Cursus Philosophicus Thomisticus, Prima Pars Artis Logicae

The title presupposes that there is order in every doctrine, that is, in every science which treats its subjects scientifically; it must not begin with this or that subject by chance or at whim, for in that way it would produce confusion rather than clarity, which depends chiefly on the order of treatment. Therefore it is proper to the wise person to order things, as is said in Metaphysics 1.¹

Second, I presuppose from the proem of the Physics that, in proceeding, the order of nature and that of art or science are the same: they begin from what is more imperfect and easier, and are brought to completion or end in what is more perfect. Thus, in intention, more perfect things are prior—that is, intended first—while in execution they are last. They stand conversely with respect to perfection. For cognition more readily touches on things that are more common, and is then more imperfect; it is perfected, however, when it knows things more particularly. Therefore doctrine, like nature, begins from what is more common—that is, what pertains to more things—and from what is simpler and better known to us. But cognition in its execution does not begin from things better known, not to us, but in themselves because of their great perfection, which are called better known by nature—that is, of a nobler and more knowable nature—even though they are not easier. On this see Physics, question 1.²

I SAY, THEN, FIRST: It belongs to Logic in its own right to direct all three operations of the intellect, which are simple apprehension, composition, and discourse.

No one doubts that the second and third operations belong to Logic; some doubt the first. But this follows clearly from Aristotle and St. Thomas, who says in Posterior Analytics 1, lecture 1:³ “One action of the intellect is the understanding of indivisibles or incomposites, insofar as it conceives what a thing is; and the doctrine Aristotle gives in the book of the Categories is ordered to this operation.” The holy Doctor affirms the same no less openly in On Interpretation 1, lecture 1,⁴ where he distributes the order of Aristotle’s books in Logic according to these three operations of the intellect.

YOU WILL SAY that St. Thomas does not teach that the first apprehension absolutely and in its own right belongs to Logic, but belongs to it accidentally and by reason of something else, namely judgment. For what is first in simple apprehension later becomes a partial object of judgment; in that first state it does not belong to Logic, but does so in the second.

But, first, the contrary is the case because the Divine Thomas speaks of one operation in the same tenor and manner as of another, nor does he make a treatise that directs the first operation accidentally any more than one that directs the second. Further, the first operation too is directly capable of direction and grounds its intentions: namely, the relations of higher and lower, of universal and particular among the predicables, and the coordinations of the categories, in which we distinguish things confusedly apprehended into their classes. All this requires some art and direction, insofar as these things are arranged in an ordered and distinct way and the confusion under which things are first apprehended is removed. This pertains to the first operation, not to composition and discourse, since complex things are rather excluded from the categories and only simple things are placed there, as will be said in Logic, in the Antepredicaments;⁵ nor can this be directed by any art other than Logic. Therefore, and so on.

I SAY, SECOND: Among the operations themselves, Logic, in the proper order of doctrine, begins by directing the first operation.

This is clear from what has been said. Second, the order of an art must be proportioned and conformed to the order of nature, for art imitates nature. But by nature the intellect proceeds in knowing from the first operation to the second. Therefore the art of Logic too must proceed from the first operation to the second in directing.

I SAY, LAST: Within the first operation itself, it is most fitting to begin, in the sequence and order of treatment of Logic’s prioristic resolution, from the term or simple expression—not absolutely, but insofar as it is a part of an enunciation and bears a relation to composing it.

This conclusion depends on what is to be said in the following article. Meanwhile, it is gathered clearly from St. Thomas, On Interpretation 1, lecture 1,⁶ where he says: “If someone asks, since simple things were discussed in the book of the Categories, why it was necessary to determine the name and the verb again here, one must answer that simple expressions may be considered in three ways. First, insofar as they signify simple acts of understanding absolutely; in this way their consideration belongs to the book of the Categories. In another way, according to their character as parts of an enunciation; in this way they are treated in this book, and therefore are presented under the character of noun and verb, whose character it is to signify something with or without time, and other such features that pertain to expressions insofar as they constitute an enunciation. Third, they are considered insofar as the syllogistic order is constituted from them; in this way they are treated under the character of terms in the book of the Prior Analytics.” These are St. Thomas’s words.

THE REASON IS that although the absolute consideration of a thing usually precedes its relational consideration, nevertheless, in relation to some special treatise or end, relational consideration can come first. For in the present work we treat of things that pertain to logical form, or prioristic resolution; in Logic we treat of things that pertain to matter and posterioristic resolution. The considerations of the categories, in which simple expressions are considered absolutely, pertain to the matter or posterioristic part of Logic, since the categories are series of predicates, or of higher and lower grades, genera and species, and so on. All this belongs on the side of the things themselves, from whose connection, as from matter, demonstration or opinion is fashioned. But consideration of the term or simple expression, insofar as it pertains to the prioristic part, looks to the construction and composition of the enunciation and syllogism. Hence it must be considered in relation to the things it constructs or into which the constructed thing is resolved. In this relational consideration, we had to consider its relation to enunciation before its relation to syllogism, because enunciation precedes syllogism. We therefore fittingly begin from the term according to its function or relation in making an enunciation, and shall thereafter treat it in relation to the extreme of a syllogism.

THE OBJECTIONS ARE ANSWERED.

Against the first conclusion you object: The adequate object of Logic is the artful mode of knowing; therefore, in a cognition where there is no art and no artful mode, Logic has no right or direction, just as it cannot direct sight or hearing. But simple apprehension is devoid of every art and mode of knowing, because it is borne toward its object as naturally as the external senses are; indeed, it is called simple apprehension because it has nothing of art in it. Therefore it in no way belongs to dialectic to direct it.

IT IS ANSWERED by denying that simple apprehension is devoid of every logical art. For although it is devoid of the art of composition and division, it is not devoid of the art of distinction and coordination, as when we distinguish higher from lower grades, the intention of genus from that of species, common from particular, concrete from abstract, and the like. Since many things are usually apprehended confusedly and in a tangled way in the first apprehension itself, unfolding and coordinating them is an art required for a mode of knowing, for example for definition and division, which are usually made according to the intention of genus and difference. But correcting errors in simple apprehension on the part of the nature or thing apprehended will belong to the metaphysician; on the part of form and second intention—for example, on the part of genus and difference, concrete and abstract, and the like—it will belong to the logician.

Second it is argued against the second and third conclusions: The proper order of doctrine requires us to begin in the order in which nature does, namely from what is more imperfect and better known to us. But the term, as it is presented by us, is neither more imperfect nor better known to us; therefore one must not begin from it.

The minor is proved: It is not more imperfect, because the term can still be resolved into other, more imperfect things of which it consists, namely signification, voice, syllables, and so on. Therefore one ought to treat of the sign before the term, and of voice and syllables. Nor is it better known to us, because something is better known than it. First, in confused cognition, the whole is better known than the part, and thus discourse and proposition are better known than the term. Then, in definitional and distinct cognition, the term is defined by the proposition; therefore the proposition must be better known, since it stands as the defining expression with respect to the term as defined, and thus makes it manifest. Otherwise, if we had no knowledge of the proposition, how would we define the term by it?

And this is confirmed: Aristotle in Prior Analytics 1, chapter 1⁷ first defined proposition, then the term as that into which a proposition is resolved; therefore knowledge of the proposition must be presented before that of the term.

IT IS ANSWERED by denying the minor. To the proof of the first part it is answered that the term is indeed resolvable into things prior to it, of which it consists, but treating those things does not belong to the logician; rather, the logician presupposes them. The physicist treats voice in itself and natural signs; the grammarian treats syllables; the establishment of signs by convention pertains to the commonwealth, and politics treats them insofar as they pertain to public communication among human beings. If the logician treats a sign at all, either he borrows this from other sciences or treats it insofar as it is the foundation of second intention in logical instruments such as term and discourse. Thus logical resolution properly stops at the term, just as construction is of proposition and syllogism. The further resolution of the term, namely into voice, signification, and the like, is not part of logical inquiry, just as a sculptor stops at the wood from which he makes a statue, although wood and bronze are resolved into matter and form—not by art, but by nature.

To the proof of the second part it is answered that something is better known than the term by confused cognition, but not by distinct and scientific cognition. We, however, begin to treat the term in a scientific order and with distinct cognition, which presupposes confused cognition of the whole. Hence, to define the part through its relation to the whole as an extrinsic term, it suffices to presuppose the whole itself as confusedly known, not scientifically and distinctly. And when it is pressed that the defining expression must be better known than what is defined, the answer is that it must be better known, but not more knowable: that is, it must be something known to everyone at least by simple and confused cognition, though not scientifically—especially in the case of things defined in relation to something extrinsic, which are definitions as it were by addition, as is said in Metaphysics 7.⁸ For the relation to that thing is intrinsic, not the extrinsic thing to which such a relation obtains; thus perfect knowledge of that extrinsic thing is not required. For example, if color is defined by its relation to sight, sight need not first be known definitively and scientifically. In a word, when something is defined, it suffices that its defining expressions be better known with respect to whether it is, not with respect to what it is.

To the confirmation it is answered that it supports our position. For the Philosopher, when he is about to treat syllogism, first touches on its proximate matter, which is propositions, and from there on its remote matter, which is terms. Therefore syllogism is made from propositions, and proposition from terms. If, then, when a syllogism is resolved, the term is the last thing into which it is resolved, one must begin from it as the last element in the syllogistic order, if one begins scientifically.

Finally it is argued: Every science begins from universals; therefore Logic ought to begin not from the term, but from that in which term and proposition agree in the logical genus, namely second intention in common. This also agrees with the way the Philosopher begins in the Physics: he begins from mobile being in common, then treats its particular parts in the books On the Heavens, On Generation, On the Soul, and so on. Therefore Logic likewise ought to begin from logical being, that is, second intention, and then descend to its parts.

It is confirmed because the mode of knowing itself is easier to know than the term, since the mode of knowing itself facilitates and prepares the way to knowing, being an instrument of knowing. Therefore the mode of knowing ought to be treated first, as what is easier or facilitates science, and afterward the particular knowable objects, namely term, discourse, and so on.

IT IS ANSWERED that Logic begins from what is more universal when it begins from the term—not more universal in predication, but in composition or causation. For the term composes all the logical instruments: discourse, proposition, syllogism, and even the mode of knowing itself, namely definition, division, and so on. But it is not always necessary to begin from what is most universal in predication, as when it presents no special difficulty insofar as it is conceived in common, but only insofar as it is explained through its parts. The mode of knowing in common, for example, has no difficulty other than the one explained through its parts. As for the order observed by the Philosopher in the Physics, we say that the same order is observed in Logic: just as the physicist first treats mobile being as a common object and begins scientifically from the principles and elements that constitute mobile being, namely matter and form, so Logic treats the mode of knowing, or logical form—which is second intention—in common as its object, but nevertheless begins scientifically from its first and simplest constitutive element, which is the term.

