pr. 30.1.
4
Yet such an attempt could be useful, both because
This chapter was rst published in German in Mnemosyne 43 (1990) 3372.
1
Literature on Aristotles views on melancholy: Angelino & Salvaneschi (1982); Boyanc e (1936) 18594;
Croissant (1932); Flashar (1956) 43ff.; Flashar (1962) 711ff.; Flashar (1966) 6072; Garca Gual (1984)
4150; Gravel (1982) 1, 12945; S. W. Jackson (1986) 313; Klibansky, Panowsky and Saxl (1964) 1540
[and (1990) 5591]; M uri (1953) 2138; Pigeaud (1978) 2331; Pigeaud (1981a) 12238; Pigeaud (1984)
50110; Pigeaud (1988a); Simon (1978) 22837; Tellenbach (1961) 115 [and R utten (1992); Roussel
(1988)].
2
See on this subject the pioneering work by Flashar (1962) 303ff.; however, Marenghi (1966) [and Louis
(19914) vol. i i i ] consider Aristotle to be the author of the Problemata.
3
M uri (1953) 31; Klibansky et al. (1964) 3641; Flashar (1962) 71114; Flashar (1966) 61 [and Sharples
(1995) 56]; on the reasons for this attribution see n. 91 below.
4
Aristotles remarks are briey discussed by M uri (1953) 38; Flashar (1966) 60; Flashar (1962) 71213;
Klibansky et al. (1964) 336; Croissant (1932) 358. On the inuence of the theory of Pr. 30.1 see
Flashar (1962) 71517 and Klibansky et al. (1964).
139
140 Aristotle and his school
it would be the only way to provide a solid basis for assessing the theory
presented in the Problemata, and because attempts to relate this theory to
pre-Aristotelian, especially medical views have proved unsuccessful.
5
De-
spite extensive research, the concept of melancholy in the Hippocratic
Corpus remains a complicated issue.
6
Early Hippocratic writings describe
melancholy only as a disease, sometimes very specically as a pathological
change of colour of the uid bile. Signicantly, these writings do refer to
the so-called constitutional type of the melancholic (ho melancholikos), yet
without providing clarity on the underlying physiological theory, and in
any case it is nowhere related to a bodily uid called black bile.
7
The Hip-
pocratic writing On the Nature of Man (c. 400 bce) seems to be the rst to
recognise black bile as a bodily uid in its own right, but this recognition
does not result in the concept of the melancholic.
8
While the details of this
recognition of black bile in addition to yellow bile, blood and phlegm
as one of the four bodily uids that form the basis for physical health are
still open to dispute,
9
it is clear, as M uri and Flashar have shown, that
in order to establish a link between the bodily uid black bile (melaina
chol e) and the constitutional type of the melancholic, at least one further
step is required. The problem is that, on the one hand, this step was sup-
posedly rst made in Aristotles school (according to Jouanna (1975) 296),
whereas on the other hand the Aristotelian use of the melancholics as an
established term seems to suggest that this step had already been taken. I
say seems, for it is by no means certain that Aristotle actually associated
the term ho melancholikos with this constitutional type and its afliated
theory of the four humours.
10
There is even doubt as to whether Aristotles
use of the term has anything to do with a physiological theory on black
bile.
11
There is some justication for this doubt in that the adjective melan-
cholikos (just as melanchol od es and the verb melancholan) was also used in
non-medical discourse of the fth and fourth centuries bce and often
5
M uri (1953) 38; Flashar (1962) 714; Flashar (1966) 62.
6
In addition to the works by M uri and Flashar see Roy (1981) and Joly (1975) 10728.
7
See Flashar (1966) 325; M uri (1953) 302; Dittmer (1940) 95.
8
Flashar (1966) 43; Jouanna (1975) 296.
9
I am referring to the controversy between Joly (1969) 1507; Joly (1975) 10710; and Jouanna (1975)
489; also Roy (1981) 1119; it concerns the date of this recognition and any differences between the
humoral systems of the schools of Cos and Cnidos (cf. Grensemann (1968c) 1034 and Lonie (1981)
5462).
10
Cf. the following statement by Lucas (1968) 284, which is entirely unfounded: Aristotle, who had
been trained as a physician, accepted the Hippocratic theory of the human constitution, namely
that health depends on the proper balance of the four humours present in the body, blood, phlegm,
yellow bile, and black bile. The fact that Aristotle knew the Hippocratic work On the Nature of Man
(cf. Hist. an. 512 b 12) has no bearing on this question.
11
Dirlmeier (1956) 491; W. D. Ross (1955) 252.
Aristotle on melancholy 141
seems to mean virtually the same as manikos (mad) or mainesthai (be
mad).
12
In view of these issues it will be useful to clarify Aristotles own concept
of melancholy. This rst of all requires an analysis of all occurrences of the
words melancholikos and melaina chol e (sections 2 and 3) and an analysis of
the role Aristotle assigns to (black) bile in human physiology (section 4).
The results will enable us to gain a better insight into the relationship be-
tween Aristotle and the Hippocratic theory of humours. In the second part
of this chapter (sections 57) I will discuss the theory set out in Pr. 30.1
and its relation to Aristotles concept. This will also reveal the philosophical
signicance of the issue of melancholy: for Aristotle seems to use melan-
cholics to illustrate the role played by the human phusis, both in the sense
of natural predisposition and of physiological constitution, in the moral,
sensitive and intellectual behaviour of man, namely what the Problemata
text calls the character-affecting aspect (to ethopoion) of phusis.
2 m e l a n c h o l y i n t h e p a r v a n a t u r a l i a a n d
t h e e u d e m i a n e t h i c s
Inthe Parva naturalia, melancholics are mentioneda fewtimes inrelationto
disorders in certain psychophysical processes. At the end of On Memory and
Recollection (De memoria et reminiscentia, Mem. 453 a 14ff.) Aristotle briey
discusses the physiological aspect of recollection, saying that recollection
is something physical (s omatikon ti ). Proof of this is that certain people
are disturbed by the fact that if they are unable to recollect something,
despite making a strong effort, the process of recollecting continues even
after they stop making the effort.
13
According to Aristotle melancholics
are particularly prone to this disorder, for they are particularly affected
by images (:c:cu, ,cp qcv:ouc:c sivt uio:c). The cause of this
disorder is that just as someone who throws something is unable to bring
the thrown object to a halt, the process of recollection causes a bodily
12
M uri (1953) 34; Flashar (1966) 378; Klibansky et al. (1964) 16. For the historical background to this
use of the term, as well as the origin of the notion black bile, see also Kudlien (1967a) 7588 and
(1973) 538.
13
:c tcptvcytv tvicu,, tttiocv un ovcv:ci ucuvnonvci sci tvu tttycv:t, :nv
oivcicv, sci cost: ttiytipc0v:c, vcuiuvnostoci cootv n::cv (453 a 1618). The subject of
tcptvcytv is vuvnoi, (this refers to the tc, mentioned in line 25); cotv n::cv belongs to
vcuiuvnostoci. The disturbance (tcptvcytv) does not so much consist in the fact that these
people are unable to remember something in particular (for how could this be an indication that
memory is a physiological process?), but that they are unable to stop the process of recollection. The
analogy in 201 (cost: tt co:c, :c o:noci) clearly shows this. See Sorabji (1972a) 11112.
142 Aristotle and his school
movement which does not stop until the object of recollection is found.
The disorder manifests itself particularly in people whose region of sensory
perception is surrounded by moisture, for once moisture is set in motion,
it does not readily stop moving until the sought object is found and the
movement has taken a straight course.
Melancholics are mentioned here in the context of a discussion of the
bodily (physiological) aspect of recollection. Their characteristic feature is
their disorder
14
in the process of recollection, in that they are unable to con-
trol this process. As causes for the disorder Aristotle rst mentions the special
movement by images (phantasmata) and secondly moisture (hugrot es) lo-
cated around the aisth etikos topos, the heart. Although it remains uncertain
whether this sentence refers to melancholics, the structure of the argument
seems to indicate that this moisture is the physiological cause of the previ-
ously mentioned special affection by images.
15
In the case of melancholics
this moisture clearly is black bile;
16
thus it appears that they are charac-
terised by a quantity of black bile around the heart, or at least they are
prone to being affected by this.
17
In the third chapter of his work On Sleep and Waking (Somn. vig.),
Aristotle describes groups of people who are more prone to sleep and people
who are less so. In 457 a 25 he discusses people with prominent blood vessels
who, as a result of this width of their vessels (poroi), are not much given
to sleep. Aristotle subsequently
18
states that melancholics are not prone
to sleep (hupn otikoi) either, for their inner parts are chilled, which results
in limited evaporation of food (according to Aristotle, this evaporation,
anathumiasis, is the cause of sleep). This is also the reason why melancholics
are on the one hand good eaters, yet on the other hand they are spare; their
14
On (tcp)tvcytv see On Divination in Sleep (De divinatione per somnum, Div. somn.) 464 a 26.
15
This is shown by the fact that the analogy argument in lines 202 is not nished until the general
c vcuiuvnosutvc, sci nptcv in the next sentence has been applied to the exceptional cases:
thus the later sci uio:cinline 23 anaphorically picks up the earlier uio:c:cu, utc,ycisc,.
16
See Part. an. 72 b 29, where a hot and residual moisture (o,pc:n, tpun sci ttpi::cuc:isn) is
mentioned, which is situated around the diaphragmand confuses the mind and sense perception. It is
likely that this refers to black bile (cf. Pr. 954 a 348; see below). With regard to the complication that
in Greek medicine melancholics were usually associated with dryness, I endorse Sorabjis solution
(1972a, 113): black bile is of course a liquid (cf. Part. an. 647 b 1113; Hist. an. 487 a 24), but it is dry
compared to other liquids. In this passage melancholics are not characterised by the fact that they
are particularly moist but by the fact that there is moisture around their heart (as is occasionally the
case with other people), namely black bile.
17
For similarities with Diocles theory see Sorabji (1972) 113 and Flashar (1966) 509.
18
See Pr. 954 a 7, where melancholics are said to have protruding veins (sci c qtt, ttycuoiv). For
the tendency in this chapter of the Problemata to take certain features, which Aristotle occasionally
mentions in relation to melancholy, as part of a more fundamental basis of the melancholic nature,
see n. 39 below.
Aristotle on melancholy 143
body is in such a condition (diakeitai) that it seems as if they have not had
any food at all:
19
for black bile is cold by nature and therefore chills the
nutritive region (threptikos topos) of the body as well as any other parts that
may contain this residue.
20
This passage, too, features in the context of a consideration of bodily
(anatomical, physiological) inuences onthe psycho-physical phenomenon
in question, namely sleep. First of all, it should be noted that Aristotle
speaks not only of melancholics but also of black bile (melaina chol e):
underlying his use of the term hoi melancholikoi is a physiological concept
that recognises black bile as a distinct uid (i.e. apart from yellow bile or
bile as such). The text implies that black bile is cold by nature and has a
chilling effect on its environment. Cold as a natural elementary quality of
black bile corresponds to the Hippocratic characterisation of black bile as
dry and cold (see Flashar (1966) 39), although the phrase naturally seems to
leave open the possibility of heating.
21
Finally, there is the signicant notion
that black bile is a peritt oma, a residue or remainder of food (this term will
be discussed in section 4 below) and the remark that it can be located both
near the nutritive region, that is, the heart (cf. On Respiration (Resp.) 474 b
3 and On Youth and Old Age (De iuv.) 469 a 57) and in other places in the
body; this is an important addition to its localisation around the perceptive
region as stated in the above passage from On Memory and Recollection.
22
The melancholic is given a particularly signicant role in Aristotles trea-
tises on dreams (De insomniis) and on divination in sleep (De divinatione
per somnum). At rst there seems to be considerable discrepancy between
the two writings: whilst melancholics are presented as an example of people
with clear and prophetic dreams in On Divination in Sleep (Div. somn. 463 b
17ff.; 464 a 32ff.), in On Dreams (Insomn. 461 a 22), by contrast, the images
they see in their dreams are said to be cloudy and confused. Closer analysis
of the relevant passages should reveal whether they are indeed inconsistent.
To start with the passages in On Divination in Sleep, at the beginning of
chapter 2 (463 b 12ff.) Aristotle argues that dreams are not sent by the gods,
but that their origin lies in human nature. For this reason dreams are not
divine, albeit beyond human control, for nature is beyond human control
19
See Pr. 954 a 711 (I endorse Flashars reading osnqpci instead of osnpci here).
20
n ot utcivc ycn qoti uypc cooc sci :cv ptt:iscv :tcv uypcv tcit sci :c cc
upic, ctcu cv otpyn :c :cic0:cv ttpi::cuc (457 a 313).
21
This possibility is explicitly recognised in Part. an. 649 a 24ff., and the author of Pr. 30.1 clearly uses
it (954 a 14ff., in particular line 21, which refers to Somn. vig. 457 a 31).
22
It is possible to interpret this in the sense that the location of black bile in the region of the heart
is a characteristic feature of the melancholics, whereas its occurrence in other places may happen to
all people.
144 Aristotle and his school
but not divine.
23
To prove the truth of this conclusion Aristotle argues that
quite common people have vivid and prophetic dreams (equneiroi esi
ka prooratiko). The only explanation for this is that these dreams are
not sent by a god, but it is inthe nature (phusis) of garrulous andmelancholic
people to see all kinds of images (in their dreams), as these people are subject
to a large number and variety of movements, which cause them to chance
upon images similar to events ( omooiv qewrmasin). Their good fortune
in this respect can be compared to that of people who in a game of chance
have a better chance of winning because they just keep trying.
Aristotle speaks here of people with a garrulous and melancholic nature
(llov ka melagcolik jsiv),
24
who apparently serve as an example of
the general rule that quite common people (pnu etelev nqrwpoi)
have prophetic dreams. This is used to prove that prophetic dreams are not
sent by the gods. Melancholics are therefore implicitly contrasted with the
group of the best and most intelligent (see 462 b 212), for these would
typically be expected to be the recipients of divine provision, if any such
thing exists.
25
The ability to foresee the future in sleep is particularly strong
in people whose abilities to apply reason and rational thought are for some
reason weak or impaired. Aristotle explains the euthuoneiria of melancholics
(463 b 18ff.) here as a combination of their natural (physiological) sensitivity
to a large number and variety of movements or images (phantasmata), and
a kind of statistical probability: the more images one sees, the greater the
chance of seeing an image that resembles a future event.
Later on in the text (464 a 32ff.) there is one further mention of melan-
cholics, this time not in a polemical context but as part of a discussion of
various groups of people with special prophetic powers. This rather obscure
passage is made even more difcult to interpret, as the explanation it gives
for the prophetic dreams of melancholics seems to differ considerably from
the one given in 463 b 17ff.
26
A determining factor for the divination of
melancholics is said to be not only the number of images that they are
confronted with, but also a certain ability for making connections by asso-
ciation between objects that are far apart. This ability is based on a similarity
(homoiot es) between the objects concerned. A further factor is the strength
and intensity (sphodrot es) of their imagination, which prevents the process
23
For a discussion of the numerous difculties involved in the interpretation of this paragraph see van
der Eijk (1994) 289301 [see also ch. 6 below]. For other interpretations of this passage see Barra
(1957) 7584; Boyanc e (1936) 192; Croissant (1932) 36; D etienne (1963) 14069; Effe (1970) 82 n. 41;
A. Mansion (1946) 268 n. 46; Nolte (1940) 923; Verdenius (1960) 61.
24
Cf. Pr. 954 a 34, in which garrulousness (lalia) is considered to be caused by a heating of black bile.
25
For the background to this argumentation see ch. 6, below.
26
See Pigeaud (1978) 289 and Croissant (1932) 3840.
Aristotle on melancholy 145
of association from being disturbed by other bodily movements. The eu-
thuoneiria of melancholics (referred to here as eustochia, ability to make
the right conjecture, which suggests a greater degree of activity)
27
seems to
be based on the ability to perceive similarities (:c, cucic:n:c, tcptv);
on other occasions Aristotle relates this ability to a special natural disposi-
tion (phusis or euphuia) and considers it an important principle for poetry
and philosophy.
28
Aristotles explanation of the prophetic dreams of melan-
cholics is therefore in line with his remark in Mem. 453 a 15 (quoted above).
It is difcult to see how these statements can be reconciled with Insomn.
461 a 223. In this passage Aristotle brackets melancholics together with
the feverish and the intoxicated as examples of people who see confused
and monstrous images in their sleep and whose dreams themselves are not
coherent (cos tppcutvc). The cause of this blurriness is that all these affec-
tions contain air (tvtuuc:con) and therefore produce much movement
and confusion.
29
It is clear that these remarks are in stark contrast with the
characterisation of melancholics as having clear dreams (euthuoneiroi) in
Div. somn. 463 b 1517 and as hitting the mark (eustochoi) in 464 a 33,
where the clear dreams of the melancholics are explained as a result of their
sensitivity to being subjected to many and manifold movements!
Given the close connection between both treatises (Div. somn. 464 b
910 even refers to Insomn. 461 a 14ff., i.e. to the direct context of the
passage on melancholics), it is highly unlikely that Aristotle was unaware
of this contradiction. To solve this problem, B. Effe (1970, 85 n. 49) has
suggested a different interpretation of the word euthuoneiros: not dream-
ing clearly, but dreaming rightly, that is to say, dreaming the truth. Yet
even if this interpretation of euthuoneiros is adopted, it remains impos-
sible to square Aristotles remark in Insomn. 461 a 223 (with its context
of distortion of images in dreams)
30
with the possibility to dream rightly.
27
To interpret the difference between the two passages as an antithesis between passive susceptibility
and active seeking is to a certain extent misleading, for this more active ability also escapes conscious
rational control (cf. Mem. 453 a 14ff., in which the word npttiv is used, but with the explicit note
that recollection in these people is beyond their control, cos tt co:c,). The daemonic nature
of the effect of the human phusis actually consists in the fact that it escapes rational control, i.e. it
is cos tq nuv (cf. Somn. vig. 453 b 234; Eth. Nic. 1179 b 21ff.)
28
464 b 1: sci oic :c ut:cn:iscv :cyu :c tycutvcv qcv:t:ci co:c,. . . tycutvc :c0 cucicu
t,cuoi sci oicvcc0v:ci . . . ouvtipcuoiv ti, :c tpcoc. 464 b 7 explicitly mentions the perception
of similarities (:c :c, cucic:n:c, tcptv), but the purpose of this passage is to portray the ability
of the interpreter of dreams to determine the resemblance between dream and reality in cases in
which the dreams are not actually clear. See below (section 6) for the signicance of this principle
in Aristotles views on cognitive psychology.
29
tv:c ,cp :c :cic0:c tn tvtuuc:con cv:c tcnv tcit sivnoiv sci :cpcynv.
30
461 a 10ff.: tcsi, utv cucic,, tcsi, ot oicucutvc, ti, cc oynuc:c . . . (15) qcivt:ci
utv, oito:pcuutvcv ot tutcv, co:t qcivtoci ccv n c icv to:iv.
146 Aristotle and his school
Moreover, a check of all the occurrences of euthuoneiros and euthuoneiria
31
in Greek literature proves Effes interpretation to be wrong. The fact that
euthuoneiriai are opposed to confused and disturbed images (tocc
oicttgcpnutvc sci oito:pcuutvc) in 464 b 9ff. shows that euthuoneiria
refers to lucid and clear dreams, which come about because the way
taken by the movement of sensory perception from the sensory organ to
the heart has been straight (euthus).
32
Consequently, the relation between
these dreams and reality is immediately clear (this explains the remark in
464 b 10 that anyone can interpret such dreams; cf. 463 a 25). For this reason
these dreams can in fact be right or prophetic, yet this possibility also applies
to the distorted and blurred images in dreams, for, Aristotle says, assessing
their relation to reality clearly is the work of a professional interpreter of
dreams.
Another option is to assume that the confusing effect of air (pneuma)
mentioned in On Dreams apparently does not apply in the cases referred
to in On Divination in Sleep. This is either due to the large number of
images (for, in On Divination in Sleep images seen in dreams are a result
of movement, whereas On Dreams speaks about the inuence of bodily
movement on images that have already been formed),
33
or because other
psycho-physical processes or states neutralise, as it were, the confusing
effect. If one attempts to solve the problem in this way (supported by
J. Croissant),
34
one has to assume that the contradiction is only apparent,
but it must be admitted that Aristotle did not make an effort to avoid the
impression of contradicting himself. Yet it is very well possible that this is
partly due to the differences in aimand method between the more technical
and programmatic On Dreams and the more polemical On Divination in
31
The noun toucvtipic occurs in 463 a 25 and 464 b 7 and 16, the adjective toucvtipc, in 463 b
16 and 464 a 27 as well as in the passage Eth. Eud. 1248 a 3940, which will be discussed below.
Apart from the Aristotelian Corpus, the word does not occur until in Plutarch (De def. or. 437 de, a
passage that does not offer much of an explanation as it clearly refers to Div. somn. 463 b 16ff.). As to
the meaning of this word, similar combinations with to, are to be mentioned, such as toucpic
(cf. Geurts (1943) 10814).
32
Cf. the use of toutcptv in Mem. 453 a 25.
33
The many and manifold movements (tcci sci tcv:coctci sivnoti,) from Div. somn. 463 b
18 are clearly movements that produce images (sivnoti, qcv:co:isci), whereas the huge move-
ment (tcn sivnoi,) from Insomn. 461 a 24 refers to the resistance (v:ispcuoi,) against these
movements, as mentioned in 461 a 11.
34
Croissant (1932) 389. According toCroissant, the effect of the lackof rational activity inmelancholics
is that the movements can reach the central sense organ, despite strong resistance of the air in the
blood. However, this interpretation presupposes the identity of the ecstatic people (c tso:c:isci)
and the melancholics (c utc,ycisci). Although Croissant bases this identity on Pr. 953 b 1415
(and probably also Eth. Nic. 1151 a 15; see below), it does not do justice to the separate discussion of
the ecstatics in Div. somn. 464 a 247 and the melancholics in 464 a 32ff., as well as the differences
between the explanations Aristotle gives for each group.
Aristotle on melancholy 147
Sleep (which makes no mention of pneuma and blood at all and which
otherwise shows a lack of physiological details too).
However, close analysis of the text of On Dreams reveals a clear connec-
tion between both occurrences. At the start of the third chapter Aristotle
explains what causes dreams to appear: due to their weakness, sensory move-
ments are obscured by stronger movements during the day; yet by night,
when the individual senses are inactive, they ow to the central sensory
organ (the principle of perception or the authoritative sense-organ that is
situatedinthe heart) as a result of a owof heat. These movements oftenstill
resemble the object originally perceived, but equally often they take on dif-
ferent shapes due to resistance (for this reason no dreams occur after a meal).
Hence, just as in a liquid, if one disturbs it violently, sometimes no image appears,
and sometimes it appears but is entirely distorted, so that it seems quite different
from what it really is, although when the movement has ceased, the reections are
clear and plain; so also in sleep, the images or residuary movements that arise from
the sense-impressions are altogether obscured owing to the aforesaid movement
when it is too great, and sometimes the images appear confused and monstrous,
and the dreams are morbid, as is the case with the melancholic, the feverish and
the intoxicated; for all these affections, being full of air, produce much movement
and confusion. In animals that have blood, as the blood becomes quiet and its purer
elements separate, the persistence of the sensory stimulus derived from each of the
sense organs makes the dreams healthy.
The analogy thus has to be considered to apply to the whole process: the
phrase when the movement has ceased, the reections are clear and plain
(17) corresponds to as the blood becomes quiet and its purer elements
separate in line 25. It shows that the process does not stop at the confused
images in dreams: if the movement is preserved (swzomnh), it will eventu-
ally reach the heart. It seems that Div. somn. 464 a 32ff. refers in particular
to this preservation of movements, for the intensity of the melancholics
that is emphasised there is responsible for this preservation, and the other
movement discussed here seems to refer to the resistance (ekkrousis) men-
tioned in Insomn. 461 a 11. The advantage of this interpretation is that in the
later treatise (On Divination in Sleep) Aristotle explicitly refers to the earlier
one (On Dreams), using it to try to explain two facts and characteristics
of melancholics that at rst sight seem difcult to square with each other.
It appears that melancholics can have both vague and clear dreams; and
which one of both affections manifests itself most strongly in a particu-
lar case apparently depends on the persons physiological state at the time
(volume of air and heat, intensity of images), which in the case of unstable
people like melancholics must be considered a variable factor.
148 Aristotle and his school
Another notable remark on the physiology of the melancholic (Insomn.
461 a 234) is that melancholy, fever and drunkenness are spirituous
affections, with pneumat od es probably meaning containing/producing air
(cf. On Sense Perception (De sensu, Sens.) 445 a 26). The fact that drunk-
enness and melancholy are mentioned together, and are both said to be
pneumatic in character, will be discussed below, when I deal with Pr. 30.1
(for the connection between wine and pneuma also cf. Somn. vig. 457 a
16). With regard to the question of the melancholic constitution, it is
worth noting that the use of the word pathos points to melancholy as a
disease rather than a natural predisposition. However, it may well be that
Aristotle chose the word pathos to refer to fever and drunkenness, without
considering the difference (viz. that both are affections that occur sporadi-
cally, whereas melancholy is a predisposition) relevant in this context, and
therefore did not discuss it.
There is a direct relation between the passages from On Divination in
Sleep and the remark in the Eudemian Ethics (1248 a 3940) about the
euthuoneiria of melancholics. It is mentioned as an example of the way
in which people who lack reason and deliberation (logos and bouleusis),
by means of divine movement in their soul can still be successful in their
actions and do the right thing.
35
This divine movement is probably identical
to the mechanism that Aristotle called daimonia phusis in Div. somn. 463
b 15.
36
It is again striking that melancholics are categorised as belonging
to the group of irrational people (alogoi, aphrones) and that a relation is
perceived between their lack of reason and their prophetic powers.
3 m e l a n c h o l y i n t h e n i c o m a c h e a n e t h i c s
In the seventh book of the Nicomachean Ethics, melancholics are mentioned
on three occasions. In his treatment of lack of self-control (akrasia, 1150 b 19)
35
Eth. Eud. 1248 a 3940: This entity [i.e. God] sees both the future and the present well, even
in people whose reasoning faculty is disengaged; this is why melancholics have clear dreams, for
it seems that the principle works more strongly when reason is disengaged (toto [i.e. qev]
ka e r ka t mllon ka t n, ka n poletai lgov otov. di o melagcoliko
ka equneiroi. oike gr rc poluomnou to lgou scein mllon).
36
For the interpretation of this difcult chapter, and for an assessment of the differences between the
views in Eth. Eud. 8.2 and Div. somn., see ch. 8 below. With regard to the passage Eth. Eud. 1248 a
3940, the remarks made by Flashar (1962, 713 and 1966, 60 n. 2) should be noted. Flashar argues
that there is a contradiction between Eth. Eud. 1248 a 3940 and Insomn. 461 a 224 with regard to
the clear and vague images melancholics see in their dreams. However, he does not seem to have
noticed that the relationship between Eudemian Ethics and On Dreams is the same as between On
Divination in Sleep and On Dreams. His explanation is that this contradiction may have something
to do with the fact that Aristotle later, in the Parva naturalia, denies that dreams could be of divine
origin, something Aristotle considered possible in the Eudemian Ethics, which may well be earlier.
In my opinion this explanation is not correct, as On Divination in Sleep also says that melancholics
have clear dreams.
Aristotle on melancholy 149
Aristotle distinguishes between two types of lack of self-control: on the one
hand recklessness (propeteia), and on the other hand weakness (astheneia).
According to Aristotle the difference is that the weak person thinks and
deliberates, yet does not persist with the conclusions of his deliberations,
whereas the reckless person does not think or deliberate at all. In both
cases this failure is caused by passion (pathos). As examples of the reckless
type of lack of self-control Aristotle mentions the irritable (hoi oxeis ) and
the melancholics (hoi melancholikoi) in lines 25ff.; both do not wait for
rational deliberation. In the case of the former (hoi oxeis) this is due to their
speed (tachut es), in the case of the latter (hoi melancholikoi) it is due to their
intensity (sphodrot es), that is, their inclination to follow their imagination
(t kolouqhtiko enai t fantasa).
The argument that melancholics lack rational thought corresponds to
statements of the same nature in the Parva naturalia (in particular On
Divination in Sleep) and the Eudemian Ethics. The intensity
37
that Aristotle
mentions as explanation here was mentioned in On Divination in Sleep,
where it was called typical for their strong imagination; in the next sentence
it is specied in the sense of their inclination to follow imagination (cf.
for this Mem. 453 a 15). The relationship between imagination and passion
is not made explicit in the text of the Nicomachean Ethics, but it consists
in the fact that phantasia presents the perceived object as something to
be pursued or avoided (and therefore it can produce pleasure or pain).
38
Melancholics are inclined to act upon the objects of their imagination
without rst holding them against the light of reason (ok namnousi
tn lgon).
This typology of lack of self-control returns in 1151 a 15, where the
reckless are simply called hoi ekstatikoi, those who are prone to get beside
themselves.
39
Recklessness is said to be better than weakness, for a weak
person is susceptible to even slighter passions and, unlike the reckless per-
son, does not act without prior deliberation. Further on (in 1152 a 17ff.) it
is argued that someone who lacks self-control is not really evil or unjust
(despite his evil and unjust actions), for he has no evil intentions: for the
one does not follow his intentions, yet, by contrast, the melancholic does
not deliberate at all. In this text ho melancholikos is therefore prototypical
37
The translation by Dirlmeier (1956) 157, ein unheimlich brodelndes Temperament is entirely
unfounded.
38
Cf. Tracy (1969) 2513 and Nussbaum (1978) 23241.
39
The ekstatikoi are also discussed in Div. somn. 464 a 25, i.e. in the same context as the melancholics,
yet without being identied with them (see n. 34 above; on the relation between ecstatics and
melancholics see Croissant (1932) 3841); ekstasis, however, is mentioned in Pr. 30.1 (953 b 1415) as
an expression of the heating of black bile. For this tendency in the chapter from the Problemata see
n. 18 above.
150 Aristotle and his school
for the reckless type. In lines 278, the lack of self-control of melancholics
(i.e. their recklessness) is said to be easier to cure (euiatotera) than the lack
of self-control of those who deliberate but who do not act upon their de-
liberations (i.e. the weak). This corresponds to 1151 a 15;
40
yet the next
sentence is confusing, for Aristotle continues by saying that those who lack
self-control out of habit (ethismos) are easier to cure than those who lack
self-control by nature (t on phusik on). Does this new differentiation (habit
vs. nature) correspond to the recklessness weakness we already know? Yet
that would imply that melancholy is not a natural predisposition (as the
remark on the melancholik e phusis in Div. somn. 463 b 17 suggests) but an
attitude (hexis) acquired by habit, and that the characterisation hoi melan-
cholikoi would not refer to the nature but to the character of the person.
But this text may in fact refer to a subcategory of the reckless type in which
melancholics are to be regarded as reckless by nature.
41
Anyhow, Aristotles
argumentation is not entirely clear here, and it may well be that the classi-
cation of melancholics as belonging to the second type (weakness) in the
pseudo-Aristotelian Great Ethics (Magna moralia, Mag. mor. 1203 b 12) is
based on this passage.
42
The last occurrence of the melancholics can be found in the section that
follows (Eth. Nic. 7.1215), in which Aristotle discusses pleasure (h edon e).
In 1154 a 26 he asks the question why physical pleasure seems more desirable
than other pleasures. The rst reason he gives is that it drives away pain
(lup e) and functions, as it were, as a cure against it. The second reason (1154
b 3) is that because of its intensity (sphodra) it is pursued by people who
are unable to enjoy any other pleasure and who perceive even their normal
state (in which there is neither pleasure nor pain) as painful.
40
Croissants remark (1932, 41 n. 2) that the melancholics are categorised as the other type (astheneia)
is based on an incorrect interpretation: tn bouleuomnwn mn m mmenntwn d is a genitive
of comparison. This incorrect interpretation may also be the reason why melancholics are said to
belong to the weakness category by the author of Mag. mor. 1203 b 12 (see below).
41
In this respect the remark by Plato (Republic 573 c 79) is worth noting: the tyrant can become
prone to drinking, sex and melancholy either by nature, or by his activities, or by both ( fsei
pithdemasin mfotroiv mequstikv te ka rwtikv ka melagcolikv).
42
This type of weakness of will [i.e. recklessness, propeteia] would seem to be not altogether blame-
worthy, for it is also found in respectable people, in those who are hot and those who are naturally
gifted (n tov qermov ka efusin); the other type occurs in people who are cold and melancholic
(n tov yucrov ka melagcolikov), and these are blameworthy. This contradiction can only be
solved by taking into account the uctuations in the temperature of black bile which are possible
according to Pr. 954 a 14ff. However, this offers no explanation for the prototypical use of hoi melan-
cholikoi to refer to both the reckless type in Eth. Nic. 7 (which, incidentally, does not mention heat
and cold) and the weak type in Magna moralia. Dirlmeier (1958, 390) and Flashar (1962, 713) discuss
this issue. As the authenticity of the Magna moralia is still disputed (see for the latest debate the
works of Cooper (1973) 32749 and Rowe (1975) 16072), I will not go into this complication here
(for the possible origin of the contradiction see n. 40 above).
Aristotle on melancholy 151
For people constantly feel pleasure in their youth because they are growing; con-
versely, melancholics by nature constantly needto be cured(:nv qoiv ti ic:ptic,
otcv:ci), for the mixture of their bodies keeps them in a constant state of stim-
ulation (:c ocuc ocsvcutvcv oic:tt :nv spcoiv) and they are always subject
to intense desires (sci ti tv oqcopc cptti tioiv).
According to Aristotle the pain is driven out by pleasure, once it has gained
sufcient strength, and therefore these people are undisciplined and bad
(akolastoi kai phauloi) in the way they act.
This is again a context in which the inuence of the body on peoples
moral behaviour is discussed (hence the remark about lack of discipline).
Aristotle speaks about people who even perceive the normal state as painful
due to their nature (dia t en phusin), their physiological constitution.
43
Ap-
parently, melancholics serve as an example for this group: they constantly
require cures by nature, that is, intheir normal state. They might be saidtobe
permanently ill,
44
for their bodies are permanently bitten (daknomenon) as
a result of their mixture (krasis). The word krasis, which plays an important
part in Greek medicine and physiology,
45
clearly refers to a physiological
state. As Aristotle makes no mention of a mixture of humours anywhere
else, but does mention a particular mixture of heat and cold as the basis for
a healthy physical constitution,
46
it is appropriate to think of a mixture of
qualities. In this theory, melancholics are characterised by a mixture of heat
and cold (either too cold or too hot) that is permanently out of balance,
something which Aristotle clearly regards as a sign of disease. Thus this pas-
sage conrms the remark in Somn. vig. 457 a 29ff., as quoted above; it also
becomes clear that the difference between constitution and disease,
47
which
is problematic in any case, fails because of the nature of the Aristotelian
concept of melancholy: the melancholic is, so to say, constitutionally
ill.
48
43
This explains Aristotles parenthetic remark about the testimony of the phusiologoi (see Dirlmeier
(1956) 506).
44
See the use of euiatotera in Eth. Nic. 1152 a 27.
45
See den Dulk (1934) 6795 and Tracy (1969) passim (in particular 358; 16772; 1756).
46
Ph. 246 b 45: the virtues of the body, such as health and handsomeness, we posit in a mixture and
balance of hot and cold (tv spoti sci ouuut:pic tpucv sci uypcv), on this see Tracy (1969)
1612. Cf. Pr. 954 a 15: the melancholic humour is a mixture of hot and cold, for from these two the
nature (of the body) is constituted (tpuc0 sci uypc0 spcoi, to:iv ts :c:cv ,cp :cv oucv
n qoi, ouvto:nstv). On this question see also den Dulk (1934) 75f.
47
See Dittmer (1940) 7680; and M uri (1953) 30 n. 11.
48
See the remark made by Klibansky et al. (1964) 30: The natural melancholic, however, even when
perfectly well, possessed a quite special ethos, which, however it chose to manifest itself, made
him fundamentally and permanently different from ordinary men; he was, as it were, normally
abnormal.
152 Aristotle and his school
The remark about the strong desires of melancholics, with their resulting
lack of discipline, is conrmed by the results so far.
49
Some nal points of
interest are Aristotles remark about youth and the inuence of physical
growth on the human character ( ethos), as well as the comparison with
drunks.
50
Aristotle uses youth and old age as typical examples to elucidate
the close connection between mental and physical states (Rh. 2.1213, in
particular 1389 a 1819 and b 2932); and the use of these examples as an
analogy for the character-affecting inuence (to ethopoion) of the melan-
cholic mixture will return in Pr. 30.1 (954 b 811).
4 b l a c k b i l e i n p h y s i o l o g y
We have seen that Aristotle credits the melancholics with several psycho-
physical and moral deviations or weaknesses, sometimes adding brief refer-
ences to their physiological causes. Further details about this physiological
basis can be found in the only passage entirely devoted to bile (chol e ), in
Part. an. 4.2. The chapter begins by listing animals which have bile and
animals which do not.
51
Aristotle remarkably claims that not all people
possess bile (676 b 312) and that, contrary to popular belief, bile is not
the cause of acute diseases. So why does bile exist? According to Aristotle,
bile is a residue (peritt oma) without purpose (coy tvts :ivc,), and
although nature sometimes makes good use of residues, this does not imply
that we should expect everything to have a purpose. After all, there are many
things that are necessarily by-products of things that do serve a purpose,
but are themselves without purpose. On bile as a peritt oma Aristotle says
a few lines further on (677 a 25): when the blood is not entirely pure,
bile will be generated as a residue, for residue is the opposite of food.
Bile appears to be a purifying secretion (apokatharma), which is con-
rmed by the saying in antiquity that people live longer if they do not have
bile.
49
The complication that in the discussion of lack of self-control melancholics were considered to be
lacking in self-control, whereas the relevant passages (Eth. Nic. 1150 a 16ff.; 1150 b 29ff.) differentiate
between akrasia and akolasia can be resolved by assuming that the difference is probably irrelevant
in the other context.
50
Likewise in youth, because of the process of growth, people are in a state similar to drunk, and
youth is pleasant (cucic, o tv utv :n vtc:n:i oic :nv c0noiv cottp c civcutvci oistiv:ci,
sci nou n vtc:n,) (Eth. Nic. 1154 b 1012).
51
The question is whether J. Ogle (1910) is correct in translating chol e as gall bladder and whether it
should not be understood as bile until later. The Greek text does not differentiate between the two.
In Part. an. 676 b 1113 Aristotle does differentiate between bile situated near the liver and bile that
is situated in the other parts of the body (cf. 677 b 910), but it is possible that the former refers to
the liquid in the gall bladder. [Cf. Lennox (2001) 288.]
Aristotle on melancholy 153
It is not certain, but neither is it impossible, that the bile that is situated
in the other parts of the body (n sc:c :c cc ocuc ,ivcutvn [sc.
ycn]) is black bile, as P. Louis suggests.
52
In any case this passage conrms
the characterisation of black bile as a residue in Somn. vig. 457 a 31. This
characterisation returns several times in Aristotles writings on biology:
Part. an. 649 a 26 (just bile), Hist. an. 511 b 10 (which mentions both black
bile and yellow bile, together with phlegm (phlegma) and faeces (kopros);
on phlegm as a peritt oma cf. Part. an. 653 a 2, Gen. an. 725 a 1516, Pr.
878 b 16 and Somn. vig. 458 a 3). The chapter in Parts of Animals clearly
states that the residues are themselves without purpose, but that nature
sometimes uses themfor a good purpose.
53
This statement is complemented
by Gen. an. 724 a 4ff., where Aristotle calls phlegm an example of those
residues which can be of benet to the body when combined with other
substances, as opposed to the worthless residues that can even harmphysical
health.
This characterisationof yellowandblack bile andphlegm
54
as peritt omata
plays a pivotal part in the question whether Aristotle adopted the Hippo-
cratic theory of the four humours.
55
It is clear that Aristotle knew both
black and yellow bile,
56
as well as blood and phlegm. However, there is no
indication that these uids in any combination form a kind of humoral
system similar to the theory of the four humours in On the Nature of Man;
the only place where three are mentioned together (viz. yellow bile, black
bile and phlegm) is in the above quoted Hist. an. 511 b 10, where they are
listed as residues, together with faeces. This itself shows that it is unlikely
that Aristotle assigned them a role as important bodily uids on which hu-
man health depends. In addition, it should be pointed out that the notion
of peritt oma does not appear in the Hippocratic Corpus and was probably
not introduced into Greek medicine until the second half of the fourth
century bce (perhaps by Aristotle himself, or by one of his students), after
52
Louis (1956) 189 n. 5.
53
On this remark and the use of the word sc:cypn:ci, see Preus (1975) 22733.
54
Bonitzs claim (1870; 586 b 17) that Aristotle considered blood as a peritt oma as well is not conrmed
by the two passages he cites (Part. an. 650 b 5; Gen. an. 738 a 8) and seems rather unlikely in view
of the statements made in the chapter (Part. an. 2.3) that discusses the blood (650 a 34: It is evident
that blood is the ultimate nourishment for animals that have blood; b 2: blood is present in blooded
animals for the purpose of nutrition; b 12: blood is present for the purpose of nutrition and the
nutriment of the parts).
55
See Sch oner (1964) 67. Cf. n. 10 above.
56
With regard to yellow bile, see Part. an. 649 b 34, De an. 425 b 1 and Metaph. 1044 a 19. Aristotle
uses the Hippocratic typology phlegmat od es chol od es once, though not in a biological context (and
in a passage of dubious authenticity: Metaph. 981 a 12). This typology occasionally occurs in the
Problemata (860 a 27; 860 b 15; cf. 862 a 28).
154 Aristotle and his school
which it began to play an important part in nosology.
57
Therefore, both in
its thought and in its terminology the Aristotelian concept is such a far cry
from the Hippocratic theory of four humours that one can hardly speak of
Hippocratic inuence.
We may conclude that the texts do not give detailed information on the
physiological basis of Aristotles use of the term hoi melancholikoi. Yet it
seems clear that such a concept does exist in Aristotles work: hoi melan-
cholikoi are melancholics by nature (t en phusin), that is, as a result of a
physiological constitution, which, however, is diseased and permanently in
need of a cure. It is impossible to say with certainty whether melancholics
are characterised (1) by the very presence of black bile in them (for, as Part.
an. 676 b 312 shows, not every human being has bile); (2) by the fact that
the mixture of heat and cold in them is special and abnormal (Eth. Nic. 1154
b 13); (3) by the fact that black bile is localised in a particular part of the
body, namely the heart (Mem. 453 a 24; cf. Part. an. 672 b 29); or (4) by the
particularly high quantity of black bile in their body (if one interprets krasis
in Eth. Nic. 1154 b 13 as a mixture of bodily uids). This is probably due to
the fact that Aristotle pays limited attention to medical matters when he
writes in his capacity of phusikos: he only discusses the principles of health
and disease, that is to say, the role of heat and cold in the body and the
balance between them.
58
Consistent with this method and its consequent
limitations is Aristotles tendency to discuss medical views on anatomy and
physiology occasionally, but without examining them systematically; any
views he considers correct are reformulated in the terminology and con-
cepts of his own philosophical system.
59
This obviously makes it even more
57
See Thivel (1965) 26682 (in particular 271) and Jouanna (1974) 5078. Thivel states that in Aristotle,
by contrast to the later Anonymus Londiniensis, the peritt oma has not yet become a principe de
maladie. In fact, this notion can be found occasionally in the Problemata (e.g. 865 a 1; 884 a 23; 959
b 29), which Thivel apparently considers post-Aristotelian; however, it seems to appear as early as
in Somn. vig. 457 a 2 and in Gen. an. 738 a 29. For the notion of peritt oma in Aristotle see also On
Length and Shortness of Life (De longitudine et brevitate vitae) 466 b 59 and Pecks Loeb edition of
On the Generation of Animals, lxvlxvii, as well as Harig (1977) 817.
58
Cf. Sens. 436 a 17ff.; Resp. 480 b 22ff.; Div. somn. 463 a 57; see also the limiting remarks made
in Long. et brev. vitae 464 b 32f. and Part. an. 653 a 10. [See also ch. 6 below.] Flashar (1962, 318)
writes that Aristotle states about himself that he is not a medical expert and only considers medical
questions from a philosophical or scientic point of view. However, the objection must be made
that Aristotles statement may well refer only to the methodical process employed in his writings on
physics (phusik e philosophia, including his clearly planned but perhaps never written On Health and
Disease). Aristotle may have discussed medical facts in greater detail elsewhere, for instance in the
Iatrika which Diogenes Laertius (5.25) ascribes to him, or in his own Problemata (now lost). On this
possibility see Marenghi (1961) 14161 [and ch. 9 below].
59
A clear example of this process is Aristotles judgement on the use of dreams as a prognostic tool in
Div. somn. 463 a 321, which he adopted from the distinguished physicians. For a more extensive
discussion of this passage see van der Eijk (1994) 27180 [and ch. 6 below].
Aristotle on melancholy 155
difcult to assess his dependence on sources in general and his attitude
towards the Hippocratic writings in particular. For this reason, and in view
of our limited knowledge of fourth-century medicine in general, it is virtu-
ally impossible to say anything with certainty on the sources of Aristotles
concept of melancholy. At any rate, there is no indication that Aristotle
made a connection between the constitutional type of the melancholic,
well-known from the early writings of the Hippocratic Corpus, and the
later, similarly Hippocratic embedding of black bile in the theory of the
four humours of On the Nature of Man (which, after all, does not mention
the melancholic type). In fact, the notion of melancholy as an abnormal
predisposition and a disease, and the fact that black bile is considered a
peritt oma, makes any possible Hippocratic inuence rather unlikely. The
concept of the melancholic, with the associated psycho-physical and ethi-
cal characteristics seems to be a predominantly independent and genuine
invention of Aristotelian philosophy.
5 t h e t h e o r y o n m e l a n c h o l y i n
p r o b l e m a t a 3 0 . 1
Let us proceed with the theory on melancholy and genius in Pr. 30.1
mentioned at the beginning. In view of the extensive scholarly literature
on this chapter
60
I will, rather than giving a summary, start with some
interpretative observations that I consider of paramount importance for
assessing the Aristoteliancharacter of the theory. First of all, it should be said
that I certainly do not intend to reinstate Aristotle as the author of this text:
as far as the issue of the authorship of the Problemata is concerned I concur
entirely with Hellmut Flashars view (1962, 30316) that the Problemata
are most probably not the same as the Problemata that Aristotle wrote (or
planned to write). What matters is to dene the relationship between the
theory elaborated in Pr. 30.1 and Aristotles own views on melancholy more
precisely, and to examine any possible reasons for ruling out Aristotles
views as a source for the selection made by the author of the Problemata.
With regard to the opening question, Why is it that all men who have
made extraordinary achievements in the elds of philosophy or politics
or poetry or the arts turn out to be melancholics?, scholars have long
observed that this question contains part of its answer, for it states as a fact
60
The works quoted in n. 1 above form the basis for the interpretation of the text, in particular
the works by Flashar (1962), Klibansky et al. (1964) and Pigeaud (1988a). However, there are still
numerous passages in this text that have not been fully explained in the existing interpretations. I
will make some remarks on these in the footnotes.
156 Aristotle and his school
the idea that all (pantes) extraordinary (perittoi) men are melancholics.
The subsequent discussion of the heroes Heracles, Aias and Bellerophontes
and the poets and philosophers Empedocles, Socrates and Plato shows that
the presupposition implied in the question is apparently based on a rather
specic notion of melancholy. Epilepsy, bouts of ecstasy, prophetic powers,
but also depressions, extreme fear of people, and suicidal inclinations are
all attributed to the same disease.
61
It is very important here to establish
clearly the actual aimof the author. Apparently, this aimlies rst of all in the
explanation that this attribution actually has a physiological justication,
that is, that the very different, at times even contrasting characteristics
of the melancholic are all based on one coherent physiological condition;
secondly, the author intends to explain the in itself paradoxical connection
between melancholy as a disease (953 a 13, 15: arr osth ema; 16: nosos; 18:
helk e; 29: nos emata; 31: path e) and the extraordinary political, philosophical
and poetic achievements (ta peritta) by means of this physiological basis.
This second aim has correctly been understood as readopting the Platonic
theory of mania.
62
Yet whereas Plato, in his discussion on the origin of
mania, distinguished between divine enthusiasm and pathological madness
(Phaedrus 265 a), the Peripatetic discussion of this topic not only takes a
much larger range of mental and physical afictions into consideration,
but also relates them all to one physical condition, and in the explanation
all divine inuence is disregarded (even without erce opposition against
this, as we nd this in the Hippocratic writing On the Sacred Disease and
in Aristotles On Divination in Sleep
63
).
Answering the opening question of the chapter is in fact only attempted
in the context of the second aim; the largest part of the text is devoted
to answering the other question of why the ways in which melancholy
manifests itself differ so much. The opening question is referred to on
just two occasions: in 954 a 39b 4 and, very briey, in 954 b 278. This
division is also followed in the structure of the nal summary of the chapter
(955 a 29ff.), which rst recapitulates the explanation of the instability
(an omalia) and the variety of aspects to the nature of the melancholic
character, followed by the summary of the explanation of the relationship
61
On a number of occasions, although never in a systematic order, these features are indeed associated
with melancholic diseases in the Hippocratic writings (see M uri (1953) and the commentary of
Flashar (1962) on the particular occurrences).
62
Flashar (1966) 62; Tellenbach (1961) 9; Klibansky et al. (1964) 17.
63
See Tellenbach (1961) 10, Pigeaud (1988a) 51. Boyanc e (1936, 191) presumes that a certain divine
inuence is implied in the role of the pneuma, yet there is no indication of this in the text of the
chapter (on the role of the pneuma see n. 68 below).
Aristotle on melancholy 157
between melancholy and extraordinary achievement (36ff.).
64
The possible
grounds for this arrangement will be discussed below.
The basis for achieving both aims lies in the fact that the author distin-
guishes between disease (nosos, nos ema, arr osth ema) and natural disposition
(phusis); in this respect it is striking that the natural melancholics are also
affected by melancholic diseases and that they apparently are more prone
to this than other people (953 a 1215 and 2931).
65
In 953 a 20 this phusis
is referred to as a bodily mixture (krasis t oi s omati), more closely dened
in 954 a 13 as a mixture of hot and cold. To explain its effects, the au-
thor employs the analogy between the melancholic nature and wine (this
analogy returns in statements made by Aristotle).
66
The objective of using
this analogy is twofold: rstly, it is evidence for the fact that the physical
condition of people not only inuences their state of mind, but it can also
64
It seems that scholars have hardly recognised the problem in the last sentence (955 a 3640; see
translation below). M uri (1953, 25) only implicitly alludes to it when he states indem die Disposition
da, wo es not tut (z.B. in der Furcht), w armer ist, und da, wo es not tut, k alter . . . . The text says:
pe d sti ka ekraton enai tn nwmalan ka kalv pwv cein, ka pou de qermotran
enai tn diqesin ka plin yucrn, tonanton di t perboln cein, peritto mn esi
pntev o melagcoliko, o di nson, ll di fsin. As the author presents this sentence as
a summary of something previously discussed, the question arises what ka pou de refers to, for
in this sentence the eukrasia that underlies the melancholics peritton does not seem to be referring
to a balance of heat and cold (as in 954 b 1), but to a certain ability to adapt this balance to the
conditions required by each individual situation (hopou dei). There is, however, no parallel for such a
exibility in the prior treatise. Signicant in this context are the differences between the translations
of Klibansky et al. (1964) (since it is possible for this variable mixture to be well tempered and well
adjusted in a certain respect that is to say, to be now in a warmer and then again a colder condition,
or vice versa, just as required, owing to its tendency to extremes therefore . . . ) and Flashar (1962)
(Da es aber auch m oglich ist, dass die Ungleichm assigkeit gut gemischt sein und sich in gewisser
Weise richtig verhalten kann, und, wo es n otig ist, unser Zustand w armer und wieder kalt ist oder
umgekehrt, weil er [bestimmte Eigenschaften] in
Ubermass besitzt, deshalb . . . ). Klibansky et al.
interpret the text as an explication (that is to say) whereas Flashar apparently sees this as an analogy
(unser Zustand). Another difculty here is the interpretation of di tn perboln cein: what
would this surfeit precisely be? And what exactly does it explain? Finally, a difference between the
opening question and the nal sentence should be noted: at the beginning all perittoi were said to be
melancholics, but at the end the author writes that all melancholics are perittoi. This contradiction
could only be solved by understanding perittos here in the nal sentence as a neutral notion and
therefore synonymous with ektopos (eccentric). This is to a certain extent justied by the fact that
no specication as to the precise eld ( filosofan ktl.) is presented in this passage. However, as
the causal subclause refers to a healthy balance (eukraton), perittos must be understood in a positive
sense. I do not see a solution to these problems (cf. the explanations by Pigeaud (1988a) 127).
65
See Tellenbach (1961) 9; Pigeaud (1988a) 423. At rst sight it seems that 953 a 2931 speaks about a
difference between disease (nos ema) and nature (phusis), but in fact it says that many melancholics
actually get melancholy-related diseases, while others are only very prone to getting these disorders.
Nevertheless, as the next sentence shows, both groups belong to the natural melancholics (phusei
melancholikoi).
66
Insomn. 461 a 22; Eth. Nic. 1154 b 10; cf. also the role of drunkenness as an analogy in the treatise
about lack of self-control (1147 a 1314; 1147 b 7, 12; 1152 a 15).
158 Aristotle and his school
to a large extent determine it (the so-called character-affecting aspect, to
ethopoion, of human physiology, 953 a 35; cf. Pigeaud (1988a) 25ff.). Sec-
ondly, it explains that wine, depending on the quantity consumed, has the
ability to provoke very different (pantodapous, 953 a 38) and even contrast-
ing states of mind. In 953 b 17 this analogy is applied to the problem of
melancholy: both wine and the melancholic nature affect character, yet
the difference is that wine does so only occasionally and for a brief period of
time, whereas the melancholic nature does so permanently and persistently
(aei). For some people are aggressive, taciturn or sentimental by nature
they are in a state of mind that affects other people only occasionally and
for a brief period of time, under the inuence of wine. Yet in both cases
the cause of this ethopoion remains the same: it is the heat that controls
67
the body and causes the development of breath (pneuma) (the connection
between heat and breath is made again in 955 a 35).
68
In the ensuing passage
the breath-containing properties of wine and black bile, as well as aphro-
disiacs, are discussed. In 954 a 11, the author returns to the notion of the
melancholic nature: his remark that black bile is a mixture of heat and cold
(954 a 13) ties in with line 953 b 22, but it also allows him to continue his
train of thought, as this mixture is said to allowfor variation: although black
bile is cold by nature (954 a 21; cf. Somn. vig. 457 a 31), it can be heated and
invoke various states of mind, depending on the mixture of heat and cold
(954 a 2830: coci, ot tv :n qoti ouvto:n spcoi, :cic:n, tou, co:ci
:c nn ,ivcv:ci tcv:coctci, cc, sc: cnv spcoiv). this way, the
second objective of the analogy with wine is met.
69
Those in whom cold
predominates are numb and obtuse, yet those in whom heat predominates
get beside themselves (manikoi),
70
or they become astute, horny or prone
67
Flashars translation all dies n amlich wird durch die Ver anderung des W armehaushaltes bewirkt
does not do justice to the use of :cuittoci (cf. 954 a 14; 955 a 323).
68
As to the role of pneuma, cf. Klibansky et al. (1964) 30: In this pneuma there dwells a singularly
stimulating driving-force which sets the whole organism in a state of tension (orexis), strongly affects
the mind and tries, above all in sexual intercourse, literally to vent itself ; hence both the aphrodisiac
effect of wine and the lack of sexual restraint, proper, in the authors view, to the man of melancholic
temperament. On pneuma as physiological principle of movement cf. Somn. vig. 456 a 7ff.
69
This paragraph also gives further information on the physiology of the melancholic: the typical
feature of the melancholic is apparently not the mixture of heat and cold within the black bile (as
might be concluded from 954 a 13), for this balance may vary. Rather, the typical feature is that he
has an excess of black bile by nature, as 954 a 223 shows.
70
Flashar states that the word manikos cannot be right here, as it is indicated in line 36 as a further
increase of the heat and as it does not t well with the other predicates. Against the latter it
has to be said that the combination of manikos and euphu es (curiously translated gutm utig by
Flashar) is known from Poet. 1455 a 32 and Rh. 1390 b 28. As to the former difculty, it should be
noted that 356 does not speak about a further increase at all: in fact it deals again with those
Aristotle on melancholy 159
to mood changes and desires, and some become more talkative. Those,
however, who have reached a mean (meson) in the mixture between heat
and cold, come closer to reason and are less abnormal. They are the people
who have reached outstanding achievements in the arts, culture and politics
(954 a 39b 4). Thus here for the rst time, the opening question of the
chapter is answered. However, and this is very important, it is striking that
this conclusion is immediately followed by the remark that this balance of
heat and cold is uncertain and unstable (an omalos). The author repeats this
remark later, in 954 b 268 (after a digression). This is followed by inter-
esting and rather elaborate observations on euthumia and dusthumia as the
effects of excessive heat and cold of the black bile, and on the melancholics
inclination to commit suicide. Here, too, the analogy with wine is made,
and a second analogy, with youth and old age, is added.
71
The chapter ends
with the summary discussed above (see note 64).
With regard to the physiological disposition of the melancholic this
chapter reveals precisely those details on which the scattered remarks in
the Aristotelian writings did not allow us to gain full clarity. It appears
that the natural melancholic is characterised by an excess of black bile
in his body which is constantly and permanently present (954 a 223: tcv
ottpn tv :c ocuc:i, and Klibansky et al. (1964) 29). This does not
mean, however, that underlying this text is the humoral system of the Hip-
pocratic theory of the four humours, for a mixture of humours is nowhere
mentioned: wherever the word krasis is used (953 a 30; 954 a 13, 29, 30; 954
b 8, 12, 25, 33; 955 a 14) it refers to a mixture of heat and cold.
72
The place
where black bile can normally be found is not dened; only the presence of
heat near the place where thinking takes place (noeros topos) is mentioned
disorders of the black bile that are not constitution-related (hence the word nos emata), which are
contrasted with the cases of Sibyls and Bakides and such people who are not enthusiastic because
of a nos ema, but as a consequence of their phusis. Both the polloi and the other group suffer from
heat (thermot es) around the region where thinking takes place (noeros topos) (this is what hothen
refers to); yet with the polloi it is not nature but illness, whereas with the other group (Sibyls,
Bakides and the naturally inspired) it is nature. That this is the correct interpretation is shown by
the sentence c:cv un vconuc:i ,tvcv:ci, for in Flashars interpretation this sentence would be a
negation of what was conrmed in line 35. Cf. Tellenbach (1961) 9 and Pigeaud (1988a) 412 on this
interpretation.
71
On youth and old age as ethopoietic factors cf. Rh. 2.1213 and the remark on youth in Eth. Nic.
1154 b 911.
72
See above section 3 on Eth. Nic. 1154 b 13 and Pigeaud (1988a) 19. Incidentally, the fact that Aristotle
refers to black bile as a peritt oma in the chapter from the Probl. is unparalleled (the term peritt oma
is only used in 955 a 245, but in that passage without referring to black bile). Therefore Pigeauds
association of the peritton of the melancholic with the peritt oma of black bile is not to the point
(1988, 20: Lhomme exceptionnel est lhomme du r esidu par excellence).
160 Aristotle and his school
(954 a 34ff.),
73
yet this seems to leave room for the possibility of bile being
in other places (cf. Somn. vig. 457 a 33). The lack of clarity as to whether the
dening feature of melancholics is cold (Somn. vig. 457 a 31) or heat (Part.
an. 672 b 29; and implicitly (probably) the passages on recklessness and
lack of self-control from Eth. Nic. 7) is solved here by attributing to black
bile the possibility of great changes in temperature (954 a 1415: di ka
mlaina col ka qermtaton ka yucrtaton gnetai). Lastly, the
question whether melancholikos characterises the human phusis or the hu-
man ethos receives an answer here, which is: both; for melancholics appear
to illustrate how the human character is inuenced by the physiological
constitution. The text of the Problemata uses the term ethopoios, affecting
character, to describe this inuence.
6 t h e a r i s t o t e l i a n c h a r a c t e r o f t h e t h e o r y
i n t h e p r o b l e m a t a
When considering the Aristotelian character of the theory presented in this
chapter, it should rst of all be said that whereas the psycho-physical and
moral features of melancholics that Aristotle mentions do not occur in the
exact same words in the text of the Problemata, most of them easily t into
the theory. The melancholics sensitivity to a large number of movements
and images, repeatedly discussed in the Parva naturalia and Eudemian
Ethics, and the resulting divination in sleep can readily be related to the
effects of heat in the melancholic nature as mentioned in 954 a 318. The
use of the example of the melancholic in the context of lack of self-control
and physical lust (Nicomachean Ethics) in the Problemata theory could
equally be understood as an expression of a mixture of black bile dominated
by heat (954 a 33: ka eknhtoi prv tov qumov ka tv piqumav).
However, it cannot be denied that the chapter in the Problemata relates the
melancholic nature to a much larger number and variety of mental and
physical afictions (as shown above); in addition, an important question is
whether there are elements in this process which cannot be reconciled with
Aristotles statements (see below).
Secondly, it should be noted that the author of the text apparently is
very well informed about Aristotles statements on melancholy, and even
seems to make an effort to take the Aristotelian concept into account
73
Cf. Mem. 453 b 234, which mentions the presence of black bile around the perceptive region
(aisth etikos topos, i.e. the heart, which to Aristotle is also the place where thinking takes place, noeros
topos). [See also ch. 4 and ch. 7, p. 224.]
Aristotle on melancholy 161
wherever possible. The thoughts that are expressed and sometimes even
their literal wording show a number of parallels with Aristotelian writ-
ings.
74
However, as this applies to many parts of the Problemata, the fact
in itself does not substantiate the claim that Aristotle would have adopted
the whole theory (as Croissant argues (1932) 789), and neither does the
use of the typical Aristotelian notion of the mean (mesot es), long recog-
nised by scholars, in the explanation of the melancholics extraordinariness
(peritton).
75
It seems more important to examine the reasons that have been given
to demonstrate that the Aristotelian concept of melancholy cannot be rec-
onciled with the theory presented in Pr. 30.1. Some scholars claim
76
that
Aristotle only speaks about melancholics in terms of their deviations (con-
sidering them pathological or plainly negative), and that in his view a
melancholic is ill by nature and needs to be cured. This would be irrecon-
cilable with the characterisation of melancholics as extraordinary (perittoi)
in the respectable elds of philosophy, politics and poetry. However, this
negative assessment corresponds to the idea which is expressed frequently
in the chapter from the Problemata that melancholics are abnormal or
deviant (ektopoi) by nature.
77
It is true to say that Aristotle does not refer
to the extraordinary achievements of melancholics, apart from their clear
dreams (euthuoneiria), which, however, are not related to the peritton in the
eld of philosophy or politics;
78
but this is in line with the view expressed
in Pr. 30.1, that the extraordinary achievements of melancholics are an ex-
ception rather than a rule. As stated above, the chapter is largely devoted to
explaining the diversity and variety of expressions of the melancholic na-
ture. The opening question is merely touched upon and the author seems
74
Most of the parallels have been listed in Flashars notes. The complete list of all occurrences is: 953
b 236 Insomn. 461 a 235; 953 b 2730 Somn. vig. 457 a 1617; 953 b 33954 a 4 Gen. an.
728 a 10ff. and 736 a 19; 954 a 2 Hist. an. 586 a 16; 954 a 7 Somn. vig. 457 a 29; 954 a 1820
Part. an. 648 b 34ff.; 954 a 212 Somn. vig. 457 a 31; 954 a 32 Div. somn. 463 b 17 and Rh. 1390
b 28; 954 a 346 Part. an. 672 b 2833; 954 b 13 Part. an. 650 b 27 and 692 a 23 as well as Rh.
1389 b 29ff.; 954 b 3940 Eth. Eud. 1229 a 20; 955 a 3 Eth. Eud. 1229 a 20; 955 a 4 Rh. 1389 a
19ff. and Eth. Nic. 1154 b 9ff.; 955 a 229 Gen. an. 725 b 618; 955 a 258 Gen. an. 783 b 2930.
75
M uri (1953) 246; Klibansky et al. (1964) 336.
76
Flashar (1962) 713; Klibansky et al. (1964) 37.
77
954 b 2 (tton ktopoi); 954 b 26 (nmoioi tov pollov). Cf. the remark quoted above in n. 48
made by Klibansky et al. (1964) and their observations on the word perittos (31).
78
The gift of divination in sleep which melancholics possess is not mentioned at all in Pr. 30.1, but in
view of the remarks on enthusiasm in 954 a 356, the author would certainly categorise it among
the manic expressions of the melancholic blend, i.e. those caused by excessive heat; it would not be
related to the peritton that is close to the intelligence ( phron esis) and based on the mean (meson) of
heat and cold. In Div. somn. 464 b 23 the melancholics are compared to people who are possessed
(o mmanev) because of their euthuoneiria. Cf. Klibansky et al. (1964) 37.
162 Aristotle and his school
to use it as a starting point for a discussion on the instability (an omalia) of
the melancholic nature rather than for any other purpose.
79
In addition,
the text explicitly states that the physiological balance which forms the basis
of extraordinary achievements is uncertain and unstable.
80
These two facts
underline the exceptional nature of the melancholic peritton; they clearly
show that this notion was apparently considered a negligible factor and as
such played no part in Aristotles theory of virtue, and as a philosophically
insignicant empirical phenomenon was only discussed in a text such as
the Problemata.
81
The fact that the medical observations that are so typical of the Prob-
lemata are absent from Aristotles statements on melancholics and the fact
that Aristotle only discusses the manic or passionate expressions of melan-
choly (Flashar (1962) 713) therefore do not, in my opinion, have any impli-
cation for the relationship between Aristotle and Pr. 30.1. The difference
in objectives between these texts, and in particular Aristotles fundamen-
tally limited interest in medical issues in his works on natural science (and
a fortiori those on ethics), seem largely to explain this lack of balance or
at least make it understandable. In Aristotles work, the number of pas-
sages in which the manic expressions of the melancholic nature are worth
mentioning as illustrative examples (for instance contexts that mention its
sensitivity to desires and passions) outnumber the passages that would be
suitable for mentioning its depressive manifestations. On a total of nine
occurrences, this might prove a sufcient explanation. In addition, it should
be noted that Aristotle fully takes into account the effects of cold that are
typical to melancholy, as is shown in Somn. vig. 457 a 31 (i.e. disregarding
Mag. mor. 1203 b 1, which is probably not written by Aristotle and therefore
does not constitute proof ).
The most important reason for any irreconcilability between Aristotles
view on melancholy and the theory presented in Pr. 30.1 has so far been
given little attention by scholars. This reason would be that Aristotle denies
79
This observation is very much in accordance with the fact that the structure of the text differs greatly
from the other Problemata. Similarly, it ts in well with the suggestion (see Flashar (1962) 711, 714;
Flashar (1966) 61; M uri (1953) 21) that this chapter consists of an editorial combination of a typical
Problemata question and an excerpt of a treatise on melancholy, in which answering the question
posed at the start of the chapter was perhaps not the main objective of the author. For a different
explanation for the structure of this chapter see section 7 below.
80
Tellenbach(1961, 9) correctly states that these perittoi are characterisedby anabove-average instability.
81
In this respect the peritton of melancholics can be compared to the phenomenon of eutuchia,
discussed in Eth. Eud. 8.2 (see ch. 8 below), with divination in sleep as discussed in On Divination in
Sleep (see ch. 6 below) [and the peritton mentioned in Part. an. 4.10, 686 b 26]. Although Aristotle
considers both to be results of experience, they play no part in his ethics and psychology, perhaps
because of their uncontrollable nature and instability.
Aristotle on melancholy 163
melancholics the ability of deliberation and rational thought (see the pas-
sages from Nicomachean Ethics and Eudemian Ethics), and that he attributes
their special mental ability (divination in dreams) only to the fact that for
some reason their reasoning faculty is inactive or powerless (On Divina-
tion in Sleep and Eudemian Ethics): as a result they are classied in these
texts under the group of simple-minded people, as opposed to the best
and most intelligent. This seems to be in stark contrast to the thought
expressed in Pr. 30.1, namely that the peritton of melancholics is connected
to reason (954 b 1: qpcviuc:tpci ot), for without this connection it would
in Aristotelian terms have been impossible to apply the peritton in the elds
of philosophy, politics and poetry, which in Aristotles view are unthinkable
without reason (phron esis). It is impossible to see how Aristotles statements
are supposed to tie in with the existence of a wise melancholic (melan-
cholikos sophos) as recognised in the chapter from the Problemata (cf. the
references to Socrates, Plato and Empedocles).
However, apart from the exceptional nature of the melancholic peritton
and the fact that the euthuoneiria of melancholics is unrelated to this (see
note 78), the text in the Problemata does in fact allow for some positive
remarks on this contradiction. The way in which the relevant passage in the
chapter is phrased shows that the author was apparently aware of the fact
that the connection between phron esis and melancholy implies a paradox in
an Aristotelian context. To quote the passage: All those, however, in whom
the excessive heat is moderated towards a mean, these people are, to be sure,
melancholics, but they are more intelligent, and they are, to be sure, less
eccentric, but different from the others in many aspects, some in culture,
others etc. (coci, o cv ttcvtn :nv c,cv tpuc:n:c tpc, :c utocv,
co:ci utc,ycisci utv tioi, qpcviuc:tpci ot, sci n::cv utv ts:ctci,
tpc, tcc ot oicqtpcv:t, :cv ccv, c utv tpc, tcioticv, c ot
s:.).
82
The use of utv . . . ot (to be sure . . . but) and the comparatives
may well indicate that the author was aware of the paradoxical nature
of his statement: although they are melancholics, yet they are relatively
close to reason; although they are less abnormal, yet they are outstanding.
The comparatives qpcviuc:tpci and n::cv show that these people are
not rational and normal per se (that would really contradict Aristotles
statements), but only in comparison to other melancholics (or to those
moments when their own balance between hot and cold, which is after
all unstable, is disturbed or absent). They are not really intelligent, but
82
For this reading (instead of the transmitted but incomprehensible ttcvn) see Klibansky et al.
(1964) 24 n. 58; Flashar (1962) 720; M uri (1953) 25 n. 5 (against Pigeaud (1988a) 123).
164 Aristotle and his school
only closer to reason than other melancholics; they remain eccentric (for
melancholics are fundamentally abnormal), but to a lesser degree than other
melancholics; yet rather than implying that they are similar to ordinary
people, it means that they distinguish themselves from other people, but
this time ina positive rather thana negative sense. The sentence is construed
in such a way that each clause, so to speak, corrects a possible implication of
the previous one, and this construal may well be interpreted as an explicit
acknowledgement of Aristotles concept of melancholy.
As to the question about where to place the melancholic peritton in
Aristotles theory of virtue, little can be said with any certainty, due to a
lack of explicit statements on the subject. However, a good starting-point
for the debate would be the principle on which the discussion in the chapter
of the Problemata is built, namely that of the ethopoion of the phusis, the
inuence which the human phusis (in the sense of a natural predisposition
and a physiological constitution) exerts on the formation of the human
character. It is a fact that the role of nature as a condition or prerequisite
for mans moral and cognitive behaviour in Aristotles ethics and psychol-
ogy is limited.
83
On the other hand, Aristotle repeatedly recognises and
refers to the importance of a physiological balance (an eukrasia between
heat and cold in the body) for the proper functioning of sensory percep-
tion, practical deliberation and intellectual thought; the typical notion of
mesot es (which is derived from physiology) plays an important part here.
84
The effect of physical conditions on the psychological and moral state is
usually only mentioned in a negative context, namely that of disorders
resulting from a lack of physiological balance: the fact that melancholics
are repeatedly mentioned in the Ethics and the Parva naturalia can be ex-
plained by the fact that they are particularly suitable for illustrating these
negative effects of the physiological constitution, as they lack this balance
by nature (see Tracy (1969) 2267, 256). However, this example implies
that what disturbs melancholics on a permanent basis can occur to ev-
ery person occasionally and periodically (hence the analogy with wine and
drunkenness).
Yet the effect of nature in these areas can also manifest itself in a positive
way, in outstanding expressions of a special predisposition, which cannot
be achieved in what Aristotle considers the usual way, namely by force of
habit (ethismos or ask esis) and teaching (didach e or math esis). To describe this
special predisposition and its expression in particularly mental shrewdness,
83
See the general statements on this theme in Eth. Nic. 10.9, Eth. Nic. 2.1 and Eud. Eth. 1.1, as well as
Gigon (1971) 100ff.; Gigon (1985) 1358; Verbeke (1985) 24758.
84
Of fundamental importance on this theme is the work by Tracy (1969) in particular 197282.
Aristotle on melancholy 165
Aristotle frequently uses the word euphuia. An illuminating example of
this notion is Aristotles frequent reference to metaphors; see the remark
in the Poetics (1459 a 57), The most important thing is the ability to use
metaphors. For this is the only thing that cannot be learned from someone
else and a sign of natural genius; for to produce good metaphors is a matter
of perceiving similarities (tcu ot ut,io:cv :c ut:cqcpiscv tivci ucvcv
,cp :c0:c c0:t tcp ccu to:i ctv toquic, :t onutcv to:i :c
,cp to ut:cqtptiv :c :c cucicv tcptv to:iv). Other passages on this
feature of metaphor (its being incapable of being taught) can be found
in Rhetoric (1405 a 8) and Poet. 1455 a 29ff., which states that the best
poet is either a genius (euphu es) or a madman (manikos; cf. Pr. 954 a 32).
Aristotle explains his use of the word euphuia in this passage in the Poetics
(1459 a 7) by saying that good use of metaphor is based on the ability to see
similarities (to homoion the orein). This corresponds to the fact that Aristotle
(as discussed above in section 2 ad Div. 464 a 32ff.) relates the eustochia of
melancholics to this very principle: therefore this passage, too, shows the
connection between the ability to perceive similarities and a special natural
predisposition.
It seems to be this connection that enables the melancholic peritton in
the areas of philosophy, politics and poetry. For to Aristotle, the principle
of perceiving similarities not only plays a part in the use of metaphor
85
and in divination in sleep, but also in several intellectual activities such as
induction, denition and indeed philosophy itself.
86
It recognises relevant
similarities (both similar properties and similar relations and structures)
that are not evident or noticeable to everyone, and as such it is able to
see relationships between matters that are far apart.
87
The explicit connec-
tion of this principle with a targeted approach led by intuition (eustochia,
Rh. 1412 a 12) and a special predisposition (euphuia, Poet. 1459 a 7) indi-
cates that the peritton of melancholics in the areas mentioned should be
sought in a certain intuition and creativity which does not impede rea-
son, but rather enhances it, with phantasia playing an important mediatory
role.
88
At rst it seemed peculiar that the great philosophers Plato, Socrates
and Empedocles are taken as examples of the extraordinary melancholics
85
See Bremer (1980) 35076; Swiggers (1984) 405.
86
Cf. Rh. 1394 a 5; 1412 a 10 (with the use of the word eustochia); Top. 108 a 714; 108 b 7, 24; Metaph.
981 a 7. On the principle see Lambert (1966) 16985.
87
Rh. 1412 a 12: :c cucicv tv tcu oitycuoi tcptv; Top. 108 b 21: tv :c, tcu oito:coi ypnoiuc,
tpc, :cu, cpioucu, n :c0 cucicu tcpic.
88
See Tracy (1969), passim (in particular 2614).
166 Aristotle and his school
(Pr. 953 a 27), but in this interpretation this becomes more easy to under-
stand: phusis presents Aristotle with a possibility to explain the fact that a
certain creativity is required in the intellectual area of philosophy as well,
and that in this respect there is a difference between great minds (the perit-
toi) and average minds (the mesoi, cf. Pr. 954 b 24). This explanation is
actually used in the text of the Problemata, but can also be found in several
short statements in Aristotles authentic writings. A direct relationship be-
tween bodily constitution and intelligence is for instance made in De. an.
421 a 23ff., where Aristotle states that people with soft esh (malakosarkoi)
are more intelligent (euphueis) than people with hard esh (skl erosarkoi);
and in two instances in Parts of Animals (648 a 2ff. and 650 b 18ff.), where he
writes that the quality of the blood determines the degree of intelligence.
In this respect chapters 1215 of the second book of the Rhetoric are of
particular importance, in which the ethopoietic effects of youth and old
age and noble descent (eugeneia) are discussed; in particular chapter 15
on eugeneia (with its clear relationship to phusis in the sense of a natural
predisposition) is signicant. Melancholics are not mentioned in this pas-
sage, but it demonstrates precisely the same thought structure as that used
to describe melancholics: most of the people of noble descent (eugeneis)
belong to the category of the simple-minded (euteleis, 1390 b 24; cf. the
use of melancholics as an example of euteleis in Div. somn. 463 b 17), but
some become exceptional (perittoi): There is a change in the generations
of men as in those who move from one place to another, and sometimes the
generation is good, and during certain intervals the men are exceptional,
and then they decline again (qcpc ,p :i, to:iv tv :c, ,tvtoiv vopcv
cottp tv :c, sc:c :c, ycpc, ,i,vcutvci,, sci tvic:t cv n ,ccv :c
,tvc,, t,,ivcv:ci oi :ivc, ypcvcu cvopt, ttpi::ci, sctti:c tiv
vcoiocoiv).
In this passage, similarly to the melancholics instability, reference is
made to the quick decline of the eugeneis, either to those who are by
character more inclined to madness (examples for this are the descendants
of Alcibiades and Dionysus) or to stupidity and obtuseness (t:tpic sci
vcpc:n,, 1390 b 2730). It appears that these two forms of degeneration
correspond very well with both the manic-passionate and depressive-cold
expressions of the melancholic nature in Pr. 30.1 (see in particular 954 b
2834).
A consideration of the physiological aspect to peoples mental processes
and ethical behaviour, as is done frequently in the Problemata,
89
turns out
89
On this tendency of the Problemata, which is sometimes unfortunately referred to as materialistic,
see Flashar (1962) 329ff.
Aristotle on melancholy 167
to be an approach that Aristotle fully recognises and which he provides
with a methodological foundation; it is by no means incompatible with
the more psychological approach demonstrated in particular in the Ethics,
and Aristotle considers it rather as complementary.
90
Explaining deviations
in the domain of the psyche, whether they are valued as positive or nega-
tive, by pointing to an equally deviant physiological state can very well be
considered a consequence of Aristotles conviction that psyche and body
are closely connected.
7 c o n c l u s i o n
It has transpired that the theory of Pr. 30.1 corresponds quite well to the
Aristotelian concept of melancholy and that there are insufcient grounds
to claim that Aristotle did not support this theory. Whether the text of
the chapter goes back to a treatise on melancholy that may have been
part of Aristotles lost Problemata or whether it goes back to an attempt
made by a later Peripatetic (perhaps Theophrastus)
91
to systematise the
scattered statements of the Master, will remain unknown. In any case, our
analysis of the chapter, in particular of the authors two different objectives,
and of the prima facie disproportionate discussion of these objectives, has
shown that it is possible to read the text as a deliberate attempt to explain an
observationthat would at rst sight be unthinkable inAristotles philosophy
(i.e. the peritton of melancholics in intellectual areas) an attempt which
is achieved by means of statements on melancholy and psycho-physiology
90
For further examples of this consideration see Tracy (1969) 24761. For the methodological basis see
De an. 403 a 3b 16 and Tracy (1969) 247ff. and 224 n. 80, as well as Sorabji (1974) 6389.
91
No argument can be made for ascribing this theory to Theophrastus; virtually nothing is known
about the views of Theophrastus on melancholy and enthusiasm. Ascription can only be based on
the statement in 954 a 201 (tpn:ci ot ocqto:tpcv ttpi :c:cv tv :c, ttpi tup,) and the fact
that Diogenes Laertius (5.44) says that Theophrastus has written a treatise On Melancholy (ttpi
utc,ycic,). The former argument has proved to be rather weak: as Flashar (1962, 671) must
admit, the statement is not really in line with Theophrastus writing De igne. One might point to
chapter 35, but precisely at the relevant point the text of the passage is uncertain, and even if one
accepts Gerckes conjecture oic sci :cic0:c tpu:c:c :c tupctv:c scttp oionpc,, the
parallel is not very specic (ocqto:tpcv). The statement would make more sense as a reference to
a lost book on re in the Problemata (see Flashar (1962) 671) or the Aristotelian treatment of heat
and re in Part. an. 648 b 34ff. (although the phrase tv :c, ttpi tup, is more likely to refer to
a separate treatise; cf. Croissant (1932) 78). Yet even if one is prepared to accept the statement as
referring to Theophrastus De igne, there is the possibility that the Peripatetic editor/compilator of
the Problemata collection is responsible for this, and it need not imply that the theory presented in
the chapter is originally from Theophrastus (see Flashar (1956) 45 n. 3). With respect to the title
ttpi utc,ycic,, it should be noted that the word utc,ycic does not appear in the text of
the chapter of the Problemata: only utc,ycisn qoi,, utc,ycisn spcoi,, utcivc ycn and
utc,ycisc, yuu, are mentioned. These terms correspond to Aristotles usage, whereas the word
utc,ycic reminds one either of the Hippocratic names for melancholic diseases (for instance
Airs, Waters, Places 10, 12; 52, 7 Diller) or of Theophrastus theory on character.