To the confirmation it is answered that the mode of knowing, insofar as it must be known and defined scientifically and distinctly as a thing to be known as an object, is no easier to know than the term, since the term is a part of it, and distinct and scientific knowledge of a composite begins from knowledge of its parts. But the mode of knowing as a condition or instrument of knowing in its exercise, and as that by which we know, is easier than the term and prepares the way to it, as it does also to all objects that must be known scientifically. For this it is not necessary to know the mode of knowing quidditatively and scientifically beforehand, but only by some imperfect and confused cognition, as the whole is known with respect to its parts. In sum: A doctrine that begins scientifically from the term also begins to know scientifically the mode of knowing itself, proposition, and syllogism, because scientific knowledge of these begins from distinct knowledge of their parts, and the first part of them is the term.

In disputes about the definitions of things, almost everything is ultimately reduced to a question about the name. Since a definition is a principle used by a science to know the natures of things and their attributes, it has no prior principles by which it can be discerned except names and the different ways of conceiving the same thing. This perhaps happens most of all in the questions usually raised about the definition of a term.

Therefore, to proceed more clearly, WE DISTINGUISH an enunciative term and a syllogistic term, on the basis of the teaching of St. Thomas reported in the preceding article, in On Interpretation I, lect. 1: simple expressions have three considerations,¹ according as they pertain to the categories, according as they are parts of an enunciation, and according as a syllogism is constituted from them as from its extremes. Since we are not treating of the categories here, we consider and define a term according to the latter two senses. In the first of these we call it an enunciative term, as it expresses an order to an enunciation; we treat it in this article. In the last sense we call it a syllogistic term; we shall treat it in the following article.

In defining a term, then, it is remarkable how much the AUTHORS vary. Some extend the notion of a term quite broadly even to non-signifying voices, provided they can be extremes in a proposition. Others include any simple significant expression, without regard to whether it can be an extreme of a proposition. Others require both formalities for the character of a term: that it be a sign or significant voice as genus, and that it be a part or constituent of a proposition as difference. Others add a third, still more restrictive formality: that a term be a part of a proposition not in just any way, but a principal part, which is an extreme; and so they define a term as an extreme of a proposition. Finally, others add a fourth formality: that it be not only a sign, nor only a part, even as an extreme—since all these are presupposed—but ultimately an actual extreme of syllogistic resolution, so that when a syllogism and proposition are resolved, it then has the essential and ultimate difference of a term, because the proposition is resolved into it. The Philosopher says that a term is “that into which a proposition is resolved.”² They add, however, that a term consists of signification and the character of a part as of prior and presupposed formalities, such that these are not verified essentially of the term itself, but of the term’s substitute or subject.

I SAY FIRST: It belongs to the essential notion of a logical or artificial term that it signify by convention, if it is vocal or written, but not if it is a concept.

This conclusion is common among dialecticians, who follow Aristotle in defining all logical instruments—the syllogism, speech, noun, verb, and so on—by significant voices. St. Thomas follows him in On Interpretation I, lect. 1,³ treating the definition of the noun, and lect. 6,⁴ treating the definition of speech; he excludes voices that signify naturally, although Plato in the Cratylus thought the opposite,⁵ because speech and its parts are not natural things, but certain artificial effects, and therefore must signify artificially. Voices lacking signification, however, represent only naturally, not by convention, and therefore do not of themselves pertain to constructing speech.

THE REASON IS that no voice naturally represents the copula of other things; therefore, at least as regards the copula, they need a voice signifying by convention. Second, if the copula signifies by convention, it cannot of itself unite naturally representing extremes. If you utter the word “is” between two groans or two laughs, it unites nothing except ridiculously. Natural voices, then, are not united by the copula “is,” and so logical art ceases; it cannot be practiced without the verb or without signification, one of which determines the other. But a non-signifying voice does not determine a significant voice, as when you say “scindapsus,” “blitiri,” adding nothing else. Third, a non-signifying written mark does not compose logically, such as figures or characters not imposed to signify but naturally carved; therefore, neither do non-signifying voices. Whether Logic can accidentally take up a non-signifying voice to compose speech, we shall say in the arguments.

I SAY SECOND: It belongs to the notion of an enunciative term that it express an order to a proposition, not only as an extreme of a proposition, as predicate and subject, but also according to a more common notion that includes the verb and other parts. Hence its ultimate formality is being a part of an enunciation.

This conclusion is common among the Thomists, Peter of Spain, Soto, Báñez, and others. It is clearly drawn from St. Thomas and the teaching of Aristotle. For in On Interpretation I, ch. “On Enunciation,”⁶ explaining how noun and verb are excluded from speech, the Philosopher says: “Noun and verb, then, are only an expression, since it is not to say that someone enunciates something by a voice signifying in this way.” Explaining these words there in lect. 8, § He excludes it from unity,⁷ St. Thomas says: “Noun and verb, then, are only an expression: an expression, that is, not an enunciation; and it seems from his manner of speaking that he himself imposed the name ‘expression’ to signify the parts of an enunciation.” Thus St. Thomas. It is clear, then, that the Philosopher imposed on verb and noun a common name, namely, that they are “only an expression”; and, St. Thomas says, he imposed this name to signify the parts of an enunciation. Therefore, according to St. Thomas, expression as a part of an enunciation is a common notion of verb and noun. Consequently, a simple expression or term—which is the same thing—must be treated and defined as a part of an enunciation; indeed, it is considered under this consideration of a part in the book On Interpretation. Therefore, the definition of a simple expression insofar as it is a part of an enunciation pertains to the logician and belongs to the notion of a logical term. For what a science considers and treats in general it also defines in general; otherwise it could not treat it.

If you ask whether this consideration of a part includes all the parts of an enunciation or only the principal ones, we answer from St. Thomas there that only nouns and verbs are the principal parts of speech: pronouns are included under nouns, and participles under verbs. Other things that grammarians call parts are rather connections among the parts of speech, signifying the relation of one to another, than parts of speech, just as nails and similar things are not parts of a ship but connections among its parts. It is therefore clear that in its general sense a term or expression includes every kind of part insofar as it is a part, including adverbs and pronouns, which are syncategorematic terms; but in a special and strict sense it includes only the principal parts, that is, noun and verb, to which the others are reduced. This holds not only when a verb also has the character of an extreme, as when I say “Peter runs,” where “runs” is the predicate, but also when it is only a copula, because the copula principally constitutes composition and signifies affirmation, through which truth is signified and an enunciation constituted. Syncategorematic terms, however, are connections that signify in some way and not something; therefore, they can never have the character of predicate and subject, as a verb can, and they do not signify in the manner of a copula, which principally constitutes the very signification of truth that is an enunciation.

That the character of a part is the ultimate formality of a term taken in general is clear from this: noun and verb agree only in this character insofar as they express a relation to an enunciation, namely, that they are parts of an enunciation. Therefore, this alone constitutes the common notion of noun and verb, which common notion is called a term or expression. If any other formality is set aside, what is common to noun and verb is understood to remain; therefore, the term as expression is understood to remain. Beyond the notion of a part, only the actual exercise of composing a whole and resolving it remains. No distinct formality is understood to be added to the notion of a part by its actually composing or resolving; only the exercise of the formality of a part is added, which can do both by the very fact that it is a part, as will be explained more fully in the next article. The character of a part does not consist in the exercise of composing, but in the potency to compose, as is clear in matter and form, whose entities are not the very exercise of composing; a separated soul is a part although it does not actually compose.

THE ARGUMENTS ARE ANSWERED.

First, it is argued against the first conclusion that non-signifying voices constitute and complete true speech, as when you say “A is not B” or “Blitiri is not scindapsus”; therefore, they truly are terms.

Nor can it be said, that they constitute it materially, or that speech constituted only materially is speech. For a formal and true speech results from them, since it produces the sense of speech in the hearer’s mind; therefore, they constitute it formally, and these are non-signifying voices.

And it is confirmed from Aristotle’s definition of speech, both from the definition and from his usage. From the definition: he says speech is “that some part of which signifies separately.” Therefore, it is not required that all the parts signify separately; some non-signifying part can therefore pertain to speech. From usage: Aristotle very frequently forms his demonstrations from letters alone, such as “A is B” or “C is A,” which signify nothing as expressions. Therefore, non-signifying voices too compose a proposition and syllogism, and signification is not required for the character of a term.

WE ANSWER that when a proposition or speech is made from non-signifying voices, that voice stands materially for itself, as in material supposition, for example, when I say “Man is a noun” or “man is a voice.” Those voices stand for themselves because they represent themselves to the senses; for this they do not need signification, but self-representation, which supplies the place of signification. As for composition through the verb “is,” which unites the extremes, the non-signifying voice itself, even when held materially, does not compose. For how can the verb “is,” through its conventional signification, unite that which naturally represents and is held materially as a voice? Therefore, non-signifying voices, or voices held materially, do not compose formal speech formally and artificially; rather, some significant voice is understood, by reason of which the artificial composition is made, since this is formal. Thus when I say “Blitiri is not a noun,” “the voice ‘blitiri is not a noun’” is understood; there “voice” is the term signifying and composing formally, while “blitiri” stands there only materially. The same applies to resolution: speech is not resolved formally and artificially into “blitiri,” but objectively and materially; formally it is resolved into “the voice ‘blitiri’” and into “noun.” Sometimes, however, for brevity, we use only “blitiri” and understand “voice,” although “blitiri” is not what formally composes, but what is designated materially, just as a groan or laugh cannot compose with the verb. This is simply the true and certain solution.

To the confirmation I say, as regards the definition of speech, that Aristotle did not intend that non-signifying voices could compose formally and per se, but that at least some part of speech must signify something as a categorematic term, even if the remaining parts signify only in some way as syncategorematic terms, as St. Thomas explains in lect. 6 of On Interpretation I,⁸ not that voices entirely lacking signification can formally compose speech together with the verb. As for Aristotle’s use of simple letters, the answer from what was said is that those letters either stand there materially, representing themselves, or they compose formally and artificially with “the voice A” or “the voice B” understood; or, if they compose formally by themselves, it is understood that the voice A or B composes, as it has been imposed to signify those first elements and first letters. For A has been imposed to signify and does not signify only naturally, as is clear in the preposition “a” or “ab”; and similarly it signifies the letter or figure A, while the voice B signifies the letter B.