168 Aristotle and his school
made by Aristotle himself. This way, the explanation of the an omalia and
the variety of expressions of the melancholic nature serves to answer the
chapters opening question, which at the end should not look quite so un-
Aristotelian (and indeed no longer does) as at the start. In any event, as
the theory of Pr. 30.1 has proved to depend strongly on Aristotles own
statements on melancholics, it has become much less isolated within the
history of ideas.
Finally, this chapter should hopefully provide a starting-point for a re-
newed testing of the working hypothesis that those parts of the Problemata
that have been passed on to us can be used as testimonies of Aristotles views,
on the understanding that these passages do not contradict the authentic
texts.
92
Obviously, one single piece of research does not sufce to prove the
value of this hypothesis in general, and further study into the so far too
neglected Problemata is required.
92
When examining this working hypothesis, the other scattered statements on melancholics in the
Problemata should be taken into account as well (1.12; 3.25a; 4.30; 11.38; 18.1 and 7; 30.14). These
occurrences do not really seem to contradict the statements made by Aristotle (perhaps with the
exception of 860 b 21ff., which is difcult to reconcile with Part. an. 676 b 5ff.). The characteristics of
the melancholic mentionedare partly afrmative (4.30: strong drive for sexual intercourse), andpartly
supplementary to the characteristics mentioned by Aristotle, and the physiological explanations can
be reconciled with Aristotles statements very well (11.38: following ones imagination; 18.1 and
7 as well as 4.30: connection with pneuma; 30.14: very strong movement of the soul). However,
only an in-depth analysis of these at times very difcult passages can more clearly dene the precise
relationship with Aristotles concept. For the moment, the brief yet valuable remarks made by Flashar
(1962) 303ff. and Marenghis (1966) commentary on the medical problems should be noted. For a
rather sceptical view on the working hypothesis see Flashar (1962) 303 and 315.
c h a p t e r 6
Theoretical and empirical elements in Aristotles
treatment of sleep, dreams and divination in sleep
1 p r e - a r i s t o t e l i a n v i e w s o n s l e e p a n d d r e a m s
Anyone who has a correct understanding of the signs that occur in sleep,
will discover that they have great signicance for everything.
1
This is the
opening sentence of the fourth book of the Hippocratic work On Regimen,
a treatise dating probably from the rst half of the fourth century bce and
dealing with the interpretation of dreams from a medical point of view,
that is, as signs pointing to the (future) state of the body of the dreamer.
2
The passage reects the general opinion in ancient Greece that dreams are
of great importance as signs (semeia) or indications (tekmeria), not only
of the physical constitution of the dreamer and of imminent diseases or
mental disturbances befalling him/her, but also of divine intentions, of
things that may happen in the future, things hidden to normal human
understanding.
3
Dreams played an important part in Greek divination
and religion, especially in the healing cult of Asclepius, because they were
believed to contain important therapeutic indications or even to bring
about healing themselves.
4
The belief in the divine origin of dreams and
in their prophetic power was widespread, even among intellectuals. As
a result, dreams were mostly approached with caution because of their
ambiguous nature. The Greeks realised that dreams, while often presenting
many similarities with daytime experiences, may at the same time be bizarre
or monstrous. This ambiguity gave rise to questions such as: is what appears
to us in the dream real or not, and, if it is real, in what sense? What kind
1
ttpi ot :cv :tsunpicv :cv tv :coiv 0tvcioiv co:i, cpc, t,vcst, ut,nv tycv:c ovcuiv
topnoti tpc, ctcv:c, On Regimen 4.86 (6.640 L.).
2
For a full bibliography of discussions of this work see van der Eijk (2004a).
3
For a bibliography on Greek views on dreams see van der Eijk (1994) 10632, to which should be added
Byl (1998); Hubert (1999); Holowchak (1996) and (2001); Jori (1994); Liatsi (2002); Oberhelman
(1993); Pigeaud (1995); Repici (2003); Sharples (2001). For general surveys of Greek thought on
dreams see van Lieshout (1980) and Guidorizzi (1988); for discussions of early and classical Greek
thought on sleep see Calabi (1984), Marelli (197980) and (1983), W ohrle (1995) and Byl (1998).
4
See Edelstein and Edelstein (1945, reissued in 1998).
169
170 Aristotle and his school
of experience is dreaming, and how is it related to other mental processes
such as thinking and perceiving?
In the fth and the fourth centuries bce we can see a growing concern
with the nature of dreams and with the kind of information they were
believed to provide among philosophers (Heraclitus, Plato, Democritus),
physicians (such as the Hippocratic author just quoted), poets (Pindar)
and historians (Herodotus). In this context of intellectual and theoreti-
cal reection on the phenomenon of dreaming, Aristotles two works On
Dreams (Insomn.) and On Divination in Sleep (Div. somn.) stand out for
containing the only systematic account of dreams and of prophecy in sleep
that has been transmitted to us from antiquity.
5
Short as they are (covering
not more than six pages in the Bekker edition), these works are extremely
rich and condensed, and they are very valuable sources for our knowl-
edge of the ways in which Aristotle applies some of his more prominent
theoretical notions about the soul and its various parts or powers (such
as imagination, the common sense, etc.) to the analysis of specic psy-
chic phenomena. At the same time, Aristotles style in these treatises is
characteristically elliptical, and they present numerous problems of inter-
pretation.
In this chapter I will of course say something about the contents of
this theory and its connection with other parts of Aristotles work; but
the emphasis will be on the methodology which Aristotle adopts in these
writings. First, I will deal with how Aristotle arrived at his theory, with
particular consideration of the relation between theoretical presuppositions
and empirical observations in both works. We know that Aristotle in his
biological works often insists on the importance of collecting empirical
evidence in order to substantiate theories or accounts (logoi) of nature.
He sometimes takes other thinkers to task for their lack of concern with
empirical corroboration of their theories, or he even accuses his opponents
of manipulating the facts in order to make them consistent with their
theories.
6
But we also know that Aristotle is often to be blamed for the
very defects he is criticising in other thinkers.
7
Hence it may be proper
to examine what empirical claims Aristotle makes concerning dreams and
what part they play in the course of his argument.
My second question concerns the ratio underlying Aristotles treatment,
especially the selectionof topics he deals withandthe order inwhichthey are
5
For a translation with introduction and commentary of these works see van der Eijk (1994); see also
Pigeaud (1995); Gallop (1996) (a revised edition of his [1990]); D ont (1997); Morel (2000); Repici
(2003).
6
See, e.g., Gen. an. 760 b 2732.
7
See Lloyd (1978) and (1979).
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 171
discussed. For although Aristotle, within the scope of these short treatises,
covers an admirable amount of topics and aspects of the phenomenon of
dreaming with a sometimes striking degree of sophistication, it is at the
same time remarkable that some important aspects of dreaming are not
treated at all aspects which are of interest not only to us, but also to
Aristotles contemporaries. Let me give two examples. (i) Aristotle does
not appear to be interested in the contents of dreams, in their narrative
structure or in the mechanism responsible for the sequence of events and
experiences that occur to the dreamer in a certain order. Nor does he pay
serious attention to the interpretation of dreams: he only makes some very
general remarks about this towards the end (464 b 916); he does not
specify the rules for a correct interpretation of dreams. Yet the meaning of
dreams was what the Greeks were most concerned with, and we know that
in Aristotles time there existed professional dream interpreters who used
highly elaborated techniques to establish the meaning of dreams.
8
(ii) A
further striking fact is that Aristotle hardly discusses the relation of dreams
with other mental processes during sleep, such as thinking and recollection.
He has little to say on questions such as: can we think in sleep? can we solve
mathematical problems in sleep? (a problem that attracted much attention
in later thought on dreams, e.g. in medieval Arabic dreamtheory). This lack
of interest calls for an explanation, for not only does experience evidently
suggest that these mental operations are possible in sleep, but there was also
a powerful tradition in Greek thought, widespread in Aristotles time, that
some mental operations, such as abstract thinking (nous), could function
better and more accurately in sleep than in the waking state, because they
were believed to be set free in sleep fromthe restrictions posed by the souls
incorporation in the body. Why does Aristotle not address this issue?
Now, in response to this, one could argue that Aristotle was under no
constraint from earlier traditions to discuss these points, for early and clas-
sical Greek thought tends to display rather ambivalent attitudes to the
phenomenon of sleep, and in particular to whether we can exercise our
cognitive faculties in sleep. On the one hand, there was a strand in Greek
thought, especially in some medical circles, in which sleep was dened
negatively as the absence of a number of activities and abilities that are
characteristic of the waking life, such as sense-perception, movement, con-
sciousness and thinking. And as we shall see in a moment, Aristotles theory
of sleep shows strong similarities to this tradition. On the other hand, there
was also a strand in Greek thought, represented both in Orphic circles but
8
See del Corno (1982).
172 Aristotle and his school
also in philosophers like Democritus and, perhaps, Heraclitus, in which
sleep was viewed positively as a state in which humans, or at least some of
us, are capable of modes of cognition not open to us in the waking state
and in which we enjoy a special receptivity to experiences, impulses or, as
Aristotle would put it, movements (kineseis) that we do not receive, or at
least are not aware of, during the waking state; and there are elements of this
in Aristotles theory too. These experiences and impulses can be subdivided
into stimuli that have their origin within the dreamer and those that come
from outside.
9
The internal stimuli are the ones arising from the dreamers
body, or from his/her internal experiences, memories, thoughts, imagina-
tions or emotions; and these are the stimuli that were of particular interest
to medical writers, such as the author of the Hippocratic work On Regimen
just mentioned, and to philosophers (like Aristotle) interested in the rela-
tion between the psychological and the physiological aspects of sleep. The
external stimuli can in their turn be subdivided into two categories: those
that have their origin in the natural world, and those that come from the
supernatural (gods, demons, etc.);
10
and this group of external stimuli was
of particular interest to thinkers such as Democritus (and, again, Aristotle)
trying to nd an explanation for the phenomenon of prophecy in sleep
concerning events that lie beyond the dreamers direct experience.
A similar, related ambivalence surrounded the question whether the
sleeping life of an individual presents a complete negation of the character
and personality of his/her waking life, or whether there is some connection
or continuity between the two states. It would seem that if one denes
sleep negatively (as Aristotle does) as an incapacitation of our powers of
consciousness, the consequence would be that in the sleeping state the
characteristics of our individual personalities are somehow inactivated: it
would be as if, in sleep, we lose our identity and temporarily become like a
plant. Yet, paradoxically, this negative view also allowed a positive valuation
of the state of sleep. For it can be argued that in sleep our souls or minds
are released from our bodies (and from experiences associated with the
body, such as perception and emotion) and acquire a temporary state of
detachedness and purity, thus anticipating the state of the immortal soul
after its denitive detachment from the body after death. This latter view
that in sleep the soul is set free from the body and regains its proper
nature (idia phusis) was especially found in Orphic and Pythagorean
thought, with its negative view of the body and its dualistic concept of
the relation between soul and body, and found its expression in stories
9
See Aristotle, Insomn. 460 b 2930; Div. somn. 463 a 330; 463 b 12; 463 b 223; 464 a 1516.
10
See On Regimen 4.87 (6.6402 L.); cf. Arist., Somn. vig. 453 b 224 (but on the interpretation of the
term daimonios there see below, pp. 187, 191, and 2467 with n. 30).
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 173
about ecstatic, clairvoyant experiences such as told about Hermotimus of
Clazomenae and other shamans.
11
It seems to have appealed also to Plato
and even, if the indirect tradition can be trusted, to Aristotle in his early
years.
12
Yet both thinkers seem to have emancipated themselves from this
position. For, at other places in his work, Plato seems to allow that our
sleeping lives somehow reect our mental state in the waking life. Thus in
a well-known passage in the Republic, he suggests that dreams reect an
individuals spiritual state in that they show whether the soul is calm and
orderly, guided by reason, or subjected to emotions and desires:
(I mean) those desires that are awakened in sleep, when the rest of the soul the
rational, gentle, and ruling part slumbers. Then the beastly and savage part, full
of food and drink, casts off sleep and seeks to nd a way to gratify itself. You know
that there is nothing it wont dare to do at such a time, free of all control by shame
or reason. It doesnt shrink from trying to have sex with a mother, as it supposes,
or with anyone else at all, whether man, god, or beast. It will commit any foul
murder, and there is no food it refuses to eat. In a word, it omits no act of folly
or shamelessness . . . On the other hand, I suppose that someone who is healthy
and moderate with himself goes to sleep only after having done the following:
First, he rouses his rational part and feasts it on ne arguments and speculations;
second, he neither starves nor feasts his appetites, so that they will slumber and
not disturb his best part with either their pleasure or their pain, but theyll leave
it alone, pure and by itself, to get on with its investigations, to yearn after and
perceive something . . . whether it is past, present or future; third, he soothes his
spirited part in the same way, for example, by not falling asleep with his spirit still
aroused after an outburst of anger. And when he has quieted these two parts and
aroused the third, in which reason resides, and so takes rest, you know that it is
then that he best grasps the truth and that the visions that appear in his dreams
are least lawless.
13
As for Aristotle, the view that in sleep our souls regain their proper nature
seems, at best, to have been a Platonic relic appealing to him in his early
years, soon to be abandoned in favour of his characteristic hylomorphic
theory of the soul as the formal aspect of the natural soulbody composite
that makes up a living being.
14
In this view, soul and body are jointly
affected by experiences (pathe ) such as sleep; but how this works out with
regard to whether our sleeping lives somehow reect our waking lives, is
not immediately obvious. Thus a passage in Aristotles Nicomachean Ethics
presents a certain ambivalence:
11
Apollonius, Mirabilia 3; see the discussion by Bremmer (1983) 2453.
12
For a discussion of the fragments from his lost works On Philosophy and Eudemus see van der Eijk
(1994) 8993.
13
Plato, Republic 571 c ff., tr. Grube and Reeve (1997) 1180.
14
See the discussion in van der Eijk (2000b).
174 Aristotle and his school
:c:n, utv cov scivn :i, pt:n sci cos vpctivn qcivt:ci ocst ,cp tv :c,
0tvci, tvtp,tv uio:c :c ucpicv :c0:c sci n ovcui, c0:n, c o ,cc,
sci scsc, nsio:c oionci sc 0tvcv (ctv qcoiv cootv oicqtptiv :c nuiou
:c0 icu :cu, toociucvc, :cv icv ouucivti ot :c0:c tisc:c, p,ic
,p to:iv c 0tvc, :n, uyn, n t,t:ci otcuocic sci qcn), tnv t tn
15
sc:c uispcv sci oiisvc0v:ci :ivt, :cv sivnotcv, sci :c:n t:ic ,ivt:ci :c
qcv:ouc:c :cv ttitiscv n :cv :uycv:cv. (1102 b 210)
The excellence of this part [i.e. the vegetative part] of the soul seems to be common
to all living beings and not peculiar to humans; for it is generally believed that
this part and this faculty [nutrition] is particularly active in sleep, and that the
difference between a good and a bad person is least evident in sleep (which is why
people say that for half of their lives, there is no difference between happy people
and miserable people; this is a reasonable conclusion, for sleep is a kind of inactivity
of that [part of the] soul in virtue of which it [the soul] is called good or bad),
unless in a certain way, and to a small extent, certain sense-movements penetrate
to [the soul during sleep], and in this way the dream images of good people are
superior to those of common people.
The possibility envisaged here towards the end in the clause unless in a
certain way . . . is precisely what Aristotle is exploring in much greater
detail in his investigations of sleep and dreams in the two works already
mentioned On Dreams and On Divination in Sleep (see esp. 463 a 21ff.),
and in the work On Sleep and Waking which precedes them.
16
Yet, as we
shall see later, these treatises make it clear that the connection between
what we perceive in the daytime and what appears to us in sleep is rarely
straightforward or direct (euthuoneiria), and often dreams are confused as a
result of physiological turbulence that disturbs the transmission of sensory
images in the body (461 a 9ff.). And the tentative way in which, in the
Ethics passage, the possibility of a connection between waking and sleeping
life is introduced (tnv t tn sc:c uispcv . . . :ivt, :cv sivnotcv) does
not suggest that Aristotle attached great relevance to it in the context of his
moral philosophy.
2 t h e c o n t e x t o f a r i s t o t l e s t r e a t i s e s o n
s l e e p a n d d r e a m s
In order to appreciate Aristotles approach to these issues better, it is impor-
tant to consider the context in which his views on dreams are expounded.
15
Some MSS read un here instead of tn.
16
Although these three treatises are presented in the preface of On Sleep and Waking as parts of one
continuous investigation and follow on each other in the MS tradition, the precise relationship
between them poses considerable problems. See van der Eijk (1994) 627.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 175
That is explicitly and emphatically the context of natural science: the the-
oretical study of nature as Aristotle conceives it. They belong to a series of
treatises which are usually called Parva naturalia. Although this title does
not originate from Aristotle but from the Middle Ages, it rightly indicates
that psychology means for Aristotle psycho-physiology, an analysis both of
the formal (mental) and of the material (physical) aspects of what it
means for a natural entity to be a living being.
17
At the beginning of this
series of treatises (which Aristotle seems to have conceived as a continuing
discussion of connected topics), Aristotle says that he will be concerned
with the most important activities and experiences of living beings (man,
animals, plants), in particular with those that are common to the soul and
the body: sense-perception, memory and recollection, sleep and waking,
youth and old age, growth and decay, breathing, life and death, health and
disease. These are, Aristotle says, the most important functions living be-
ings can realise or experience qua living beings, and it is for the purpose
of these functions that the bodily structures such as described in History of
Animals and Parts of Animals (and in the lost work On Plants) exist. The
Parva naturalia are closely linked to Aristotles work On the Soul, and the
psycho-physiological explanation of dreams which Aristotle expounds in
On Dreams (and which, in the enumeration listed above, is subordinated
to and included in the discussion of sleeping and waking) heavily draws
upon Aristotles general theory of the soul, especially his views on sense-
perception, imagination (phantasia), and on the so-called central sense
faculty (kurion aistheterion). This context of the study of nature should
make clear from the outset that the interest taken by Aristotle in dreams is
neither epistemological nor practical, hermeneutic or therapeutic as it is,
for example, in the Hippocratic work On Regimen quoted above, of which
Aristotle was aware.
Against this background, the questions Aristotle is pursuing in the three
works in question make perfect sense. Thus in the preface to On Sleep and
Waking (453 b 1124), which in a way serves as an introduction to all three of
the treatises, he says that he is going toconsider whether sleeping andwaking
are peculiar to the soul or common to soul and body, and, if common to
both, what parts of soul and body are involved; whether sleep occurs in all
living beings or only in some; and through what cause (aitia) it occurs.
18
Considering this psycho-physiological context, one would expect Aris-
totle to pay some attention to the question of the possibility of cognition
17
On the structure and underlying rationale of the series of treatises assembled under the heading
Parva naturalia see van der Eijk (1994) 6872; see also Morel (2000) 1024 and (2002b).
18
For a discussion of this Preface see van der Eijk (1994) 6872.
176 Aristotle and his school
(either perceptual or intellectual, and either normal or extraordinary) in
sleep. But this question is not explicitly raised, and his relevant remarks
are scattered, nuanced and complicated, so that an answer unfolds only
gradually through the continuous discussion in the three works; and it is
not free from apparent contradictions. In On Sleep and Waking, Aristotle
begins by dening sleep negatively as the inability of the sense faculty to
be activated (adunamia tou energein, 454 b 5, 458 a 29). Sleep is said to
be a fetter and immobilisation (desmos kai akinesia, 454 b 10) an inac-
tivity (argia) or incapacitation (adunamia) of the sensitive faculty (455 b
3ff.). It is a state in which the vegetative part of the soul gains the upper
hand (455 a 12), and it is caused by various physiological processes that
are connected with the digestion of food (such as heating, cooling, evapo-
ration of food, and sifting of the blood).
19
There is no sensation in sleep,
he says, because the central sense-organ, the kurion aistheterion, which is
located in the heart, is affected by these processes and thus incapacitated,
and as a result of this the peripheral sense-organs (eyes, ears, nose, etc.)
cannot function either (455 a 13ff.). Whether these physiological processes
also affect the ability to think and the operations of the intellectual part of
the soul, is a question which Aristotle does not address explicitly. Strictly
speaking, since Aristotles supreme intellectual faculty, the nous, is said to
be incorporeal and not to require simultaneous perception in order to be
active,
20
there is, at least in principle, no reason why we should not be able
to think while being asleep.
21
There are a few hints to this in the text, for
example in Insomn. 459 a 68 and 462 a 2930, which speak of an activity of
judgement (doxa) and of the presence of true thoughts (aletheis ennoiai)
in sleep, but it remains vague (see below).
Aristotles negative denition of sleep does not, however, imply a negative
evaluation of this affection (pathos). Sleep is a good thing and serves a
purpose, for it provides rest (anapausis) to the sense-organs, which would
otherwise become overstretched, since they are unable to be active without
interruption (454 a 27, 455 b 18ff.). Here, again, one may note a difference
compared with thinking; for one of the differences between perception and
thinking, according to Aristotle, is that perception cannot go on forever,
indeed if we overstretch our sense-organs, we damage them; thinking, on
19
For a discussion of Aristotles physiological explanation of sleep see Wiesner (1978).
20
De an. 430 a 1718, 223; Gen. an. 736 b 289; see also ch. 7 below.
21
In De an. 429 a 78 Aristotle mentions the possibility that the intellect (nous) may be overshadowed
(epikaluptesthai) by sleep, but it is unclear from this passage whether this is always the case in sleep
or only in exceptional circumstances.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 177
the other hand, does not know fatigue and the harder we exercise our
intellectual faculty, the better it functions.
22
The way in which Aristotle arrives at these views is largely theoretical and
by a priori reasoning. Sleep, he argues in chapter 1 of On Sleep and Waking,
is the opposite of waking; and since waking consists in the exercise of the
sensitive faculty, sleep must be the inactivity of this faculty. Sleep affects all
animals, because sensation is characteristic of animals. Plants do not sleep,
because they have no perception. In fact, sleep is nothing but a state of what
Aristotle elsewhere calls rst entelechy,
23
a state of having a faculty without
using it, which may be benecial in order to provide rest to the bodily parts
involved in its exercise. Furthermore, Aristotle is characteristically keen to
specify that sleep is a particular kind of incapacitation of the sense faculty
as distinct from other kinds of incapacitation, such as faint and epileptic
seizure (456 b 916). He also applies his explanatory model of the four causes
(which he reminds us of in 455 b 1416) to the phenomenon of sleep, listing
its formal, nal, material and efcient causes, and leading up to two com-
plementary denitions stating the material and the formal cause of sleep:
the upward movement of the solid part of nutriment caused by innate heat, and its
subsequent condensation and return to the primary sense organ. And the denition
of sleep is that it is a seizure of the primary sense organ which prevents it from
being activated, and which is necessary for the preservation of the living being;
for a living being cannot continue to exist without the presence of those things
that contribute to its perfection; and rest (anapausis) secures preservation (s oteria).
(458 a 2532)
By contrast, there is little consideration, let alone evidence of systematic
gathering and interpreting, of empirical evidence to back up the theory
arrived at. It is true that, inthe course of his argument, Aristotle occasionally
refers to empirical observations, or at least he makes a number of empirical
claims, which can be listed as follows:
1. Most animals have their eyes closed when they sleep (454 b 15ff.).
2. Nutrition and growth are more active in sleep than in the waking state (455 a
12).
3. All animals have a sense of touch (455 a 6).
4. In fainting ts, people lose sensation (455 b 6).
5. Those who have the veins in the neck compressed become unconscious
(455 b 7).
6. Breathing and cooling take place in the heart (456 a 5).
7. Insects that do not respire are seen to expand and contract (456 a 12).
22
De an. 429 a 30b 6.
23
De an. 412 a 256.
178 Aristotle and his school
8. Insects buzz (456 a 18).
9. Some people move and perform various activities in sleep, and some of these
people remember their dreams, though they fail to remember the waking acts
they perform in sleep (456 a 25).
10. The blood vessels have their origin in the heart (456 b 1).
11. Words are spoken by people who are in a state of trance and seemingly dead
(456 b 16).
12. Several narcotics make the head heavy (456 b 23).
13. Children sleep more than other people (457 a 4 ).
14. In many epileptic patients, epileptic seizure begins in sleep (457 a 10).
15. The embryo lies quiet in the womb at rst (457 a 20).
16. People with inconspicuous veins, dwarsh people, and people with big heads
are inclined to much sleep (457 a 20).
17. People with marked veins do not sleep much; nor do melancholics, who in
spite of eating much remain slight (457 a 26).
18. The brain is the coldest part of the body (457 b 30).
19. The heart has three chambers (458 a 15ff.).
Yet while some of these claims are interesting as testifying either to Aristotles
own observational capacities or to his considerable knowledge of medico-
physiological views on sleeping, as a whole they can hardly be regarded
as impressive for their wide range or systematicity; and in the argument,
most of these empirical claims have at best only a marginal relevance to the
topic of sleep. They are mentioned only in passing, and none are presented
by Aristotle as guiding the investigation inductively to a general theory or
as playing a decisive role in settling potentially controversial issues. Nor
does Aristotle explain how observations that seem to be in conict with
the theoretical views he has expounded can nevertheless be accommodated
within that theory. Thus, in spite of his denition of sleep as the absence of
sensation, Aristotle on several occasions acknowledges that various things
may occur to us while we are in a state of sleep. This is obviously relevant
for the discussion of dreams and divination in sleep that follows after
On Sleep and Waking; but already in On Sleep and Waking we nd certain
anticipations of this idea, for example in 456 a 259, where he acknowledges
that people may perform waking acts while asleep on the basis of an image
or sensation (nos. 9 and 11). And on two occasions, the wording of On Sleep
and Waking seems to open the door to sensations of some kind experienced
in sleep: Activity of sense perception in the strict and unqualied sense
(kuri os kai hapl os) is impossible while asleep (454 b 1314), and we have
said that sleep is in some way (tropon tina) the immobilisation of sense
perception (454 b 26). These specications suggest that more may be at
stake than just an unqualied absence of sensation. Yet howthe phenomena
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 179
referred to are to be explained within the overall theory, he does not make
clear.
3 o n d r e a m s
In his treatment of dreams, the approach is likewise psycho-physiological,
as emerges clearly from the questions Aristotle asks in the course of his
discussion:
(i) To what part of the soul does dreaming belong (i.e. how is dreaming re-
lated to other mental faculties such as sense-perception and thinking)?
(458 b 1)
(ii) How do dreams originate? (459 a 23)
(iii) What is a dream, what is its denition? (459 a 23)
In these questions, we can again detect the typically Aristotelian pattern of
the four causes; only the nal cause is lacking, and this has to do with the
fact that Aristotle does not attribute any natural purpose or end to dreams.
This absence of a teleological explanation of dreams is signicant, and I
shall come back to it at the end of this chapter.
In On Dreams, as in On Sleep and Waking, Aristotle again begins by
stating rather bluntly that dreams cannot be an activity of the sense faculty,
since there is no sense-perception in sleep (458 b 510). However, in the
course of the argument he recognises that the fact that sense-perception
cannot be activated (energein) does not mean that it is incapable of being
affected (paschein):
cp cov :c utv un cpcv unotv nt,, :c ot unotv toytiv :nv conoiv
cos nt,, tvotyt:ci sci :nv civ toytiv :i sci :c, cc, cionoti,,
tsco:cv ot :c:cv cottp t,pn,cpc:c, tpcoti utv tc, :n cionoti,
coy c0:cot cottp t,pn,cpc:c, sci c:t utv n occ t,ti c:i t0oc,, cottp
t,pn,cpcoiv, c:t ot sc:tyt:ci sci sccut :c qcv:ouc:i. (459 a 18)
But perhaps it is true that we do not see anything [in sleep], but not true that sense
perception is not affected, and perhaps it is possible that sight and the other senses
are somehow affected, and that each of these affections makes some impression
on sense perception as it does in the waking state, but not in the same way as in
the waking state; and sometimes our judgement tells us that this is false, as it does
when we are awake, but sometimes it is withheld from doing this and follows what
it is presented with.
He goes on to say that dreams are the result of imagination (phantasia), a
faculty closely associated with, but not identical to sense perception. The
way this works is explained in chapters 2 and 3 of On Dreams. This time,
though, Aristotle presents his account much more emphatically as being
180 Aristotle and his school
built on observation of the facts surrounding sleep (459 a 24), and his
claims are backed up by a much more considerable amount of empirical
evidence:
1. There is no sense-perception in sleep (458 b 7; but see nos. 23 and 24 below).
2. During sleep, we often have thoughts accompanying the dream-images (458 b
1315); this appears most clearly when we try to remember our dreams imme-
diately after awakening (458 b 1823).
3. When one moves from a sunny place into the shade, one cannot see anything
for some time (459 b 1011).
4. When one looks at a particular colour for a long time and then turns ones
glance to another object, this object seems to have the colour one has been
looking at (459 b 1113).
5. When one has looked into the sun or at a brilliant object and subsequently
closes ones eyes, one still sees the light for some time: at rst, it still has the
original colour, then it becomes crimson, then purple, then black, and then it
disappears (459 b 1318).
6. When one turns ones gaze from moving objects (e.g. fast owing rivers),
objects that are at rest seem to be moving (459 b 1820).
7. When one has been exposed to strong sounds for a long time, one becomes
deaf, and after smelling very strong odours ones power of smelling is impaired
(459 b 202).
8. When a menstruating woman looks into a mirror, a red stain occurs on the
surface of the mirror, which is difcult to remove, especially from new mirrors
(459 b 23460 a 23).
24
9. Wine and unguents quickly acquire the odours of objects near to them (460 a
2632).
24
For a full discussion of this extraordinary claim see van der Eijk (1994) 16793 with more detailed
bibliographical references (to which should now be added Woolf (1999), who arrives at a very similar
viewto mine about the passage being illuminating for Aristotles views on material alteration in sense-
perception). While in earlier scholarship the authenticity of the passage was disputed, the discussion
now focuses on the following issues: (1) the problem of the passages obvious counterfactuality; (2)
is the theory of menstruation as expounded here in accordance with what Aristotle says elsewhere?
(3) is the theory of something emanating from the eye not inconsistent with Aristotles views on
visual perception as stated elsewhere? (4) What is the point of the passage for the discussion of the
way in which dreams come into existence? Briey summarised, my view is (1) that what seems to
be underlying the passage is a traditional belief (perhaps derived from magic or midwives tales) in
the dangerous and polluting effects of menstrual blood, and that Aristotle must have accepted this
story without checking it because he felt able to provide an explanation for it; such beliefs were not
uncommon regarding menstruation (although most of the evidence dates from the Roman period);
(2) there is no inconsistency regarding the cause of menstruation, for in 460 a 67 the words di
taracn ka flegmasan amatikn must be connected with diafor . . . dhlov mn (pace
Dean-Jones (1987) 2567); (3) there is no inconsistency, for Aristotle is not discussing perception
but reection, in which the eye is not the perceiving subject but the object that sets the process in
motion and brings the reection about; (4) the passage illustrates (a) the swiftness and acuteness
of the senses, which allows them to register even the tiniest differences and changes, and (b) the
lingering of such tiny perceptions after the impression has been made. It is these lingering, tiny
movements that constitute the material for dreams.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 181
10. When one is under the inuence of strong emotions, one is very susceptible
to sensitive illusions (460 b 416).
11. When one crosses two ngers and puts an object between them, it is as if one
feels two objects (460 b 223).
12. When one is on a ship which is moved by the sea and looks at the land, it is
as if the land moves (460 b 267).
13. Weak stimuli of pleasure and pain are extruded by stronger ones and escape
our attention (461 a 13).
14. When one gets to sleep immediately after dinner, one has no dreams (461 a
1112).
15. Very young children do not dream at all (461 a 12; cf. Gen. an. 779 a 13).
16. Dreams occur in a later stage of sleep; they are often distorted and unclear, but
sometimes they are strong (461 a 1827).
17. Melancholics, drunk people and those suffering from fever have confused and
monstrous dream images (461 a 212).
18. The dream image is judged by the dreaming subject (461 b 37).
19. When one presses a nger under ones eye, one single object appears double
(462 a 1).
20. Sometimes, during sleep, one is aware of the fact that one is dreaming (462 a
28).
21. At the moment of falling asleep and of awakening, one often sees images (462
a 1011).
22. Young people see in the dark all kinds of appearances when their eyes are wide
open (462 a 1215).
23. In situations of half-sleep, one can have weak perceptions of light and sounds
from ones environment (462 a 1925).
24. One may even give answers to questions when one is asleep (462 a 256).
25. Many people never had a dream in their whole lives; others rst got them after
considerable advance in age (464 b 111; cf. Hist. an. 537 b 13 ff.).
This is a substantial list of empirical claims, some of which testify to Aris-
totles sharp observational capacities (for example, nos. 2, 4, 20). However,
we also nd claims that are highly questionable from a modern point of
view or for which the empirical basis can only be said to be very weak (e.g.
8, 11, 14, 15). It is difcult to decide to what extent these data (phainomena
or sumbainonta, as Aristotle would call them) are derived from deliberate
and purposeful observation by Aristotle and his pupils themselves, or just
from common human experience (on the list, observations 15 and 25 are
also found in other biological works of Aristotle, but they are evidently
only a minority). Moreover, we should certainly take into account the pos-
sibility that Aristotle has borrowed some of these data from other scientic
writings, for example the psychological works of Democritus (whom Aris-
totle mentions in Div. somn. 464 a 4) and medical literature (to which he
182 Aristotle and his school
refers explicitly in 463 a 45), and perhaps also from literary descriptions
of dreams such as were found in Homer and the epic tradition. However,
since this tradition has only been preserved in fragments, it is difcult to
assess the extent of his dependence on earlier sources.
Yet when looking more closely at the way in which these empirical
data are used in Aristotles argument in On Dreams, it becomes clear that
the treatise goes far beyond the level of empirical fact-nding. Aristotle
does not present his theory as being built up, so to speak, inductively on
the basis of a number of observations; on the contrary, the three research
questions mentioned above ((i), (ii) and (iii)) are treated in a systematical
and deductive way, and empirical data are mentioned in the course of this
theoretical argument often in the form of examples or analogies in
order to support or clarify opinions and presuppositions which Aristotle
already seems to take for granted. And although Aristotles style of reasoning
seems very cautious and essayistic the rst chapter, for example, is highly
aporetic
25
it is, in fact, rather dogmatic. The general impression one gets is
that empirical evidence is primarily mentioned when it suits the argument
and if not, it is either ignored or explained away in a questionable manner.
Thus at the end of On Dreams, it turns out that the three questions raised
at the beginning are to be answered as follows:
(i) Dreams belong to the sensitive part of the soul qua imaginative part
(459 a 21); dreaming is not an operation of sense-perception but of imag-
ination, which is dened by Aristotle as the movement which occurs as
a result of actual perception (459 a 1718). This denition, together with
Aristotles use of the words phantasia, phantasma, and phainesthai, is in
broad agreement with his general theory of imagination in On the Soul,
to which he explicitly refers (459 a 15). In the course of the long argument
which leads to this conclusion, only claims (1) and (2) play a part; for the
rest, the argument is purely theoretical and logical.
(ii) How do dreams come into being? Aristotle assumes the following
mechanism: During the waking state, the sense-organs are stimulated by
a great quantity of sense-movements (stimuli brought about by sensible
objects); but not all of these movements are equally strong. The stronger
movements overrule the weaker, so that the weaker are not noticed by the
perceiving subject (460 b 28461 a 8). Aristotle assumes, however, that the
remnants of these weaker movements remain present in the sense-organs
in the form of traces. When in sleep the sense-organs have stopped being
active and as a result of this cannot receive new stimuli the remnants of
25
For an analysis see van der Eijk (1994) 368.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 183
these weaker movements, which escaped our attention in the waking state,
get, so to speak, a second chance to present themselves to the perceiving
subject. They are reactivated and come to the surface (461 a 3, 7). This is
an operation of the faculty of imagination. The physiological picture to
be drawn for this process is not completely clear, but seems to be roughly as
follows. Aristotle thinks that apart from the peripheral sense-organs (eyes,
ears, nose, etc.) there is also a central, co-ordinating sense-organ located in
the heart (the so-called principle of perception, 461 a 6, 31; 461 b 4). His
view seems to be that, normally speaking, a sensitive impulse is transmitted
from the peripheral sense-organs to the heart, where it is received, recorded
and noticed, and co-ordinated with movements fromother senses (461 a 31).
The transmitting agency is probably the blood (although this is not quite
clear from the text).
26
In the waking state, the weaker sense-movements,
which have arrived at the peripheral sense-organs during the waking state,
are prevented from reaching the heart because of the competition with
stronger movements; it is only in sleep, when the blood withdraws from
the outer parts of the body to the inner parts, that they penetrate to the
heart. The perception or noticing of these movements is dreaming in the
strict sense. Thus dreams originate from weak sense-movements, which
have entered the sense-organs in the waking state, but which were not
noticed by the perceiving subject because of their weakness in comparison
with stronger movements.
By explaining the occurrence of dreams in this way, Aristotle manages
to account for the fact that dreams often display many similarities with
what the dreamer has experienced in the waking state (because they consist
of movements received during the waking state), but that these elements
often appear in a distorted, completely unrealistic conguration due to
the physiological conditions that inuence the transmission to the heart.
In order to substantiate this explanation, Aristotle has to presuppose, rst,
that the sense-organs actually receive very slight movements and, second,
that these small movements are being preserved (s oizesthai, 461 a 25) in the
sense-organs from the moment of their arrival (in the waking state) to
the moment of their transport to the heart and subsequent appearance in
sleep.
When we look at our list of empirical data, we can see that numbers
39 are used by Aristotle in order to illustrate the mechanism of linger-
ing or persisting sense-movements after the actual perception has disap-
peared; numbers 89 point to the receptivity of the sense-organs to small
26
See 461 a 25 and b 11, 27. See van der Eijk (1994) 817 and, with reservations, Johansen (1998).
184 Aristotle and his school
sense-movements. Number 13 serves as an illustration of the extrusion of
weak movements through stronger ones. Numbers 1417 are concerned
with the physiological conditions that inuence or disturb the transport
of sense-movements from the peripheral sense-organs to the central sense-
organ. Numbers 1012 and 1820 illustrate the experiencing or noticing
of the sense-movements by the dreaming subject: the experiences of illusion
in the waking state serve as analogy for the fact that the dreaming subject
often does not notice that what (s)he experiences is only a dream.
(iii) Aristotles answer to the third question of the denition of the dream
is best studied through a quotation from the last chapter of On Dreams (462
a 1531):
ts on :c:cv ctv:cv ot ouc,iococi c:i to:i :c tvtvicv qv:couc
utv :i sci tv 0tvc :c ,cp cp:i tytv:c tocc cos to:iv tvtvic, coo
t :i cc tuutvcv :cv cionotcv qcivt:ci coot :c tv 0tvc qv:couc
tcv. tpc:cv utv ,cp tvici, ouucivti sci ciovtoci tn sci cqcv sci
c:c, sci yuuc0 sci cqn,, otvisc, utv:ci sci ccv tcppctv non ,cp
tv :c sctotiv otcttcv:t,, c nptuc tcpcv qc, :c0 yvcu sctocv-
:t,, c, ccv:c, ttt,tptv:t, too, t,vcpiocv :c :c0 yvcu cv, sci ts-
:pucvcv sci suvcv qcvnv nptuc sccv:t, t,tptv:t, ocqc, t,vcpiocv.
tvici ot sci tcspivcv:ci tpc:cutvci tvotyt:ci ,cp :c0 t,pn,cptvci sci
sctotiv ctc,, c:tpcu otpycv:c, :tpcv tn otpytiv. cv cootv tvt-
vicv qc:tcv, coo coci on tv :c 0tvc ,ivcv:ci nt, tvvcici tcpc :c qcv-
:ouc:c, c :c qv:couc :c tc :n, sivnotc, :cv cionu:cv, c:cv tv
:c sctotiv n, n sctoti, :c0: to:iv tvtvicv.
From all this we have to conclude that the dream is a sort of appearance, and,
more particularly, one which occurs in sleep; for the images just mentioned are
not dreams, nor is any other image which presents itself when the senses are free
[i.e. when we are awake]; nor is every image which occurs in sleep a dream. For, in
the rst place, some persons actually, in a certain way, perceive sounds and light
and taste and contact [while asleep], albeit faintly and as it were from far away.
For during sleep people who had their eyes half open have recognised what they
believed they were seeing in their sleep faintly as the light of the lamp, as the real
light of the lamp, and what they believed they were hearing faintly as the voice
of cocks and dogs, they recognised these clearly on awakening. Some even give
answers when being asked questions. The fact is with being awake and being asleep
that it is possible that when one of them is present without qualication, the other
is also present in a certain way. None of these [experiences] should be called dreams,
nor should the true thoughts that occur in sleep as distinct from the appearances,
but the appearance which results from the movement of the sense-effects, when
one is asleep, in so far as one is asleep, this is a dream.
Thus the dream is dened as the appearance which results from the move-
ment of the sense-effects, when one is asleep, in so far as one is asleep. The
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 185
qualication when one is asleep and in so far as one is asleep is necessary in
order to distinguish the dream from other experiences one may have in and
around sleep; and there is a pun here, for the Greek word enhupnion, which
Aristotle uses throughout for dream, literally means (something) in sleep,
en hupn oi. These other experiences have been discussed by Aristotle in the
preceding lines with the aid of examples (462 a 915): in sleep we some-
times perceive things which on awakening we recognise as being caused by
sense-movements that actually present themselves to our sense-organs, and
children often see frightening visions in the dark with their eyes open; and
as he says in the passage quoted, in transitional states of half-sleep we may
perceive weak impressions of light and sound, we may even give answers to
questions which are being asked, and we may have thoughts in sleep about
the dream image. How these experiences are physiologically possible is not
explained by Aristotle, but what he says about them is highly signicant in
theoretical respect. Sleep and waking are not absolute opposites: when one
of them is present without qualication (hapl os), the other may also be
present in a certain way (pei ). In these transitional states between sleeping
and waking, we may, after all, have some sort of direct perception of the
actual state of affairs in the external world. Aristotles recognition of this
possibility entails an implicit modication of his earlier assertions in the
rst chapter of On Sleep and Waking, where he dened sleep and waking
as opposites and sleep as the privation of waking (453 b 2627), and in
chapter 1 of On Dreams, where he said that we cannot perceive anything
in sleep. It now turns out that we may actually perceive in sleep, though
faintly and unclearly. In accordance with his dream theory, Aristotle here
insists that none of these experiences in sleep (en hupn oi ) are dreams,
that is, enhupnia in the strict sense.
A remarkably modern consequence of this view is that according to
Aristotle the state of sleeping can be divided into different stages. Aristotle
does not show any awareness of rapid eye movements; but on theoretical
grounds he assumes that the beginning of sleep is characterised by an
absence of dreams, because then, as a result of the process of digestion,
there is too much confusionand turbulence inthe body, which disturbs the
transport of sense-movements through the blood (461 a 8ff.). Appearances
that manifest themselves in that early stage are not dreams, Aristotle points
out: dreams occur later, when the blood is separated into a thinner, clearer
part and a thicker, troubled part; when this process of separation of the
blood is completed, we wake up (458 a 1025). Thus dreams are experiences
which we have when in fact we are on our way to awakening. Experiences,
however, which we have just before or simultaneously with awakening and
186 Aristotle and his school
which are caused by actual perceptions not, such as indreams, by lingering
sense-movements which derive from previous perceptions in the waking
state are not dreams, because we do not have these experiences in so far
as (hei ) we are asleep, but in so far as we are, in a sense, already awake.
This typically Aristotelian usage of the qualier hei also provides us with
an answer to the other question I raised earlier in this chapter, namely
why Aristotle does not explicitly address the possibility of other mental
experiences during sleep such as thinking and recollection. The answer
seems to be that thoughts, beliefs, perceptions, hallucinations, recollections
and indeed waking acts (egregorikai praxeis) performed while sleepwalking
(456 a 256) are not characteristic of the sleeping state: they do not happen
to the sleeper in so far as (hei ) (s)he is sleeping. They do not form part of
the dream, but they exist over and above the dream(para to enhupnion). We
cannot say, in Aristotles theory, that we think in our dream, although we
can say that we think in our sleep. The role of thought in sleep is apparently
not essentially different from that in the waking state,
27
although there is
nothing in what Aristotle says here to suggest that we might have clearer,
purer thoughts in sleep than in the waking state.
The denition of dreams that Aristotle presents here is, as I said, in
accordance with his views in On Sleep and Waking. Dreams are not actual
perceptions, rather they are, as it were, reactivated perceptions which we
received during the waking state; they are movements of sense-effects
(tv kinsewv tn asqhmtwn). Aristotle, again, differentiates between
various kinds of experience in sleep. And although the recognition that we
may after all have perceptions insleepconstitutes animportant qualication
of Aristotles initial, and repeatedly reiterated view that there is no sense-
perception in sleep, Aristotle avoids contradicting himself by saying that
although we have these perceptions while we are asleep, we do not have
them in so far as we are asleep. The point of the specications kuri os kai
hapl os in Somn. vig. 454 b 13 and tropon tina in 454 b 26 has now become
clear, and they are answered here by the specications pei and hei.
4 o n d i v i n a t i o n i n s l e e p
When we turn to the third treatise, On Divination in Sleep, however, it is
becoming increasingly less clear how Aristotle manages to accommodate
the phenomena he recognises within his theory without getting involved
in contradictions. In this work, he does accept that we sometimes foresee
the future in sleep; but his theory of dreams as expounded so far does not
give much in the way of help to explain how this can happen.
27
But see no. 201 above.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 187
Before considering the difculties that arise here, let us rst consider
Aristotles methodology in this short work. Basically, Aristotle tackles the
mysterious phenomenon in three ways:
(i) by considering the causal relationbetweenthe dreaminwhicha certain
event is foreseen, and the event that later actually happens
(ii) by considering the kinds of events that can be foreseen in sleep
(iii) by considering the kinds of people who have prophetic dreams.
He does not explicitly present these research questions at the beginning
of the treatise itself in the way he does in On Sleep and On Dreams,
although questions (i) and (ii) are included in the summary of questions
at the beginning of On Sleep and Waking, where he says that he is going to
consider
sci tc:tpcv tvotyt:ci :c utcv:c tpccpcv n cos tvotyt:ci, sci :ivc :pctcv
ti tvotyt:ci, sci tc:tpcv :c utcv:c ot vpctcv tpootoci ucvcv n
sci cv :c ociucvicv tyti :nv ci:icv sci qoti ,ivt:ci n tc :co:cu:cu. (453
b 224)
[We also need to examine] whether it is possible to foresee the future in sleep
or not, and if it is possible, in what way; and whether [it is possible to foresee]
only what will be done by human beings, or also things whose cause belongs to
the domain of what is beyond human control (to daimonion)
28
and which occur
naturally or spontaneously.
In his discussion of these issues, he once again makes a number of
empirical claims:
1. Some people foresee what will happen at the Pillars of Heracles or at the
Borysthenes (462 b 246).
2. When one is asleep, weak impulses appear stronger: weak sounds are perceived
as thunder, a tiny bit of phlegm is perceived as honey, local warmth brings
about the illusion that one goes through a re; only after awakening, one
recognises the real nature of these impulses (463 a 1118).
3. In sleep one often dreams of things one has experienced in the waking state
(463 a 224).
4. One often thinks of a person who shortly later appears (463 b 14).
5. Not only man, but also some other animals dream (463 b 12; cf. Hist. an. 536
b 27 ff. and 537 b 13).
6. Garrulous people and melancholics often have clear and prophetic dreams (463
b 1722).
7. Many dreams do not come true (463 b 22).
8. Foresight of things happening beyond the dreamers control does not occur
with intelligent people, but with those of mediocre mental capacities (463 a
1920).
28
For a discussion of this expression see van der Eijk (1994) 2916.
188 Aristotle and his school
9. Foresight is characteristic of people who are prone to anger or to melancholics
(464 a 247; 464 a 32b 5).
10. Prophetic dreams mostly concern people who are related to the dreamer (464
a 2732).
11. Images in moving water are often distorted and difcult to reconstruct (464
b 1012).
In his treatment of question (i), Aristotle in turn distinguishes three possi-
bilities:
(a) The dream may be a sign (semeion) of the event, in that it is caused
by the same factor or starting-point which also causes the future event
itself. In order to illustrate this possibility, he refers to the prognostic
use of dreams as signs in medicine, and he uses several empirical data
as evidence (no. 2), to which I shall turn shortly.
(b) The dream is a cause (aition), or indeed the cause, of the event, in that it
causes the event to happen. For example, it may happen that we dream
about an action which we actually perform the following day. Again,
empirical evidence of this is produced (no. 3): Aristotle points out that
it often happens that we dream of an action we have performed previ-
ously, and this action is the starting-point of the dream. Conversely, he
argues, we can also in our actions be motivated by a dream we have had
before.
(c) The dream coincides (sumpt oma) with the event without there being
any real connection between the occurrence of both. Aristotle compares
this with the general experience many people have that we think of a
person and that a few minutes later this person suddenly turns up (cf.
no. 4).
In his discussion of question (ii), Aristotle makes a further, fundamental
distinction between events whose origins lie within the dreamer him/herself
and events whose origins do not lie within the dreamer. A similar distinc-
tion between human agency and things happening beyond human control
was already alluded to in the preface to On Sleep and Waking quoted above.
Diseases which may affect the dreamer, and actions the dreamer himself
performs, obviously belong to the category of things whose origin (arche) is
within the dreamer; but events that are extravagant in time, place or mag-
nitude (464 a 14) such as things occurring at the Pillars of Heracles (462
b 246) obviously belong to the latter category. Aristotle connects this dis-
tinction with the results of his earlier distinction between causes, signs and
coincidences: in cases where the origin of the event lies within the dreamer,
it can be reasonably assumed that an explanation by reference to cause or
sign is plausible, but in the latter (the origin of the event lying outside the
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 189
dreamer) it is very likely that all we are dealing with is a coincidence of two
occurrences without any physical relation (463 b 111).
As for question (iii), we need to look more closely at one of the most
famous but also rather controversial passages from On Divination in
Sleep (463 b 1218)
cc, ot ttti sci :cv ccv ccv cvtipc::ti :iv, tcttut:c cos cv tn :c
tvtvic, coot ,t,cvt :c:cu ypiv, ociucvic utv:ci n ,cp qoi, ociucvic,
co tic. onutcv ot tvu ,cp to:tt, cvpctci tpccpc:isci tioi sci
toucvtipci, c, co tc0 ttutcv:c,, cocv cottp cv ti c, n quoi, to:i
sci utc,ycisn, tcv:coctc, cti, cpcoiv.
In general, since some other animals have dreams too, dreams are not sent by a god,
nor do they exist for this purpose; however, they are beyond human control, for
the nature [of the dreamer] is beyond human control, though not divine. A sign
of this is that quite simple people are inclined to having foresight and to having
clear dreams, which suggests that it is not a god who sends them, but rather that
all people who have, so to speak, a garrulous and melancholic nature, see all kinds
of visions [in their sleep].
This passage is very characteristic of Aristotles method in tackling the
phenomenon of dreams and prophecy in sleep. He rmly rejects the belief
which was generally accepted in his time, even in intellectual circles that
dreams are sent by a god. The argument he produces against this belief
consists of an intriguing combination of two empirical claims with an
a priori presupposition. The empirical claims are that some other animals
(apart from human beings) also dream (no. 5) an inference based on
the observation that dogs often bark during their sleep, as we learn from
Hist. An. 536 b 27ff. and that prophecy in sleep particularly occurs with
people of mediocre intellectual capacities (no. 6). These two claims are
combined with a rather sophisticated belief about the conditions of divine
dispensation of mantic knowledge. Aristotle silently presupposes that gods,
if they sent foreknowledge of the future to humans, would not send this to
simple-minded people but rather (or even exclusively) to the best and most
intelligent of people. This appears from another passage further on in the
treatise (464 a 1921):
sci oic :c0:c ouucivti :c tc, :c0:c :c, :uyc0oi sci co :c, qpcviuc:-
:ci, ut nutpcv :t ,cp t,ivt: cv sci :c, ocqc,, ti tc, nv c ttutcv.
And for this reason this experience [i.e. foresight of the future concerning events
whose origins lie outside the dreamer] occurs with simple people and not with the
most intelligent; for it would present itself both during the day and with intelligent
people, if it were a god who sends them.
190 Aristotle and his school
The rationale for this seems to be as follows. If the gods really granted
knowledge of the future to humans, they would distribute this knowledge
according to the extent to which people meet the criterion of being beloved
by the gods, and this means for Aristotle that a person should realise his/her
moral and intellectual virtues to the highest degree and thus approach the
divine level.
29
However, Aristotle argues, we can observe that prophetic
dreams in reality occur also (or, exclusively) with simple-minded people,
who stand on a lower moral level, and even to animals, who do not even
have reason and thus lack the capacity to realise virtue. Ergo: dreams cannot
be sent by a god.
30
Aristotle thus presupposes that people with low moral and intellectual
capacities are particularly susceptible to prophetic dreams. His favourite
example is the melancholics, whom he mentions twice because of their
remarkable foresight (cf. chapter 5 above). He explains this by reference to
their physiological constitution, which brings about a certain receptivity
to a large number and variety of appearances: the chance that they meet
with a phantasm which resembles an actual future state of affairs is, from
a statistical point of view, greater than with other people. It is entirely
unclear how Aristotle arrived at this view (there are no antecedents of this
characteristic of the melancholics in medical literature).
31
It seems, rather,
that we have a case of wishful thinking on the part of Aristotle here (and
perhaps an extrapolation of his own dreaming experiences). Of course, his
theory allows for prophecy in sleep to occur with intelligent people as well,
but then we are dealing with cases where the origin of the event foreseen in
the dream lies within the dreamer (for example, an action (s)he is going to
perform, a physical disturbance which is going to befall him/her and which
announces itself through another physical manifestation, namely, a dream).
But in those cases where the future event foreseen in the dream occurs, for
example, at the other end of the world, this must be a coincidence due
to the multiplicity of images befalling the melancholics in their sleep, he
seems to say.
The second presupposition underlying Aristotles reasoning here is of a
teleological kind: if some dreams can be shown not to be of divine origin,
then this applies to all dreams. In this way, Aristotle anticipates two possible
counter-arguments one might raise, namely that it is not necessary that all
dreams are god-sent, or that it is not necessary that all dreams are prophetic.
This kind of classication of various types of dreams is already found in
29
Cf. Eth. Nic. 1179 a 2130, discussed below in ch. 8.
30
For a parallel argument concerning good fortune (etuca) see ch. 8 below.
31
See ch. 5 above.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 191
Homer, in the well-known metaphor of the gates of horn and ivory in the
Odyssey (19.560ff.), which distinguishes between true and false dreams, and
in the Hippocratic work On Regimen quoted above, which differentiates
between dreams of a divine origin and dreams that have a physical origin.
32
However, these counter-arguments based on a classication of dreams into
different categories would not impress Aristotle: it is clearly inconceivable
for him that a god incidentally and ad hoc uses a natural phenomenon to
serve a purpose which is different from its normal, natural goal.
On the other hand, the passage also shows that Aristotle does not simply
conne himself to a rejection of a divine origin of dreams: his criticism is
directed against the specic assumption of dreams being sent by the gods,
of divine messages being sent throughthe mediumof dreams. But that does
not imply that the phenomenonis deprived of any divine aspect whatsoever.
In the sentence they are beyond human control, for the nature (of the
dreamer) is beyond human control, though not divine he recognises that
dreams still have something super-human because the natural constitution
of the dreamer, which is the cause of the dream, is itself something beyond
human control. It appears from another passage, in the preface to On Sleep
and Waking quoted above, that the word daimonios is not to be understood
in the sense of sent by demons, but in the sense of beyond human control
(the opposite, so to speak, of human, anthr opinos): what appears to us in
a dream is beyond our control, just as it is beyond our control what kind
of natural, physiological constitution we have.
It may incidentally be observed that the structure of Aristotles argument
here is strikingly similar to that found in the Hippocratic works On the
Sacred Disease and Airs, Waters, Places (see chapter 1 above). In the former
treatise, the author rejects the view that epilepsy is sent by the gods, and
one of the arguments he produces is concerned with the distribution of
the disease among different kinds of people, which he claims is different
from what one would expect if it were sent by a god. Thus in 2.45 he
says: Here is another indication that this disease is in no way more divine
than the others: it affects the naturally phlegmatic, but not those who
are choleric. Yet if it were more divine than other diseases, it would have
to occur with all sorts of people in equal manner and make no distinction
between phlegmatic and choleric. And in Airs, Waters, Places 22, the author
argues against the belief in the supernatural origin of impotence among the
Scythians, again by pointing out that the actual distribution of the afiction
(predominantly among wealthy people, who can afford horses) is exactly
32
On this distinction see van der Eijk (2004a).
192 Aristotle and his school
the opposite from what one would expect if it were sent by a god, that is,
among the poor, who are unable to please the gods by abundant sacrice
and who complain about this.
33
Again, the viewexpounded in both treatises
that epilepsy and impotence are divine, but in the sense in which all diseases
are divine, namely in having a nature, is strikingly similar to Aristotles
concession here that dreams, though not divine in the traditional sense,
are nevertheless beyond human control because the nature that produces
them is daimonios.
5 a m e d i c a l e n d o x o n
In producing examples for all this from the empirical domain, however,
Aristotle manoeuvres himself into considerable difculties, for he cites ev-
idence that, on closer inspection, falls short of fullling the strict require-
ments for dreams he had set out in On Dreams. In what follows, I will
present two examples of this, which are case studies of his adoption and
transformation of a view borrowed from others, which is accommodated
in Aristotles theory (and explained in a different way from the context
from which he derived them) and backed up by empirical evidence. I will
conclude by making some more general observations about the nature of
these difculties and possible explanations as to how they may have arisen.
First, in his explanation of how dreams can be signs, Aristotle begins by
referring to the view attributed to the more distinguished among medical
writers that dreams deserve careful attention a further indication that
Aristotle was well aware of the medical views of this time:
cp cov to:i :cv tvutvicv :c utv c:ic, :c ot onutc, ccv :cv ttpi :c ocuc
ouucivcv:cv, t,cuoi ,c0v sci :cv ic:pcv c ycpitv:t, c:i ot oqcopc
tpcotytiv :c, tvutvici, t0c,cv ot c0:c, otcctv sci :c, un :tyvi:ci,
utv, osctcuutvci, ot :i sci qicocqc0oiv. (Div. somn. 463 a 37)
Are some dreams, then, causes and others signs, for example of things happening
in the region of the body? At any rate the distinguished among doctors, too, say
that close attention should be paid to dreams. And it is reasonable for those to
think so, too, who are no experts, but inquire the matter to a certain extent and
have a general interest.
The wording of this passage sheds an interesting light on Aristotles view
on the relationship between medicine and the study of nature. The dif-
ference between the two groups referred to here (the technitai and the
philosophountes) signies a distinction between a specialised, practical as
33
For a full discussionof the argument here see vander Eijk (1991) and (1994) 2945. See also Hankinson
(1998c), who makes the same point.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 193
opposed to a non-expert, theoretical approach, that is, between knowledge
being pursued with a view to its use or application in a particular case, and
knowledge being pursued for its own sake.
34
The verb philosophein does
not have the narrow meaning of practising philosophy; it rather means be
interested in, want to know, study,
35
and as such it seems almost equiva-
lent to the verb skopeisthai (inquire) in the same context.
36
Philosophountes
here denotes people with a theoretical and a more general, non-specialised
interest.
The viewmentionedhere is attributedto the distinguishedamong physi-
cians (charientes t on iatr on). This expression calls for some explanation.
37
Charieis basically means pleasing, charming, appealing to someones taste,
but the word is frequently used to refer to an intrinsic quality in virtue
of which someone is pleasing: hence we may consider translations such as
elegant, rened, sophisticated, cultivated, civilised, liberal-minded. Per-
haps distinguished covers both aspects most appropriately. In Aristotles
works, we sometimes nd the expression hoi charientes,
38
which denotes a
group of people who are distinguished from hoi polloi (the crowd) and hoi
phortik otatoi (the vulgar or the mean).
39
There are also instances where
the word seems to refer to intellectual qualities such as cleverness and skil-
fulness.
40
The question is, therefore, in what sense the doctors mentioned
here are distinguished from other doctors.
The point of this reference to medical writers and the terminology in
which it is cast become clearer from a comparison with two other passages
from the Parva naturalia, namely from the treatises On Sense Perception and
Perceptible Objects and On Respiration:
34
Cf. the distinction between episteme and techne in Metaph. 981 b 14982 a 3 and between practical
and theoretical sciences in Eth. Nic. 1139 b 191140 a 24. Strictly speaking, medicine counts as a
productive art (poietike techne), since its purpose, i.e. health, is distinct from the activity of healing
(cf. Eth. Nic. 1140 a 123; Mag. mor. 1197 a 3; Pol. 1254 a 2), but the difference between practical and
productive arts, not always being relevant for Aristotles purposes, is not always clearly explained (cf.
Rh. 1362 b 4; Pol. 1325 b 18).
35
For numerous examples see H. Bonitz, Index Aristotelicus, 820 b 25ff.; a number of instances are
listed by Bonitz under the heading angustiore sensu, i q philosophari, but many of these may be
questioned: there is, for instance, no distinction in Aristotle between natural science and natural
philosophy (e.g. Part. an. 640 b 5).
36
Cf. the use of periergos in the passage from On Respiration (quoted below).
37
There is great variety in translations of this expression; some examples: accomplished physicians
(Hett); scientic physicians (Beare); les m edecins les plus distingu es (Mugnier); les plus habiles
m edecins (Tricot); die tiefer angelegten
Arzte (Rolfes); ii qui inter medicos sunt peritiores (Siwek);
medici elegantiores (Bussemaker); clever doctors (Ross); i medici pi` u accorti (Lanza).
38
E.g. Eth. Nic. 1095 a 18; 1095 b 22.
39
See Eth. Nic. 1127 b 23; 1128 a 15; 1128 a 31; Pol. 1320 b 7.
40
See Eth. Nic. 1128 a 15; Pol. 1320 b 7; other instances are listed by LSJ, s.v. i i , who render by
accomplished.
194 Aristotle and his school
It is further the task of the student of nature to study the rst principles of health
and disease; for neither health nor disease can occur with that which is deprived
of life. For this reason one can say that most of those people who study nature end
with a discussion of medicine, just as those doctors who practise their discipline
in a more inquisitive way (philosoph oter os) start dealing with medicine on the basis
of principles derived from the study of nature. (Sens. 436 a 17b 2)
Concerning life and death and the subjects kindred to this inquiry our discussion
is practically complete. As for health and disease, it is the business not only of
the doctor but also of the student of nature to discuss their causes up to a certain
point. However, in what sense they are different and study different things, should
not be ignored, since the facts prove that their discussions are to a certain extent
contiguous: those doctors who are ingenious and inquisitive do have something to
say about nature and think it important to derive the principles of their discipline
from the study of nature; and concerning those students of nature who are most
distinguished, one may well say that they end with the principles of medicine.
(Resp. 480 b 2231)
In these passages Aristotle says that it belongs to the task of the student
of nature (phusikos) to deal also with health and disease, because health
and disease are characteristics of living beings.
41
However, this interest is
limited to a discussion of the principles or the causes of health and disease.
42
Those who do so are called the most distinguished students of nature; the
same word charieis is used here as in the passage from On Divination in
Sleep, where it is said of doctors. He further remarks that there are doctors
who base their medical practice on the principles of the study of nature in
general: these are called the doctors who practise their discipline in a more
inquisitive way (philosoph oter os) and who are ingenious and inquisitive.
This is reasonable, he says, because natural science and medicine, though
being different and studying different things, are contiguous (sunoroi): up
to a certain point their procedures run parallel or even overlap.
In a passage from the Nicomachean Ethics we nd the same expression as
in On Divination in Sleep:
clearly it is the task of the student of politics to have some acquaintance with the
study of the soul, just as the doctor who is to heal the eye should also know about
the body as a whole, and all the more since politics is a higher and more honourable
art than medicine; and among doctors those who are distinguished devote much
41
I.e. animals and plants. The scope of the Parva naturalia is the affections experienced by beings that
possess soul, e.g. life and death, youth and old age, respiration, sense-perception, sleep, dreaming,
memory, recollection. See the preface to On Sense Perception and the discussion in van der Eijk (1994)
6872.
42
Similar remarks about the limited interest of medicine for the student of nature are to be found in
Long. et brev. vitae 464 b 32ff. and Part. an. 653 a 8ff.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 195
attention to the study of the human body. Therefore the student of politics should
also study the nature of the soul, though he will do so with a view to these subjects,
and only so far as is sufcient for the objects he is discussing; for further precision
is perhaps more laborious than our purposes require. (1102 a 1826)
It turns out that both doctors and natural scientists are called distinguished
by Aristotle in virtue of their tendency to cross the boundaries of their own
discipline. For the doctors, this means that they take an interest in the body
as a whole
43
and build their procedures on theoretical knowledge of the
causes of bodily processes and the structures and functions of the parts the
body consists of. Aristotle praises them for this and, as a consequence, ac-
knowledges that these doctors may even contribute to the study of nature.
44
This is probably the overlap mentioned in the passage in On Respiration.
It is at least one of the reasons why he takes their view about the relevance
of dreams for his discussion of prophecy in sleep quite seriously. It is not
difcult to imagine the candidates to whom these expressions may refer:
the writers of On Regimen and On Fleshes would no doubt come into the
picture, and outside the Hippocratic corpus perhaps Diocles.
45
The wording of the passage further implies that according to Aristotle
not all doctors belong to this group: there are also doctors who primarily or
exclusively rely on experience and who are ignorant of or even explicitly
hostile towards theoretical presuppositions. A similar distinction between
more or less theoretical approaches in the sciences is made in Metaphysics
1.1, where Aristotle uses the example of medicine to distinguish between the
master craftsmen (architektones) and the handworkers (cheirotechnai); the
former are the real possessors of a techne in that they know (in the case of
medicine) the causes of diseases and of the effects of therapeutic measures,
so that they can give an account of why they are curing a patient in a par-
ticular way, but the latter only work on the basis of experience
46
although
43
The background of this passage is provided by a passage in Platos Charmides (156 b 3c 5), where
mention is made of the good physicians (hoi agathoi iatroi) who practise their discipline from a
broader, more theoretical perspective.
44
This is a remarkably generous statement, but it remains a far cry from the opinion of the author of
the Hippocratic treatise On Ancient Medicine ch. 20, who says that medicine is the only way to arrive
at knowledge of nature.
45
See Diocles, fragments 52 and 61 vdE.
46
Metaph. 981 a 12b 14. Perhaps the distinction of charientes iatroi also has a social aspect, in that they
belong to a higher class. As for a class distinction of doctors as made by Aristotle in Pol. 1282 a 34
(on which see Kudlien 1985), however, it seems to me for the reasons mentioned that they are
closer to the iatroi architektonikoi than to the iatroi pepaideumenoi, for the latter are generalists with
an encyclopaedic knowledge of medicine rather than experienced practitioners. The use of the word
pepaideumenos by Aristotle usually has to do with an awareness of the methodological limits of a
certain discipline (see Jori 1995), whereas the word charieis is used to refer to people who enrich their
discipline by crossing its boundaries; on the other hand, in the passage from Nicomachean Ethics
196 Aristotle and his school
Aristotle also recognises that the latter are often more successful in practical
therapy than the former.
The passage from On Respiration further mentions differences between
distinguished doctors and distinguished students of nature. These are not
explained by Aristotle, but they probably have to do with the difference
between theoretical and practical sciences mentioned above (differences
of interest, such as the lack of therapeutic details in the account of the
natural scientist, as well as different degrees of accuracy). Moreover, his
remark that the more distinguished natural philosophers end by studying
the principles of health and disease, whereas distinguished doctors are
praised for starting with principles derived from natural science, seems
to imply a certain hierarchy or priority of importance, which is hardly
surprising given Aristotles general preference for theoretical knowledge.
This would correspond with the fact that the discussion of health and
disease (Peri hugieias kai nosou) was apparently planned by Aristotle at
the end of the series of treatises which we know as the Parva naturalia.
The treatise has not survived, and it is not even certain that it was ever
written.
47
It is at any rate clear that in this treatise medical topics were, or
would have been, discussed from the point of view of the study of nature:
the treatise would probably deal with the principles of physiology, the
causes of disturbances of the equilibrium between warm and cold, and the
formation and the role of the residues (peritt omata). But it would no doubt
refrain from worked-out nosological descriptions and from extended and
detailed prescriptions on prognostics and therapeutics.
48
Thus Aristotles views on the relation between natural science and
medicine are quite specic. He obviously approves of doctors who build
their practice on principles of natural science, but he also acknowledges
that more empirically minded doctors often have greater therapeutic suc-
cess. He further praises those liberal-minded students of nature (among
whom he implicitly counts himself ) who deal with the principles of health
and disease. He obviously prefers the study of nature rather than medicine,
because the former is concerned with universals, the latter with particu-
lars, and because the former reaches a higher degree of accuracy, but he
quoted above Aristotle credits the liberal-minded student of politics with a similar awareness of a
limited degree of accuracy in his interest in psychology: one might say that this implies a comparable
awareness with the distinguished doctors with regard to their use of principles derived from the
study of nature.
47
On this see Marenghi (1961) 145ff.; Tracy (1969) 161ff.; Strohmaier (1983); Longrigg (1995); R. A. H.
King (2001); see also ch. 9 below.
48
It should be stressed that this does not imply that Aristotle did not devote more specialised treatises
to medical questions. See ch. 9 below.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 197
also recognises that even medicine may contribute to the study of na-
ture (a fact he hardly could ignore, given the large amount of anatomi-
cal and physiological information preserved in the Hippocratic writings).
This explains his readiness to incorporate medical views into his own
writings.
Having considered his theoretical position on the relationship between
medicine and the study of nature, let us now turn to the practice of the
inquisitive non-specialist Aristotle in his discussion of the prognostic value
of dreams. For although the distinguished doctors opinion is a reputable
view and as such an important indication that there are, in fact, dreams
which play the part of signs of bodily events, the rational justication
(eulogon) for the natural scientists sharing this view does not lie in the
doctors authority, but in the fact that he can give an explanation for it.
The explanation which follows makes use of empirical claims but is also
based on Aristotles own theory of dreams.
For the fact is that movements occurring in the daytime, if they are not very great
and powerful, escape our notice in comparison with greater movements occurring
in the waking state. But in sleep the opposite happens: then it is even the case
that small movements appear to be great. This is evident from what often happens
during sleep: people think that it is lightning and thundering, when there are only
faint sounds in their ears, and that they are enjoying honey and sweet avours
when a tiny bit of phlegm is running down their throats, and that they go through
a re and are tremendously hot when a little warmth is occurring around certain
parts of the body. But when they wake up, they plainly recognise that these things
are of this nature. Consequently, since of all things the beginnings are small, it is
evident that also of diseases and of other affections which are going to occur in the
body, the beginnings are small. It is obvious, then, that these are necessarily more
clearly visible in sleep than in the waking state. (Div. somn. 463 a 721)
It would seem that Aristotles account perfectly meets his requirements for
the dream being a sign of the event, that is, the disease. We have a starting-
point (e.g. a physical disturbance which causes pain) which is going to
produce a disease in the future and which also, at present, causes a dream
image. If the dream is correctly interpreted, it can be reduced to its cause,
which can be recognised as the cause of an imminent disease. Aristotle pays
no attention to the rules for such a correct interpretation of dreams; he
only analyses the causal structure of the relationship between the dream
and the event foreseen in it. This analysis is based on two principles. The
rst is one of the corner stones of his theory of dreams as set out in On
Dreams (460 b 28ff.), namely that small movements become manifest more
clearly in sleep than in waking; this is because in the waking state these
198 Aristotle and his school
small movements escape our notice because they are overruled by more
powerful ones, whereas in sleep, as a result of the lack of input of strong
actual movements, the small ones get a chance to present themselves. This
principle is demonstrated by means of a number of examples derived from
common experience (no. 2 on the list above). The second principle is that
the origins of all things (including diseases) are small and therefore belong
to the category of small movements. The two principles are combined in
the form of a syllogism at the end of the paragraph.
These points are most relevant for an assessment of what Aristotle is do-
ing in the passage under discussion. It has, of course, long been recognised
by commentators that the sentence 463 a 45 may very well be a reference
to the Hippocratic treatise On Regimen, the fourth book of which deals
with dreams and which I quoted at the beginning of this chapter. Although
the Hippocratic Corpus contains several examples of the use of dreams as
prognostic or diagnostic clues,
49
we nowhere nd such an explicit theoret-
ical foundation of this as in this book. It is chronologically possible and
plausible that Aristotle knew this treatise, because other places in the Parva
naturalia show a close similarity of doctrine to On Regimen.
50
That he is
referring to it here becomes more likely when we consider that the writer
of On Regimen certainly meets Aristotles requirements for being a charieis
iatros. Moreover, the authors approach must have appealed to Aristotle for
the very fact that the interest of dreams is that they reveal the causes of
diseases.
However, these similarities should not conceal the fundamental differ-
ence of approach between the medical writer and Aristotle. This difference
not only manifests itself in that Aristotle, as a natural scientist, is only inter-
ested in the causal relationship between the dream and the event, whereas
On Regimen is primarily a text about regimen (both from a preventive and
from a therapeutic point of view), which explains the great amount of de-
tailed attention paid to the interpretation of the contents of dreams and
to prescriptions about preventive dietetic measures. The most important
difference lies in the psycho-physiological explanation of the signicance
of dreams given by the two authors. The author of On Regimen appeals to
a rather dualistic conception of the relation between soul and body, of the
type referred to earlier on in this chapter:
49
See the instances listed in van der Eijk (1994) 279. The most explicit statement apart fromOn Regimen
86 is ch. 45 of the treatise On Sevens, but this is considered by most scholars to be post-Aristotelian.
50
On this see W. D. Ross (1955) 567, who points out that Aristotles comparison of the heart-lung
system to a double bellows [in De respiratione 480 a 203] is clearly borrowed from Vict.; see also
Byl (1980) 321 n. 32 and 325, and Lef` evre (1972) 20314.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 199
For when the body is awake, the soul is its servant: it is divided among many parts
of the body and is never on its own, but assigns a part of itself to each part of the
body: to hearing, sight, touch, walking, and to acts of the whole body; but the
mind is never on its own. However, when the body is at rest, the soul, being set
in motion and awake, administers its own household and of itself performs all the
acts of the body. For the body when asleep has no perception; but the soul, which
is awake, cognises all things: it sees what is visible, hears what is audible, walks,
touches, feels pain, ponders, though being only in a small space. All functions of
the body or of the soul are performed by the soul during sleep. Whoever, therefore,
knows how to interpret these acts correctly, knows a great part of wisdom. (On
Regimen 4.86)
He presents soul and body as two separate entities which co-operate in the
waking state but whose co-operation ends in sleep.
51
Aristotle, however,
views the soul as the principle of organisation of all bodily functions, the
formal apparatus which enables every organism to live and to realise its
various functions. It would be impossible for Aristotle to say as the writer
of On Regimen does that in sleep the body is at rest but that the soul
works. Sleep is for Aristotle an affection of the complex of soul and body
due to the heating and cooling of food and preventing the animal from
perceiving actual sense movements.
It is obvious, therefore, that we cannot say that Aristotle is inuenced here
by the medical writers views on dreams. It would be more appropriate to
say that the non-specialised student of nature gives a theoretical explanation
or even a justication of the view held by the distinguished doctors; this
justication is given entirely in Aristotles own terminology and based on his
own presuppositions (the two principles mentioned above). This procedure
is completely in accordance with his general views on the relation between
natural science and medicine discussed above.
However, the incorporation of the medical view on the prognostic value
of dreams into his own theory of sleep and dreams does confront Aristotle
with a difculty which he does not seem to address very successfully. For,
as we have seen above, in On Dreams Aristotle says that dreams are based
on the remnants of small sensitive movements which we receive in the
waking state but do not notice at the time, because they are overruled by
more powerful movements which claim all our attention. Yet during sleep,
when the input of stronger competing sensitive movements has stopped,
the remnants of these small movements come to the surface and present
themselves to us in the form of dreams. As I have already said, it is exactly
this mechanism to which Aristotle seems to refer in Div. somn. 463 a 711.
51
On this conception see Cambiano (1980) 8796.
200 Aristotle and his school
But the problem is that the empirical examples of this mechanism given in
the following lines seem to belong to a different category. The experiences
of hearing thunder, tasting sweet avours and going through a re are
apparently the result of movements in the body which present themselves
at the time of sleep. These movements are not the remnants of movements
which have occurred during the daytime but which were overruled then,
but they are actual movements which take place at the moment of sleep
and which are noticed at the moment that they occur.
Now, as we have seen, Aristotle in On Dreams acknowledges that this
kind of perception may take place in sleep; but he immediately adds the
qualication that this kind of perception is not a dream (an enhupnion) in
the strict sense of the word, whereas that is the word he is using here in On
Divination in Sleep. Moreover, in the present passage Aristotle states that we
perceive these movements more clearly in sleep than in the waking state,
whereas the examples of the borderline experiences he gives in On Dreams
are said to be perceived faintly and as it were from far away.
There are several ways to cope with this problem, none of which, how-
ever, are free from difculties.
52
We might consider the possibility that the
experiences mentioned here are not examples of dreams, but effects of a
more general mechanism which is operative in sleep, and of which dreams
are a different species. In this respect the transition from line 10 to 11 may
be understood and paraphrased with some exaggeration as follows: for
then it even happens that small movements (no matter whether they are
remnants of earlier perceptions or actual impressions) appear stronger than
they really are. The word even (kai) may then be taken as pointing to
the fact that the examples which follow demonstrate more than is really
necessary for Aristotles purpose. What is necessary for the argument is
that the small movements which escaped our notice in the waking state
become manifest to us in sleep. What is redundant in it is, rst, that all
kinds of small movements (i.e. both remnants of small movements from the
waking state and small movements which actually occur to us when we are
asleep) manifest themselves more clearly in sleep than in the waking state
and, secondly, that these small movements appear stronger than they really
are.
52
I leave aside the interpretation according to which the experiences mentioned here are, after all,
remnants of actual sense impressions received during the waking state, in which case there would
be no inconsistency with On Dreams. This interpretation, however, seems unlikely: the present
participles gignomen on, katarrheontos, gignomenes, as well as the fact that no example from the visual
domain is given, surely indicate that the occurrence of the stimulus and its experience by the sleeper
are simultaneous.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 201
However, a similar problempresents itself further down in the text, when
Aristotle considers yet another possible explanation for the phenomenon
of divination in sleep; and again the difculty arises while accommo-
dating the view of another thinker, in this case the atomist philosopher
Democritus.
6 a d e m o c r i t e a n e l e m e n t
As for dreams that do not have origins of the nature we just described, but origins
that are extravagant in time, place or size, or in none of these respects but without
those who see the dream having the origin in themselves if foresight of the
future [in these cases] does not occur as a result of coincidence, the explanation
is more likely to be as follows than as Democritus says, who adduces idols and
emanations as causes. Just as when something sets water in motion or air, and this
moves something else, and when the one has stopped exercising motion, such a
movement continues until it reaches a certain point where the original moving
agent is not present, likewise nothing prevents a certain movement and sense-
perception from arriving at the dreaming souls, proceeding from the objects from
which Democritus says the idols and the emanations proceed, and in whatever
way they arrive, [nothing prevents them from being] more clearly perceptible at
night because during the day they are scattered more easily for at night the air
is less turbulent because there is less wind at night and from bringing about
sense-perception in the body because of sleep, for the same reason that we also
perceive small movements inside us better when we are asleep than when we are
awake. These movements cause appearances, on the basis of which people foresee
the future even about these things. (Div. somn. 464 a 619)
Unfortunately, we do not have much information on Democritus views on
prophetic dreams that would allow us to check what Aristotle is attributing
to him,
53
but it seems that Aristotle is largely sympathetic to it, though with
the adaptation that instead of Democritus idols and emanations (eid ola
kai aporrhoiai) he favours movements (kineseis) as the mediating factors.