Second, it is argued: No definition should be less known than what it defines; therefore, the definition of a term should not be given through a proposition, since a proposition is less known to us; for no knowledge of it is presupposed when a term is defined. Therefore, a term should not be taken relatively to a proposition, but absolutely in itself, as a certain expression.

It is confirmed, because terms can be taken absolutely and defined insofar as they are simple expressions, and as they are common to the three considerations given by the holy Doctor: as they pertain to the book of the Categories, and as they are parts composing a proposition or syllogism. Thus they can be defined in general according to an absolute consideration.

WE ANSWER: As we said in the preceding article, it is enough to give a definition through something better known by imperfect knowledge and with respect to whether it is. It is not always required that it be given through something better known with respect to what it is and by scientific cognition, especially in the case of things defined through an order to something extrinsic, as was said there. For example, to define the visual power it is enough to know that a visible colored thing exists, with respect to whether it is.

To the confirmation we answer that a term, insofar as it pertains to the categories, is taken as it is coordinated according to higher and lower degrees; insofar as it pertains to the composition of a proposition or syllogism, it is taken for the sign which the intellect and Logic use as an instrument of their compositions. Thus terms cannot be defined by one definition; or, if they could be, it is not relevant here, where we treat only of a term insofar as it pertains to logical form and prioristic resolution, as has often been said.

Finally, it is argued to prove that the character of a part cannot be the formality of a term: the formality of a part differs from that of an extreme; but a term has the character of an extreme; therefore, it is not constituted solely by the formality of a part.

The minor premise is proved from the common definition of a term, that a term is an extreme of a proposition, which is taken from Aristotle in Prior Analytics I, ch. 1: a term is “that into which a proposition is resolved.”⁹ The major premise is clear, because the notion of a part is more universal than that of an extreme. A part is preserved in that which composes a whole, whereas an extreme contains and closes off the whole itself, so that the whole does not extend beyond it, and it functions as a principal part.

It is confirmed, because if the definition of a term is given through the notion of a part, it belongs to things other than what is defined and is therefore not a good definition. The antecedent is proved, because it also belongs to a proposition and speech, since a proposition composes a syllogism and another hypothetical proposition, which essentially consists of other propositions.

Nor can one say that they are parts, but not per se, primarily, and essentially like terms, rather accidentally and secondarily. For the contrary is true: a syllogism and a hypothetical proposition are composed per se from propositions; therefore, propositions are per se composing and constitutive parts of them, and consequently are per se parts.

WE ANSWER that the definition of a term as an extreme of a proposition does not include every term generally, but only the more principal parts, and not even all of them, but only those functioning as predicate and subject. Hence it applies more properly to a syllogistic term than to an enunciative term, and for this reason the Philosopher gave that definition of a syllogistic term. We, however, are treating here of an enunciative term, precisely insofar as it regards an enunciation, and therefore we have taken it more generally than in the definition of a syllogistic term. The reason for this difference is that an enunciative term is ordered only to constructing truth in an enunciation, whereas a syllogism is ordered to inferring. Truth is composed not only from the extremes, but also from the joining verb, adverbs, or negations, on which the truth of a proposition often depends; therefore, all these must be considered among the terms as constituents of a proposition. Syllogistic inference, however, is considered not as true but as inferring, and it requires only three terms: two functioning as the extremes in the conclusion to be inferred, and a third functioning as the middle, proving and inferring and joining by inference. Hence only the extremes of propositions are syllogistic terms.

But if you say that these terms cannot concur without a verb to infer a conclusion, and therefore the verb too will be a syllogistic term, we answer: I deny the consequence. For the verb is required not to join the extremes by way of inference and proof, but by way of enunciation; and because an enunciation is presupposed to a syllogism, the verb is also required, but not formally for the syllogism; it is presupposed by reason of the enunciation, not by reason of inference.

To the confirmation we answer, first, that speech and a proposition cannot be parts of a categorical proposition, but only of a hypothetical proposition or syllogism; a term, however, is a part of a categorical proposition and through it also of a hypothetical one, which does not belong to things other than what is defined. Or, second, we answer with the solution given that a proposition and speech are not parts primarily and per se, but a kind of whole composed of parts; accidentally, however, they are parts of another whole, just as a house is per se a certain artificial whole but accidentally a part of a city.

To the reply we answer that a hypothetical proposition and a syllogism are composites in the manner in which the Philosopher said in the chapter on enunciation¹⁰ that a hypothetical proposition is one by conjunction, whereas a categorical proposition is one simply. Composites that are composed by conjunction and order can be composed of parts that are not per se and primarily parts, but accidentally and materially, because they are presupposed in themselves as certain wholes and composites, just as an army is composed of many people and a city of many houses, which are certain wholes. When you hear “parts composing per se,” do not understand “per se” as natural per se-ness, but as artificial per se-ness in the logical genus, such that in this genus terms are per se and primarily artificial constituents because they have no other essence previously constituted; propositions, however, even in this genus, are not per se parts or constituents, but are per se wholes and composites, while accidentally they compose other things.

We are now compelled to treat also of the syllogistic term, although this might seem to pertain more properly to the treatise on the syllogism itself, so that we may explain perfectly the definition of a term and the difference between considering it as an enunciative term and as a syllogistic term. For some think that the Philosopher gave the definition of a term in this way, when he said: “I call a term that into which a proposition is resolved, as into predicate and subject,”¹ and that this alone is the definition of a term to be accepted, even with respect to the term’s consideration in relation to the enunciation itself and not to the syllogism. Indeed, some adhere so literally to those words of the definition that they deny a term the essence of a term when it composes, and grant it only when it terminates the resolution of a syllogism or proposition—or even only when, through the act of the intellect resolving, it actually terminates that resolution, but not when it has the potency to terminate it—although the words in the definition do not say “act,” but “potency.”

I SAY, THEN, FIRST: In the first book of the Prior Analytics the Philosopher did not define every term in general from which a proposition as an enunciation can consist, but a term precisely insofar as it serves to construct the syllogistic order.

This is manifest to anyone who looks at the definition itself. For the Philosopher said: “I call a term that into which a proposition is resolved as into subject and predicate.” In this definition he manifestly did not include all the parts of an enunciation, namely the verb, syncategorematic terms, and negations; and yet the Philosopher numbered the verb among the parts of an enunciation in the first book of On Interpretation.² There, lect. 1, St. Thomas noted that it “is to be numbered among the more principal parts.”³

From what was said in the preceding article it is manifest that, since an enunciation is ordered to constructing truth, which is found in judgment and enunciation themselves, it requires more parts for its construction, because truth depends on them, than does a syllogism. A syllogism does not formally regard composing truth, but inferring; for it presupposes truth constituted in the propositions and adds only that it is inferring or inferred.

I SAY SECOND: A term, even when considered according to the syllogistic order, has its quiddity and essence not only in terminating the resolution of a syllogism and proposition, but also in composing them; nor does it consist only in the very exercise of actual resolution, but also in that on which such resolution falls, namely, being a part or extreme composing a proposition and syllogism.

There is indeed a difference of opinion about where the simple expression derived the name “term”: whether from terminating the resolution, or from terminating construction or composition. The Conimbricenses report both as probable in their commentary on the first chapter of the first book of the Prior Analytics, q. 1, a. 3. But this concerns the etymology of the name. For we assume that a term has both functions: composing and resolving what is composed from it. We say that it consists not only in the function or office of resolving, but essentially also imports the very formality of composing. Some deny this, thinking that a term can be defined essentially only through the termination of resolution itself, not through the notion of a part.

We take the contrary view from St. Thomas in the first book of On Interpretation, lect. 1. Speaking of the three considerations of a simple expression reported above, and coming to the third consideration of the term, which Aristotle considered in the first book of the Prior Analytics, he says: “Third, they are considered according as the syllogistic order is constituted from them, and thus they are treated in the books of the Prior Analytics.”⁴ Behold: he says that the most formal consideration of the term, as it is treated in the books of the Prior Analytics, is according as the syllogistic order is constituted or composed from them.

Moreover, St. Thomas, explaining in Physics II, lect. 5 the Philosopher’s statement that “propositions are the matter of conclusions,”⁵ and asking how this is to be understood, says: “insofar as the terms, which are the matter of propositions, are also the matter of the conclusion, although not according as they stand under the order of propositions.”⁶ Thus terms have the character of matter in the conclusion and propositions, that is, in the whole syllogism. But it belongs to the intrinsic notion of matter not only to terminate the resolution of a composite, but also to construct and compose it itself as a part. Therefore being a composing part pertains to a term no less than being the end and term of resolution.

And it is CONFIRMED, because nothing is resolved except into that of which it consists and by which it is constituted; but it is constructed from parts, which are separated when resolution is made. Therefore, if it belongs to the essence of the definition of a term that it be that into which a proposition is resolved, it also belongs to its essence that it be that from which the proposition is constructed. Consequently, it can be defined by being a part or extreme of a proposition, since it can be defined by everything that belongs to its essence.

But why, you will ask, did Aristotle define a term by the office of resolution alone, saying, “I call a term that into which a proposition is resolved”? Was so great a Philosopher incomplete? We answer: One who defines through resolution also understands composition in brief. For if something is resolved into the parts of which a proposition consists, by that very fact he signifies virtually that it is composed from those same parts. Nevertheless, the Philosopher rightly expressed resolution rather than composition in the definition of the syllogistic term: both because this was more conducive to explaining the simplicity of a term—for the simplicity of a part is recognized better and more distinctly through what remains once the composite is dissolved, since in this way it is found in the ultimate resolution without involving anything else; and because this was useful for knowing the analytic and resolutive procedure Aristotle was teaching there, which is proper to Logic, namely, that we might know that beyond which logical resolution does not pass. For it stops at the term into which a proposition is ultimately resolved. It pertained to knowledge of logical resolution to make known to us that beyond which it does not pass in resolving. If it were taught through composition, it would not be clear whether something else remained from which the proposition was also composed, and to which logical resolution could extend. See this solution in St. Thomas, Opusculum 48, treatise On the Syllogism Simply Speaking, ch. 1.⁷

From what has been said I DRAW TWO CONCLUSIONS. The first is that, if we speak of an enunciative term, the verb “is” is also a term, because it too is a part composing the signification of truth as the copula of the extremes, as we said above. But if we speak of a syllogistic term, the verb “is,” insofar as it is a copula, is not a term, because it is neither a major nor a minor extreme nor a middle; it is not a predicate or subject, which is required for something to be an extreme of a syllogism or a middle serving for inference. Thus the verb “is” is not a term in Aristotle’s definition, in the sense of being formally an inferring or inferred term, which pertains to the formality of a syllogism. It is, however, an enunciative term, because it is a part composing the enunciation with respect to the very character of true or false. The case is different if it does not function merely as a copula but as an extreme, as when I say “Peter is,” that is, exists, in the second-adjacent use.