Furthermore, Aristotle says explicitly that the explanation offered for these
extravagant cases of foresight is built on the assumption that they are not
due to coincidence (e m p sumptmatov gnetai t proorn). Thus
he is offering an alternative explanation for cases of foresight which earlier
on he attributed to coincidence (463 b 111) and this was apparently also
what Democritus was doing. The experiences mentioned here are clearly
derived from sources outside the dreamers body, which emit movements
that, after travelling over a great distance, reach the soul in sleep; and they
can do so more easily at night because, Aristotle says, there is less wind
53
See van der Eijk (1994) 31012 for a discussion and fuller references.
202 Aristotle and his school
at night and because in sleep we perceive these slight movements more
clearly than in the waking state. Aristotle does not say to which category
the dreams discussed here belong, but it seems that, if the category of
coincidence (sumpt oma) is eliminated, these dreams stand to the events
they predict in a relationship of signs (semeia), and that both the event and
the dream go back to a common cause.
It is difcult, however, to see how the experiences described here can be
accommodated within Aristotles theory of sleep and dreams. They clearly
do not full the requirements for dreams as posited in On Dreams; nor
do they seem to belong to the category of borderline experiences, because,
again, Aristotle stipulates that they appear to us stronger than in the waking
state. Unless we were to assume that Aristotle is contradicting himself, we
might prefer to accept that in addition to dreams and to the borderline
experiences of hearing faint sounds and suchlike, he recognises yet another
kind of experience during sleep and that, by calling these experiences en-
hupnia, he uses the term in a less specic, more general sense than the strict
sense in which it was used in On Dreams. After all, as I have said, the word
enhupnion basically means something in sleep, and this could be used both
at a more general and at a more specic level. But in that case, very little is
left of Aristotles initial, a priori assumption that sleep is an incapacitation
of the sensitive part of the soul, for it turns out that we are perfectly well
capable of perceiving these movements while asleep, provided that the at-
mospheric conditions are favourable. Nor is it open here to Aristotle to say
that these movements originating from remote places such as the Pillars of
Heracles are perceived by us not in so far as we are asleep but in so far
as we are, in a certain way, already awake: in fact, Aristotle explicitly says
that we receive these stimuli because we are asleep indeed, they cause
perception because of sleep (asqhsin poiosin di tn pnon), which
seems in blatant contradiction to everything he has said in On Sleep.
A different approach to this problem is to seek an explanation for these
apparent inconsistencies in what Charles Kahn has called the progressive
nature of the exposition in Aristotles argument.
54
In the course of his ar-
gument, Aristotle sometimes arrives at explanations or conclusions which
implicitly modify or qualify things he has said earlier on without recognis-
ing this explicitly or revising his earlier formulations. Instead, he simply
goes on, eager to explain as much as he can and carried away by the sub-
tlety and explanatory power of his theories, but without bothering to tell us
how these explanations t in with what he has said earlier on. This may be
54
Kahn (1966).
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 203
an argumentative, dialectic or perhaps even didactic strategy (we should
not forget that Aristotles extant works derive from the teaching practice,
and that they are very likely to have been supplemented by additional
oral elucidation). Alternatively, it may be a matter of intellectual temper-
ament or style. However this may be, it is undeniable that Aristotle in his
works on sleep and dreams, as in his biological works at large, sometimes
shows himself an improviser of ad hoc explanations, constantly prepared to
adapt his theories to what the phenomena suggest. This inevitably means
a lower degree of systematicity than we would perhaps regard as desirable;
on the other hand, the elasticity of his explanations, and his readiness to
accommodate new empirical observations, are things for which he is to be
commended.
Lack of systematicity is, to a varying extent, characteristic of many Aris-
totelian works and can also be observed in other parts of the Parva naturalia,
both within and between the individual treatises that make up the series.
But it seems to obtain particularly to On Divination in Sleep,
55
which is
in general a less technical treatise whose degree of accuracy, both in scien-
tic terminology
56
and in the description of psycho-physiological details,
is rather low in comparison with the other two works. Instead, it shows
what could be called a more dialectical character. Aristotle approaches the
problem of divination in sleep from different perspectives, but he offers
neither a denition nor a comprehensive explanatory account. The text
has a strongly polemical tone and is for a substantial part devoted to an
assessment of current views on the subject, such as the view (referred to and
criticised three times) that dreams are sent by the gods, or the view held by
the distinguished doctors, or the theory of Democritus.
55
As for systematicity, it is of course true that a discussionof the topic of prophecy insleep is announced,
as we have seen above, in the preface to On Sleep and Waking (453 b 224), and that On Divination
in Sleep refers, at one point (464 b 910), back to On Dreams (461 a 14ff.). Yet not too much weight
should be attached to these cross-references, as they may easily have been added at a later, editorial
stage; besides, the preface to On Sleep and Waking presents a programme of questions that is somewhat
different from what is actually being offered in what follows, and this also applies to On Dreams.
Thus the beginning of On Sleep and Waking announces a discussion of the question why people who
sleep sometimes dream and sometimes do not dream, or, alternatively, if they always dream, why
they cannot always remember their dreams (453 b 1820); but these questions can hardly be regarded
as central to On Dreams, where they are addressed only in passing (in 461 a 13) and incompletely (in
462 a 31b 11, a passage that itself, too, shows signs of a hastily added appendix). Such discrepancies
between programme and execution need not, however, be due to later editorial additions, for it is,
again, not uncharacteristic of Aristotles works for there to be discrepancies between programme and
execution.
56
E.g. the use of aisthanesthai in the wide sense of notice, be aware of (464 a 10, 15, 17), or the
reference to perception arriving at the dreaming souls (asqhsin fiknesqai prv tv yucv tv
nupniazosav) in 464 a 10.
204 Aristotle and his school
This polemical nature may also be related to the fact that Aristotle has a
rather lowestimationof the importance or value of dreams. As his discussion
shows, and in particular the passage from 463 b 1218 quoted above, dreams
do not have any cognitive or moral signicance and do not contribute in
any way to the full realisation of human virtues. True, Aristotle concedes
that in some cases foresight in sleep is possible, but this is not to be taken
in the sense of a special kind of knowledge which some people possess, but
rather in the straightforward sense of foreseeing, in a somewhat accidental
and uncontrollable manner, what later actually happens. He does not assign
a nal cause to dreaming, and the answer to the question of the purpose
of dreams is only given in a negative way. In the passage 463 b 14 discussed
above, Aristotle says that dreams do not exist for this purpose, to serve
as a kind of medium for divine messages. His own view seems to be that
dreams simply exist as a necessary (i.e. non-purposive) side-effect of two
other activities and experiences of living beings, namely sense-perception
and sleeping, both of which do have a purpose, sense-perception being
essential to living beings, and sleep serving the purpose of providing the
necessary rest from the continuous activity of the sense-organs.
This lack of a teleological explanation is not something to be surprised
at, for as Aristotle himself says, one should not ask for a nal cause with
everything, for some things simply exist or occur as a result of other things
or occurrences.
57
The only conceivable candidate for being the nal cause of
dreams divination meets with scepticismon Aristotles part. Foresight in
sleep is not an intellectual or cognitive virtue in the sense of the Aristotelian
notion of excellence (arete ); on the contrary, it occurs with people whose
intellectual powers are, for some reason, weakened or inactive. Prophecy in
sleep is a matter of luck and belongs to the domain of chance: it escapes
human control, and its correctness can only be established afterwards, when
the event that was foreseen has actually taken place. Mantic knowledge is
not knowledge in the strict sense (for many dreams do not come true,
463 b 2231), and the insights gained by it, if correct, are at best accidental
insights, which only concern the that, not the because: they only point to
the existence or occurrence of something without providing an explanation
for this.
This lowestimation provides an additional reason why Aristotle shows so
little interest in the contents and the meaning of dreams, which was one of
the questions with which this investigation started. It will have become clear
that the omissions in Aristotles discussion of dreams that I mentioned at
57
Part. an. 677 a 1619.
Aristotle on sleep and dreams 205
the beginning can better be understood both in the light of the framework
of the study of nature in which his discussion takes place and in the light
of his overall attitude towards the phenomenon in the wider context of his
psychology and ethical theory. From this point of view, we can arrive at a
more appropriate assessment of Aristotles achievement in the study of sleep
and dreams. The strength of Aristotles treatment lies, in my view, in his
highly intelligent and systematic approach, as it is reected in the shrewd
and original questions he asks. His use of empirical material does not, to be
sure, always concord with all criteria that we, from a modern point of view,
might think desirable for a truly scientic investigation; and his optimistic
tone throughout both treatises, suggesting that everything is clear and only
waiting to be explained by the master, does not quite do justice to his
struggle with the perplexing phenomenon of prophecy in sleep which
he, not surprisingly, is unable to explain satisfactorily. Yet when measuring
Aristotles achievement in comparison with what was known and believed
in his own time, we have good reasons to be impressed. His works on sleep
and dreams are without any doubt the most intelligent extant treatment of
the subject in classical literature.
c h a p t e r 7
The matter of mind: Aristotle on the biology of
psychic processes and the bodily aspects of thinking
1 p s y c h o l o g y , b i o l o g y , a n d v a r i a t i o n s
i n c o g n i t i v e p e r f o r m a n c e s
Although Aristotles On the Soul (De anima ) has for centuries been regarded
as a metaphysical rather than a physical, or as a philosophical rather
than a scientic, work, there seems nowadays to be a consensus among
students of his psychology as to the thoroughly biological status of the
theory set forth there.
1
This may have to do with recent developments in
the philosophy of mind, but it is probably also related to a reassessment
of the importance of Aristotles zoological writings (i.e. History of Animals
(Hist. an.), Parts of Animals (Part. an.), Generation of Animals (Gen. an.),
Progression of Animals (De incessu animalium, IA) and Movement of Animals
(De motu an.)) and to a growing conviction among students of Aristotles
biology concerning the interrelatedness of what were traditionally called
the psychological writings of Aristotle (i.e. On the Soul and parts of the
Parva naturalia) and the zoological works. There also seems to be a general
agreement as to the basic consistency of Aristotles psychological theory, or
at least a tendency to explain apparent contradictions between On the Soul
and the Parva naturalia on the one hand, and statements related to the
soul in the zoological writings on the other (or between On the Soul and
the Parva naturalia, or between different sections of the Parva naturalia)
as the result of differences of method, approach, or argumentative strategy
of particular treatises or contexts rather than in terms of a development in
Aristotles psychological ideas.
2
This chapter was rst published in W. Kullmann and S. F ollinger (eds.), Aristotelische Biologie. Inten-
tionen, Methoden, Ergebnisse (Stuttgart, 1997) 22158.
1
See, e.g., Kahn (1966) 46ff.; Sorabji (1974) 656.
2
For a convenient summary of the older discussion initiated by Nuyens (1948) and applied to the
Parva naturalia by Drossaart Lulofs (1947) and Block (1961a) see Fortenbaugh (1967) 31627. The
compatibility of instrumentalism and hylomorphism was stressed by Kahn (1966); Lef` evre (1972)
and (1978); and for the Parva naturalia by Wiesner (1978); and Wijsenbeek-Wijler (1976). See also
206
Aristotle on the matter of mind 207
This consensus might easily give rise to the view that there is no such
thing as an Aristotelian psychology, or at least that psychology more or less
coincides with, or forms part of, biology inthat it represents aninvestigation
of animals (and plants) qua living beings, that is, ensouled natural things.
Although this view is, in my opinion, not entirely correct (see below),
it is in general accordance with Aristotles belief that the study of soul
contributes greatly to the study of nature,
3
his denitionof soul as the form
of the body
4
and his programmatic statement that all psychic affections
(paqmata) are forms embedded in matter (lgoi nuloi).
5
For these
statements clearly imply that psychology, in Aristotles view, amounts to
psycho-physiology, an analysis of both the formal and the material (i.e.
bodily) aspects of psychic functions. The fact that in On the Soul itself we
hear relatively little of these bodily aspects
6
might then be explained as a
result of a deliberate distribution and arrangement of information over On
the soul and the Parva naturalia, which should be seen as complementary
parts of a continuous psycho-physiological account which is in its turn
complementary to the zoological works.
7
A very welcome consequence of this point of view could be that students
of Aristotles psychology pay more systematic attention to what the zoolog-
ical works have to say on the (bodily) conditions for the actual functioning
of the psychic powers identied in On the Soul (nutrition, growth, loco-
motion, desire, sense-perception, imagination, thinking). Thus the present
chapter will deal with Aristotles views on the bodily aspects of think-
ing, and it will attempt to show that although thinking, according to
Aristotle, is perhaps itself a non-physical process, bodily factors have a
much more signicant part to play in it than has hitherto been recognised.
In their turn, students of Aristotles zoological writings might feel an in-
creasing need to relate Aristotles views on bodily parts and structures of
organisms explicitly to the psychic functions they are supposed to serve,
Hardie (1964); Tracy (1969) and (1983); Verbeke (1978); Hartman (1977); Modrak (1987). This is
not to say that developmental approaches to Aristotles psychology have entirely disappeared; on
certain specic topics, such as the various discussions in On the Soul and the Parva naturalia of the
common sense and its physiological aspects, there is still disagreement about how to account for the
discrepancies; a developmental explanation is offered by Welsch (1987), a very important book which
seems to have gone virtually unnoticed by Anglo-American scholarship on Aristotles psychology, and
by Block (1988).
3
De an. 402 a 56.
4
De an. 412 a 1921.
5
De an. 403 a 25.
6
To be sure, physical aspects of the various psychic powers are referred to occasionally in De an., e.g.
in 417 a 45; 420 a 9ff.; 421 b 27422 a 7; 422 b 1; 423 a 2ff. Brief references in De an. to the heart as
centre of psychic activity are discussed by Tracy (1983).
7
See Kahn (1966) 68: Thus the physiology of the Parts of Animals and the psychology of the De Anima
are fully compatible, and they are in fact united in the psychophysiology of the Parva Naturalia.
208 Aristotle and his school
and to take into account the overarching framework of principal activities
and affections (prxeiv ka pqh) of living beings for the sake of which,
according to Aristotle, these parts and processes exist or occur.
8
The result might well be a more complete picture of Aristotles views
on what it means to be a living being, that is to say, on how the various
constituents that make up a living entity are interrelated. For, as Aristotle
himself indicates, a purely formal description of psychic powers and pro-
cesses is insufcient for at least two reasons. First, as he repeatedly stresses
(apparently in polemics against the Pythagoreans), the connection of a cer-
tain psychic function with a certain bodily structure (an organ such as the
eye, a process such as heating) is by no means coincidental; on the contrary,
the bodily basis should have a certain nature or be in a certain condition in
order to enable the exercise of a certain psychic power (e.g. perception).
9
Secondly, the material, bodily embedding of psychic functions accounts
for the occurrence of variations (diafora) both in the distribution of
these functions over various kinds of animals and in their exercise. These
variations may exist, or occur, among different species, but also among in-
dividual members of one species, or among types of individuals within one
species, or even within one individual organism at different moments or
states (e.g. sleep versus waking, drunkenness versus sobriety). As this chap-
ter will try to show, variations in intellectual capacities and performances
among different kinds of animals, among different members of one kind or
even within one individual on different occasions are explained by Aristotle
with a reference to bodily factors.
10
This raises the interesting question of
the causal relationship between these intellectual performances and the
bodily conditions corresponding to them, both in abnormal cases and in
normal ones, and how the formmatter distinction is to be applied in these
various circumstances: does form fail to master matter in these cases, and
if so, why? Should we speak of one form (e.g. rationality) being present in
different pieces of matter, or should we say that there are different levels
on which the formmatter distinction can be made (as in typological vari-
ations)? Are the variations to be explained mechanically or teleologically,
and are defects compensated for by other skills?
In spite of this pronouncedly biological context, however, there are indi-
cations that the study of the soul has, for Aristotle, a special status and is
8
See Part. an. 645 b 1528. This approach is illustrated by Lloyd (1992).
9
See De an. 412 a 15, 21; 412 b 5, 12; 414 a 22, 26.
10
This is not to say that other factors, such as habit and education (qismv, didac) play no role
here; on the extent to which, according to Aristotle, cultural factors (education, local customs) may
account for variations in the degree of perfection of these capacities, see below.
Aristotle on the matter of mind 209
not completely reducible to the study of nature. His consideration of the
perhaps no more than potential existence of affections that are peculiar
to the soul (dia tv yucv) in De an. 1.1 and Part. an. 1.1 does suggest
that there are areas, or at least aspects, of the study of the soul which biology
does not cover (because no bodily factor appears to be involved).
11
Thus
the assumption that On the Soul is, in fact, a biological treatise becomes
problematic when one considers that it contains an extended, although
notoriously sketchy, discussion of thinking (nov, 3.48); for if thinking is
really a non-physical process an issue on which Aristotles remarks are ten-
tative and not always quite clear
12
one would rather expect its treatment
to belong somewhere else, for example in the Metaphysics.
Likewise unclear is the status of the Parva naturalia, which seem to oc-
cupy a kind of middle position between On the Soul and the zoological
works and which, as a result, have traditionally, although rather unfortu-
nately, been divided into a psychological and a biological section.
13
Their
subject matter is intriguingly dened by Aristotle as the affections that are
common to the soul and the body
14
which, again, at least suggests the
existence of affections peculiar to the soul, just like affections peculiar to
the body, such as diseases.
Hence it would perhaps be more appropriate to say that for Aristotle
psychology and biology, as far as their subject matter is concerned, overlap
11
De an. 402 a 9; 403 a 8ff.; Part. an. 641 a 32-b 10. Cf. Frede (1992) 106.
12
The clearest statements are De an. 430 a 1718, 223, and Gen. an. 736 b 289.
13
See Kahn (1966) p. 49; Balme (1987) 920; Hett (1957) 388.
14
See Sens. 436 a 8. On the method and scope of the Parva naturalia see van der Eijk (1994) 6872; for
a different view see G. R. T. Ross (1906) 1: They [the Parva naturalia] are essays on psychological
subjects of very various classes, and there is so much detail in the treatment that, if incorporated in
the De Anima, they would have detracted considerably from the unity and the plan of that work.
Consequent on the separateness of the subjects in the Parva Naturalia, the method of treatment is
much more inductive than in the De Anima. There, on the whole, the author is working outwards
from the general denition of soul to the various types and determinations of psychic existence,
while here, not being hampered by a general plan which compels him to move continually from the
universal to the particular, he takes up the different types of animate activity with an independence
and objectivity which was impossible in his central work. It is true that in the Parva naturalia
Aristotle makes more (though still very selective) use of empirical data, but he goes out of his way
to make them consistent with his general psychological theory (see ch. 6 in this volume). In spite
of Aristotles own characterisation of the scope of the Parva naturalia in the beginning of On Sense
Perception, it is not easy to characterise the difference with regard to On the Soul in such a way as
to account for the distribution of information over the various treatises. Even if one is prepared to
regard On the Soul and Parva naturalia as a continuous discussion of what it basically means for a
living being (an animal or a plant) to live and to realise its various vital functions, or to explain the
relative lack of physiological detail in On the Soul as the result of a deliberate argumentative strategy,
it remains strange that some very fundamental formal aspects of the various psychic functions are
dealt with at places where one would hardly expect them (e.g. the discussion of the common sense
faculty in On Sleeping and Waking, the discussion of the relation between thought and imagination in
On Memory and Recollection, etc.) and that so many seemingly crucial issues in Aristotles psychology
are left vague.
210 Aristotle and his school
to a large extent, but the study of soul comprises both more and less than
the study of living beings: more in the sense that there seems to be at least
one psychic function which does not involve bodily organs or processes
(although it cannot function without bodily organs or processes being
present or taking place and its functioning can be inuenced, i.e. both
improved and disturbed, by bodily factors); and less in the sense that it
only studies living things under a certain aspect (their being ensouled, i.e.
alive), or perhaps not so much ensouled beings as soul itself, whereas
biology also deals with characteristics of living things that seem to have
hardly any, or even no psychic aspect at all, for example differences in
the shape of certain bodily organs, or characteristics that are at best very
indirectly related to the psychic functions they are supposed to serve.
These considerations are of some importance when it comes to compar-
ing the various accounts of psychic powers and activities we nd in Aris-
totles works. For these accounts sometimes show discrepancies or even
divergences that cannot easily be reconciled. Any attempt at relating, or
even uniting, Aristotles statements on soul functions in On the Soul, the
Parva naturalia, and the zoological writings (not to mention the Ethics
and the Rhetoric) into a comprehensive picture should take into account
the differences in scope, purpose, method and subject matter of the var-
ious works concerned in order to arrive at a correct assessment of what
Aristotle may be up to in these contexts and of the kind of information
we may reasonably expect there. For example, concerning a psychic func-
tion such as sense-perception, one might say that its treatment in Hist.
an. 4.810 (together with voice, sleep and sex differentiation) is mainly
determined by the question of its distribution over various kinds of ani-
mals, and so Aristotle is only interested in dealing with questions such as
whether all animals have sense-perception, whether they all have all the
special senses, whether they all partake in sleep, and so on. One might
subsequently say that Hist. an. 79 and Gen. an. 5 discuss the differences
that manifest themselves among different species of organisms with regard
to, among other things, their perceptual apparatus, whereas in On the Soul
and the Parva naturalia Aristotle focuses on what all living beings possess-
ing sense-perception have in common. The discussion of the sense-organs
in Parts of Animals may then be said to be determined by a moriologic
perspective in which the special sense-organs are considered with a view to
their suitability for the exercise of their respective special sense-functions.
And nally, Aristotles reasons for dealing with particular aspects of sense-
perception at one place rather than another may be quite trivial, for example
Aristotle on the matter of mind 211
when, in Gen. an. 5.7, he says that he has been discussing those aspects
of voice that have not yet been dealt with in On the Soul and On Sense
Perception.
15
Yet not always can differences in Aristotles treatment of a particular soul
power at different places be so easily related to the principles or strate-
gies underlying the arrangement of his biological works. To continue with
the example of sense-perception, there is a discrepancy between his rather
formal and abstract enunciations on visual perception in De an. 2.7 (the
canonical doctrine of sight being moved by the visible object through the
medium of the transparent) and, on the other hand, his rather technical
discussions of various forms and degrees of sharpness of sight (x rn)
and seeing over a great distance in Gen. an. 5, and of observing certain
cosmic phenomena such as haloes as a result of reection (nklasiv) in
Meteorologica 3, which seem to presuppose an emanatory view on visual
perception consisting in visual rays departing from the eye and reaching
the object of sight (or failing to do so properly). Even if this emanatory
doctrine is not identical to the view that Aristotle seems to reject in On
Sense Perception and On the Soul, it remains unclear how it is to be accom-
modated within the canonical theory of visual perception expounded in
those works.
16
In general, one gets the impression that divergences like this
17
tend to
occur when Aristotle is dealing with the more technical or mechanical
aspects of how soul powers actually operate and how, in particular cases or
circumstances, these operations may deviate from the normal procedure.
In dealing with these deviations, Aristotle sometimes refers to physical or
physiological mechanisms or entities in respect of which it is not quite clear
howthey t inthe general picture or what part, if any, they play inthe normal
procedure. Thus in the example of visual perception over great distances,
Aristotle does not explain what atmospheric conditions are conducive to
the process of the object setting the visual faculty in motion, resulting in
successful seeing. Similarly with regard to the type of the melancholics
18
one of Aristotles favourite examples of deviations in the area of action
15
788 a 34-b 2. As for the relationship between psychology and biology in Aristotle, it would be
interesting to examine the relationship between Gen. an. 5 on the one hand and On the Soul and
On Sense Perception on the other; the many references in the former to the latter (786 b 23ff.; 781
a 21; 779 b 22) should indicate that Aristotle is very much aware of possible differences in levels of
explanation or in status of the psychic phenomena to be discussed in either of these works.
16
On this problem see van der Eijk (1994) 183 and 18991.
17
Other examples are Aristotles discussion of the central sense faculty in De an. 3.2, Sens. 6 and Somn.
vig. 2, or his doctrine of the kindled soul in De iuv. 469 b 16 and Resp. 474 b 13, or the problem of
animal intelligence (see below and Coles (1997)).
18
See ch. 5 in this volume.
212 Aristotle and his school
and cognition we are told that they suffer from certain disturbances in
their recollective capacities because of the presence of moisture around their
perceptual parts,
19
but we are not informed about the normal physiological
conditions for a successful operation of the recollective faculty.
One reason for this may be that Aristotle believed his audience to be
sufciently aware of these physical or physiological processes, perhaps be-
cause they were part of a medico-physiological tradition which he took for
granted,
20
or he may not have quite made up his mind on them himself;
in both cases, lack of clarity in the texts
21
prevents us from seeing how all
these brief references to physiological processes t together and are to be
accommodated within the more formal account of On the Soul, in which
the emphasis is, as I said, on what ensouled beings have in common and
in which deviations are rarely considered (although they are occasionally
taken into account in passing in that treatise as well, as in De an. 421 a 22ff.,
to be discussed below).
However, it would also seem that these discrepancies are, at least partly,
the result of a fundamental tension in Aristotles application of the concept
of nature (fsiv), that is, what it means for the psychic functions to
operate naturally (kat fsin). On the one hand, there is what we might
call his normative (or perhaps idealistic) view of what it naturally means
to be a living plant, animal or human being an approach which dominates
in On the Soul and in the Ethics. On the other hand, there is also a more
technical or perhaps relativistic perspective, in which he is concerned
with the mechanics of psychic processes and with a natural explanation
of the variations that manifest themselves in the actual performance of
psychic functions among different living beings (e.g. degrees of accuracy
in sense-perception, degrees of intelligence, degrees of moral excellence).
Thus from the one perspective he might say that every human being is
intelligent by denition, but from the other that not all human beings are
equally intelligent, or from the one perspective that all animals have sense-
perception by denition, but from the other that not all animals possess all
senses. Whilst some of these variations exist between different species (e.g.
some species of animals have only one sense, touch, whereas others have
more), others exist between individual members of one species or between
different types within one species (thus Aristotle distinguishes, within the
human species, types such as the melancholics, dwarfs, ecstatic people,
19
Mem. 453 a 19ff.
20
This seems to be the case with his concept of the melancholics; see ch. 5 in this volume.
21
On the general lack of clarity of physiological descriptions in the Parva naturalia see Lloyd (1978)
229.
Aristotle on the matter of mind 213
irritable people, quick and slow people, very young, youthful and very
old people, people with prominent veins, people with soft esh vs. people
with hard esh, etc., all of which are invoked to account for variations
in cognitive capacities and performances).
22
Some of the variations of this
latter category are on the structural level of an animals disposition (ti,)
or natural constitution (qoi,), in that they are, for example, determined
by heritage, natural constitution, or dependent on age and gender, but
others are incidental (i.e. dependent on particular transitory states of the
body or particular transitory circumstances). And whilst, depending on
their effects, these variable factors are mostly to be regarded as disturbing
agents impeding the actualisation of the animals capacities (or even, on the
level of the rst actuality, affecting the basic vital apparatus of the animal,
in which case it counts as a deformation, tttnpcutvcv), they can also
be conducive to a better and fuller development of these capacities.
Some of these variations are explained by Aristotle in an entirely mech-
anistic way without reference to a higher purpose they are said to serve,
because they merely represent residual phenomena to be accounted for
(material which is typically suitable for works like the Problemata). How-
ever, there are also variations which are, or can be, explained teleologically.
Thus also in the seemingly mechanical account of the various forms and de-
grees of sharpness of sight in Gen. an. 5.1 an underlying teleological motive
can be discerned: Aristotle distinguishes two types of sharpness of sight
seeing over a great distance (tcppctv cpcv) and sensitivity to differences
(oiciovtoci :c, oicqcp,);
23
and the fact that the latter manifests itself
in humans
24
(whereas many other animals are better at seeing sharply over
a great distance) can be related to the cognitive and epistemological impor-
tance of the discrimination of differences, which is (like its counterpart, the
22
Little attention has been paid to this aspect of Aristotles biology, and to its medical background. On
constitution types in the Hippocratic Corpus see Dittmer (1940). On dwarfs (c vvci) see below,
p. 223; for the ecstatics (c tso:c:isci) see Div. somn. 464 a 245; Eth. Nic. 1145 b 814; 1146 a 16ff.;
1151 a 1; 1151 a 20ff.; Mem. 451 a 9, and the discussion in Croissant (1932) 41ff., and in van der Eijk
(1994) 321ff. The irritable (c ct,) are mentioned in Eth. Nic. 1150 b 25; for the quick and the slow
(c :cyt,, c pcot,) see Mem. 450 b 8, Physiognomonica (Phgn.) 813 b 7ff. and below, p. 228; for
the very young (c tutcv vtci), the young and the old see Hist. an. 581 b 2; 537 b 14ff.; Mem.
450 b 2; 453 b 4; Insomn. 461 a 12; 462 a 12; Gen. an. 779 a 12f.; 778 a 23ff.; Somn. vig. 457 a 3ff.; Rh.
2.1214 and below p. 225; for people with prominent veins (said to inuence their sleep behaviour)
see Somn. vig. 457 a 26 (cf. Hist. an. 582 a 15; Pr. 863 a 23); for people with soft or hard esh (c
uccscocpsci, c osnpcocpsci) see De an. 421 a 25, and below, pp. 2267.
23
Gen. an. 780 b 15ff.
24
Gen. an. 781 b 20: the reason is that the sense organ is pure and least earthy or corporeal, and man by
nature has for his size the most delicate skin of all animals (c:icv ot c:i :c cion:npicv sccpcv
sci nsio:c ,tcot, sci ocuc:cot,, sci qoti tt:cotpuc:c:cv :cv ccv c, sc:c ut,tc,
cvpctc, to:iv).
214 Aristotle and his school
power to see resemblances, n :cv cucic:n:cv tcpic)
25
at the basis of
rational understanding, which is characteristic of human cognition. Thus
variations that seem to be merely necessary concomitants of other, pur-
posive biological structures and processes and thus seem to be natural
(sc:c qoiv) only in the mechanical sense can sometimes be accounted
for indirectly as being natural (sc:c qoiv) in a teleological sense as well.
This coexistence of two approaches need not be problematic: Aristotle
is very much aware of the difference between teleological and mechanical
explanations and is convinced of their being, to a very large extent,
complementary. One might also say that the principle of naturalness
(sc:c qoiv) is applied by Aristotle at different levels: he does not shrink
from saying that even within the category of things happening contrary to
nature (tcpc qoiv), such as the occurrence of deviations, deformations
and monstrosities, there is such a thing as the natural (:c sc:c qoiv);
26
deviations from the natural procedure can nevertheless display regularity,
such as, again, the melancholics, who are said to be naturally abnormal.
27
The difculty that remains, however, is how explanations offered for these
variations and deviations are to be related to explanations offered for the
normal procedure. This difculty is especially urgent with variations in
intellectual capacities; for these are explained with a reference to differences
in bodily conditions of the individuals concerned, which raises the question
of what the bodily conditions for a normal operating of the intellect are
and how this is to be related to Aristotles normative view of thinking
as an incorporeal process: is the inuence of these bodily conditions in
deviations to be regarded as interference in a process which normally has
no physical aspect whatsoever, or is there also such a thing as a normal or
healthy bodily state which acts as a physical substrate to thinking?
A related difculty presents itself in the ethical domain. On the one
hand, Aristotle tries to connect his views on what is best for man with
what he believes to be mans natural activity (sc:c qoiv).
28
On the other
hand, he also notoriously tries to provide a biological foundation for his
belief that not all human beings are equally capable of realising the moral
and intellectual virtues,
29
which is at the basis of his views on political
organisation (e.g. his views on the naturalness of the state, slavery, and
25
On this principle see Lambert (1966) and van der Eijk (1994) 326 and 333.
26
Gen. an. 770 b 10ff.
27
Eth. Nic. 1154 b 11; Pr. 954 b 8ff.; 955 a 40.
28
See Eth. Nic. 1097 b 25ff.
29
See the condition of natural ability in Eth. Nic. 1099 b 17ff.: In this way, happiness is also common to
many; for it is possible for it to be available through some sort of learning and practising to all those
who are not disabled in respect of virtue (tn o cv sci tcscivcv [sc.n toociucvic] ouvc:cv
,cp otpci tcoi :c, un tttnpcutvci, tpc, pt:nv oi :ivc, ucnotc, sci ttiuttic,).
Aristotle on the matter of mind 215
the position of women, or on the natural disposition of the good citizen).
Moreover, he also seems to recognise that natural dispositions, thoughbeing
necessary conditions for the realisation of human moral and intellectual
capacities, are not sufcient to provide human beings with virtue and with
happiness, but need development, training, and education.
30
To be sure, he
recognises the existence of natural virtues (quoisci pt:ci),
31
but they are
in need of regulative principles (such as prudence, qpcvnoi,) in order to
developinthe right direction, andthey are evenpotentially harmful without
these regulative principles, as his discussion of shrewdness (otivc:n,)
shows.
32
Thus in the sphere of such distinctly human things as virtue, he
acknowledges that nature requires further elaboration and even correction
by art (:tyvn). There is a tension here between a biological and an
ethical, perhaps anthropocentric approach to human activity which has
been well expressed by Gigon in his discussion of Aristotles treatment of
the contribution of nature to human happiness in the rst chapter of the
Eudemian Ethics: In the background lurks the problem (which is nowhere
explicitly discussed in the Corpus Aristotelicum as we have it) why nature,
which arranges everything for the best, is not capable of securing happiness
for all people right from the start.
33
To summarise this rst section: a comprehensive study of Aristotles views
on the bodily structures and processes involved in the actualisation of the
various psychic functions of organisms (nutrition, growth and decay, lo-
comotion, sense-perception, desire, imagination, thinking) would be very
desirable.
34
Such a study would be even more interesting if it could demon-
strate to what extent these views are determined by a concern, on his part,
to provide a physical foundation for his normative views on hierarchy in
30
See the discussion in Eth. Nic. 2.1, esp. 1103 a 24: Therefore virtues occur neither naturally nor
contrary to nature, rather they occur to us because we are naturally suited to receive them and to
bring them to perfection by habituation (c0: cpc qoti c0:t tcpc quoiv t,,ivcv:ci c pt:ci,
c ttquscoi utv nuv otcoci co:,, :tticuutvcu, ot oic :c0 tcu,, and 10.9, esp. 1179 b
21ff.; cf. also Eth. Eud. 1.1.
31
Eth. Nic. 1144 b 1516 and b 35ff.
32
Eth. Nic. 1144 a 24ff., b 3, 9.
33
Gigon(1971) 108: ImHintergrund lauert das Problem(das inunseremcorpus Aristotelicumnirgends
expressis verbis verhandelt wird), warum die qoi,, die doch alles sc:c :c t:io:cv einrichtet,
nicht in der Lage ist, alle Menschen von vorneherein mit der Eudaimonie auszustatten.
34
This is not to deprecate the importance of, indeed my indebtedness to, existing scholarship on this
topic. Extremely useful (and deserving to be taken into account much more thoroughly by students
of Aristotles psychology) are the contributions by Tracy (1969); and by Solmsen (1950), esp. 464ff.,
(1955), (1957), (1961a), and (1961b). Nor are some German contributions fromthe nineteenth century
to be neglected, such as B aumker (1877); Neuh auser (1878a, b); Schmidt (1881); Kampe (1870); Schell
(1873). Still useful are Beare (1906); R usche (1930); and Peck (1953). See further Manuli and Vegetti
(1977); Webb (1982); G. Freudenthal (1995) and Sisko (1996) 13857.
216 Aristotle and his school
the animal kingdom, in particular for his philosophical anthropology, and
to what extent the description of these bodily structures and processes is
guided by teleological concerns. However, such a study would have to take
into account the different levels of explanation on which Aristotle is at work
in various contexts as well as the types of context in which Aristotle expresses
himself on these issues. The following typology of contexts (which does
not claim to be exhaustive) would seem helpful:
(1) First, there are contexts in which Aristotle explains the bodily struc-
tures with a view to their suitability (pithdeithv, okeithv) for the
fullment of the psychic functions in which they are involved, for exam-
ple, when he describes the structure of the human hand by reference to the
purpose it is intended to serve,
35
or mans upright position with a view to
mans rational nature.
36
This is because he believes that a purely material
description of the bodily structures would be just as insufcient as a purely
formal description of soul functions, because it ignores the suitability of
these structures for the exercise of the powers for the sake of which they
exist and with a view to which they are shaped. As G. E. R. Lloyd sum-
marises: whenever he is dealing with an instrumental part that is directly
concerned with one of the major faculties of the soul identied in the De
anima, Aristotle cannot fail to bear in mind precisely that that is the func-
tion that the part serves, and he will indeed see the activities in question as
the nal causes of the parts.
37
However, as Lloyd himself recognises, this
is just one of several concerns Aristotle has in the zoological works, and it
is not consistently implemented.
(2) Secondly, there are contexts in which the mechanics of psychic
processes are discussed in physiological terms. Thus in his explanations
of memory, recollection, sleeping and dreaming, Aristotle goes into great
(though not always clear) physiological detail to describe the bodily parts
involved in these psychic activities and the physical processes that accom-
pany them (e.g. the discussion of the bodily imprints in memory,
38
or of
the reactivation of sense-movements in sleep due to the withdrawal of the
blood).
39
As I have tried to show elsewhere, these discussions deal with op-
erations of the sensitive (and perhaps also the intellectual) part of the soul
under rather special circumstances, but they also have important implica-
tions for the physiology of normal sense-perception (on which the relevant
sections in On the Soul and On Sense Perception are rather uninformative).
40
35
Part. an. 687 b 6ff.
36
Part. an. 686 a 27ff. (see below); cf. also IA 706 a 19.
37
Lloyd (1992) 149.
38
Mem. 450 a 27ff.
39
Insomn. 459 b 7ff.; 461 b 11ff.
40
See van der Eijk (1994) 7587.
Aristotle on the matter of mind 217
(3) Thirdly, there are contexts in which Aristotle is giving a physiological
explanation of variations in the distribution of psychic capacities or in their
performance among various species of animals or types within one species
variations which, as I said, can be either purposive or without a purpose.
Such a comprehensive analysis is clearly beyond the scope of the present
study. Moreover, the anatomical and physiological aspects of nutrition and
of visual perception have recently been dealt with by Althoff (1997) and
Oser-Grote (1997). For these practical reasons, the second part of the
chapter will attempt to apply these general considerations to the high-
est psychic function only, the notoriously tricky subject of thinking and
intelligence.
2 t h e b o d i l y a s p e c t s o f t h i n k i n g
Aristotles sketchy and intriguing remarks on nov and its relation to the
body in De an. 3.45 have attracted a lot of scholarly attention, and the dis-
cussion on the precise implications of Aristotles statements concerning the
incorporeality of the intellect is still continuing.
41
Rather than adding to the
vast amount of secondary literature on that topic, I shall conne myself to
a discussion of a number of passages, mostly from the zoological writings,
but also from On the Soul itself, in which Aristotle deals with the physical
aspects of human (and animal) thinking. In order to avoid misunderstand-
ing, it is perhaps useful to say from the outset that I shall be concerned with
the intellectual activity of organisms rather than with the (divine) intellect
itself, that is, with operations of the intellect in human (and to some extent
also animal) cognition.
42
However, this does not mean a restriction to con-
crete acts of thinking (which might be seen as instances of participation by
embodied souls in an incorporeal principle), for some of the passages to be
discussed deal with structures and dispositions rather than with instanta-
neous acts of thinking, that is to say, they also pertain to the level of the rst
actuality. A second preliminary remark is that the focus will be on the role
these physical factors play rather than on the factors themselves: a compre-
hensive and systematic account of all individual factors involved (e.g. the
41
For two recent interpretations see Kahn (1992), especially 366ff., and Wedin (1994); see also Wedin
(1989).
42
Cf. the distinction between the principle or faculty of nous as such and its concrete activity in us,
in human acts of thinking made by Kahn (1992) 362 and 367. It should be said, however, that this
distinction is less clear in Aristotle than Kahn suggests; nor is it clear why the distinction between
the principle and its concrete activities does not apply just as well to sensation and if it does, what
remains of the unique status of nous. Cf. Frede (1992) 1057.
218 Aristotle and his school
role of heat, or pneuma, or blood) is beyond the scope of this chapter.