Second, I conclude that an enunciative term has the essence of a term—that is, of a part of a proposition—even outside a proposition, although it does not then actually exercise the function of terminating or composing that proposition. Outside a proposition, however, it is not a predicate or subject, but predicable or subjectable. The reason is that the actual essence of a term is being a part of a proposition; but the character and essence of a part consists in its being compositive and constitutive of a whole, not in its actually composing it. Hence it is one thing actually to have the essence of a part and the actual relation of a part, and another to have the actual exercise of composing, just as a rational soul, even when separated, is a part, although it does not actually compose. The same is evident in the parts of artificial things, such as the parts of a house or chair, which are actually parts—that is, actually have the entity constitutive of a part—even if they do not actually compose. It is one thing, then, actually to construct, and another to be actually constructive. The latter is the character of a part; the former is its exercise, just as the visual power is actually a power even when it does not actually see. Actually composing, then, depends on application and existence in a whole; actually being a part is having the entity from which a whole can be made or into which it can be resolved. Being a predicate and subject, and having supposition or ampliation and the like, are different: these involve the actual exercise of predicating or being subjected, not merely being predicable, subjectable, or supposable.

THE ARGUMENTS ARE ANSWERED.

First, it is argued: The formality of a part or extreme is not enough for something to be called a term; the formality of terminating is additionally required, since something resolves and terminates actually and formally only then. Therefore, this formality alone constitutes the character of a term; the other formalities, such as being a part, an extreme, or a sign, are necessarily presupposed but do not formally constitute the character of a term. Hence St. Thomas says in Metaphysics VII, lect. 12, that the whole essence of a definition is in a certain way comprehended in the difference.⁸ Therefore, the definition of a term should be given only through what is its ultimate difference, namely, terminating the syllogistic resolution.

It is confirmed: Nothing is said essentially to be that from which it is, but that which it is; a term is from a part, therefore it is not a part. The major premise is clear, because that from which something is relates to it as a part, whereas no part is predicated of the whole. The minor premise is clear, because from the formality of a part and the formality of termination it results that the part is a term; therefore, a term is from a part but is not a part.

It is confirmed a second time, because a legitimate definition of a syllogistic term must be given through what belongs to a term in general and to this term in particular. But the character of terminating as such belongs to a term in general; terminating a resolution belongs to a term of resolution; and terminating a syllogistic resolution belongs to a syllogistic term. Therefore, a term is rightly defined as a term of syllogistic resolution.

WE ANSWER the principal argument from what was said: the formality of terminating or composing is required for the character of a term, not with respect to the actual exercise of composition and resolution, but with respect to the actual entity and proportion from which composition can take place. For actual termination or composition presupposes in the very part assumed for composition the due nature and proportion for being so assumed. Although the very character of a part states an actual relation to the whole of which it is a part, it is one thing to exercise the regard for a whole and another to exercise composition. The first is intrinsic and inseparable from a part, because by the very fact that it is a part it actually regards the whole—as something constructive, not as something actually constructing—just as a potency actually regards its object as able to act, not as acting; the latter pertains to actual operation. Therefore, by having the due proportion for composing and resolving a proposition, a term has the character of a term, even if it does not actually resolve and terminate. Thus the common saying is verified: “the words placed in a definition signify not act but potency.”

In the cited place, however, St. Thomas does not reduce the definition to the difference alone in such a way that the genus is excluded, as is evident in itself. Rather, he means that differences are the very form of the genus with determination; therefore, a definition can be explained through the difference alone, as the holy Doctor explains there.⁹

To the first confirmation it is said that from the formality of a part and the formality of actual termination it does not result that the part is a term, but that it exercises the office of a term; this exercise presupposes an already constituted term. Through the formality of a part itself, however, it is constituted as apt and proportionate to composition and resolution, even before it exercises them actually.

To the second confirmation we answer that the genus of a term and its difference are not the actual exercise of terminating or composing a syllogism, but actually having aptitude and proportion for composing and resolving. In the same way, the essence of a soul is not actually to terminate the resolution or composition of a human being, but to be able to compose and terminate it.

Second, it is argued: The character of a part is not found outside a whole, speaking per se and essentially; for by the very fact that it is outside the whole, it is not a part but a whole in itself. But if something that is once a whole later becomes a part, being a part is accidental to it. A term, however, is found in the character of a term outside a whole and separately, outside a proposition. Therefore, it is not per se essentially a part, but a kind of whole.

Nor does the example of a separated soul, which does not lose the character of a part, stand in the way. A soul is a certain spiritual substance existing per se and therefore remains separated from the whole. But a term is not something existing per se; therefore, the character of a part is not attributed to it separately from a whole, but only within the whole, just as other forms that do not exist per se also do not have the character of a part outside a whole.

And it is confirmed, because a term is constituted in the being of a term by a second intention, which is the relation of a part to a whole. But this relation consists in the actual exercise of regarding, not in a potency to regard. Therefore, if it is constituted in the being of a part by a relation, it is constituted through the actual exercise of a part, not through a potency to compose.

WE ANSWER that it is not of the character of a part that it actually compose, as is clear from the example given of a separated soul; we showed the same above concerning the parts of artificial things.

To the objection we answer that, just as a rational soul really exists per se outside a whole, so a term can be known separately from a whole; and because a being of reason has no other being than being known, a term can therefore exist by reason outside a whole while retaining the very character of a part.

Or, second, it is said that even if a part cannot in fact exist outside a whole because of the dependence it has on the whole in existing, nevertheless the office of a part does not consist in actual composition, as is clear in prime matter itself, which can at one time be under one form and one composite, and at another time under another. Thus, although it cannot exist outside a whole, at least naturally, its office does not consist in the actual exercise of composing this whole or that one, but in a potency for either.

To the confirmation we answer that a potency to regard is different from a potency to compose, as we said above. It is perfectly possible that a potency to compose actually regard the very whole it can compose, although it does not actually compose it, just as a visual potency actually regards a visible object although it does not actually see. The relation or intention of a part is said to constitute the term in the artificial being of a term insofar as it bears the character of a part capable of composing a proposition, not of one actually composing it. The proposition is not composed from that relation, but from the term itself, which bears the character of a part.

Finally, it is argued: Aptitude for making a proposition is accidental to a term; therefore, it cannot be essentially defined through it.

The antecedent is proved: The actual making of a proposition in exercise is accidental to it; therefore, so is the proximate aptitude for composing. For act and proximate potency are in the same genus. A term, however, signifies a proximate potency for composing, since a radical and remote potency is also found in the sign itself considered in itself.

And it is confirmed, because the second operation is ordered to the third just as the first is to the second; and yet the second is not defined by its order to the third. Therefore, neither is the first operation, in which the term is found, defined by its order to the second.

WE ANSWER that a term consists in a proximate potency for making a proposition, understanding “proximate potency” to mean that which is of itself ultimately ordered and prepared for composing. To the statement that “potency and act are in the same genus,” we answer that it is one thing for them to be in the same genus—that is, in the same category—and another for them to be in the same genus, that is, in the same predicable or mode of predicating, so that what belongs essentially to a potency also belongs essentially to its act. We are not disputing the first point, whether an act must always be in the same category; there are many counterexamples concerning potencies and acts that are not ordered per se and intrinsically, a matter to be disputed elsewhere. But the second point is manifest: potency can belong essentially to something and act accidentally, as the ability to compose belongs essentially to the soul and the ability to see to the eye, although actually composing or actually seeing does not.

To the confirmation we answer that the second operation does not regard the third as a final and simple part having no other essence than that of a part, as a term does. Rather, the second operation has a composite being in itself and is a kind of whole; it regards the third operation not as a simple composing part, but as inferring and moving from one thing to another, which is not per se and primarily the being of a part as a term.

Since a term is defined as a significant word from which a simple proposition is made, a familiar difficulty arises in explaining what is defined by it, as happens when explaining any definition of an accident taken concretely: does what is defined stand for the subject itself (which some call the substitute), for the form itself, or for what results from the subject and the form (which some call the constituted thing)? For if it stands for the subject itself—for example, for the word in the definition of a term—the definition does not belong to that subject essentially, but denominatively and accidentally, since the subject is that of which the definition is said, not what constitutes the very notion of a term. If it stands for the form, then the subject “significant word” is wrongly included in the definition, since a word, like any subject, is not the form itself but the recipient of the form; thus it would be wrong to define the form of a term as the word itself. If it stands for what results from the subject and the form, that result cannot be defined, because it is a being per accidens, which does not fall under definition.

We discuss this difficulty at greater length in Logic q. 7.¹ on genus. For now, it is enough to note a few points.

I SAY, THEREFORE: According to the teaching of the Philosopher and St. Thomas, an accidental or artificial concrete cannot be defined as the constituted thing or result of a subject and an accident. Rather, what is defined in these concretes—for example, in a term, an utterance, something white, or a statue—is the accidental form itself, not absolutely and abstractly, but relatively and connotatively with respect to the subject. Thus, being in a subject or outside a subject pertains, as it were, to the state and mode of being, not to the substance of what is defined; it therefore enters the definition as an extrinsic addition and as something connoted.

This is taken first from the Philosopher in the Categories, ch. “Substance,” where he says that white signifies quality alone. The Philosopher’s words are: “It does not signify simply a qualified thing, as white does; for white signifies nothing other than a quality.”² Therefore, it does not signify something constituted from a subject and a quality. Then St. Thomas, in On Being and Essence, ch. 7, near the end, says: “From an accident and a subject no one thing per se is made; hence no nature results from their conjunction to which the intention of genus or species could be attributed.”³ It is clear that every definition must explain some nature of a genus or species, which St. Thomas denies belongs to that constituted thing.

The REASON is straightforward: a thing constituted from a body and whiteness, a subject and an accident, is made up of things from different categories; therefore, it does not constitute one being per se. A being per se is one that belongs to a single category, with a single genus and difference, and a single definition, since a definition consists of genus and difference. But if it belongs to different categories, it does not have one genus but several, because a category is a genus. A being per accidens, however, cannot be defined, because, as St. Thomas says excellently in Metaphysics VII, lect. 3, “a being per accidens signifies not something, but a qualified thing,”⁴ and consequently it does not signify a what, or quiddity, which alone is the object of definition. Hence St. Thomas says in Sentences IV, d. 44, q. 1, a. 1, quaestiuncula 2, ad 4: “A statue can be considered in two ways, either as a substance or as something artificial. It is placed in the genus of substance by reason of its matter, but in the genus of artificial things insofar as it is a form, which is a kind of accident.” So says St. Thomas.⁵ Since what pertains to substance constitutes something in the genus of being simply, artificial things are therefore sometimes said to belong to the genus of their matter—not insofar as they are artificial, but insofar as they are beings, because being simply is substance. St. Thomas speaks in this way in Sentences IV, d. 3, q. 1, a. 1, quaestiuncula 4, ad 3.⁶

Therefore, a term, an utterance, and the other artificial things, considered under the notion of an artificial genus, are placed only in the genus of their form, which is a kind of accident.⁷

Like other accidents, whether taken concretely or abstractly, they are always placed in the very genus of their form, because the essence of an accident is the same in the concrete and abstract. The notion of the concrete or abstract therefore pertains, as it were, to the mode of being or state of the accident itself. Hence the thing defined as an accident must be the same in the abstract and in the concrete, although its state and connotation are not the same.