43
In particular, the question will be raised to what extent these roles can
be subsumed under the rubric of the dependence of thought on appear-
ances (qcv:ouc:c); for this is a dependence Aristotle acknowledges
44
but which seems to open the door to a variety of serious bodily inuences
on the operation of the intellect and thus may present a challenge to his
canonical view that thinking is not a bodily process taking place in a
particular bodily organ (a view that can be related to other parts of his phi-
losophy, e.g. his epistemological and ethical views about man, mans being
akin to the gods, mans highest activity consisting in contemplation, etc.).
First, there are a number of texts that describe thinking itself in seemingly
physical terms. Thus a passage inPh. 247 b1ff. describes thinking as a state of
rest (nptunoi,) or coming to a standstill (tqio:coci) following upon,
indeed emerging from, a state of bodily motion or turbulence:
Nor are the states of the intellectual part qualitative changes . . . nor is the original
acquisition of knowledge a process of becoming or a modication. For it is through
[discursive] reasoning (oivcic) coming to a standstill that we are said to know and
understand (ttio:coci sci qpcvtv), and there is no process of becoming leading
to the standstill, nor indeed to any kind of change . . . Just as when someone changes
from [a state of ] drunkenness or sleep or disease into the opposite states we do not
say that he has come to have knowledge again although he was unable to realise
the knowledge so likewise when he originally acquires the state [of knowing] we
should not say so [i.e. that he is coming to be possessed of knowledge]. For it is by
the soul (uyn) coming to a standstill from the natural turbulence that something
becomes understanding (qpcviucv) or knowing (ttio:nucv) and this is also
why children cannot acquire knowledge (ucvvtiv) or pass judgements according
to their senses as grown men can, for they are in a state of great turbulence and
movement. It [i.e. the soul] is brought to a standstill and to rest, with regard to
43
It would be very useful indeed to study the role of particular factors, especially heat and blood,
in the various psychic powers and to see what part they play in the explanation of variations in
psychic performances among different kinds of animals (for a thorough treatment of the role of the
elementary qualities in Aristotles biological writings see Althoff (1992a), whose index locorum will
guide the reader to useful discussions of the relevant passages). This might also shed light on the
difcult question of how the different parts of the soul are interrelated and how, or rather, whether
operations of lower soul functions may be inuencedby higher ones, e.g. whether humanperception
is itself different from animal perception because of the presence of the intellectual capacity. Thus
in addition to speaking of sense informed by a noetic capacity and saying that It is only in the
case of human perception, enriched by the conceptual resources provided by its marriage with nous,
that Aristotle can speak of us perceiving a man (Kahn (1992) 369), one might also consider saying
that according to Aristotle the human bodily structures and conditions for perception are better and
more conducive to knowledge and understanding than in animals (e.g. because man has a better,
purer blend of heat and cold).
44
Mem. 449 b 31450 a 1; De an. 403 a 9; 427 b 15; 431 a 17; 431 b 2; 432 a 3ff.
Aristotle on the matter of mind 219
some things by nature itself, with regard to others by other factors, but in either
case while certain qualitative changes take place in the body, just as with the use
and the activity [of the intellect] when a man becomes sober or wakes from sleep. It
is clear, then, from what has been said, that being changed and qualitative change
occurs in the perceptible objects and in the perceptive part of the soul, but in no
other [part], except incidentally (sc:c ouutnsc,).
The passage stands in the context of an argument in which Aristotle is
trying to prove that dispositions of the soul (tti, :n, uyn,) are not
qualitative changes (cicoti,), and in the case of thinking he even goes
further to deny that any activity of the intellectual part of the soul is a
process of coming to be (,tvtoi,), although it is accompanied by such
processes taking place in the body, that is, in the perceptual part of the
soul. In the passage quoted it is clearly stated that thinking, while carefully
distinguished from bodily motions, is accompanied by, and is the result
of, these bodily motions. The acquisition of knowledge is compared with
the transition from having knowledge to using it which takes place when
somebody wakes up from sleep or emerges from drunkenness, states which
are said to impede the use of knowledge, namely the transition from rst
to second actuality.
45
This comparison, and the remark about childrens
inability to think and judge because of their physical constitution, clearly
indicates that thinking, though not equated with physical movement, is
very much dependent on bodily states and processes; it is said to result
from the soul (uyn) coming to a rest or even from reasoning (oivcic)
coming to a standstill. The use of these two terms may be signicant:
soul apparently refers to the embodied nutritive and perceptual powers as
a whole, and as for dianoia, there are indications in Aristotles works that
this is a wider concept covering a variety of cognitive actions in the border
area between perceiving and thinking (see below).
The idea that thinking consists in rest or standing still is a tradi-
tional notion which also occurs elsewhere in Greek literature and which
45
In his discussion of this and related passages, Tracy (1969) 274 comments: Now the very nature
of thought and knowledge demands that the phantasm upon which they depend be undisturbed
and tranquil. For, psychologically, thought and knowledge are not a movement but the termination
of movement, a settling down or repose of the mind in the possession of its object, which depends
upon a corresponding tranquillity in the sense power serving it . . . Thus the original acquisition
and subsequent actualization of intellectual virtues like scientic knowledge or wisdom are brought
about not by any movement in the intellect itself, but by something else coming to be present so
that the intellect rests or halts upon it. From what we have seen of the intellect and its operation
we may infer that Aristotle has in mind here the phantasm, which presents the universal, the
intelligible form as embodied in particular sensible qualities . . . Thus the virtue of knowledge and
its activation, being dependent upon the phantasm produced by the sense power, are impeded or
rendered impossible by the physical disturbances accompanying drunkenness, sleep, disease and
growth, as well as the dissolution of old age.
220 Aristotle and his school
is sometimes justied by means of the alleged etymological relation be-
tween pistmh and fstasqai,
46
and it occurs a number of times in
Aristotles works.
47
There is nothing to suggest that this should be un-
derstood in a metaphorical way; on the contrary, the reference to bodily
motion and to children who because of their structural state of motion
are not capable of thinking strongly suggests that Aristotle actually believes
that thinking emerges from the coming to a standstill of a bodily pro-
cess. Where this coming to a standstill takes place (the heart?) and what
bodily factors are involved (the blood?) are not explained in any of these
texts.
48
Whether thoughts emerge from the standing still of movements,
or whether thought brings about the standing still of images (e.g. by ab-
straction) remains unclear.
49
The physiological picture to be drawn with
the transition from having knowledge to using it, which is said to occur
at the transition from drunkenness (or sleep) to sobriety (or waking), is
also referred to in Aristotles discussion of akrasia in Eth. Nic. 1147 b 6ff.,
where it is said: The explanation of how the ignorance (which caused the
weak persons action) is dissipated (letai) and the weak person returns
to a state of knowing is the same as concerning a drunk and a sleeping
person, and it is not peculiar to this condition: it is to be obtained from
the physiologists. This physiological explanation is provided by scattered
remarks in Aristotles physical works and is conveniently summarised by
Tracy: knowledge is acquired and activated only when the body, and the
sensory system in particular, calms down, being freed from disturbance and
brought to a state of stable equilibrium in all respects, that is, to a state of
maturity, health, sobriety and moral excellence. Some of these may be pro-
duced by natural processes alone; others, like health and moral excellence,
may require assistance from the physician and trainer, the moral guide and
statesman.
50
As emerges from On Sleep and Waking and On Dreams, one
of these natural processes is the restoration of the balance between warm
and cold in the body which is brought about when the process of digestion
(the material cause of sleep) has been completed; another, which accom-
panies this, is the process of separation of blood into a thinner, clearer
part and a thicker, more troubled part;
51
and yet another (in the case of
46
See Plato, Phaedo 96 b 8.
47
See De motu an. 701 a 27; An. post. 100 a 1ff. and 15ff.; Int. 16 b 20; De an. 407 a 323. Cf. Pr. 956 b
39ff.; 916 b 7ff.
48
Except in Pr. 916 b 7ff., where, perhaps signicantly, a disturbance in intellectual activity (dinoia,
in this case reading) is attributed to the cooling effect of pneumatic movements and melancholic
humours; a few lines later on, however, the intellect (nov) is localised in the head (916 b 16).
49
Perhaps one should think of an act of viewing (qewren) the relevant items in a confused whole; see
Insomn. 461 a 825; Div. somn. 464 b 716 (cf. 463 b 1522); Mem. 450 b 15ff.
50
Tracy (1969) 276.
51
On the physiological explanation of sleep in Somn. vig. see Wiesner (1978).
Aristotle on the matter of mind 221
drunkenness) is the dissolution of movement and confusion (sivnoi, sci
:cpcyn) brought about by pneuma.
52
How exactly these processes interact
and inuence cognitive processes, Aristotle does not make very clear; but it
is evident that he believes that healthy bodily conditions (such as an empty
stomach) may be conducive to a successful operation of the intellectual
part of the soul.
53
Another passage, however, suggests that movement (sivnoi,) and even
agility (:c tosivn:cv) are essential to thinking and that physical imped-
iment to movement also affects thinking. At Part. an. 686 a 25ff. we are
told that mans body is in an upright position in order to promote the per-
formance of his divine function, namely thinking and being intelligent
(vctv sci qpcvtv).
54
Man, instead of forelegs and forefeet, has arms and the so-called hands. For man
is the only animal that stands upright, and this is because his nature and essence is
divine. The activity of that which is most divine is to think and to be intelligent; but
this is not easy whenthere is a great deal of the upper body weighing it down(:c0:c
ot co poicv tcc0 :c0 cvctv ttistiutvcu ocuc:c,), for weight hampers
the motion of the intellect and of the common sense (:c ,cp pc, ouosivn:cv
tcit :nv oivcicv sci :nv scivnv conoiv). Thus, when the weight and the
corporeal condition (of the soul) become too great, the bodies themselves must
lurch forward towards the ground; consequently, for the purpose of safety, nature
provided quadrupeds with forefeet instead of arms and hands. All animals which
walk must have two hind feet, and those I have just mentioned became quadrupeds
because their soul could not sustain the weight bearing it down (co ouvcutvn,
qtptiv :c pc, :n, uyn,). In fact, compared with man, all the other animals are
dwarf-like . . . In humans, the size of the trunk is proportionate to the lower parts,
and as they are brought to pefection (:tticuutvci,), it becomes much smaller in
proportion. With young people, however, the contrary happens: the upper parts
are large and the lower are small . . . In fact, all children are dwarfs. The genera of
birds and shes, as well as every animal with blood in it, as I have said, are dwarf-
like. This is also the reason why all animals are less intelligent (qpcvto:tpc) than
man. Even among human beings children, for example, when compared to adults,
and among those who are adults those who have a dwarf-like nature, though having
some exceptional capacity,
55
are nevertheless inferior in their having intelligence
(:c :cv vc0v tytiv ttitcuoiv). The reason, as has already been said, is that in
many of them the principle of the soul is sluggish and corporeal (n :n, uyn,
52
Insomn. 461 a 235.
53
It is interesting to note that ancient commentators on De an. 403 a 16 were already worried about
the implications of this belief for the doctrine of the separateness of the intellect (see Philoponus,
In Arist. De anima I comment. p. 51, 10ff. Hayduck).
54
Cf. Part. an. 653 a 30; cf. Pol. 1254 b 30 and the comments ad loc. by Saunders (1995). For a discussion
of the various physiological factors mentioned in this passage (Part. an. 686 a 25ff.) see Coles (1997).
55
For Aristotles appreciation of :c ttpi::cv cf. Rh. 1390 b 27; see also Pr. 30.1, which exploits this
notion for the explanation of the melancholics exceptional performances.
222 Aristotle and his school
pyntcc, onouosivn:c, to:i sci ocuc:con,).
56
If the heat which raises the
organism up wanes still further and the earthly matter waxes,
57
then the animals
bodies wane, and they are many-footed; and nally they lose their feet and lie full
length on the ground.
This passage clearly speaks of the movement of thought and the common
sense admitting of being impeded by the position of the body. Again the
mention of intellect (oivcic) and of the principle of the soul as be-
ing susceptible to bodily disturbances (even acquiring a body-like state,
ocuc:con,) is signicant.
58
The seemingly indiscriminate use of vc0,,
vctv, oivcic, qpcvtv, and qpcvto:tpc, may suggest that Aristotle is
not talking about a specic intellectual function but about thinking in
general; however, it might also indicate that the gradual difference of in-
telligence between man and other animals (qpcvto:tpc,) amounts to
a principal difference of having nous or not having it although the ex-
pression :c :cv vc0v tytiv ttitcuoiv occurs in a context where he is
discussing differences within the human species, which suggests that the
inferiority of dwarfs consists in their having a lower degree of intelligence
rather than having no intelligence at all. This point is of relevance for the
question whether Aristotle believed in lower or higher levels of thinking
which are to a higher or lower extent susceptible to bodily inuence, and
for whether Aristotle believed in animal intelligence (see below).
It is further signicant that, perhaps somewhat to our surprise, the pas-
sage states the reasonwhy manis the most intelligent of all bloodedanimals
something which is usually simply postulated as a fact without argument by
Aristotle in On the Soul and in the Ethics by stating the material cause for
mans being intelligent.
59
All blooded animals are less intelligent than man
because of their dwarf-like nature (vcvcon), and also within the human
species differences in intelligence are accounted for by the dwarf-like shape
56
The text is uncertain here; tcc, is A. L. Pecks emendation of the manuscript reading tcc.
57
A. L. Peck, in his Loeb translation, compares this to the Hippocratic On Regimen 1.35; on this see
below, pp. 2301. On earthiness as an impeding factor cf. Gen. an. 781 b 20.
58
The mention of the common sense, and the principle of the soul suggest that a principle located
in the heart is meant here (cf. De iuv. 469 a 5ff.; b 56; Gen. an. 743 b 26; Somn. vig. 456 b 1). For
the difculty of relating this passage to Aristotles conception of the soul see Althoff (1992) 73 n. 146:
Der Seele selbst die Eigenschaft des K orperhaften zuzusprechen ist nach der aristotelischen Seele-
nauffassung sehr problematisch. Es scheint vielmehr so zu sein, dass die mangelnde Beweglichkeit
der Seele (und damit die mangelnde Intelligenz) zur uckgef uhrt wird auf eine Druckeinwirkung, die
der obere Teil des K orpers auf das Herz als den ersten Sitz der Seele aus ubt. However, also in Part.
an. 672 b 1617 Aristotle seems to allow the principle of the sensitive part of the soul to be affected
by the evaporation of food.
59
Further below in the same chapter (686 a 7ff.) Aristotle also gives a teleological explanation for the
difference in bodily shape between man and other animals with a view to mans being intelligent.
There, however, the material explanation offered by Anaxagoras and rejected by Aristotle is different:
it is not mans upright position, but his having hands which is at issue.
Aristotle on the matter of mind 223
of the body. In this respect, it may be useful to note that dwarfs (nnoi)
represent a special human type
60
to which Aristotle refers a number of
times and which is said to suffer from all sorts of structural cognitive weak-
nesses and disturbances. Thus at Mem. 453 a 31, dwarf-like people are said
to have poorer memories (mnhmonsteroi) than their opposites because
of much weight on their perceptual faculty, which makes it difcult for
them to retain the movements and which also makes it difcult for them
to recollect which is an intellectual process, as he has said in 453 a 10ff.
along a straight line.
61
At Somn. vig. 457 a 22ff., they are said to sleep much
because of the great upward movement and evaporation (of hot moisture
derived from food). Young children suffer from the same defects,
62
but in
their case growth will bring them to perfection later in their lives.
It is not very clear how the idea of agility of thought and common sense
is to be reconciled with the statement in the Physics passage that thinking
consists inrest andstillness. It may be that Aristotle is talking about different
stages of the process, duskineton referring to a disturbance of the supply of
appearances (fantsmata) that provide the intellect withmaterial tothink
about and to halt upon (although it is hard to read this into the Greek);
or it may be that he is speaking about different levels, or different types
of movement, duskineton referring to a more abstract, less physical type
of movement although, again, this is not expressed very clearly in the
Greek. It may also be that duskinetos, as the opposite of eukinetos, should be
understood as a disturbance of the balance between movement and stillness
(cf. ekrasa vs. duskrasa), and that the ideal state consists in a mean
between two extremes (cf. Mem. 450 b 111); however, the difculty that
remains is that this still presupposes some sort of movement, whereas the
Physics passage seemed to say that thinking depends on the coming to a
standstill of bodily motion. Anyway, the passage also seems to commit itself
to a location of thinking at a relatively high part of the body.
63
Anumber of passages briey allude toincidental disturbances of the intellect
by bodily conditions. Thus in his discussion of imagination (fantasa)
60
As appears from Gen. an. 749 a 4, they are a deformation (pephrwmnon). On Aristotles views on
dwarfs (and their medical background) see Dasen (1993) 21420.
61
For the notion of equporen see 453 a 25; see also below, p. 229.
62
Children are also mentioned in Mem. 453 b 4; 450 b 6; Somn. vig. 457 a 18ff.
63
The question might be raised why, if the bodily structure of man is supposed to be subservient to the
performance of his most divine part, thinking is not located in the brain (as was Platos argument
in the Timaeus (90 a ff.), of which the present passage is clearly reminiscent). However, Aristotle
may have had other reasons for not considering the brain as an ideal location (see Kullmann (1982)
2334), and he may have been reluctant to express himself on any location of the intellect (see below,
n. 65).
224 Aristotle and his school
in De an. 3.3, Aristotle says that animals (cc) perform many actions in
accordance with imagination, some animals, such as the beasts (:c npic),
because they have no intellect (i.e. they have nothing else to guide their
actions except for imagination), others, such as humans, because thinking
(vc0,) is overshadowed (ttisct:toci) by emotion, disease or sleep
(De an. 429 a 58).
64
At Part. an. 653 b 5, mental disturbances (tcpvcici)
are said to occur as a result of the brains failure to cool the bodily heat. In his
discussion of the diaphragm in Part. an. 672 b 28ff., Aristotle remarks that
reasoning and perception (oivcic sci conoi,) are evidently confused
(ttionc, :cp::ti) by the presence of a warm, moist residual substance
in the neighbourhood of the diaphragm:
This is why it [i.e. the diaphragm] is called phrenes, as if it had some part in
thinking (qpcvtv). Yet it does not have any part [in thinking], but being close to
[parts] that do have part [in thinking], it evidently causes a change of the intellect
(ut:ccn :n, oicvcic,).
This is one of the very few places where Aristotle says something about
the place where thinking if it is anywhere is located, or at least about
bodily parts that partake in reason; the passage points, not surprisingly,
to the heart, although this is not directly stated and there may be other
candidates as well.
65
In other passages, we are told that within the human species, age is
a factor that inuences an individuals intellectual capacities: very young
people do not yet have the power to think, they are similar to animals (Hist.
an. 588 a 31ff.; cf. Part. an. 686 b 23ff. discussed above); similarly, old age is
accompanied by a decay of thinking (Pol. 1270 b 40 and, more hesitantly,
De an. 408 b 1931).
66
The inuence of age and descent (to,tvtic) on
64
Physical factors as disturbing agents in the process of rational deliberation about the right way of
action are also mentioned several times in Aristotles discussion of spcoicand pleasure in Eth. Nic. 7
(1147 a 1314; 1147 b7; 1152 a 15; 1154 b10). What part they play inpractical reasoning, i.e. towhat extent
Aristotle believes the actualisation of the right premises in a practical syllogism to be dependent on
physiological conditions (deliberations (c,iouci) being kicked away (tsspctoci) by physical
movement, cf. Eth. Nic. 1119 b 10; 1175 b 3ff.; Eth. Eud. 1224 b 24), deserves further examination (cf.
Gosling 1993).
65
It is striking indeed that although in later doxographical literature Aristotle is always credited with
holding a cardiocentrist view on the seat of the intellect, there is surprisingly little in his works to
conrm this interpretation (only Pr. 954 a 35 speaks of a vctpc, :ctc,, which is probably the heart;
elsewhere in the Problemata, however, the intellect is located in the head, 916 b 16). Cf. Mansfeld
(1990) [and ch. 4].
66
A striking passage on the correlation between age and intelligence (vc0,) is Pr. 30.5, where vc0, is
said to be the only intellectual activity which is present to us by nature, whereas the other forms of
wisdom and skill (ttio:nuci sci :tyvci) are brought about by human effort (955 b 267; cf. Eth.
Nic. 1143 b 79).
Aristotle on the matter of mind 225
character (nc,)
67
is discussed in Rh. 2.1215; and a passage in Pol. 7.6
on the best natural constitution (qoi,) for citizenship in the city-state
suggests a correspondence between environment (:ctci) on the one hand
and intelligence and courage (oivcic sci uuc,) on the other (1327 b
20ff.): while the inhabitants of cold regions and of Europe are courageous
but defective in intelligence and skill (oicvcic, ot tvotto:tpc sci :tyvn,)
and the inhabitants of Asia intelligent but lacking in spirit (oicvcn:isc
utv sci :tyvisc :nv uynv, cuuc ot), the Greeks represent a mean
both geographically and in virtue of their character as determined by their
physical constitution (:c ot to stspc:ci tpc, uqc:tpc, :c, ouvuti,
:c:c,).
68
There are also the well-known passages on states of the blood that are of
inuence on thinking. At Part. an. 648 a 2ff. we are told that while thick and
warm blood produce strength, thinness and coldness of the blood are con-
ducive to sharper intellectual and perceptive capacities (cion:isc:tpcv ot
sci vctpc:tpcv :c tt:c:tpcv sci uypc:tpcv), and this also applies to
the substance analogous to blood inbloodless animals: This is why bees and
other similar animals are naturally more intelligent (qpcviuc:tpc) than
many bloodedanimals, andof the bloodedanimals, those withcoldandthin
blood are more intelligent than their counterparts. The best combination
of properties in actual fact a sort of compromise is blood that is warm,
thin and pure, which makes the animal both intelligent and courageous.
This indicates that thinness is apparently more important for intelligence
than coldness, which is conrmed by Part. an. 650 b 19ff., where we are
told that some animals have a more subtle intelligence (,cqupc:tpcv
:nv oivcicv), not because of the coldness of the blood, but rather be-
cause of its being thin and pure (oic :nv tt:c:n:c uccv sci oic :c
sccpcv tvci); and he adds that more earthy blood does not have these
characteristics.
69
Thinness and purity of the bodily moisture (blood or its
analogue) are also said to make sensation more agile (tosivn:c:tpcv), and
this accounts for the fact that some bloodless animals (with a thin and pure
moisture) have a more intelligent soul (ouvt:c:tpcv :nv uynv) than
some blooded animals an important remark indicating that not the blood
itself, but its state is conducive of intelligence. The chapter proceeds with
some remarks about the inuence of blood on character (nc,) and con-
cludes that blood is the cause of many things, in the sphere both of character
67
I have discussed the ethopoietic inuence of bodily factors (such as the size of the heart, Part. an.
667 a 11ff.) in ch. 5 above.
68
Cf. Pr. 14.15 and the Hippocratic Airs, Waters, Places 16 (2.62ff. L.).
69
On earthiness cf. Part. an. 686 b 28ff. discussed above (see n. 57), and see Althoff (1992) 73, 80.
226 Aristotle and his school
and of perception, since it is the matter of the body, and its inuence varies
according to its being hot, cold, thin, thick, troubled or pure.
In these two passages, the inuence of blood on intelligence is closely
linked with its inuence on perception, and this again suggests that what
makes for greater intelligence is a better, that is, swifter, more accurate,
supply of perceptions for the intellect to halt upon. Aristotles remarks here
seem to refer to structural differences existing between different species of
animals, but there is no reason to doubt whether similar incidental, or
individual, variations in the state of the blood may make for incidental,
or individual, variations in intellectual performances.
70
Nor is there any
reason to believe that Aristotle is only referring to animals and not to man:
his remarks on the importance of the blood in the process of dreaming, for
example, indicate that also in human cognition the quality of the blood
is an important factor.
71
Again, this is of considerable importance to the
question whether Aristotle believed in animal intelligence: there is nothing
in these two passages to suggest that Aristotle is not referring to really
intellectual activities of animals, but only to something analogous; on the
contrary, there is every reason to believe that similar variations in the state
of the blood affect human intelligence just as well as animal intellectual
capacities.
The most remarkable passage in this respect is De an. 421 a 22ff., which
suggests that there is a direct connection between degrees of softness of the
esh and degrees of intelligence in human beings.
72
Aristotle deals with
the sense of smell, and he remarks that man has a very weak, unarticulated
sense of smell in comparison with many other animals: he is only capable
of labelling smells as pleasant or unpleasant. Similarly, he says, animals
with hard eyes (sklhrfqalma) do not have an accurate sense for seeing
a variety of colours. The situation is slightly better with taste, he says, for
mans sense of taste is more accurate than his sense of smell, because taste
is a form of touch, and as regards touch man is the most accurate of all
animals.
73
He then continues:
70
See Kullmann (1982) 229: Es kommt freilich Aristoteles in 2.4 vor allemdarauf an, die physiologische
Bedeutung der beiden Bestandteile des Blutes hervorzuheben. Ihr jeweiliger Anteil ist nach seiner
Meinung von Tierart zu Tierart (und wohl auch von Individuum zu Individuum) verschieden.
71
See Insomn. 461 a 25; b 11ff.
72
The passage seems to be a sort of embarrassment to most interpreters, for it is hardly ever commented
upon. Freeland (1992) 234 says that this should be taken with a grain of salt because Aristotle offers
several alternative explanations for human superior intelligence. However, Freeland does not
consider how these alternative explanations are interrelated in Aristotles physiology, and of the
instances she cites only Part. an. 4.10 is comparable to (and fully consistent with) the one here.
73
Cf. Hist. an. 494 b 17; Part. an. 660 a 12.
Aristotle on the matter of mind 227
This is also the reason why man is most intelligent of all animals (fronimtaton).
A sign of this is that also within the species of man it is in accordance with
this sense organ that one is well or poorly endowed [with intelligence], but not
in accordance with any other sense organ: for people with hard esh are poorly
endowed with intelligence, but people with soft esh are well endowed with it (o
mn gr sklhrsarkoi fuev tn dinoian, o d malaksarkoi efuev).
Here Aristotle distinguishes not only between different species of animals,
but also between different members (or types of members) within the
human species. Man is more intelligent than other animals because of the
accuracy of his sense of touch, and this is indicated also by the fact that
within the human species individuals with soft esh (which is obviously
conducive to touch) are by nature more intelligent (efuv tn dinoian)
than those with hard esh. Thus variations in intellectual capacities are
here directly related to variations in the quality of the skin. Just how they
are related, does not emerge from the text. It is not inconceivable that the
connection is teleological and that di should be interpreted as therefore,
or to that end, that is, to use his sense of touch in a sensible way, just as
in Part. an. 4.10, where it is said that man is the only animal to have hands
because he is the most intelligent and so best qualied to use them sensibly;
the remark that man is inferior to other animals in so many other respects,
but superior in his rationality and sense of touch (421 a 202) might be
paralleled by a similar remark in Part. an. 4.10 (687 a 25ff.). However, there
is nothing in the text of De an. 2.11 to suggest that this is what Aristotle
has in mind here; the text rather points to a relation of efcient causality
between touch and intelligence. This relation is not further spelled out
by Aristotle: it may have something to do with the fact that touch is the
fundamental sense which is closely connected with, if not identical to, the
commonsense faculty
74
(also referredto at Part. an. 686a 31), whichis most
closely related to intellectual activity; hence variations in the performance
of this faculty might also bring about variations in intellectual performance.
Another possibility is that delicacy of the skin is somehow conducive to
thinness and agility of the blood, which in its turn, as we saw, is of inuence
on the degrees of intellectual activity.
75
Anyway, it is signicant that again
the word dianoia and the adjective phronimos are used, and again degrees
of intelligence are at issue: man is compared with other animals in what
seems to be a gradualist view of intelligence, and within the human species
a typology is made on the basis of a physical criterion.
74
Somn. vig. 455 a 23.
75
I owe this suggestion to Jochen Althoff.
228 Aristotle and his school
Several other passages further conrm the picture that has so far emerged
from the texts. Thus we are told in Gen. an. 744 a 30 that in man the
brain has more moisture and is greater than in other animals, because in
man the heat in the heart is most pure (:nv tv :n scpoic tpuc:n:c
sccpc::nv). This good proportion is indicated by mans intelligence:
for the most intelligent of all animals is man (onc ot :nv tospcoicv
n oivcic qpcviuc:c:cv ,p to:i :cv ccv cvpctc,). Here mans
intelligence is said to be a sign of the ne blend of warm and cold, which
again suggests that there is a direct connection between the two. And two
passages in On Memory and Recollection very well illustrate the inuence of
bodily conditions of cognitive activity. First, in 450 a 27ff., memory is said
to take place in the soul, that is, in the part of the body that contains soul,
as a kind of picture, just as the seal of a signet ring.
This is also the reason why no memory occurs in people who are in [a state of ] great
movement because of disease or age, just as if the movement and the seal were to
fall into water; with other people, owing to the detrition of the [part] that receives
the affection, no impression is made. This is why the very young and the very
old have no memory: the rst are in a state of ux because of growth, the others
because of decay. Similarly, neither those who are excessively quick nor those who
are excessively slow[of wit]
76
appear to have a good memory: the former are moister
than they should be, the latter dryer: with the former, the appearance does not
remain in the soul, with the latter, it does not take hold.
It may be objected that this passage is about memory, and therefore not
about anactivity of the intellectual but of the sensitive part of the soul whose
physical substrate is not at issue (although it is striking that Aristotle seems
to present the soul as an extended entity in which things are going on and in
which surfaces are present which should receive the impression of the phan-
tasm; again, Aristotle only refers to these physical aspects when discussing
variations or even deviations: what the normal physical components of
a successful act of memory are is not explained). However, it also refers
to the physiological conditions of quick-witted and slow-minded people,
excessive states that are related to an undue predominance of moisture or
dryness. And the passage as a whole again speaks of typological differences
in cognitive and intellectual behaviour within the human species that are
caused by differences in physiological conditions.
Further on in On Memory and Recollection (453 a 14ff.), this connec-
tion becomes even clearer, when Aristotle is dealing with the difference
between memory and recollection. One of the differences is that while
76
That quickness and slowness of wit are meant is indicated by Phgn. 813 b 7ff.
Aristotle on the matter of mind 229
memory also occurs with other animals, recollection is conned to man, be-
cause recollection is like inference (oon sullogismv), because it clearly
involves searching and deliberation. This, however, does not mean that it
is an incorporeal process:
That the affection [i.e. recollection] is something physical and that recollection is
a search for an image in something of this [i.e. physical] kind, is indicated by the
fact that some people are disturbed whenever they cannot recollect, even though
they keep their attention xed, and when they make no more effort, they recollect
nonetheless [i.e. the recollective process keeps going on]. This occurs especially
with the melancholics, for they are particularly moved by images. The reason why
they have no control over their recollective activity is that just as people are unable
to stop something they have thrown away, likewise the person who recollects and
chases something sets something physical in motion, in which the affection takes
place. This disturbance particularly occurs with those with whom there happens
to be moisture around the perceptive place, for this [moisture] does not easily stop
when set in motion, until the object sought turns up and the movement runs a
straight course . . . Those who have large upper parts and those who are dwarsh are
less good at memorising than their counterparts because they have much weight
on their perceptual faculty, and their movements cannot remain in their original
condition but are scattered; nor can they easily run a straight course in recollecting.
The very young and the very old have poor memories because of the movement:
the latter are in a state of decay, the former in rapid growth; and small children are
also dwarsh until they have advanced in age.
Again, the thesis (that recollection is a physical process) is demonstrated
with a reference to a disturbance in the act of recollection. The word dinoia
is used in a context which deals with mental concentration, and also the
melancholics make their appearance; reference is made to moisture around
the perceptive place; and in the following section, which again deals with
special groups, dwarfs, the very young and the very old are mentioned. So
we have a rational process (although Aristotle, perhaps signicantly, does
not say that it is an affection of the intellectual part of the soul) which takes
place ina bodily part andwhichis susceptible to inuences anddisturbances
of bodily conditions. Again, it remains unclear what the normal physical
conditions for a successful operation of recollection (searching along a
straight course, equporen)
77
are.
The passages that I have discussed clearly suggest that, according to
Aristotle, bodily conditions can be of inuence on intellectual activities
77
On this expression see above, n. 61. It is also used in Gen. an. 781 a 2 and b 12 to refer to the
transmission of sense movement outside the body (from the perceptible object to the perceiving
subject); cf. also Pr. 934 a 17.
230 Aristotle and his school
(nov, dinoia, fronen).
78
Whether they always are, or only in abnormal
cases, or whether the inuence in abnormal cases is of a different kind rather
than of a different degree compared with normal cases is hard to decide, for
these bodily conditions are mostly referred to by Aristotle in the context of a
discussion of variations in intellectual performances (type (3) distinguished
above, p. 217). It is clear, however, that apart from incidental bodily states
such as drunkenness or sleep (which may be characterised as disturbing
agents, although the former is par fsin, the latter kat fsin), there
are also more structural conditions such as the quality of the blood, age,
the overall balance between warm and cold in the body and the quality of
the skin. Variations in these structural conditions account for variations in
intellectual capacities. The variations exist among different species, but also
among individual members of one species or types within a species, such as
dwarfs or melancholics. For the most part, these types represent imperfect
(telev) or deformed (pephrwmnoi) groups of human beings with spe-
cial characteristics due to their physical aberrations. However, some types
(such as the malaksarkoi) seem to represent special classes of humans
whose distinctive characteristics are not to be regarded as deformations, but
as variations within one species that may be either conducive, or harmful,
or just neutral to the exercise of certain psychic powers.
We hear very little about what the bodily conditions of a normal, success-
ful operation of the intellectual powers are, but, as I have already said, there
is good reason to assume that this is just because, in the writings that have
survived, Aristotle simply does not have much reason to dwell on them.
Our picture of Aristotles psycho-physiology is likely to remain very incom-
plete as is also indicated by the difculties involved in piecing together his
scattered remarks about physiological conditions such as pneuma, blood,
and so forth. This has perhaps to do with his indebtedness to a medical
tradition which supplied a lot of material which he could simply take for
granted. As has already been demonstrated by Tracy and is conrmed by
more recent work on Aristotles acquaintance with medical literature
79
Uber die Excerpte von Menons Iatrika in dem Londoner Papyrus 137,
Hermes 28, 40734
(1893c),
Uber die Kompatibilit at einiger bin arer und quatern arer Theorien im
Corpus Hippocraticum, in Grmek (ed.) (1980) 33346
(1989a), Beobachtungen zur Struktur einiger Traktate des Corpus Hippo-
craticum , Sudhoffs Archiv 73, 6477
(1989b), Fr uhe F alle der Verwendung von Analogien in der altgriechischen
Medizin, Berichte zur Wissenschaftsgeschichte 12, 718
(1989c), Generalisationen und Aphorismen in den Epidemienb ucher, in G.
Baader andR. Winau(eds.), Die HippokratischenEpidemien. Theorie Praxis
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Index of passages cited
Aeschi nes
3.124 245 n.26
Aeti us
5.9 270 n.46
5.14 270 n.46
Anaxi mander
DK a 15 50 n.14
DK a 35 55 n.27
DK a 42 55 n.27
DK b 3 50 n.14
Anaxi menes
DK a 5 55 n.29
DK a 7 55 n.29
Anonymus Londi ni ensi s
i v 1315 120 n.4
v 37 264 n.22
vi 42 264 n.22
Anonymus Pari si nus
3 134
Apolloni us
Mirabilia
3 173 n.11
Ari stophanes
Aves
724 245 n.26
Vespae
51517 254 n.58
Ari stoteles et Corpus
Ari stoteli cum
Analytica priora
24 a 20 293 n.61
26 b 23 293 n.62
29 a 710 293 n.62
Analytica posteriora
89 b 10ff. 231 n.83
100 a 1ff. 220 n.47
100 a 15ff. 220 n.47
De anima
1.1 209
402 a 56 207 n.3
403 a 3-b 16 67 n.90
403 a 8ff. 209 n.11
403 a 810 233 n.91
402 a 9 209 n.11; 218 n.44
403 a 16 236 n.100
403 a 25 207 n.5
407 a 323 220 n.47
408 b 9 233 n.90
408 b 1931 224
408 b 245 233 n.92
408 b 29 233 n.92
412 a 15 208 n.9
412 a 1921 207 n.4
412 a 21 208 n.9
412 a 256 177 n.23
412 b 5 208 n.9
412 b 12 208 n.9
414 a 22 208 n.9
414 a 26 208 n.9
415 a 26 235
416 a 14 235
2.5 265 n.29
417 a 45 207 n.6
2.7 211
420 a 9ff. 207 n.6
421 a 22ff. 212; 226
421 a 23ff. 166
421 a 25 213 n.22
421 b 27422 a 7 207 n.6
422 b 1 207 n.6
423 a 2ff. 207 n.6
425 b 1 153 n.56
3.2 211 n.17
379
380 Index of passages cited
427 b 15 218 n.44
429 a 58 224
429 a 78 176 n.21
3.45 217
3.48 209; 233; 237
429 a 235 130 n.29
429 a 278 130 n.29
429 a 30-b 6 177 n.22
430 a 1718 176 n.20; 209 n.12
430 a 223 176 n.20; 209 n.12
431 a 17 218 n.44
431 b 2 218 n.44
432 a 3ff. 218 n.44
De caelo
271 a 33 245 n.27
De divinatione per somnum
462 b 202 241; 243
462 b 246 187; 188
463 a 37 192
463 a 321 154 n.59
463 a 330 172 n.9
463 a 45 182; 198; 263 n.16
463 a 57 154 n.58
463 a 711 199
463 a 721 197
463 a 1118 187
463 a 1920 187
463 a 21ff. 174
463 a 224 187
463 a 25 146
463 b 12 172 n.9
463 b 14 187
463 b 111 189; 201
463 b 12 187
463 b 1218 189; 204
463 b 12ff. 143f.
463 b 14 204; 246; 257
463 b 15 148
463 b 1518 241
463 b 1522 220 n.49
463 b 16 146 n.31
463 b 16ff. 146 n.31
463 b 17 150; 161 n.74; 166
463 b 1722 187
463 b 17ff. 143ff.