BUT YOU WILL SAY: How, then, did Aristotle say in Metaphysics VII that matter is the genus in these accidents, especially that a word is the matter of letters or syllables, and that such a genus is never without its species and is not distinct from them?⁸ Therefore, something one must be constituted from the difference or form and such matter or genus.

We answer that Aristotle’s text must be read carefully. He sometimes said that genus and matter are the same, but in different ways. St. Thomas explains this very well there in lect. 12,⁹ and we teach it at greater length in the cited place in Logic. In sum, what is gathered from his teaching is this: although the matter or subject of an accident is placed in definitions in the position and place of a genus, it does not have the character of a logical genus in itself, as though something one and definable per se were constituted from it and the accidental form, since St. Thomas repeatedly denies that one thing per se results from a subject and an accident, but says that the result is per accidens. Rather, the matter or subject, insofar as it is formed by an accidental form, admits of two considerations: as formed by that accidental form according to the common notion of such a form, and according to its determinate and specific notion. Matter of this kind, as formed according to the common notion, constitutes the character of a genus in relation to itself as formed according to a determinate notion. For example, if we said that in something white the common notion “qualified” is the genus of white, which is a determinate qualified thing, and for this reason a body insofar as it is qualified is the genus of a body insofar as it is white. Matter in itself is therefore never a genus; rather, the common notion of the form itself, or matter as formed according to the common notion of the form, is called the genus in relation to the determinate notion of that form, or to that particular formation.

THE ANSWER, THEN, TO THE REASON FOR THE INITIAL DOUBT is that when an accidental form is defined concretely, it is predicated of the subject not as of an intrinsic defined thing, but as sustaining and giving the state of concretion to the thing defined—that is, to the form or accident it has in itself. Nor is the subject properly the genus of such an accident; it is placed in the position of a genus, or as a kind of physical genus, as St. Thomas says in On Interpretation I, lect. 4.¹⁰ Since genus is taken from matter and we often do not know the proper genus of accidents, we put the matter from which they are taken in the place of a genus; or rather, we put the subject itself, not absolutely, but as formed by that accidental form according to its common degree, and in this way it is the genus of that same form according to its particular degree. Thus, if I say, “White is a body that disperses sight,” “body” is understood not absolutely, but as colored; here “colored” contributes to the per se definition, while “body” refers to the supposit of the thing defined, because it does not exist per se but in another.

BUT YOU WILL OBJECT FURTHER: The essence of a concrete, for example, something white, is neither a body nor whiteness, but a third constituted thing. Therefore, the same will hold of a term: it is neither signification nor a part, but something constituted from these; consequently, that is what is defined.

The antecedent is proved from Aristotle in ch. 5 of the Categories, where he says: “White is said of a body as of a subject, but the account of white is never predicated of the body.”¹¹ Therefore, the Philosopher thinks that the essence of white does not essentially signify the body itself—otherwise it would be predicated of it—but signifies something distinct, namely, something constituted from the body as its subject or substitute. For the same reason, when several forms are predicated concretely of a subject, as in “white is sweet,” they are not made true of their constituted things, which have distinct essences, but of the substitute or subject. Thus, since several formalities concur in a term—being significant, being a part of a proposition, and terminating a resolution—the term will be none of those formalities, but what results from them as from substitutes and presuppositions, together with the last formality that ultimately constitutes the essence of a term. It will therefore be possible to predicate of a term that it is a part and that it is an extreme of a proposition, because these are made true of the term with respect to its substitute, that is, what is presupposed for the notion of a term. But they do not enter into its definition, because they do not belong to the constituted thing. So argues the opposing view.

We answer that the Philosopher’s meaning is quite clear: the account of white is never predicated of a body as an account, or as something essential to the body. For he speaks in a very formal sense: the account of white is not predicated of a body as an account, that is, so as to signify an essential predication of the body, since the predication is accidental. From this, however, one cannot infer that the essence of white, or of any accident taken concretely, is a third thing constituted from a subject and a form, since no such constituted thing exists except as a being per accidens, as was said and will be discussed further in Logic q. 5.¹² and q. 7.¹³ Nevertheless, an accidental predication is made true of a subject, as when I say, “A body is white.” This is not on account of a third constituted thing—or rather, an aggregate—from the body and whiteness, for that cannot be predicated of the body, since the body is related to it as a part; nor is it on account of the substitute alone, because on the side of the predicate, namely, the word “white,” something is signified beyond the substitute or subject: an accidental entity is signified, concretely applied to the subject. The truth of that predication is therefore founded on the identity of white with the body, signified on the side of the word “white” by reason of what it connotes. For it connotes a subject that has whiteness, and this is the body; what has it and the body are identical. St. Thomas explains this solution in Summa theologiae I, q. 13, a. 10.

This¹⁴ doctrine must be observed further, and its opposite avoided, in substantial concretes such as “human being” and “humanity.” Some distinguish “human being” as the constituted thing from “human being” as the substitute, and say that “human being” as the constituted thing is human nature itself, while as substitute it is the supposit having human nature. Hence they infer that, just as the divine supposit assumed humanity, so too it assumed a human being, taking “human being” as the constituted thing. Yet this very inference, which this doctrine allows, shows its unacceptability; we must not use words in such a way that we are compelled to grant propositions in theology that are highly suspect and ill-sounding. To say that God assumed a human being sounds so bad in theology that it was expunged from the Library of the Ancient Fathers, vol. 3, in St. Ignatius’s Scholia, ch. 47, by the Spanish Index expurgatorius in 1612,¹⁵ 1632,¹⁶ and 1640.¹⁷ St. Thomas also condemns it in Summa theologiae III, q. 4, a. 3, because “human being,” by its mode of signification, says more than nature. In such expressions we must pay close attention to the customary mode of signifying and to the usage of the Church and the learned; for error follows from a change in the mode of signification and from disorderly wording. The proposition “Deity begets” is heretical, whereas “God begets” is Catholic. Yet if someone took “God” and “Deity” to mean the same thing by reason of the constituted thing, one could deny or affirm both, which would be erroneous. I have said this so that in this doctrine about concretes and abstracts, constituted things and substitutes, we may follow customary usage rather than trust our own ingenuity. See Logic q. 5.¹⁸ and q. 7.¹⁹ for more on this.

As for the further point in the argument—that when several formalities concur to constitute one essence, only the last formality can be predicated essentially—it is false. All the higher degrees are, as it were, presupposed to the last difference, and yet they are predicated essentially of the thing constituted from the last difference and those degrees. Thus, a human being is said to be an animal, a living thing, and a body; and something white is said to be colored and qualified, provided they are predicated according to the same mode—that is, the concrete of the concrete and the abstract of the abstract. Likewise, since being significant and being a part belong essentially to the notion of a term, however much they are presupposed and substituted, they are nevertheless predicated essentially of the term itself, because they belong to it essentially as generic or higher predicates.

It remained to discuss here the matters commonly debated at length about the nature and divisions of signs, since the notion of a sign is usually included in the definition of a term and the other instruments of logic. But we discuss these controversies, which are rather metaphysical, fully in our commentary on the books of On Interpretation.²⁰

WE ASSUME as certain among all that words signify concepts, both formal and objective, since this is plainly established by the Philosopher in On Interpretation I, ch. 1.¹ Experience also plainly attests it. For when we wish to make manifest not only what we conceive but also that we conceive, we do so through the words with which we speak. Let Thomas be consulted, On Interpretation I, lect. 2² and On the Power of God, q. 9, a. 5, where he says, “a word signifies a concept of the intellect, through which it signifies the thing.”³ Here he plainly distinguishes between the formal and objective concept and attributes both to the word. And in Against the Gentiles IV, ch. 11, he says, “the understood intention is a conceived likeness, which external words signify.”

THE DIFFICULTY, then, can concern two things: first, whether words signify concepts and things by the same signification; second, which they signify more principally, things or concepts. The same can be asked about writing in relation to words.

Concerning the first point, some hold that words signify things and concepts by two significations, and they cite Master Soto in support of this view, but without justification: he did not say that a noun signifies things and concepts by two significations, but that “signifying by a noun is taken in two ways,” either as moving a power or as expressing concepts; nevertheless, both functions can belong to one and the same signification.

THEREFORE, I SAY: Words signify things and concepts by one signification.

THE REASON is that they signify both by the same imposition; therefore, they do so by the same signification.

Second, they signify things and concepts neither with equal immediacy nor separately, one apart from the other, but one through the other and as subordinated to the other; therefore, one signification suffices for both.

The consequence is clear: where there are several subordinated things, they are signified by the same signification, just as the noun “human,” for example, signifies not only human nature but also the individuals for which it supposits, by the same signification. The antecedent is established both by Thomas, Summa theologiae I, q. 13, a. 1, and On the Power of God, q. 9, a. 5, where he says that words immediately signify conceptions of the mind and, through them, things.⁴ He says the same in On Interpretation I, lect. 2.⁵ And also because if a word signified things and concepts by different significations, so that they were not subordinated to one another, every noun would be equivocal; and it would not be contradictory for one signification to be removed while the other remained, so that it would signify a concept but not a thing, or conversely—which is absurd.

Note, however, that a concept can be signified in two ways. First, as it is in itself a thing in act, in the state of what is signified, and as knowable reflexively through another concept. In this way a concept is signified by a special name imposed for this purpose, such as the word “concept”; for it is signified like other things. In another way, concepts are signified as certain interior signs, or means of conceiving things, from which these exterior signs derive and through which the interior signs are made manifest; thus words signify concepts as exercising this function.

BUT YOU WILL OBJECT: There are two impositions for signifying things and concepts; therefore, there are two significations.

The consequence is evident, and the antecedent is proved as follows: people first wished to communicate their concepts in common; then they devised a means suited to such communication, namely the imposition of words. Therefore, there were two acts and, consequently, two impositions.