463 b 18 146 n.33; 241
463 b 22 187
463 b 223 172 n.9
463 b 2231 204
464 a 14 188
464 a 4 181
464 a 619 201
464 a 10 203 n.56
464 a 15 203 n.56
464 a 1516 172 n.9
464 a 17 203 n.56
464 a 1921 189; 241; 246
464 a 20 244
464 a 22 234 n.93
464 a 245 213 n.22
464 a 247 146 n.34; 188
464 a 25 149 n.39
464 a 26 142 n.14
464 a 27 146 n.31
464 a 2732 188
464 a 32-b 5 188
464 a 32ff. 143ff.; 146 n.34; 147; 165
464 a 33 231 n.83
464 b 1 145 n.28
464 b 111 181
464 b 23 161 n.78
464 b 7 145 n.28; 146 n.31
464 b 716 220 n.49
464 b 910 145; 203 n.55
464 b 916 171
464 b 9ff. 146
464 b 1012 188
464 b 16 146 n.31
De generatione animalium
12 265
1.1718 35 n.46
723 a 2933 266 n.31
724 a 4ff. 153
725 a 1516 153
725 b 618 161 n.74
727 b 7 270 nn.489; 271
727 b 711 272 n.60
727 b 911 272 n.60
728 a 10ff. 161 n.74
729 a 21f. 271 n.53
736 a 19 161 n.74
736 b 289 176 n.20; 209 n.12
736 b 31ff. 235 n.99
737 a 25 235 n.97
737 b 47 232 n.86
737 b 2832 273
738 a 8 153 n.54
738 a 29 154 n.57
739 a 3 273 n.62
739 a 35 273 n.64
739 a 21 271
739 a 28 272 n.59
739 a 32ff. 272 n.61
739 a 35 271 n.56
739 b 16ff. 271 n.54
739 b 312 232 n.86
743 b 26 222 n.58
Index of passages cited 381
744 a 30 228
746 b 16ff. 274 n.67
746 b 1625 267 n.36; 269
746 b 28 270 n.48
747 a 13ff. 270 n.48
748 a 21 272 n.59
749 a 4 223 n.60
758 a 30-b 3 93 n.42
760 b 2732 170 n.6
760 b 27ff. 135
4 265
766 a 15ff. 235 n.97
767 a 24 266 n.31
767 a 25 266 n.31
767 b 10ff. 235 n.97
770 b 10ff. 214 n.26
771 b 223 270 n.48
771 b 27ff. 274
772 b 30ff. 235 n.97
774 a 22 270 n.48
775 b 367 270
776 a 2 273
5 21011
5.1 213
778 a 23ff. 213 n.22
779 a 12f. 213 n.22
779 a 13 181
779 b 22 15
780 b 10 235 n.97
780 b 15ff. 213 n.23
781 a 2 229 n.77
781 a 21 15
781 b 12 229 n.77
781 b 20 213 n.24; 222 n.57
783 b 2930 161 n.74
786 b 23ff. 211 n.15
788 a 13 82 n.20
788 a 34b 2 211 n.15
De generatione et corruptione
336 b 27 245 n.27
De insomniis
458 b 1 179
458 b 510 179
458 b 7 180
458 b 1315 180
458 b 1823 180
459 a 18 179
459 a 68 176
459 a 15 182
459 a 1718 182
459 a 21 182
459 a 23 179
459 a 24 179
459 b 7ff. 238 n.39
459 b 1011 180
459 b 1113 180
459 b 1318 180
459 b 1820 180
459 b 202 180
459 b 23460 a 23 180
460 a 67 180 n.24
460 a 2632 180
460 b 416 181
460 b 1819 234 n.96
460 b 212 234 n.96
460 b 223 181
460 b 267 181
460 b 28461 a 8 182; 197
460 b 2930 172 n.9
461 a 13 181
461 a 3 183
461 a 6 183
461 a 7 183
461 a 825 220 n.49
461 a 8ff. 185
461 a 9ff. 174
461 a 10 256 n.65
461 a 10ff. 145 n.30
461 a 11 146 n.33; 147
461 a 1112 181
461 a 12 181; 213 n.22
461 a 13 203 n.55
461 a 14ff. 145; 147; 203 n.55
461 a 1827 181
461 a 212 181
461 a 22 143ff.; 157 n.66
461 a 223 145; 148 n.36
461 a 235 221 n.52
461 a 234 148
461 a 235 161 n.74
461 a 24 146 n.33
461 a 25 183; 226 n.71
461 a 31 183
461 b 3ff. 234 n.96
461 b 37 181
461 b 4 183
461 b 11 183 n.26
461 b 11ff. 226 n.71; 238 n.39
461 b 25 234 n.96
461 b 27 183 n.26
462 a 1 181
462 a 28 181
462 a 4 234 n.96
462 a 6 234 n.96
462 a 915 185
462 a 1011 181
462 a 12 213 n.22
462 a 1215 181
382 Index of passages cited
462 a 1531 184
462 a 1925 181
462 a 256 181
462 a 2930 176
462 a 31-b 11 203 n.55
De interpretatione
16 b 20 220 n.47
De iuventute et senectute
34 130 n.29
468 b 32ff. 129 n.21
469 a 5ff. 222 n.58
469 a 57 143
469 b 56 222 n.58
469 b 16 211 n.17
De longitudine et brevitate vitae
464 b 32ff. 154 n.58; 194 n.42; 263 n.16
466 b 59 154 n.57
De memoria
449 b 10 254 n.56
449 b 12 254 n.59
449 b 31450 a 1 218 n.44
450 a 27ff. 38; 228
450 b 111 223
450 b 2 213 n.22
450 b 6 223 n.62
450 b 8 213 n.22
450 b 15ff. 220 n.49
451 a 9 213 n.22
453 a 10ff. 223
453 a 14ff. 141; 145; 2289; 234
453 a 15 149
453 a 19ff. 212 n.19
453 a 24 154
453 a 25 146 n.32; 223 n.61
453 a 31 223
453 b 4 213 n.22; 223 n.62
453 b 234 160 n.73
De motu animalium
700 b 18ff. 250 n.41
701 a 27 220 n.47
701 b 17ff. 235 n.99; 236 n.103
701 b 34 235 n.99
702 a 3ff. 236 n.103
703 a 15 235 n.99
De partibus animalium
1.1 209
2.3 153 n.54
640 b 5 193 n.35
641 a 32-b 10 209 n.11
644 a 17 232 n.86
644 b 23 283 n.13
645 b 1528 208 n.8
645 b 24 232 n.86
647 b 1113 142 n.16
648 a 2ff. 129 n.24; 166; 225; 236
n.105
648 b 34ff. 161 n.74; 167 n.91
649 a 24ff. 143 n.21
649 a 26 153
649 b 34 153 n.56
650 a 34 153 n.54
650 b 2 153 n.54
650 b 5 153 n.54
650 b 12 153 n.54
650 b 18ff. 166
650 b 19ff. 129 n.24; 225; 236 n.105
650 b 27 161 n.74
2.7 129 n.30
652 b 10ff. 235
653 a 2 153
653 a 8ff. 194 n.42; 263 n.16
653 a 10 154 n.58
653 a 30 221 n.54
653 b 5 224
656 b 5 129 n.24
660 a 12 226 n.73
3.4 130 n.29
667 a 11ff. 225 n.67; 235 n.98
672 b 1617 222 n.58
672 b 28ff. 224
672 b 2833 161 n.74
672 b 29 154; 160
676 b 5f. 168 n.92
676 b 1113 152 n.51
4.2 152
676 b 312 152; 154
677 a 1020 129
677 a 1617 93 n.41
677 a 1619 204 n.57
677 a 25 152
677 b 910 152 n.51
4.10 226 n.72
4.10 227
686 a 7ff. 222 n.59
686 a 25ff. 2212
686 a 27ff. 216 n.36
686 a 31 227
686 b 23ff. 224
686 b 26 162 n.81
686 b 28ff. 225 n.69
687 a 25ff. 227
687 b 6ff. 216 n.35
692 a 23 161 n.74
692 b 3ff. 232 n.86
Index of passages cited 383
De plantis
820 b 5f. 294 n.64
De respiratione
474 b 3 143
474 b 13 211 n.17
480 a 203 198 n.50
480 b 2231 194; 263 n.16
480 b 22ff. 154 n.58; 263
De sensu
436 a 8 209 n.14
436 a 17ff. 154 n.58
436 a 17-b 2 194; 263 n.16
445 a 26 148
6 211 n.17
De somno et vigilia
453 b 1124 175
453 b 1820 203 n.55
453 b 224 172 n.10; 187; 203 n.55
453 b 234 145 n.27; 247 n.30
453 b 267 185
454 a 27 176
454 b 5 176
454 b 10 176
454 b 1314 178
454 b 15ff. 177
454 b 23 186
454 b 26 178; 186
455 a 12 177
2 211 n.17
455 a 6 177
455 a 13ff. 176
455 a 23 227 n.74
455 b 3ff. 176
455 b 6 177
455 b 7 177
455 b 1416 177
455 b 18ff. 176
456 a 5 177
456 a 7ff. 158 n.68
456 a 12 177
456 a 18 178
456 a 25 178
456 a 256 186
456 a 259 178
456 b 1 178; 222 n.58
456 b 916 177
456 b 16 178
456 b 23 178
457 a 2 154 n.57
457 a 3ff. 213 n.22
457 a 4 178
457 a 411 133
457 a 10 178
457 a 16 148
457 a 1617 161 n.74
457 a 18ff. 223 n.62
457 a 20 178
457 a 22ff. 223
457 a 25ff. 142
457 a 26 178; 213 n.22
457 a 29 161 n.74
457 a 29ff. 151
457 a 31 153; 158; 160; 161 n.74;
162
457 a 313 143 n.20; 143 n.21
457 b 30 178
458 a 3 153
458 a 1025 185
458 a 15ff. 178
458 a 2532 177
458 a 29 176
De spiritu
485 a 28ff. 94 n.42
Ethica Eudemia
1.1 164 n.83; 215 n.30
1214 a 1624 238; 255 n.60
1215 a 1220 257 n.66
1219 b 19ff. 244 n.23
1224 b 24 224 n.64
1225 a 25 245 n.28
1229 a 20 161 n.74
1239 a 16 243 n.22
1245 b 17 245 n.27
1246 b 1012 250 n.42
8.2 162 n.81; 23858
1247 a 2 238
1247 a 4 251
1247 a 713 255 n.60
1247 a 13 251
1247 a 2331 23840; 256
1247 a 289 242 n.19; 243 n.20.22;
244ff.; 256
1247 b 18ff. 240
1247 b 22 232 n.88
1247 b 2937 251
1247 b 381248 a 15 256 n.65
1247 b 39 232 n.88
1248 a 78 253 n.50
1248 a 15 243 n.20
1248 a 1541 24756
1248 a 22 257
1248 a 25ff. 2389; 244f.
1248 a 301 238
1248 a 324 239; 242 n.19; 245
1248 a 34 243 n.20
384 Index of passages cited
1248 a 35 242 n.18
1248 a 38 245
1248 a 3940 146 n.31; 148; 2412; 242
n.18; 244 n.24
1248 a 3941 2389; 245
1248 b 12 256 nn.63, 65
1248 b 37 238
1248 b 4 238 n.2; 244; 256f.
1249 b 323 244
1249 b 16ff. 244 n.24
Ethica Nicomachea
1094 b 1ff. 262 n.14
1095 a 18 193 n.38
1095 b 22 193 n.38
1097 b 25ff. 214 n.28
1098 a 21ff. 262 n.14
1098 a 33-b3 93 n.41
1099 b 10ff. 243 n.21; 257 n.66
1099 b 17ff. 214 n.29
1102 a 5 ff. 262 n.14
1102 a 1826 1945
1102 b 210 174
1102 b 311 244 n.23
2.1 164 n.83
1103 a 24 215 n.30
1114 b 8 232 n.88
1119 b 10 224 n.64
4.3 35 n.45
1127 b 23 193 n.39
1128 a 15 193 nn.3940
1128 a 31 193 n.39
1138 b 33 283 n.13
1139 b 191140 a 24 193 n.34
1140 a 123 193 n.34; 263 n.15
1142 b 36 231 n.83
1143 b 79 224 n.66
1144 a 24ff. 215 n.32
1144 b 3 215 n.32
1144 b 9 215 n.32
1144 b 1516 215 n.31
1144 b 35ff. 215 n.31
7 160
1145 b 814 213 n.22
1146 a 16ff. 213 n.22
1147 a 1314 157 n.66; 224 n.64
1147 b 6ff. 220
1147 b 7 157 n.66; 224 n.64
1147 b 12 157 n.66
1148 a 30 255 n.60
1150 a 16ff. 152 n.49
1150 b 19 148
1150 b 25 213 n.22
1150 b 25ff. 149
1150 b 29ff. 152 n.49
1150 b 34 256 n.65
1151 a 1 213 n.22
1151 a 15 146 n.34; 149; 150
1151 a 20ff. 213 n.22
1152 a 15 157 n.66; 224 n.64
1152 a 17ff. 149
1152 a 27 151 n.44
1152 a 278 150
1152 a 29 255 n.60
7.1215 150
1154 a 26 150
1154 b 3 150
1154 b 9ff. 161 n.74
1154 b 911 159 n.71
1154 b 10 157 n.66; 224 n.64
1154 b 1012 152 n.50
1154 b 11 214 n.27
1154 b 13 154; 159 n.72
1162 a 5 244 n.25
1175 b 3ff. 224 n.64
1177 a 1317 250
1177 b 2731 250
1178 b 14 243 n.22
1179 a 2130 190; 243
1179 a 23ff. 244 n.25
1179 a 278 250
10.9 164 n.83
1179 b 21ff. 145 n.27; 215 n.30; 255
n.60; 257 n.66
1179 b 213 239
1181 a 10ff. 255 n.60
1181 b 26 37 n.51
Fragmenta
11316 264 n.24
123 264 n.24
360 106 n.13
Historia animalium
487 a 24 142 n.16
494 b 17 226 n.73
511 b 10 153
511 b 1015 93 n.42
4.810 210
536 b 27ff. 187; 189
537 b 13ff. 181; 187
537 b 14ff. 213 n.22
79 210
581 b 2 213 n.22
582 a 15 213 n.22
582 b 12ff. 272 n.59
586 a 15 273 n.63
586 a 16 161 n.74
588 a 31ff. 224
602 b 12605 b 21 264 n.23
Index of passages cited 385
10 25978
633 b 1217 266 n.32
634 a 1 268 n.40
634 a 45 267 n.34
634 a 5 267 n.35
634 a 12 267 n.36; 271 n.50
634 a 14 267 n.35
634 a 21 267 n.36
634 a 26 267 n.35
634 a 29 267 n.35
634 a 34 267 n.36
634 a 37 267 n.35
634 a 3941 267 n.36
634 b 7 267 n.36
634 b 1011 267 n.36
634 b 12 267 n.35
634 b 29 271 n.51
634 b 30ff. 271 n.55
634 b 31 267 n.36
634 b 34 273
634 b 37 271 nn.512
635 a 24 267 n.36
635 a 710 267 n.34
635 a 11 267 n.35
635 a 12 267 n.35
635 a 1213 267 n.34
635 a 17 267 n.35
635 a 21 271 n.51
635 a 23 267 n.35
635 a 312 266 n.33; 267 n.35
635 a 36 267 n.36
635 b 2 271 nn.556; 272 n.58
635 b 1516 267 n.34
635 b 1523 272 n.60
635 b 22ff. 271 n.55
635 b 27 267 n.36
635 b 28 269 n.43
635 b 37 271 nn.512
636 a 6 271 n.51; 273
636 a 10ff. 271 n.51
636 a 1112 271 n.52
636 a 25 267 n.36
636 b 3 267 nn.356
636 b 45 271 n.51
636 b 610 266
636 b 9 266 n.31
636 b 1112 267 n.35
636 b 1113 259 n.1
636 b 1516 271
636 b 1523 259 n.2
636 b 37 271 n.51
637 a 2 272 n.58
637 a 23 271 n.51
637 a 8ff. 274
637 a 15 271 n.51
637 a 17 273
637 a 37 271 n.51
10.6 259
637 b 12 271 n.51
637 b 19 271; 271 n.51
637 b 234 259 n.1
637 b 2532 271 n.55
637 b 29 267 n.36
637 b 301 271
637 b 31 271 nn.512
638 a 1 271 n.51
638 a 8 271
638 a 19f. 273
638 a 20 271
638 b 1 273
638 b 15 269 n.44
638 b 301 267 n.34
Magna moralia
1185 a 9ff. 244 n.23
1190 a 24 93 n.42
1197 a 3 193 n.34; 263 n.15
1203 b 12 150; 162; 232 n.88
1206 b 28 93 n.42
2.8 2401
1207 a 615 240
1207 a 35ff. 240
Metaphysica
1.1 35 n.45
981 a 7 165 n.86
981 a 712 293 n.63
981 a 12 153 n.56
981 a 12b 14 195 n.46
981 b 14982 a 3 193 n.34
983 a 510 245 n.27
993 b 21 262 n.13
1005 b 21 293 n.62
1005 b 289 293 n.62
1006 a 69 92 n.41
1013 a 4ff. 124 n.12
1025 b 25 262 n.13
1044 a 19 153 n.56
1059 b 2939 93 n.42
1070 a 24 93 n.41
1071 b 19 79 n.12
1071 b 23 79 n.12
1074 b 3 245 n.27
1074 b 345 245 n.27
1079 a 25 243 n.22
Meteorologica
357 b 234 84 n.22
3 211
4 265 n.28
386 Index of passages cited
Oeconomica
1344 b 10f. 294 n.64
Physica
196 b 1 243 n.22
199 a 11 296 n.75
199 b 18 296 n.75
199 b 26 296 n.75
215 a 21 296 n.75
246 b 45 151 n.46
247 b 1ff. 218
255 b 7 296 n.75
256 a 289 93 n.41
Physiognomonica
805 a 1ff. 236 n.100
805 a 3ff. 236 n.102
807 b 12 232 n.88
808 a 37 232 n.88
808 b 10 236 n.101
813 a 29 236 n.101
813 b 7ff. 213 n.22; 228 n.76; 236 n.101
Poetica
1455 a 29ff. 165
1455 a 32 232 nn.878; 158 n.70
1459 a 57 165; 232 n.87
1459 a 7 232 n.88
Politica
1254 a 2 193 n.34; 263 n.15
1254 b 30 221 n.54
1270 b 40 224
1274 a 28 245 n.56
1282 a 34 195 n.46
1287 a 35 37 n.51
1288 b 24 296 n.75
1290 b 223 84 n.22
1320 b 7 193 nn.3940
1325 b 18 193 n.34
1327 b 20ff. 225
1342 a 6 245 n.28
1362 a 32 245 n.27
Problemata physica
1.12 168 n.92
860 a 27 153 n.56
860 b 15 153 n.56
860 b 21ff. 168 n.92
862 a 28 153 n.56
863 a 23 213 n.22
864 a 2630 294 n.64
864 b 811 294 n.64
865 a 1 154 n.57
865 a 6f. 294 n.64
865 a 918 294 n.64
3.25a 168 n.92
878 b 16 153
4.30 168 n.92
884 a 23 154 n.57
11.38 168 n.92
14.15 225 n.68
18.1 168 n.92
916 b 7ff. 220 nn.478
916 b 16 220 n.48; 224 n.65
18.7 168 n.92
934 a 17 229 n.77
30.1 139ff.; 148; 155ff.; 221 n.55;
243 n.20
953 a 1215 157
953 a 13 156
953 a 15 156
953 a 16 156
953 a 18 156
953 a 20 157
953 a 27 166
953 a 29 156
953 a 2931 157; 157 n.65
953 a 30 159
953 a 31 156
953 a 35 158
953 a 38 158
953 b 1415 146 n.34; 149 n.39
953 b 17 158
953 b 22 158
953 b 236 161 n.74
953 b 2730 161 n.74
953 b 33954 a 4 161 n.74
954 a 2 161 n.74
954 a 7 142 n.18; 161 n.74
954 a 711 143 n.19
954 a 11 158
954 a 13 157; 158; 159
954 a 14 158 n.67
954 a 1415 160
954 a 14ff. 143 n.21; 150 n.42
954 a 15 151 n.46
954 a 1820 161 n.74
954 a 201 167 n.91
954 a 21 158
954 a 212 161 n.74
954 a 223 158 n.69; 159
954 a 2830 158
954 a 29 159
954 a 30 159
954 a 318 160
954 a 32 161 n.74; 165; 232 n.88
954 a 33 160
954 a 34 144 n.24
954 a 346 161 n.74
Index of passages cited 387
954 a 348 142 n.16; 158 n.70; 160
954 a 35 224 n.65
954 a 356 161 n.78
954 b 1 157 n.64; 163
954 b 2 161 n.77
954 b 8 159
954 b 8ff. 214 n.27
954 b 811 152
954 b 12 159
954 b 13 161 n.74
954 b 24 166
954 b 25 159
954 b 26 161 n.77
954 b 268 159
954 b 278 156
954 b 2834 166
954 b 31 161 n.77
954 b 33 159
954 b 3940 161 n.74
955 a 40 214 n.27
955 b 267 224 n.66
956 b 39ff. 220 n.47
954 a 36 158 n.70
954 a 39-b 4 156; 157
955 a 3 161 n.74
955 a 4 161 n.74
955 a 14 159
955 a 229 161 n.74
955 a 245 159 n.72
955 a 258 161 n.74
955 a 29ff. 156
955 a 323 158 n.67
955 a 35 158
955 a 3640 157 n.64
955 a 36ff. 157
30.5 224 n.66
959 b 29 154 n.57
30.14 168 n.92
Rhetorica
2.1214 213 n.22
2.1215 225
2.1213 152; 159 n.71
2.15 166
1354 a 7 255 n.60
1355 b 12 117 n.65
1362 b 4 193 n.34
1362 b 24 231 n.83
1389 a 1819 152
1389 a 19ff. 161 n.74
1389 b 29ff. 161 n.74
1389 b 2932 152
1390 b 24 166
1390 b 27 221 n.55
1390 b 2730 166
1390 b 28 158 n.70; 161 n.74; 232 n.88
1392 b 20 296 n.75
1394 a 5 165 n.86
1405 a 8 165
1405 a 810 232 n.87
1412 a 10 165 n.86
1412 a 12 165; 165 n.87
1412 a 13 231 n.83
Topica
100 b 20ff. 94 n.43
108 a 714 165 n.86
108 b 7 165 n.86
108 b 21 165 n.87
108 b 24 165 n.86
131 b 519 293 n.62
145 a 16 262 n.13
151 b 19 231 n.83
158 b 1ff. 93 n.41
Caeli us Aureli anus
De morbis acutis
Proem 300 n.7
1.1.9 306
1.1.11 311 n.57
1.1.20 321 n.79
1.1.21 316 nn.71, 74
1.1.22 315 n.67
1.1.23 312 n.58; 315 n.65
1.3.34 316 n.74
1.3.41 303 n.27
1.4.42 300 n.8
1.5.47 300 n.8
1.8.536 11920; 303 n.24
1.8.54 311 n.57
1.8.55 304 n.34
1.9.58 300 n.8
1.9.60 300 n.8
1.11.81 323
1.11.87 307
1.11.99 300 nn.5, 8
1.12.103 303 n.27
1.14.10516.165 302 n.18
1.14.105 299 n.1
1.14.113 307 n.47; 308
1.15.119 307 n.47
1.15.121 304 n.32; 307 n.41
1.15.124 307 n.47
1.15.127 307 n.47; 324 n.93
1.15.150 307 n.47
1.16.15565 301 n.10
1.16.157 322 n.86
1.16.165 322 n.85
1.17.170 324 n.93
2.19 303 n.30
388 Index of passages cited
2.1.5 319 n.77
2.1.6 302 n.16
2.1.8 300 n.6; 307 n.41; 316 n.71
2.3.13 304 n.32; 316 n.74
2.5.23 303 n.25
2.6.26 303 n.24
2.6.30 320 n.78
2.9.43 324 n.92
2.9.46 301 n.13
2.9.48 307 n.47
2.10.58 302 n.17
2.10.61 302 n.17
2.10.64 316
2.10.65 300 n.6; 311; 315
2.13.87 106 n.13; 264 n.21; 312
2.14.93 307 n.47
2.19.121 322 n.85
2.20.125 303 n.27
2.26.142 316 n.70
2.28.147 300 n.6; 303 nn.245; 304
n.34
2.29.155 322
2.29.156 322
2.29.160 324 n.93
2.31.163 300 n.6; 316 n.74
2.32.172 309
2.33.176 320
2.34.180 307 n.47
2.34.183 303 n.24; 327 n.101
2.35.185 303 n.25
2.37.206 323
2.37.217 309; 319
2.38.219 323 n.90
2.39.22540.234 302 n.18
3.1.2 302 n.16
3.1.46 313
3.1.5 318 n.76
3.4.45 314 n.62; 324 nn.934; 325
n.96
3.4.47 300 n.3; 301 n.10
3.6.62 313 n.59
3.6.645 314 n.64
3.6.64 312 n.58
3.6.65 317
3.6.66 317; 317 n.75
3.8.87 107
3.8.97 322 n.85; 324 nn.91, 935
3.8.98 301 n.13
3.9.99 31314
3.10.101 317
3.14.116 323 n.89
3.14.117 304 n.34
3.15.122 323 n.90
3.16.136 303 n.22
3.16.137 323 n.90; 324 nn.91, 93
3.17.138 307 n.47
3.17.154 314 n.62
3.17.159 107
3.17.172 301 n.10
3.18.177 320
3.19.189 310; 321 n.79
3.19.190 312; 318
3.21.219 306
3.22.2202 303 n.30
3.22.221 312 n.58; 319
De morbis chroniis
Proem 299 n.1
1.1 303 n.30
1.1.21ff. 303 n.23
1.1.30 307 n.47
1.1.33 307 nn.478
1.1.50 300 n.8; 301 n.10
1.2 303 n.30
1.3 303 n.30
1.3.55 311 n.57
1.4.101 307 n.47
1.4.105 315 n.66
1.4.129 307 n.41; 324 n.93
1.4.1313 135
1.4.132 109
1.4.135 324 nn.92, 95
1.4.83 306
1.4.84 307 n.47
1.4.87 324 n.91
1.4.97 303 n.23
1.5.175 324 n.91
1.5.178 324 nn.93, 95
1.6 303 n.30
2.1.14 325 n.97
2.1.16 300 n.3
2.1.32 307 n.47
2.1.39 307 nn.478
2.1.5562 302 n.18
2.1.60 300 n.4
2.1.601 301 n.10
2.2.64 323 n.87
2.7.96 301 n.10
2.7.109 301 n.13
2.7.112 301 n.10
2.9.118 312
2.10.125 314
2.12.145ff. 303 n.22
2.12.146 304 n.32; 305 n.40
2.12.147 307; 309; 325
2.14.196 312
2.14.202 324
3.1.12 321 n.81
3.2.19 307 n.42; 310; 326
3.4.65 301 n.13; 307 n.47; 308
Index of passages cited 389
3.5.71 320
3.8 303 n.30
4.1.5 303 n.25
4.8.118 320
4.8.119 323
4.9 302
4.9.134 300 n.4
5.1 303 n.30
5.2.28 321 n.80
5.2.46 324; 324 n.93
5.2.48 322 n.85
5.2.51 301 n.10
5.10.912 309
5.10.103 307 n.41
5.10.105 326 n.99
5.11.140 323 n.88
Celsus
De medicina
Prooemium
4 111 n.24
511 10311
47 111 n.26
54 311 n.56
57 306 n.42
59 111 n.26
Demosthenes
24.192 283 n.13
Di ocles Carysti us
Fragmenta (ed. van der Eijk 20001)
3 74 n.1
4 74 n.1
6 37 n.51
16 99 n.57
22 97 n.50
258 90 n.37
26 74 n.2
27 74 n.2
28 74 n.2
33 74 n.2
36 74 n.2
49 106 n.14
52 74 n.2; 195 n.45
55a 74 n.3
55b 74 n.34
56 25
56b 84 n.23
57 75 n.5
61 24; 195 n.45
63 24
64 24
72 90 n.37; 120 n.4; 120 n.6
73 106 n.14
78 90 n.37; 129 n.26
79 106 n.14
80 90 n.37; 129 n.26
85 106 n.14
87 90 n.37
92 106 n.14
95 90 n.37
98 90 n.37
99 106 nn.12, 14; 109 n.17; 135
n.37
100 106 nn.12, 14; 110 n.18
103 106 n.14
109 90 n.37; 106 n.14
111a 106 n.14
114 106 n.14
116 106 n.14
117 90 n.37
120 106 n.14
123 106 n.14
125 106 nn.12, 14; 107
128 106 n.14
129 106 n.14
131 106 n.14
132a 106 n.14
136 106 nn.12, 14
139 106 n.14
153 112 n.33
176 75; 76100
177 25; 84 n.23; 98 n.56
182 117 n.67
183a 112 n.33
185 110 n.19
239a 96
239b 97
Di ogenes Apolloni ates
DK a 9 55 n.29
Di ogenes Laerti us
5.25 154 n.58; 263
5.44 139; 167 n.91
5.623 96 n.49
Erasi stratus
fr. 117 286 n.23
fr. 156 118 n.70
fr. 176 120 n.5
Galenus et Corpus Galeni cum
De alimentorum facultatibus
1.1.3 (6.454 K.) 280 n.6
1.1.4 (6.455 K.) 282 n.10
1.1.7 (6.457 K.) 280 n.5; 285 n.18; 286
n.20
1.1.7 (6.458 K.) 290 n.47
390 Index of passages cited
1.1.78 (6.4578 K.) 281 n.9
1.1.8 (6.458 K.) 286 n.23
1.1.9 (6.459 K.) 291 n.49
1.1.910 (6.459 K.) 286 n.24
1.1.11 (6.460 K.) 295 n.69
1.1.1215 (6.4602 K.) 287 n.25
1.1.16ff. (6.462ff. K.) 81 n.16
1.1.1617 (6.462 K.) 287 n.26
1.1.249 (6.46770 K.) 288 n.36
1.1.268 (6.46870 K.) 287 n.28
1.1.27 (6.469 K.) 81 n.17; 98 n.54; 286
n.21
1.1.302 (6.4701 K.) 287 n.27
1.1.33 (6.472 K.) 280 n.7; 286 n.21;
294 n.65; 295 n.70
1.1.34 (6.472 K.) 287 n.31
1.1.401 (6.4756 K.) 287 n.29
1.1.423 (6.477 K.) 287 n.30
1.1.43 (6.478 K.) 281 n.9; 286
nn.212
1.1.44 (6.478 K.) 290 n.48
1.1.45 (6.479 K.) 98 n.54; 283 n.13
1.1.456 (6.479 K.) 281 n.9; 286 n.21
1.1.46 (6.479 K.) 98 n.54; 283 n.13; 298
n.81
1.1.47 (6.480 K.) 37 n.53
1.12.1 (6.508 K.) 98 n.54; 281 n.9; 285
n.17; 298 n.81
2.59 (6.648 K.) 281 n.9; 285 n.17
3.29 (6.723 K.) 280 n.7
De antidotis
1.2 (14.12 K.) 280 n.6
De compositione medicamentorum per genera
1.1 (13.366 K.) 292 n.57
1.4 (13.376 K.) 280 n.6
1.6 (13.401 K.) 288 n.35
1.14 (13.426 K.) 281 n.7
1.16 (13.4356 K.) 80 n.15
2.1 (13.463 K.) 292 n.57
2.5 (13.502 K.) 283 nn.1112
3.2 (13.570 K.) 284 n.13
3.2 (13.594 K.) 292 n.57
4.5 (13.6812 K.) 281 n.7
4.5 (13.706f. K.) 280 n.5
6.7 (13.886ff. K.) 280 n.5
6.7 (13.887 K.) 280 n.4
6.8 (13.891f. K.) 280 n.5
6.8 (13.892 K.) 292 n.57
7.4 (13.961 K.) 284 n.13
De compositione medicamentorum secundum locos
1.7 (12.469 K.) 282 n.10
2.1 (12.498 K.) 281 n.7
2.1 (12.524 K.) 292 n.57
2.1 (12.526 K.) 281 n.7
2.1 (12.529 K.) 281 n.7
2.1 (12.532 K.) 281 n.7
3.1 (12.619 K.) 281 n.7
3.1 (12.620 K.) 284 n.14
5.1 (12.805ff. K.) 289 n.39
5.1 (12.807 K.) 294 n.65
5.5 (12.884 K.) 283 n.12
6.1 (12.894 K.) 37 n.53
7.2 (13.14ff. K.) 289 n.39
7.6 (13.1078 K.) 281 n.7
8.6 (13.188 K.) 280 n.3
9.1 (13.229 K.) 281 n.7
De denitionibus medicis
9 (19.351 K.) 117 n.68
De diebus decretoriis
2.2 (9.8423 K.) 281 n.9
2.6 (9.872 K.) 281 n.9
De dignotione pulsuum
1.7 (8.803 K.) 283 n.11
2.2 (8.84852 K.) 281 n.9
De experientia medica
1 (pp. 85f. Walzer) 292 n.58
13.45 (p. 109 Walzer) 99
De locis affectis
2.8 (8.108 K.) 284 n.13
3.3 (8.142 K.) 292 n.55
De methodo medendi
1.1 (10.5 K.) 315 n.68
1.3 (10.30 K.) 315 n.68
2.5 (10.109 K.) 315 n.68
2.6 (10.123 K.) 280 n.6
2.7 (10.27 K.) 98 n.54
3.1 (10.159 K.) 280 n.3
3.3 (10.181 K.) 281 n.9; 282 n.10; 291
n.52; 292 n.56
3.7 (10.204 K.) 98 n.54; 281 n.9; 292
n.56
3.7 (10.207 K.) 284 n.14; 292 n.55
5.1 (10.306 K.) 280 n.4
6.4 (10.420 K.) 281 n.7
6.5 (10.425 K.) 281 n.7
13.16 (10.916 K.) 280 n.6
14.5 (10.962 K.) 280 n.3
De naturalibus facultatibus
2.8 (2.124 K.) 80 n.14
Index of passages cited 391
De optima secta
32 (1.1923 K.) 325 n.98
De placitis Hippocratis et Platonis
7.3.13 (5.604 K.) 293 n.59
9.6.20 (5.7678 K.) 292 n.56
De sectis ad eos qui introducuntur
2 (1.67 K.) 291 n.53
2 (1.68 K.) 292 n.54
5 (1.75 K.) 281 n.7; 291 n.52; 292
n.58
De sectis
6 (1.79 K.) 303 n.26; 306 n.42; 321
n.82
De semine
1.1 (4.512 K.) 296 n.76
De simplicium medicamentorum temperamentis ac
facultatibus
1.1 (11.380 K.) 288 n.36; 296 nn.76, 77
1.1 (11.381 K.) 285 n.19
1.2 (11.382 K.) 288 nn.35, 37
1.23 (11.384 K.) 295 n.68
1.3 (11.384 K.) 295 n.69
1.3 (11.385 K.) 280 n.7; 285 n.19; 288
nn.33, 36; 289 n.40
1.4 (11.386 K.) 289 n.41
1.4 (11.388 K.) 280 n.7; 294 n.65
1.11 (11.400 K.). 285 n.19; 287 n.32
1.13 (11.401ff. K.) 280 n.4
1.16 (11.412 K.) 292 n.56
1.18 (11.412 K.) 281 n.7
1.18 (11.413 K.) 289 n.43
1.21 (11.416 K.) 289 n.41
1.21 (11.418 K.) 298 n.80
1.25 (11.4245 K.) 280 n.4
1.27 (11.4289 K.) 287 n.28
1.27 (11.429 K.) 281 n.7
1.31 (11.435 K.) 281 n.7; 288 n.35
1.32 (11.437 K.) 289 n.44
1.33 (11.438 K.) 289 n.41
1.34 (11.440ff. K.) 297 n.78
1.34 (11.441 K.) 280 n.7; 286 n.20
1.37 (11.449 K.) 280 n.5
1.40 (11.455f. K.) 288 n.37
1.40 (11.456 K.) 280 n.6; 283 n.12
2.1 (11.45962 K.) 280 n.5
2.2 (11.462 K.) 280 n.6
2.3 (11.466f. K.) 286 n.20
2.3 (11.467 K.) 288 n.37
2.7 (11.482 K.) 292 n.57
2.7 (11.483 K.) 98 n.54
2.7 (11.483 K.) 282; 283 n.11; 291 n.51
2.9 (11.485 K.) 289 n.41
2.10 (11.485ff. K.) 289 n.42
2.12 (11.490 K.) 281 n.7
2.20 (11.518 K.) 288 n.37
2.21 (11.518 K.) 289 nn.412
2.23 (11.5235 K.) 281 n.7
3.3 (11.545 K.) 288 n.36
3.4 (11.545 K.) 288 n.35
3.6 (11.552 K.) 281 n.9; 288 n.37
3.9 (11.557 K.) 288 n.37
3.12 (11.570 K.). 287 n.27
3.13 (11.5723 K.) 289 n.41
3.13 (11.573 K.) 281 n.9; 284; 285 n.18;
298 n.81
3.13 (11.573 K.) 98 n.54
3.20 (11.602 f. K.) 295 n.66
4.7 (11.641 K.) 289 n.42
4.7 (11.642 K.) 283 n.12
4.9 (11.650 K.) 288 n.33
4.19 (11.685 K.) 281 n.9; 285 nn.1718;
298 n.81
4.19 (11.685 K.) 98 n.54
4.23 (11.703 K.) 98 n.54; 281 n.9; 284;
285 n.18; 298 n.81
5.1 (11.705 K.) 80 n.15; 288 nn.33, 36
5.2 (11.71213 K.) 292 n.56
5.17 (11.760 K.) 288 n.33
5.18 (11.7614 K.) 288 n.33
6, proem (11.791 K.) 37 n.53; 289 n.42
6.1 (11.800 K.) 98 n.54; 281 n.9; 284
n.16; 285 n.18
6.1 (11.803 K.) 280 n.7
6.1 (11.805 K.) 281 n.7; 298 n.81
7.10 (12.36 K.) 295 n.69
7.10 (12.38 K.) 98 n.54; 281 n.9; 284
n.16; 285 n.18; 298 n.81
7.10 (12.39f. K.) 289 n.42
9.2 (12.1923 K.) 280 n.3
10.1 (12.246 K.) 281 n.9; 285 n.17
11.1 (12.350 K.) 293 n.59
De temperamentis
1.5 (1.534 K.) 280 n.6
1.9 (1.560 K.) 296 n.73
2.2 (1.590 K.) 296 n.73
3.1 (1.6467 K.) 296 n.73
3.1 (1.647 K.) 295 n.67; 296 n.74
3.1 (1.651 K.) 295 n.66
3.1 (1.651ff. K.) 287 n.32
3.1 (1.654 K.) 288 n.33
3.1 (1.655 K.) 288 n.36
3.2 (1.655 K.) 80 n.15; 288 n.36
3.3 (1.661ff. K.) 288 n.34
3.3 (1.666 K.) 288 n.35; 296 n.72
392 Index of passages cited
3.4 (1.670 K.) 288 n.36
3.4 (1.672 K.) 288 n.35; 296 n.72
3.5 (1.684 K.) 288 n.37
3.5 (1.688 K.) 288 n.38
3.5 (1.691 K.) 283 n.12; 289 n.39
In Hippocratis De natura hominis commentaria
1.256 (15.25 K.) 264 n.22
In Hippocratis De victu acutorum commentarium
1.15 (15.444 K.) 283 n.11
1.17 (15.454 K.) 291 n.50
In Hippocratis Prognosticon commentarium
1.30 (18b.93 K.) 281 n.7
Quod optimus medicus
1.536 K. 123 n.11
Subguratio empirica
2 (44.13ff. Deichgr aber) 291 n.53
2 (45.18 D.) 292 n.54
4 (50.3 D.) 292 n.54
67 (5465 D.) 291 n.50
6 (59.2 D.) 291 n.50
7 (62.1213 D.) 291 n.50
7 (62.18ff. D.) 292 n.55
7 (64.22ff. D.) 291 n.52
7 (65.8ff. D.) 292 n.54
Herodotus
1.47 245 n.26
Hi ppocrati cum Corpus
Aphorismi
1.14 (4.462 L.) 112 n.33
1.20 (4.464 L.) 112 n.33
7.87 (4.608 L.) 113 n.28
De aere aquis locis
10.12 (2.50 L.) 167 n.91
16 (2.62ff. L.) 225 n.68
22 56; 1912
22.1112 (2.80 L.) 56 n.32
De affectionibus
4 (6.212 L.) 112 nn.2930
9 (6.216 L.) 112 n.29
15 (6.224 L.) 112 n.29
18 (6.226 L.) 112 n.29
20 (6.230 L.) 112 n.33
27 (6.238 L.) 112 n.31
47 (6.256 L.) 101 n.2
55 88
61 (6.270 L.) 101 n.2
De arte
6. (6.10 L.) 112 n.27
8 (6.1214 L.) 71; 106 n.11; 112
n.27; 115 n.50; 117
n.65
De articulis
10 (4.104 L.) 38 n.56
De atibus
14.14 (6.11012 L.) 1323
De internis affectionibus
1 (7.172 L.) 117 n.66
5 (7.180 L.) 117 n.63
6 (7.182 L.) 115 n.55
9 (7.188 L.) 116 n.58
10 (7.190 L.) 116 n.56
10 (7.192 L.) 116 n.61
12 (7.196 L.) 116 n.56
12 (7.198 L.) 116 n.58
15 (7.204 L.) 112 n.33
17 (7.208 L.) 112 n.33
21 (7.220 L.) 116 n.58
22 (7.220 L.) 115 n.54
24 (7.228 L.) 113 n.38
26 (7. 236 L.) 115 n.52
26 (7.234 L.) 115 n.49
27 (7.238 L.) 115 n.51
29 (7.244 L.) 115 n.55
41 (7.270 L.) 115 n.51
46 (7.280 L.) 117 n.63
47 (7. 284 L.) 115 n.52
50 (7.292 L.) 113 n.37
De morbis
1.1 (6.1402 L.) 36 n.49
1.6 (6.1502 L.) 116 n.56
1.14 (6.164 L.) 112 n.34
2.15 (7.28 L.) 116 n.59
2.29 (7.46 L.) 116 n.59
2.48 (7.72 L.) 115 n.50
2.57 (7.8890 L.) 115 n.55
2.73 (7.112 L.) 116 n.62
3.1 (7.118 L.) 115 n.55
3.2 (7.120 L.) 115 n.53
3.3 (7.122 L.) 116 n.60
3.5 (7.122 L.) 115 n.55
3.6 (7.124 L.) 115 n.55
3.7 (7.126 L.) 116 n.60
3.10 (7.130 L.) 115 n.55
3.11 (7.132 L.) 115 n.55
3.13 (7.134 L.) 116 n.60
3.14 (7.1346 L.) 115 n.55
3.15 (7.140 L.) 116
Index of passages cited 393
3.16 (7.150 L.) 114 n.44
3.17 (7.156 L.) 116 n.60
De morbo sacro
1.2 (6.352 L.) 46 n.7; 50; 57
1.3 (6.352 L.) 50 n.15
1.34 (6.352 L.) 49 (with n.13)
1.4 (6.352 L.) 58 n.35; 61 n.39
1.11 (6.354 L.) 61 n.39
1.12 (6.354 L.) 66
1.1314 (6.356 L.) 46 n.7
1.20 (6.356 L.) 61 n.39
1.23 (6.358 L.) 47 n.9
1.25 (6.358 L.) 47 n.9; 57; 58 n.34; 61
1.256 (6.358 L.) 46 n.7
1.2531 (6.35860 L.) 46
1.26 (6.358 L.) 61 n.39
1.27 (6.358 L.) 61
1.28 (6.358 L.) 62
1.28 (6.360 L.) 61 n.39
1.2830 (6.35860 L.) 46
1.28ff. 48 n.10
1.2931 (6.35860 L.) 55 n.28
1.29 62
1.31 (6.360 L.) 47 n.9; 55 n.26; 57; 58
n.34; 61; 62
1.329 (6.3602 L.) 58
1.39 (6.362 L.) 65
1.39ff. (6.362ff. L.). 46; 48 n.10; 62; 63
1.40 66, 67
1.41 (6.362 L.) 46; 47 n.9; 63, 66
1.42 (6.362 L.) 46
1.43 (6.362 L.) 47 n.9
1.43 (6.3624 L.) 63, 66
1.44 (6.362 L.) 60
1.445 (6.362 L.) 63, 66 n.52
1.446 (6.3624 L.) 645; 69
1.45 (6.364 L.) 46; 61; 67
1.456 (6.364 L.) 46 n.7; 65
1.46 (6.364 L.) 46
2.1 (6.364 L.) 52
2.12 (6.364 L.) 50 n.15; 57
2.13 (6.364 L.) 50
2.3 (6.364 L.) 57; 62; 71
2.4 (6.364 L.) 62 n.42
2.45 (6.364 L.) 52; 191
2.6 (6.366 L.) 50 n.15
2.67 (6.366 L.) 46 n.7
2.7 (6.366 L.) 47 n.9
3.1 51; 54 n.24
3.1 (6.364 L.) 62 n.42
3.1 (6.366 L.) 59
5 52
5.1 (6.368 L.) 50 n.15; 52
5.1 (6.368ff. L.) 52
5.8 (6.370 L.) 53 n.21
7 131
8.1 (6.374 L.) 51
8.7 (6.376 L.) 51
89 52
9.4 (6.378 L.) 51
10 52
10.2 (6.378 L.) 54, 55
10.2ff. (6.378ff. L.) 51
10.4 (6.378 L.) 54 n.24
10.7 (6.380 L.) 54 n.24
11 52
11.1 (6.3802 L.) 51
11.35 127 n.16
11.5 (6.382 L.) 46 n.7
11.6 (6.382 L.) 62; 71
12.2 (6.382 L.) 46 n.7
13 51; 54
13.13 (6.368 L.) 46 n.7; 49; 50 n.15; 54;
58 n.35
1417 51
1617 126
16.2 (6.390 L.) 55
17 120 n.4; 124 n.12
17.110 (6.3924 L.) 46 n.7
18 51
18.1 54; 58; 59
18.12 (6.394 L.) 46 n.7; 50; 54; 70
18.2 51; 54; 57; 58; 61; 68
n.56
18.36 (6.3946 L.) 60, 61
18.56 (6.396 L.) 62 n.42
18.6 (6.396 L.) 46 n.7
De natura hominis
1 (6.324 L.) 36 n.48
De natura muliebri
1 (7.312 L.) 52 n.19; 56 n.30
De septimanis
45 198 n.49
De vetere medicina
1 (1.570 L.) 106 n.10
1.1 (1.570 L.) 36 n.48
1.3 (1.572 L.) 84 n.23
2.1 (1.572 L.) 85 n.26
2.3 (1.5724 L.) 91 n.39
3 (1.574 L.) 113 n.41
5 (1.580 L.) 113 n.41
7 (1.584 L.) 113 n.41
7 (1.586 L.) 114 n.47
11.1 (1.594 L.) 91 n.39
12 (1.596 L.) 113 n.40
394 Index of passages cited
14 (1.600 L.) 117 n.66
17.12 (1.612 L.) 89 n.35
20 (1.620 L.) 106 n.9
20 91 n.39; 123 n.10; 195
n.44
20.2 (1.622 L.) 36 n.48
20.34 (1.622 L.) 91 n.39
21.2 (1.624 L.) 91 n.39
22 (1.626 L.) 113 n.40
23.1 (1.634 L.) 91 n.39
De victu
1.2 (6.4702 L.) 113 n.42
1.35 128; 222 n.57
1.356 230
1.36 128
2.39 86 n.29; 88
2.40 (6.536 L.) 91
2.4056 91
2.42 91
2.52 (6.556 L.) 91
2.54 (6.556 L.) 91
2.56 (6.564 L.) 92
2.76 (6.620 L.) 117 n.66
3.67 (6.592 L.) 113 n.42
3.69 (6.606 L.) 113 n.42
4.86 (6.640 L.) 169
4.867 128
4.86 199
4.87 (6.6402 L.) 172 n.10; 198 n.49
4.87 (6.642 L.) 71 n.63
4.89.14 (6.652 L.) 71 n.63
4.90.7 (6.656 L.) 71 n.63
4.93.6 (6.662 L.) 71 n.63
De victu in morbos acutos
1 (2.2248 L.) 38
3 (2.238 L.) 38 n.56
16 (2.254 L.) 38 n.56
41 (2.310 L.) 114 n.43
44 (2.31618 L.) 114 n.43
64 (2.364 L.) 112 n.32
De victu in morbos acutos (spurium)
4 (2.400 L.) 113 n.35
8 (2.408 L.) 112 n.33
12 (2.418 L.) 112 n.33
27 (2.448 L.) 112 n.33
32 (2.462 L.) 112 n.33
567 (2.50810 L.) 113 n.36
Epidemiae
1.5 (2.632 L.) 53 n.21
1.11 (2.6346 L.) 101; 117 n.64
3.10 (3.90 L.) 53 n.21
3.16 (3.100 L.) 37
3.16 (3.102 L.) 113 n.39
6.8.7 (5.346 L.) 38
Iusiurandum 102 n.3; 112 n.27
Prognosticon
1 (2.110 L.) 84 n.25
1 (2.212 L.) 55 n.30; 71 n.62
25 56 n.30
Prorrheticon
2.4 (9.20 L.) 38 n.57
Homer
Odyssey
19.560ff. 191
Mnesi theus
fr. 11 117 n.68
fr. 22 88
Phi loponus, Johannes
In Arist. De anima I comment.