It is confirmed because words signify things themselves “as that which” and doctrinally—that is, as what is signified in the teaching of doctrines—whereas concepts are not signified but indicated. Hence words are said to be substituted for concepts, but to signify things.

The argument is answered as insufficient, both because it would prove the same about the signification of things alone: people first wished, as it were, to signify things in common, and then devised a means of signifying them through the imposition of words; and also because willing or intending to do something and then carrying it out by choosing the means through which it is to be done does not produce two effects, since, with respect to the same effect, there must be intention, choice, and execution. Therefore, it does not follow that there were two impositions because they willed it through two acts, by intending and executing.

As to the confirmation, the answer is that all those functions belong to one signification, since the whole is signified according to a certain order. For the same signification of a word has a twofold office: namely, to stand for the things it manifests, and, second, to stand for the concepts that signify those things secretly and inwardly. The whole is accomplished by one signification and one imposition, because this sensible sign is imposed to manifest that interior sign in relation to the things thought of—just as a king’s minister, through the same ministry and office, stands in for the king as principal, in relation to certain things to be governed as an end.

SECOND, YOU WILL OBJECT: A word cannot signify a concept immediately and a thing mediately; therefore, it is false to say that it signifies a thing through a concept. Rather, it must signify the thing immediately, and so by a different signification.

The antecedent is proved: first, a concept is not the thing signified reflexively, since that is done by the word “concept”; nor is it the formal principle of signifying, since that is the imposition; nor is it a condition required on the side of the thing signified, for words signify things not as conceived but as existing in themselves. Second, words do not signify through the concept of the hearer, the speaker, or the imposer; therefore, they signify through no concept. Not through the hearer’s, because the hearer is not the one who declares his own concepts, but the one to whom another’s concept is declared. Not through the speaker’s, because words signify even if there is no speaker—for example, if words are formed in the air or by someone asleep—and, moreover, the speaker’s concept is outside the hearer, so it is not a means for him to know the thing. Not through the imposer’s, because through a word we neither recall the imposer himself nor know what his concept was. Indeed, a word may represent the thing better to me than the imposer himself conceived it; therefore, the imposer’s concept is not the principle of representation.

The antecedent is denied in response. But one must note that signifying one thing through another can be understood in three ways. In one way, through another as a formal principle, but not as a represented thing—as a word is said to signify through imposition, a concept through likeness. Second, through another as a represented thing that is primarily and immediately signified—as “human” is said to signify a human being in general immediately, and Peter, who is a human being in the singular, mediately. Third, through another, not as a thing signified but as a principal signifier, whose substitute and, as it were, instrument the word is, because it participates in the being and signification of the mental word, as St. Thomas says, On Truth, q. 4, a. 1, ad 7.⁶ In this way a word signifies a concept, because it is put in its place as a substitute, to supply what the concept cannot reach: namely, to make it manifest externally both to itself and to others. Thus a word is like a substitute that represents its principal, which it serves, rather than that toward which it is ordered, namely, the thing signified.

To the first proof, the answer is that words signify concepts not as things directly signified, but as principal signifiers. They also represent things as conceived, not by taking “as conceived” reduplicatively, for the state in which they are known, but specifically and in the exercise of signification, as a condition with which they are represented, since in fact they have been conceived. Sometimes, however, things are signified as they are subject to the intention and state they have in the mind, and the intention itself is, as it were, a represented thing, as with logical intentions such as species, genus, and so on.

To the second proof, it is said that words receive their signification and imposition from the concept of the imposer as from its source, but are substituted for the speaker’s concept as that in whose place they stand; for they are imposed so that they may be substituted by any speaker.⁷ When words are formed by someone who is not speaking, those words are not speech, but a material sound like speech; hence they do not signify through imposition, but through the custom we have when we hear similar words, since they resemble words that are speech. Hence Thomas says, Summa theologiae I, q. 51, a. 3, ad 4, that a word formed by an angel is not properly a word. And even if these were genuine words and did not signify the speaker’s concept when thus formed, it would not follow that, when they do signify it, they signify concept and thing by different significations, but by the same signification, which has the power to signify both but does not always exercise both functions; for we do not always attend to the speaker’s concepts by discerning them from things. And although the speaker’s concept is outside the hearer, it is present to him in itself through the word, by which it is made sensible.

Regarding the second point of this article—namely, what words signify more principally, things or concepts—the answer is that they signify things more principally, unless perhaps the thing signified is itself a concept or its intention.

THE REASON IS that the concept is ultimately and principally ordered to representing the very thing of which it is an intentional likeness. Therefore, the word, which is only an instrument of the concept in representing and makes the concept itself sensible, will be ordered more principally to representing those same things, since it serves the concept for this very purpose. And although an instrument seems to regard its principal, by which it is moved, more principally than the effect it produces, this is understood in the order of operating and acting. In the order of representing, however, if what is principal is also representative of things and, in order to extend and make that representation manifest to others, substitutes some instrument for itself, the chief signified object in both cases is the thing itself. Hence Thomas says, On the Power of God, q. 9, a. 4,⁸ that “what is formally signified by a name is that for signifying which it was principally imposed, as the name ‘human’ was imposed to signify a composite of body and rational soul.”

And if you say: A concept or word does not principally signify the things expressed, but its own source of expression, as appears in the Divine Word, which represents the Father, whose likeness it is, more principally than creatures; therefore, an external word, too, will represent its source—that is, the concept—more principally than the thing signified and expressed.

I answer that a concept or word is an expression of its formal principle, which is the impressed species that fecundates the expressing intellect; and this represents the object of which the species is formally the species. Thus, by representing its formal principle, a concept represents its formal object more principally. Creatures, however, are a secondary and material object, and therefore are not represented principally by the Divine Word. Hence it does not follow that an external word represents a concept more principally, since the concept is not the formal object represented, but the principal signifier. Besides, a word is not a natural expression of its source as a concept is, but is imposed and directed to signify what the concept signifies.

SOME, holding that the essential account of a term consists neither in signification nor in the account of a part or extreme of a proposition, but presupposes all these, and consists only in the account of terminating syllogistic resolution, consequently assert that there is no other per se division of a term than into a prioristic and a posterioristic term, since only this twofold resolution is found, and consequently the term, whose essence is to terminate this resolution, is divided per se only by it. They add, however, that the division of a term into major extreme, minor extreme, and middle term is not a per se division, but a division of an accident into its subjects.

On the contrary, those who hold that the formal and quidditative account of a term consists in its being a part or extreme of a proposition must consequently assign a specific and essential division of the term according to the different specific account of the part that can compose an utterance or proposition. What this division is must now be investigated.

THEREFORE I SAY FIRST: A syllogistic term, as such, is not divided by an essential division according to the termination of prioristic or posterioristic resolution.

THE BASIS IS that all this can belong to one and the same simple term; therefore it does not make an essential division in the account of a term.

The consequence is sound, because if this were an essential division, it could not belong to one and the same term; otherwise two opposed essences would belong to the same thing. For the same reason, since the same term can be univocal, common, connotative, and of first intention, univocal and common are not essential divisions of a term. The antecedent is evident: the same term, for example human being, insofar as it grounds a necessary connection with its proper properties or essential predicates, grounds demonstrative posterioristic composition and resolution; with respect to contingent predicates it grounds topical resolution. Insofar as it regards universality or particularity, affirmation or negation, it grounds composition and resolution in the prioristic form, which is wholly based on “being said of all” and “being said of none,” from which the various modes and figures of syllogistic form receive their termination. Therefore all these respects can belong to the same term, and so they do not divide it essentially; rather, they are all found in the same term.

I SAY SECOND: An enunciative term is divided essentially into noun and verb, and into categorematic and syncategorematic. The other divisions, although they divide the term according to a different account of sign, on the part of the different thing signified, do not divide the essential account of the term itself as a part of a proposition.

THE BASIS of this conclusion is that an enunciative term consists most formally in the account of a part that composes and resolves an enunciation, as we showed above.¹ Therefore that which divides the account of a term per se and essentially is that which divides the account of a part in the term per se and essentially. Whatever divides it under an account other than that of a part will not be understood as a per se division of a term, as term. A division according to different things signified, however, produces a diversity of signification not only in the term but also in the utterance.

In the account of a part, categorematic and syncategorematic terms differ first and essentially: the categorematic has the account of a principal part, which signifies something per se, while the syncategorematic has the account of a part that modifies and signifies in some way. Thus St. Thomas said in On Interpretation 1, lecture 1,² “these syncategoremata are more bindings of parts than parts”; hence this difference in the account of a part and term is essential and intrinsic. Next, within the categorematic term, noun and verb are parts that compose in different ways according to the account of a part, since the noun composes as an extreme and the verb as a copula. But in the account of a part, being an extreme that composes differs greatly from being a copula. Union differs more in the account of composing than matter and form differ from each other; matter and form, however, differ in partial species, so the copula differs all the more. Moreover, the specific distinction of parts is taken according to their different relations and functions, as hand differs in species from foot, and eye from ear. These are heterogeneous parts, which differ in species in the account of a part, whatever may be the case as to whether they also make a specific difference in the account of substance. Since the copula and extremes are heterogeneous parts, not similar parts with the same function, they therefore differ in species in the account of a part.

As for the other divisions of terms, it is clear that they are not essential, because they differ only on the part of the thing signified, the mode of signifying, or whether the sign is natural or conventional. All this pertains to the diversity of a term under the absolute account of sign, not under the relative account of part, which is the final constitutive difference of a term. For the account of sign pertains to a term insofar as it can be ordered to compose with another, just as it pertains to the account of a proposition insofar as it is composed of other things.

This conclusion is clear by examining some of the divisions of terms proposed in the text. For the division of a term into mental, spoken, and written is according to different subjects: one signifies naturally, namely the mental term, while the other two signify conventionally, namely the spoken and written terms. This is material with respect to the very essence of a term, which consists in a second intention and the relation of a part. Indeed, this intention even in a mental concept is not something real but something of reason, like all other logical intentions; they do not belong really to the concepts themselves but are grounded in the things represented in them insofar as those things are known, as we shall say in Logic q. 1³ and 2.⁴ Therefore, on this account, there is no essential difference between the intention of a mental term and that of a spoken term.

Likewise, the divisions into univocal and equivocal, common and particular, connotative and absolute, of first and of second intention, and the like, are divisions on the part of a different thing signified or a different mode of signifying, not according to a different orderability of one sign to another or to the whole composite under the account of a part. In a word, they do not pertain to the essential division of a logical sign, but of a grammatical, political, or sign considered in itself. For words and signs pertain to logic insofar as they are ordered to the construction and composition of discourse and judgment; they pertain to grammar or politics insofar as they signify different things and differ precisely on the part of what is signified. Hence the divisions just mentioned do not make a sign or term differ essentially under the account of logical sign, that is, as productive of logical operations, even though those terms differ on the part of what they signify. This is material with respect to their different ways of constructing propositions or syllogisms, just as flesh, bones, and sinews differ in the account of a part in the human body because they compose it in different ways, while the fact that this part of flesh or bone has this shape or color does not essentially vary the account of a part.

Since, however, one might doubt whether the division of a term into predicate and subject, or into major and minor extreme, is an essential division, because these seem to compose a proposition and syllogism in different ways, we address this question.

I SAY FINALLY: The division of a term into predicate and subject, and into major and minor extreme, is not essential but accidental.

THE REASON IS that this division pertains only to the actual exercise of the term within a proposition or syllogism. For, of itself, every term that is capable of being a subject is also capable of being a predicate, unless perhaps it is a syncategorematic expression or a verb exercising the account of copula; these are distinguished essentially in the account of term, as we said.⁵ The fact that one term is actually placed as subject in a proposition and another as predicate pertains to the term’s actual exercise, not to its essence. For the essence of a term is also found outside a proposition, and there a term has the capacity to be made a subject and to be predicated. Then, within a proposition, it is in fact taken as predicate and subject, which is accidental to it, just as its exercise of composing within a proposition is. The same must be said of the major and minor extreme within a syllogism, for in truth this is nothing other than being predicate and subject or a similar exercise.

BUT YOU WILL OBJECT: Sign is the genus of term; therefore any essential division of sign makes a term differ essentially.

The consequence is proved because it is impossible for a genus of a thing to be divided essentially and for the species composed from that genus to be varied only accidentally by that division; for example, if animal is essentially diversified, then human being and horse are so all the more. Therefore, if sign is divided essentially under the account of sign into mental and spoken, common and singular, and the other divisions of terms, it cannot be divided only accidentally under the account of term.

It is confirmed as well: a term is ordered per se to a proposition; therefore a term ordered per se to a proposition distinct in species will be a term distinct in species. But propositions are distinguished in species according to the different thing signified, or the different truth they signify; therefore so are terms.

It is answered that sign is not the genus of term absolutely, taken under any account whatever, as substance or quantity is a genus in the category of substance or quantity absolutely; rather, sign is the genus of term insofar as it is subject to logical intention, that is, insofar as it can be ordered to the operations of reason. For sign is considered in this way as artificial and as pertaining to the genus of an art. A term and an utterance are a kind of artificial thing; sign, therefore, is their genus only insofar as it enters the order and line of an artifact. In this regard one must carefully observe, for artificial things, whether real or of reason, that their genus is not the matter of which they consist under any consideration whatsoever, but the matter insofar as it enters the order and line of the artificial. For natural and artificial things do not belong to the same genus; hence the species of artificial things have nothing as their genus except insofar as it assumes the order and account of an artificial thing. Therefore every division of matter that does not concern it insofar as it is subject to an artificial form, but considers it in itself as something natural, does not divide an artifact essentially, but only materially and accidentally—as if a statue were divided into wooden, stone, and golden statues, or into different species according to different kinds of wood. Likewise, a term is not divided essentially as a logical artifact if it is divided only according to a diversity of signs insofar as they are signs, and not insofar as they are artificial things in the logical genus.

To the confirmation, it is answered that a term is not ordered per se, totally, and adequately to only one determinate proposition, but to any proposition that can be made from such a term, just as prime matter is ordered to any corruptible form. Therefore a different species of proposition on the part of the thing signified does not vary a proposition in the artificial form of logic, but in the account of representation and sign, which pertains wholly to the side of matter; in the same way, it does not formally diversify a term in the artificial form of logic.

OTHER MINOR OBJECTIONS may be raised—for example, that different definitions are found in the other divisions of terms: the definition of a connotative term differs from that of an absolute term, a common term, a singular term, and so on. Different logical intentions are likewise found in them. Finally, one term cannot become another: for example, a common term cannot become singular or absolute, and so on. All these are signs of an essential distinction.

The answer to all these points is that the definitions mentioned are either descriptive or, if they are essential with respect to the things defined, those things are nevertheless accidental with respect to a term. They are called accidental in the account of term, although essential in the account of connotative and absolute, common and singular, and so on. For example, if a human being were defined insofar as white, as that which scatters vision, the definition would be accidental to a human being and essential to white; so too these terms include the account of term as a subject, not as a genus, just as white includes body and snub includes nose. Likewise, the intentions they include are accidental to a term, although essential to such a term—for example, to a connotative or absolute term, as such—just as predicability is a proper accident of universality and the supposition of a term within a proposition. Finally, that one term cannot become another is not a sufficient sign of an essential distinction: one human being cannot become another, yet they are not distinguished in species. Thus terms cannot become other terms not because they differ essentially, but because they would have to change the signification that is required per se for the account of term.

Four particles in the definition of the name require explanation, since the others have already been explained in the definition of the term. The first is “no part of which,” etc. The second, that it be “finite.” The third, that it be “in the direct case.” The fourth, that it signify “without time.” This last, however, will remain to be explained in the following question, where we treat the verb, which signifies with time. We explain the rest in this question.

SOME recent writers abandon Aristotle on this point and say that certain names truly are names even though they have parts that signify separately, as in the name equiferus, respublica, proconsul, and other compounds, whose parts truly and properly signify on their own. Therefore, this clause is false.

Nevertheless, Aristotle explicitly says the opposite in On Interpretation I, in the chapter on the Name¹, and St. Thomas says so in the same place, lecture 4². Aristotle says: “In the name equiferus, ferus signifies nothing by itself, just as in the expression equus ferus.” Explaining these words, the Holy Doctor says that “in this name equiferus, this part, ferus, signifies nothing by itself, as it does in the expression equus ferus.”

AND THE REASON he gives carries great weight. Whenever a vocal sound that is significant in another context is taken together with another, not so that they compose one total and composite signification, but a simple concept, its parts do not enter into the composition of that expression as components of one signification drawn from their own significations. Rather, they receive a distinct imposition to signify one simple concept. Consequently, those parts, insofar as they compose a vocal expression that receives a new imposition, do not compose it as significative. But when they are combined not to receive a new imposition, but to form and construct a complex and composite concept from their significations, they compose as significative. Parts are said to compose a vocal expression so that it receives a new imposition when they are combined to signify anew some simple concept that its individual parts do not signify, as respublica signifies the city itself or the common government through a single simple concept, which the individual words do not signify separately.

To the argument that the parts of that name signify separately, I answer that they signify separately as it were materially and accidentally, not formally—that is, not in the order of composing that expression to which a new signification of a simple concept is to be imposed. Under this formal aspect they do not compose it as significative—that is, as already imposed to signify—but as newly capable of being imposed, even though they have otherwise been imposed before. Thus in the name “dominus,” the syllables do and minus signify separately, but they do not compose that term insofar as they signify separately.

If you object that in the words “proconsul,” “prorex,” and the like, the signification of both component parts is considered so that the whole signification of the name results, since “proconsul” is the same as “vice-consul”, where the signification of pro and consul is not lost but rather considered, so that from them the office of a vice-consul is signified:

I answer, following St. Thomas above, that the thing from which a name is imposed differs from the thing it signifies. In imposing names, one often considers the etymology and origin of a prior signification, which does not contribute to composing the name's signification but to originating it, because the imposer took that prior signification as the occasion for imposing another. Yet because the impositions are different, one is not a part of the other but its origin. We see this in many other names which plainly do not have significant parts: providentia is said as if it meant “seeing ahead,” from pro and videntia; propheta is said as if it meant “one who speaks from afar”; so proconsul is said as originating from pro and consul, and respublica from re and publica, but it is not composed from them.

But you will object again: A complex term truly is a term, since one division of terms is into complex and incomplex; therefore, by the same reasoning, a complex name will truly be a name. Again, an equivocal name is truly a name despite signifying many things; for equivocal things are “those whose name is common,” according to Aristotle in the Categories³. Therefore, likewise, a complex name will not be excluded from the notion of a name merely because it signifies many things.

I answer that the notions of term and name differ. In a term, what is considered formally and principally is its being a part; its being designative and significative is material and presupposed. In a name, by contrast, its being designative of something and, as it were, a mark is principal. For this is why it is called a name, and names are applied to distinguish and make things known. What it has materially is that it is also a term, or part of a proposition. Hence a complex term can have the character of one term because it is one part; for there are also composite parts, such as an arm, which is composed of a hand and other parts. But a complex name does not have the character of one name, since it is not one mark and designation. It can therefore be one in the character of a term and many in the character of a name.

To the point about equivocation, I say that an equivocal expression is one name by reason of being one significant vocal sound, since among concrete accidentals the unity of the subject gives unity simply and individually, even though the forms are many. Thus a subject having color and heat is not many qualities but one quality, as we shall say in Logic, question 13, article 2.

INFINITE NAME is said to be “that which, when some negation is added, renders its signification indeterminate or infinite.” For negation attached to a term can act on it in two ways: first, in such a way that it passes into the term’s signification, destroying its determinate and positive signification and substituting in its place the negation of the thing signified, which indeed applies to all subjects capable of such a negation. Second, negation can be attached to a term without changing its signification, but by removing composition or copulation, since its force attaches to the verb as it copulates the extremes. When it acts in the first way, it is said to infinitize, that is, to render the name itself indeterminate. In the second way it is said to negate, and it makes the proposition itself negative. Hence this effect of negating, since it concerns the copula that it negates, is exercised only within a proposition. Thus, for the infinitization of a name, the negation must not be signified by the very first imposition; rather, an added negation, by affecting the name itself, must render the name negated and its signification indeterminate—that is, signifying not what a thing is, but what it is not. Thus the names “no one” and “nothing” are not infinite, because they signify negation itself in its own right and directly under a determinate concept, rather than making some positive signification indeterminate by an added negation. Hence it also follows that in an infinite name the signification is not changed by a new imposition, but by the impediment of negation, which by its negative signification has the power to impede the signification of another thing and, by impeding it, to remove it.

FROM THIS IT FOLLOWS that an infinite name is incomplex and connotative. That it is incomplex is expressly taught by Aristotle in the first book of the Perihermeneias, in the chapter on the Name,¹ and by St. Thomas there, lectures 4 and 5.² The reason is that an infinite name does not leave its signification in the state it was in, but changes it into its opposite, namely, into the negation of its signification. Therefore it does not retain a double signification, namely, the positive one it signifies of itself and the added negation; for if it retained both, it would not change the former. Therefore it is not complex, since there is no double signification there, as complexity requires. Thus we see that in the complex expression “no man” no infinitization occurs, because both significations remain intact. Therefore, when infinitization occurs, it is a sign that both significations do not remain intact; consequently, the expression does not remain complex, because it no longer has a double signification.