p. 51,10ff. Hayduck 221 n.53
Plato
Charmides
156 b 3-c 5 195
Ion
534 c 7-d 1 245 n.28
Leges
686 a 245 n.26
Phaedo
96 b 124 n.12
96 b 8 220 n.46
100 e 6-a 1 94 n.42
Phaedrus
244 ad 254 n.56
244 c 67 n.55
265 a 156
270cd 24
Respublica
379 a-380 c 67 n.55
380 c 89 67 n.55
403 eff. 118 n.69
571 cff. 173
573 c 79 150 n.41
Index of passages cited 395
Timaeus
71 d 245 n.26
89 b 34 112 n.33
90 aff. 223 n.63
Pli ni us Mai or
Naturalis Historia
26.10 74 n.1; 97 n.51
Plutarchus
De defectu oraculorum
437 de 146 n.31
Praxagoras
Fragmenta
100 106 n.12
101 106 n.12
102 106 n.12
103 106 n.12
104 106 n.12
105 106 n.12
106 106 n.12
107 106 n.12
108 106 n.12
109 106 n.12
111 106 n.12
112 106 n.12
Prodi cus
DK b 5 53 n.22
Scri boni us Largus
Compositiones
praef. 5 101 n.2
Sextus Empi ri cus
Pyrrhoneioi hypotyposeis
1.236ff. 321 n.82
Soranus
Gynaecia
1.4 305 n.40; 311 n.56
1.12 318 n.76
1.19 318 n.76
1.22 303 n.26
1.29 301 n.11
1.34 307 n.47
1.35 310 n.53
1.36 318 n.76
1.38 307 n.47
1.45 303 n.25; 306 n.42
1.46 322 n.86
1.52 306 n.42; 341 n.63
2.11 307 n.47
2.46 310 n.53
3.17 311 nn.567
3.24 301 n.11
3.42 301 n.11
4.16 313 n.59
4.35 313 n.59
4.36 313 n.60
4.39 301 n.11
Stephanus Atheni ensi s
Commentaria in Hippocratis Aphorismos
2.33 74 n.4
Theophrastus
De causis plantarum
2.9.89 94 n.42
5.2.5 94 n.42
6.9.4 94 n.42
De igne
35 167 n.91
De lapidibus
5 96 n.48
De pietate
frs. 1314 66 n.51
Fragmenta
159 93 n.41
Historia plantarum
9 265 n.28
Metaphysica
9 b 113 92 n.41
(Pseudo- ? ) Vi ndi ci anus
De semine
2 74 n.1; 96 n.48
General index
abortive 102
Academy, early 92
acoustics 264
actuality (Arist.) 295; rst 177, 213
administration of drugs, mode of 288
aetiology 90 n.37; see also causal explanation
A etius (doxographus) 11
age, of patient 52, 81, 98, 152, 213, 224, 228, 230;
see also old age, children
Aias 156
air 19, 126, 132, 145; divinity of 55
aitia (cause) 12; aitios 54, 59, 132; see also prophasis
akrasia 148ff., 220
Alcibiades 166
Alcmaeon of Croton 13, 18, 22, 39;
encephalocentric theory of 125, 130
Alexander of Aphrodisias 10, 16, 28
Alexandria 14, 16, 27
alternative medicine 4
analogy 12; medicine used as 264
anaphora 36
anatomy 10, 25; Aristotle on 263; comparative 14;
Diocles on 24, 26, 110
Anaxagoras 18, 19, 22; on sterility 17
Anaximander 46, 50 n.14
Anaximenes 19, 55
animals 175, 187, 207, 226; intelligence of 226,
2312; sexual behaviour of 259
Anonymus Londiniensis 11, 16, 23, 264
Anonymus Parisinus 90 n.37
antecedent cause see cause
anthr opinos 48ff., 52ff., 91
anthropocentrism 259, 262, 268
anthropology, medical 4ff.
antithesis 36, 40
aorta 119, 130
aphoristic style 39
Apollonius the Empiricist 104
apotropaeic ritual 45
Arabic dream theory 171
Aratus 34
archaeology 1, 7
archives 38
area, geographical 81, 98
Aristotle, cardiocentric theory 125; development
in his ideas 2067, 243; on epilepsy 133; on
good fortune 238ff.; inuence on Galen 293;
on the limits of causal explanation 92; medical
interests of 1011, 14ff., 154f., 212, 230, 262ff.;
on melancholy 139ff.; on the mind 130, 206ff.;
on oral teaching 36, 40; organisation of
knowledge 39; relationship to Diocles 24,
95ff.; on relationship between medicine and
philosophy 13 ff., 123, 193ff., 263; on sleep and
dreams 169ff.; on sterility 17, 259ff.; style of
his writings 31, 34; on soul functions 122;
theological ideas 69 n.60, 238ff.; on
undemonstrables 82
Aristotle, biological works 261; medical works
262ff.; zoological works 206, 231; works:
Dissections 263; Eudemian Ethics 17;
Generation of Animals 260ff., 264ff., 272ff.;
History of Animals 15, 175, 259ff.; Medical
Problems 263; Nicomachean Ethics 95, 210, 262;
On Breath 16; On Divination in Sleep 17, 21,
144ff., 156, 170, 186ff., 257f.; On Dreams 145ff.,
170, 175, 179ff.; On Health and Disease 196,
263; On Remedies 106, 264; On Sense
Perception 211, 216; On Sleep and Waking 133,
1757; On the Soul 175, 206ff., 209ff., 231, 262;
Parts of Animals 175; Parva naturalia 8, 11, 175,
193, 263, 206ff., 209ff., 231; Physiognomonica
236; Problemata physica 16, 27, 139ff. 155ff.,
231, 263, 265, 270, 273; Rhetoric 210
Aristotelian style of reasoning 80, 82, 93
Aristotelianism 14
arteries, as distinct from veins 27
Asclepiades of Bithynia 11, 104, 306f., 310, 319,
321, 326
Asclepius 169; cult of 63
Asia 225
asthmatic complaints 131
396
General index 397
astronomers 30
atheism 46, 62
Athenaeus of Attalia 13 n.20
Attic dialect 24, 74
audience, of medical/philosophical texts 30,
2578
authority 6, 30
authorship, multiple 260 n.4
autopsy 130
awakening 220
axioms 279
Babylonian medicine 9 n.17
balance 230; between forces in the body 130
Balme, D. 26074
bandages, Diocles on 24, 110
B aumker, C. 234
Bellerophontes 156
bile 152; black 140ff., 159; yellow 140, 153
bio-archaeology 1
biology 2067
blending (krasis) 12
blood 129, 1301, 132, 135; 166; in Aristotle 140,
153, 176, 185, 218, 220, 225, 230; blood ritual
131; circulation 3 n.3; cognitive role of 26;
vessels 142, 178
bloodletting 11213
body, relation to soul 124ff.; role in mental
processes 17, 1412, 164ff., 207ff., 231, 236; role
in sleep 171; studies into the body 8
Boerhaave, H. 3
bones 12
Borysthenes 187
botany, Diocles on 24
brain 20, 28, 119, 126, 129, 1312, 178, 224, 228; as
cause of disease 51, 59; cognitive role of 16, 26
breath 158
Caelius Aurelianus 8, 11, 29, 41, 299ff.;
epistemological views 12, 299ff.; Gynaecia 301;
as a source 107, 119, 135
captatio benevolentiae 40
cardiocentric theory 125
case histories 39
catalogue structure 345
catarrhs, Diocles on 110
causal explanation 12, 25, 29, 85, 261; in dietetics
912; of disease 90, 115; see also aetiology
cause 9 n.17, 45, 59, 132, 175, 188, 259ff., 289;
additional 235; antecedent 303, 312ff.; concept
of 1213; in denition 318; of disease 10, 195,
305, 311; and effect 68, 79, 89; of effects of
foods and drugs 78ff.; of failure to conceive
271; nal 179; four Arist. causes 177, 179;
hidden 311; vs. symptom 27
celestial bodies 13, 55
Celsus 10, 303; on early history of medicine
102ff.
central sense faculty 1756, 183
chance 2489
change 11; principles of 13
character, affected by physical factors 141, 158, 225
children 178, 181, 21819, 223
Chinese medicine 5
cholera 310, 318
choleric 52
Christianity 302
chronic disease 116
chronic fatigue syndrome 117
Chrysippus (med.) 104, 110
class distinction between doctors 195 n.46
classication 12
cleansing 46; see also purication
Clearchus 27
climate 81, 98, 127, 303
climatic factors 49, 53, 68
clinical practice 13, 18
clystering 113
Cnidian sentences 38
cognition 25, 119ff.
coincidence 188, 201
cold, quality of 12, 19, 89, 143, 220, 225, 228, 230,
236, 315; as cause of disease 51, 55
colour, perception of 180
common, to soul and body 175, 209
common opinions 94 n.43
common sense faculty 170, 175, 2212, 227
communication of medical ideas 6, 14, 24
communication studies 30
comparative study of medical history 4, 6
compartmentalisation, of medicine 110, 118
competence, claims to 6, 26
complementary medicine 4
concentration, mental 229
conception 271f.
condentiality 26
conjecture 145, 280
consciousness 120, 127, 1712
constituents, of nature of foodstuffs 83
constitution, of body 52, 81, 98, 213, 225, 235,
238, 246, 303; types 140ff., 148, 151
contemplation 244 n.24
convalescence 117
cookery 26, 110
cooling 1334
corpuscular theory 29
Cos 22, 27
cosmology, framework to medicine 18
courage 225
cult, religious 478, 67
398 General index
cultural history of medicine 4, 7; of philosophy 9
curability of disease 50 n.16, 61, 71, 115
daemons 63, 239
daimonios 191; daimonia phusis 191, 2467
data-collection 261
death, causes of 11
denition 12, 29, 232, 279, 315ff.; of dream 184ff.
Defoe, D. 3
deformations 213, 235, 230, 265
Deichgr aber, K. 3
deism 69
deliberation 246
Demeter 53 n.22
Democritus 172; 181, 323; anatomical research of
13; on dreams 170; 201ff.; medical interests of
10, 103; on sterility 17
demonstration 315
deontology 4, 5, 101ff.
depression 156; depressive-cold expressions of
melancholy 166
Dervenyi papyrus 21
descent 224
description 316
desire, concept of 17, 148
determinism 69
deviations 211, 265
diagnostic character 267
dialect, Attic 24, 74; Ionic 23
dialectics 121, 315; dialectical nature of Aristotles
works 203; presentation 35
dianoia 128, 219, 222ff., 225, 229, 2334, 236
diaphragm 120, 126
diarrhoea 131
Dicaearchus 27
Diels, H. 3, 33
diet 52, 305, 326
dietetics 5
dietetics 76100, 104, 123, 279ff.; Diocles on 24;
division within 1045, 11011, 113ff.; for the
treatment of disease 114, 117f.
differentia 316
digestion 133; Diocles on 24, 110
Diller, H. 3
Diocles 5, 7, 8, 237, 40, 123, 231 n.81;
cardiocentric theory 125; on causal
explanation 85ff.; criticised by Caelius
Aurelianus 322f.; development of
epistemological concepts 12; on epilepsy 134;
familiarity with Hippocratic writings 745;
interest in physics 11; on location of the mind
129; on method of dietetics 74100; on oral
teaching 36; relation to Aristotle and
Theophrastus 14, 16, 95ff.; reputation 74; on
sterility 17; therapeutic views of 102, 104ff.,
117ff.; on the use of experience 99; works:
Affection, Cause, Treatment 90, 106, 115;
Archidamos 110 n.19; On Treatments 106
Diogenes of Apollonia 48 n.11, 55; on the use of
experience 99
Dionysus 53 n.22, 166
diorismos 280ff.
discourse analysis 4, 301
discovery, method of 280
disease 218, 224, 228, 236; causes of 11; as distinct
from constitution 151, 154, 156; essence of 24;
types of 12
disturbance, of vital functions 266
diuretic 78
divination 161 n.78, 169; rational 254ff.
divine, the 578, 238; character of disease 45ff.;
48ff., 54ff., 6870; concern (theia epimeleia)
243, 247; dispensation (theia moira) 60, 67,
242, 257; intervention 5, 17, 20; movement in
the soul 238, 246; principle in man 247, 250;
role in healing 5, 62, 71; see also gods
division 12; of medicine 104, 110ff.
doctor, duties of 101ff.; gentleness of 26;
judgement of 11617; mentioned by Aristotle
193; professional status of 13; vis-` a-vis
students of nature 11
doctorpatient relationship 1012
Dogmatists 12, 25, 28, 779, 989, 102, 279,
315f., 319, 321ff.
dogs 189
doxography 11, 14, 41, 121, 270, 302 n.18, 321
dreamlessness 181
dreams 8, 11, 17, 128, 143ff., 241; activity of
dreaming 216; classication of 1901; contents
of 171; erotic dreams 259, 271; (medical)
interpretation of 169, 171; origin of 1823
drinks 10, 14
dropsy 269 n.44
drugs 10, 14, 62, 282, 288, 294, 326; distinct from
foods 99
drugsellers 19
drunkenness 145, 148, 181, 208, 218, 220, 230,
236, 315
dry 19
dualism 128, 172, 1989
dunamis 12, 295ff.; see also power
dwarfs 178, 212, 221ff., 229, 235,
early modern medicine 14
earth 19
earthquakes 13, 19, 61
eclipses 19, 61
ecstasy 156; ecstatic people 212; ekstatikos 149
Edelstein, L. 2 n.2, 3
education 208 n.10; medical 7
General index 399
Egyptian medicine 4, 9 n.17
ejaculation 259, 271f.
elementary qualities, Diocles on 24
elements, four 12, 19; of foodstuffs 83
elite physicians 19
emanatory theory of vision 211
embryo 178; status of 11
embryology 10, 14; Diocles on 24
embryonic development 11
emotion 129, 172, 181, 224, 236
Empedocles 19, 201, 33, 34, 156, 165, 231 n.81;
haematocentric theory 125; healing activity
of 13; medical interests of 10, 103; on
sterility 17
empirical method 78, 85; approach to medicine 9
n.17, 123; data 134, 135; evidence 25, 121, 1778,
282, 286; observation 130, 170; research 10
Empiricists 12, 16, 289, 75, 77, 80, 84, 97, 102,
105, 279, 282, 291ff., 321ff., 325
encephalocentric theory 21, 124, 135
Enlightenment 2
enthousiasmos 242 n.19; 251ff.
environment 14, 225
environmental history 1, 7
epilepsy 17, 19, 4573, 109, 123, 127, 131ff., 156,
191; epileptic seizure 131, 1778
epilogismos 291
epistemology 12; of medicine 14, 299ff.
Erasistratus 7, 28, 104, 11011, 118, 326; on horror
vacui 12; interest in physics 11; on mechanical
vs. teleological explanation 12; reception of
Aristotelian ideas in 16; on the use of
experience 99
error 265; in pharmacology 286
ethics 26; in Aristotle 17; history of medical 4;
medical 7; role of nature in 214
ethnography of literature 30
ethopoion 141, 152, 158, 166
Euclid 31
Eudemus 264
euphuia 145, 165, 227, 232
Euripides, religious beliefs of 46
Europe, Aristotles views on 225
eutuchia 17
evacuations, Diocles on 110
evidence, medical 26; see also empirical method
excretions 53
exercise 113
experience 24, 78, 845, 195, 254f., 279ff., 282ff.,
321ff.; practised 291; qualied 98, 280ff.; vs.
reason 29
experiment 12, 135, 282, 297f.
explanation 9 n.17, 12; see also causal explanation
external remedies, Diocles on 110
eyes, rolling of 131
faeces 153
fainting t 177
falsication 135
fear 156, 236
female, contribution to generation 11;
reproductive anatomy 25
fertility 11; fertility test 270 n.48; see also
infertility and sterility
fever 10, 11, 28, 145, 181; Diocles on 24, 110
nal cause 204; see also cause
re, element 19, 27, 128, 231
rst person, use in scientic literature 40
esh 2267; people with hard 166, 213; people
with soft 166, 213, 230
uids, bodily 12, 129, 153
F ollinger, S. 261, 274
fomentations 113
foods 10, 14; Diocles on 24
foodstuffs 282, 288, 294
formmatter distinction 208, 235, 261
fortune, good (eutuchia) 17, good 232, 238ff.
Frede, M. 316
Fredrich, C. 86
freedom, intellectual 478 n.10
frenzy, Plato on 245
Galen 3, 5, 7, 8, 289, 40, 302, 303, 327; on
Hipp. writings 21; ideas about distinguished
physicians 123; on oral teaching 37; on overlap
between medicine and philosophy 13;
presentation of Diocles by 97; philosophy of
science 12; on reason and experience 279ff.;
reception of Aristotelian ideas in 14, 16;
relation to Alexander 28; teleology 16; views
on the history of medicine 11; works: On the
Method of Healing 282; On Mixtures 287ff.; On
the Powers of Foodstuffs 76ff., 285; Thrasybulus
118
gas 132
gender 213, 287, 303; studies 8
general, vs. particular 10
generalisation 89, 290
generality (koinotes) 303, 325
generation 259ff.
genius 18, 165
genres 324
genus 12, 316, 319
Glaucias 104
gn ome 130
Gnosticism 88
gods 5, 239; in Aristotle 238, 243 n.21, 245, 253ff.;
as causes of disease 58, 60, 65, 71; as healers
62, 71; as puriers of moral errors 65, 71; as
senders of dreams 1434, 189
Gorgianic gures of speech 33, 36
400 General index
Gourevitch, D. 316
gradualist view on intelligence 222, 231
grammar, ancient 14
Greeks 225
guardian deity 239
gymnastics 26
gynaecology, Diocles on 24, 110
habit 164, 208 n.10, 254f.
haematocentric theory 125, 132
haemorrhage 311, 315, 325
half-sleep 181, 185
hands, human 216, 227; clenching of 131
harm, iatrogenic 101; to do no 26
harmonics 264
Harvey 3
health, causes of 11, 194; regimen in 110, 113ff.;
restoration of 114ff.
healthcare system 5, 6
heart 119, 122, 126, 129, 1335, 177, 228; chambers
of 178; cognitive role of 26; left ventricle of 130
heat 158; 218, 236; bodily 129, 273; see also hot
Hecataeus 23, 39
Heracles 156
Heracles, Pillars of 1878; 202
Heraclides of Tarentum 104, 306, 323
Heraclitus 18, 22, 172; on dreams 170
herbs 24
hereditary aspects of disease 131
heritage 213
Hermotimus 173
Herodotus 23, 389; on dreams 170
Herophilus 7, 278, 104, 110; on causation 12;
interest in physics 11; reception of
Aristotelian ideas in 16
Hesiod 50 n.14
Hippocrates 3, 5, 7, 10, 215, 103; Diocles
presented as second to 74; as represented by
Galen 327
Hippocratic medicine 20; diversity within 5
Hippocratic writers, on bodysoul relationship
124; development of epistemological concepts
12; on melancholy 140, 1545; on soul
functions 122; on status of the medical art
105ff.; therapeutic principles of 26; on
therapeutics 110ff.; views on location of
mental functions 267
Hippocratic writings 2, 13, 19, 34ff., 102;
anonymity of 23; diversity within 21ff.;
differences with regard to Aristotle 263, 267ff.,
269; known to Aristotle 14, 16; similarities
with Aristotle 260, 274; works: Airs Waters
Places 21, 34, 56, 191; Aphorisms 75 n.5;
Epidemics 2, 312, 34, 39; Oath 2, 5, 21, 26,
1012; On Affections 112; On Ancient Medicine
2, 19, 36, 756, 86ff., 122, 282; On the Art of
Medicine 18, 33, 36, 269; On Breaths 18, 33, 36,
125, 132f, 134, 269; On Diseases 1 36, 115, 125;
On Diseases 2 115, 125; On Diseases 3 115; On
Diseases of Women 35; On Fleshes 9 n.17, 12, 18,
130, 195; On Generation / On the Nature of the
Child/On Diseases 4 17, 269; On the Heart 125,
130; On Internal Affections 115; On the Nature
of Man 9 n.17, 12, 18, 34, 140, 153, 155; On the
Nature of the Woman 35 On Places in Man 18;
On Regimen 5, 12, 18, 22, 27, 712, 756, 86ff.,
111, 122, 127, 16970, 172, 175, 191, 195, 198ff.,
2301; On the Sacred Disease 2, 5, 9 n.17, 17,
19, 34, 36, 4573, 123, 1312, 134, 156, 191;
Pharmakitis 112
historiography, ancient 14
Homer 50 n.14, 182
homosexuality 302
hopelessness, of cases of disease 57, 71 n.62, 102,
11516
hot, elementary quality of 12, 19, 89, 225, 228, 230
human, nature of disease 48ff., 51ff., 578
humours 9 n.17, 12, 24, 27, 90, 159; theory of
1401, 153
hupothesis 19, 122
hygiene 14, 246
hylomorphism 173, 199
Hymes, D. 323
ileus 107
imagination 141, 144ff., 149ff., 2234; in Aristotle
17, 170, 175, 179, 182
impiety (asebeia) 46, 48 n.10, 623, 69
impotence 56, 191
imprints 216
impulses (hormai ) 240, 246
incantations 63, 131
incidental perception 234
incurability 62
Indian medicine 5
indication (endeixis) 78, 282, 303; (tekmerion) 12,
169
indigestion 315
inference from signs 13, 24, 27, 29; inferential
reasoning 279, 282, 315
infertility, female 259ff., 262ff.; male 259, 268
inherited features 11, 265
insects 177
instability 158ff., 161, 166
institutional history of medicine 4
intellectual history 4
intellectuals, religious beliefs of 47, 70
intelligence 55, 120, 166; degrees of 222, 225, 228
intuition 2312
invisible 84, 309
General index 401
Ionic dialect 23
irrational 238ff.; nature 240, 246
irrational people 257
irritable people 149, 212
Jaeger, W. 95
John Philoponus 14; medical ideas in
10, 16
judgement 176
katharsis 131
knowledge, nature of medical 28
krasis 12, 151, 157, 159
Kudlien, F. 2 n.2
K uhn, J.-H. 87
laxative 78, 82
left side of the body 52
leptomereia 289, 308
lethargy 123
life, causes of 11
lifestyle, of patient 26, 81, 98, 118, 128, 287
linguistics 1, 7; ancient 14
literacy 31, 37ff.
location of mind 26, 224; of disease in the body
120ff.
locomotion 25
logic 14, 123
longevity 11
looseness, state of 325f.
love 236
luck 106
Lyceum, Diocles and 956
madness 165; in relation to genius 18
magic 5, 78, 20, 33, 45ff., 63, 131
magicians 20, 57, 656
male, contribution to generation 11
man, nature of 11
mania 123, 156
manic-passionate expressions of melancholy
166
market place, medical 7, 33
master craftsman 195
materialism 128, 165 n.89, 236
mathematicians 14, 30
mean 158, 161
mechanical explanation in Aristotle 182ff., 211,
213, 216, 231
mechanics 28, 264
medical examination 266
medical literature on dreams 181, 192
medicalisation 118
medicine, diversity in 5, 18
medieval medicine 14
melancholia 123
melancholics 139ff., 181, 187, 190, 21112, 229,
241, 253f.
melancholy, Aristotle on 17, 139ff.
Meletius of Sardes 16
memory 8, 11, 17, 128, 175, 216, 223, 228
Meno 264
menstruation 180, 259; menstrual blood 270ff.
mental apprehension 326
mental faculties 126
mental illness 10, 12, 26
metaphor 165, 232
meteorology 14, 24
Methodism 12, 289, 119, 299ff.
methodology 12
midwives 269
mind, location of 119ff., 224
mindbody distinction 27, 119ff.
mineralogy 24, 96
mixture 151, 157, 287; see also krasis
Mnesitheus 12, 78, 88, 111, 117
moisture 142, 229
mola uteri 25960, 26970, 272f.
monstrosities 11
moon 62
moral error 20, 667
moral qualication 244
moral values 5, 6
motor signals in the body 129
movement 220, 223; principle of 245
movements, of sense perception 183
mules 11
narcotics 178
narratology 30
natural 233; law 45
natural philosophy 11; 123 see also phusis and
physics
natural scientist 194
naturalistic theology 456, 62, 67
nature 68, 2389, 257, 296; Aristotles concept of
212, 214; concept of 12; contrary to 230; of
disease 49ff.; of foodstuff 78; formal 235;
human 157; material 235; study of 10, 103, 175,
207; theory of, Diocles on 24; see also phusis
Near Eastern medicine 4
Nemesius of Emesa 10, 16
nervous system 3, 16, 28
Neuh auser, J. 234
Nicander 34
Ninos 48 n.10
non-Western medicine 4
nous in Aristotle 122, 130, 176, 222, 233, 243, 258;
in sleep 171
number theory 9 n.17
402 General index
nutrition 177
nutritious 78
nutritive part of soul 235
observable 2901, 306ff.
observation 10, 12; see also empirical method
offspring, multiple 260, 274
old age 10, 11, 224
old people 213
olive oil 24, 110 n.19
optic nerve 125
optics 264
orality 31, 36ff.; oral presentation 35
Oribasius 11
Origen 88
Orphism 1712
pain 148, 181, 236
palaeopathology 7
palliative care 114
palpitations 131
parallelism 36
paranoia 224
Parmenides 201, 34; medical interests of 10
particular 52, 81; vs. general 10
parts, affected 3034
passages in the body (poroi) 1289, 132
pathology 14, 24, 110
pathos 148, 176
patient 101
perception, in Aristotle 17, 210ff.
Peripatetics 1516, 27
peritt oma 143, 152
peritton, to 18, 157, 161, 163, 165, 167, 221 n.55
phantasia 149ff., 165, 182; thought dependent on
218, 233
pharmacology 14, 29, 104, 11112, 279ff., 305,
323f.
Philistion 22
Philolaus 10
philosophia, Greek concept of 19
philosophy 106; study of 7, 8ff.; overlap with
medicine 10ff.; of mind 206
Philotimus, on the use of experience 99
phlegm 131, 134; in Aristotle 140, 153
phlegmatic 52
phrenes 120
phrenitis 119ff., 123
phronesis 127, 163, 215, 232
phusa 132
phusiologia 122
phusis 12, 19, 52ff., 57, 73, 81, 823, 239, 257;
human 141, 144f., 151, 1601
physics 11, 15, 175
physiology 10, 14, 24, 90
piety 63
Pindar 170
pistis 12
plants 13, 172, 175, 207
Plato 12, 34, 40, 156, 165; on dietetics 118; on
dreams 170, 173; medical interests of 10, 11;
religious ideas 67, 69 n.60; on wandering
uterus 261; works: Timaeus 11, 12, 125; Republic
21
plausible, the 303
pleasure 1489, 181, 236
Pleistarchus 77
Pliny the Elder 97
pneuma 129, 132, 145f., 148, 158, 218, 221, 230,
260, 270, 273, 307f.; in Diocles 24, 26, 90;
psychic 134
Pneumatists 321
poetry, as medium for communication of
knowledge 34
poison 282, 288, 294; Diocles on 24; poisoning
by doctors 102
polemical writing 88, 204
pollution (miasma) 20, 60, 63, 64
positivism 3, 9 n.17
possession 63, 131
postnatal purgation 52
postulate 19, 84, 106; see also hupothesis
potentiality 295
power (dunamis) 90; of foodstuffs 77ff., 280
practical science 262, 268
practitioners, medical 6
Praxagoras 23, 27, 104ff., 110; cardiocentric
theory 125; on epilepsy 134; On Treatments
106; reception of Aristotelian ideas in 16; on
the use of experience 99
prayer 5, 712
pregnancy 260, 273
prenatal purgation 52
preparation, of foods 287
presentism 3
Presocratic philosophy 19, 62; concept of the
divine in 50
prevention of disease 25, 118
principles (archai) 11
prognostics 24, 110
progressivism 4
proof (pistis) 12
prophasis 12, 49, 51, 52ff., 54, 59, 68, 73, 132
prophecy 232; powers of 144ff., 148, 156; in sleep
172, 186ff., 241, 246
prose writing 34, 38
providence, divine 69
psuche 127
psychosomatic disease 123
psychology 2067
General index 403
pulse 10, 27
punishment, disease as 45
purgation 52
purication 20, 47 n.10, 63, 153; divine
667
Pythagoras 13, 20; medical interests of 10,
103
Pythagoreanism 172, 208
qualication 280ff.
qualities, elementary 12, 19; primary and
secondary 8990, 123; of substances 79
question and answer structure 36
quick-witted people 213, 2289
rapid eye movements 185
ratio 321ff.
Rationalists 25
rationality 9 n. 17, 46, 58, 238, 258; of man 208,
216; of Greek medicine 2, 4, 5, 7, 19
reason, vs. experience 29
reasoning 85, 219, 242, 246, 279ff., 321ff.
reception studies 31
recollection 141, 175, 216, 223, 229, 234
reection 211
refutation, method of 280
regimen in health, Diocles on 245
region 287
relevance, criterion of 306
religion 63, 169; relation to medicine 201,
678
religious healing 5, 7
religious thought 45
reproduction 1012, 259ff.
residue 143, 152, 196; see also peritt oma
respiration 8, 10, 11
rest, state of 219
retrospective diagnosis 3
rhetoric 6, 301, 33, 123
right side of the body 52
ring composition 39
ritual 4, 48, 67, 131
Roman medicine 7
rootcutters 19, 110
ruling part of soul 11, 119ff.
sacrice 71
Scepticism 28, 75, 80, 97, 121, 305; and medicine
13
Schrijvers, P. H. 302
Scythians 56, 191
season 81, 98, 127, 287, 303
sects, medical 12, 28
seed, origin of 11, 12; female 260, 270; male 260,
269, 273
self-control, lack of 148ff.
self-denition, in Greek science 41
sense perception 11, 25, 129, 172, 175, 210, 226;
disturbance of 224; principle of in Aristotle
147
Serapion 104
seventh-month children 11
sex differentiation 210
Sextus Empiricus 10, 13, 303
sexual differentiation 261
sexual intercourse 259, 266
sexuality 24, 26, 110
shamanism 173
sharpness of sight 211, 213ff.
shrewdness (deinotes) 215, 232
Sigerist, H. 3
sign (semeion ) 12, 169, 188, 267; of failure to
conceive 271; dreams as signs 192ff.
signicatio 312, 316
similarity, perception of 1445, 165
Simplicius 16
skin 230
slavery 214
sleep 11, 128, 142f., 171ff., 175; Aristotles theory of
8, 133, 1757, 208, 210, 216, 218, 220, 224, 230;
sleepwalking 178; stages of 181, 185
slow-witted people 213, 228
smell 2267
sobriety 208
social history of medicine 4, 7; of philosophy 9
social position of healers 6, 7
Socrates 24, 156, 165
sophists 18, religious beliefs of 46
Soranus 8, 29, 299ff.
soul 12, 1278, 262; in Aristotle 170; faculties of
122, 207; part connected with phusis 17; parts
of 179; principle of movement in 245;
relation to body 27, 124ff.; ruling part of 11,
119ff.
sound effects 36
spasm 317
specialisation 13, 118
species 316, 319
speech event 32
sports 26
sprinkling, ritual 66
stability, principles of 13
starting points (archai) 82, 92 n.41
sterility 11, 17, 259ff.
Stoicism 11, 278, 122, 302
Strato 10, 16, 27
Sudhoff, K. 3
suicide 156
suitability (epitedeiotes) 216
summetria 266
404 General index
sun 62; as cause of disease 51, 55
sunesis 127
surgery 104, 305, 326; Diocles on 24, 110; status
in the Hippocratic corpus 112
symptomatology 110, 115
systematicity 9 n.17, 245
taste 226
teaching 164
techne 18, 195, 215
teeth, grinding of 131
tekmerion 12
teleology 190, 296, 302; teleological explanation
214
Temkin, O. 3, 310
temple medicine 33, 60, 634, 66 n.52, 71
temples 63, 67, 71
terminology 39
Tertullian 88
theios 48ff.
Themison 300, 323
Themistius 16
theodicy 69
theology 21, 70, 258, 302
Theophrastus 16, 92ff., 139, 167, 264;
medical interests of 1011, 27; relation to
Diocles 24
theoretical nature of medicine 245
theoretical reasoning 177, 195
theoretical science 262
Theoris 48 n.10
therapeutics 13, 14, 18, 101ff., 114ff.; Diocles on
24, 26
Thessalus 300
thinking 12, 218; in Aristotle 17, 207ff.; bodily
aspects of 207; in sleep 186
Thucydides 3, 46
touch 2267
toxicology 110
tractatus 31
trance 178
treatment 310, 314; condition in need of 267;
different methods of 110ff.; see also
therapeutics
Tricot, J. 260
triplets 11
twins 11
typological differentiation 212
undemonstrable principles 93 n.41
understanding 127
unguents 180
universals 52, 81
unobservable 306ff., 326f.
upright position 216, 221
uterus 259; wandering 261
Vallance, J. 304
valves of the heart 28
vapours, in the body 133
variations (diaphorai) 208ff., 214, 217, 227, 230,
237
vascular system 1112
vegetables 24, 110
veins, as distinct from arteries 27; people with
prominent 142, 213
ventricle, left of the heart 130
vessels, blood 142, 178; see also blood
Vindicianus 12; On the Seed 110 n.19
virtue 250; natural 215, 232
visual perception 211
viva vox 37
voice 210
waking 208
waste products, bodily 12
water 19, 27, 231; element 128
weather 62
weight, bodily 221f.
Western medicine 4
wet 19
whole, as opposed to parts 24
wind 2012; as cause of disease 51, 54
wind-pregnancy 259
wine 24, 157, 180
women 215; women studies 8
writing tablet 38
Xenophanes, religious beliefs of 46
young people 213, 221, 2289
youth 10, 11, 152