That it is connotative is clear from this: an infinite name cannot signify negation abstractly, for otherwise it would not be verified of anything positive. One cannot say that a stone is the negation of a man, but one says that it is a non-man. Therefore the negation of man is signified concretely, so that it can be verified of that of which it is predicated; therefore it is also signified connotatively, since formally it signifies the denied form and, on the side of what has that form, the subject of which it is concretely verified. This is what it is for something to be connotative.

GIVEN THESE POINTS, I SAY: An infinite name is excluded from the account of a name by the particle “finite.”

This conclusion is expressly stated by Aristotle in the chapter on the Name and by St. Thomas there, lectures 4 and 5. As to the FIRST PART, namely, that it is not a name, nearly everyone agrees. The reason is that infinitization removes the proper and essential function of a name, which is to be a mark of something. For it is called a name because it is a mark; therefore it must mark and designate something in order to be a mark. But an infinite name neither marks nor designates anything, because it leaves its signification indeterminate and signifies only what something is not, and not what it is.

And observe that signifying something determinate is understood in two ways: first, on the side of the thing signified, because the thing itself is determinate; second, by the mode of signifying, because that mode is determinate, that is, designative of what it signifies. For something to be a name, it is not required that it signify something determinate in the first way. However indifferent and common something may be—even if it is a negation—if that very indifferent and common account is signified, this suffices for a name’s determinate signification, because we can conceive what even negation itself or any common account is, or what it is like. What is required is that something be determinate in the second way, so that it signifies what something is and not merely what it is not; for in the latter case it determines and designates nothing, and so impedes the very function of a name, which is to name, designate, or mark something. For by naming we designate and distinguish one thing from another.

THE SECOND PART, namely, that an infinite name is excluded by the particle “finite” and not by another, is opposed to some recent writers, who strike out that particle as superfluous. But the contrary is clear from St. Thomas, both in Opusculum 48, chapter on the Name,³ where he adds that particle to the definition of a name, and because in the first book of the Perihermeneias, lecture 5,⁴ treating of the infinite verb—and the same applies to the name—he says that the Philosopher first defined the verb in general and afterward, by these particles, excluded things that are imperfectly verbs. Thus a perfect and exact definition of a name and a verb requires these particles, so that what belongs to the quiddity of a name may be set down explicitly and expressly. For since the definition of a name had stated that it is a significant utterance, and a name must signify not just anyhow but by way of a mark and designation, it was necessary to add the particle “finite” in order to explain this function.

Nor was the infinite name sufficiently excluded by the particle “incomplex,” because, as we have seen, an infinite name is not complex but incomplex; otherwise, if it were complex, a proposition whose subject was infinitized would thereby be a negative proposition, because that negation would extend to the copula as well, and not only to the subject. But the copula, when negated, makes the proposition negative. This consequence is absurd and admitted by no dialectician, as is evident in conversion by contraposition, which proceeds from a negative to an affirmative proposition with infinitized terms.

OBJECTIONS ARE ANSWERED.

First you will object: Negation must enter the name it infinitizes not only materially but also significatively and by its ultimate concept; therefore it does so by a concept different from the one it infinitizes, and so the infinite name is subordinated to a double concept, which is to be complex.

The antecedent is clear, because the force of negation in infinitizing a name is founded on negation as signified, and not on the material sound of the word “non”; for if negation is not signified, it removes or negates nothing. Therefore, in the infinitization of a name, negation enters not materially but significatively and by its ultimate concept.

THE ANSWER IS that in an infinite name, as in other names of composite form, there is both the derivation of one name from another and composition. If we attend to derivation, it is certain that the signification of one is derived from the signification of another, just as, in the etymology of names, one name usually originates from the signification or significations of others; yet this does not suffice for complexity, as is clear in itself. But as regards the composition of an infinite name, the word “non” and the name attached to it are related materially; nevertheless, that infinitization by which the name’s positive signification is impeded proceeds from the signification of the negative word, as it were derivatively and efficiently, not compositionally. For infinitization is not just any negation, but a negation that changes and impedes the name’s signification; and the signification that results from this impediment and infinitization applies to both words as to a single term of composite form. Hence, by infinitizing the name, the word “non” accidentally destroys its own signification.

Second you will object: An infinite name is truly a term, since it does not lose its signification but changes it; and similarly, it is an extreme of a proposition, as is clear in “A stone is a non-man.” Therefore it has the account of a name.

The consequence is proved, because nothing more is required for the account of a name; and St. Thomas says in the first book of the Perihermeneias, lecture 1,⁵ that every proposition must consist at least of a name and a verb, since these are its principal parts. Therefore, if a genuine proposition is formed from a verb and an infinite name, the infinite name truly is a name.

It is confirmed: if some verb truly copulated the extremes in a proposition, it would truly be a verb; therefore, if some name truly is an extreme capable of being copulated, it truly is a name. For just as a verb is that which copulates, so a name is that which can be copulated; in this respect a verb and a name are correlative.

THE ANSWER IS that the consequence is denied. To the proof, it is said that, for something to have the account of a name, it suffices to be an extreme of a proposition when it has this in its own right and, as it were, intrinsically, but not when it does so accidentally, because it takes on something like the status and property of a name. For many things can be placed in a proposition as extremes, not because they are names, but because they are held in the force of a name, as St. Thomas teaches in the first book of the Perihermeneias, lecture 5,⁶ and in Opusculum 48, chapter on the Verb;⁷ for example, “To run is to move.” Indeed, adverbs too can be so taken, as in “Yesterday is not today” and “Quickly is not slowly.” For through the accommodation of the intellect they acquire a certain use as a name, not through the proper character of their signification; and when so taken in the force of a name, they can form an utterance or proposition accidentally, not in their own right.

To the confirmation it is said that if a verb copulates in its own right and by the proper character of its signification, it truly is a verb; but if it does so through accommodation or extrinsic derivation, it is not a verb in its own right. Thus the cases of a verb are excluded from the verb, although they copulate in a proposition, because they are derived from and fall away from the verb that they copulate. Or, second, it is said that a verb has no exercise other than signifying by copulating when it is inside a proposition; hence, if it has this, it is a verb. But a name has not only the function of being capable of copulation and union, but also of being a marker and designator, as it were a mark of a thing, without which it does not have the true function of a name. Therefore, although it is capable of being copulated in a proposition where it is taken in the force of a name, it is not thereby a name, because it is not a mark.

Finally, it is argued: An infinite name signifies something certain and determinate on the side of its formal signification, although it signifies indeterminately on the side of its material signification and what it connotes. Therefore it is simply a name; for each thing is to be judged by the character of its formal signification, which is primary, and not by what it connotes.

The antecedent seems certain, because “non-man,” for example, signifies a determinate negation, namely, of man and not of horse, just as “blind” signifies the negation of sight and not of hearing; and yet “blind” truly and properly is a name. Indeed, in this use, transcendent or supertranscendent names such as “intelligible” and “imaginable” also signify something indeterminate, because they are said both of what is and what is not, of real beings and beings of reason; and yet they truly are names. Therefore, and so on.

It is confirmed: these transcendent or supertranscendent names can be infinitized by adding a negation, and yet they remain true names; therefore so do other names. The minor is proved by the name “non-being”: when so infinitized, it either signifies something or nothing. If nothing, then it does not signify, and so it will not be a name or a term, but will have been stripped of its signification. But if it signifies something, then it signifies being, and thus “non-being” would signify being, which is contradictory.

THE ANSWER IS that infinitization in a name consists in its being indeterminate by its mode of signifying, not on the side of the thing signified; and this mode belongs on the side of the formal signification, because it signifies the negation of the form itself, not by saying what the negation itself is, but what the form is not. Something is judged to be a name not only by the thing signified, but also by the mode in which it is signified, just as a verb signifies in one way and a name in another, although they concern the same thing, as “I run” and “running” do. Thus, because an infinite name does not signify in a determinate mode, as if marking and designating, it is not a name. The opposite is true of “blind” and similar names, which signify the negation of a form itself, and not what the form is not. Transcendent names signify something determinate on the side of the mode of signifying, although on the side of the thing signified it is indeterminate and most common; for they signify what that most common concept is, not what it is not.

To the confirmation, the minor is denied, and to the proof it is said that those infinitized names signify the negation of being not in a determinate mode—that is, by saying what the negation of being is—but in an indeterminate mode, namely, by saying what is not being. And to the objection that this negation of being is a being and signifies something, namely, something of reason, it is answered that insofar as it is signified by that infinitized name, it signifies precisely the negation of being in that indeterminate mode, although through reflexive cognition that negation can be cognized in the manner of a being. This, however, belongs to another name, which signifies that reflex concept of non-being in the manner of a being, not to the infinitized name.

It is clear from Aristotle in On Interpretation I, the chapters on the noun and the verb¹ that it is taken as certain that oblique cases are excluded from the notion of a noun, because they do not signify directly and by naming in themselves, which is required for the notion and function of a noun. Something is signified by naming when it is signified in the mode of a “what”; for in this way it is signified as standing, as it were, in itself, which distinguishes the notion of a noun from that of a verb, which signifies as if in the mode of what flows, not what stands in itself. But when something is signified in the mode of “whose” or “to whom,” it is not signified in the mode of what it is in itself, but as belonging to another; in this it falls short of and departs from the mode of substance and of what stands in itself, which pertains to the notion of a noun. Aristotle gives a sign of this in the chapter on the noun, and Thomas there at the end of lect. 4,² because oblique cases by themselves are not sufficient to constitute truth or falsity with the verb “is,” as the nominative is.

An oblique case cannot, however, be excluded from the notion of a noun by the phrase “of which no part, etc.,” because an oblique case as such is not complex, but follows the nature of its nominative form. For if the nominative is complex or incomplex, so too is the oblique. The mode of signifying “whose” or “to whom” does not multiply the concept or make it complex, but adds a mode to the same concept; otherwise the nominative, too, would be complex, because it signifies in the mode of “what,” just as an oblique case signifies in the mode of “whose.”

If you ask why Aristotle first defined a noun without the terms “finite” and “nominative,” and then added them to exclude infinite and oblique nouns, St. Thomas answers in On Interpretation I, lect. 5,³ that Aristotle first gave only the common notions of noun and verb, not definitions complete in every respect, including their special conditions, which he later expressed by adding those terms. For he began the definition with what is more common and afterward completed it by expressing more fully what is required for the notion of a noun without qualification.

THE QUESTION, however, is quite controversial: do oblique and nominative forms have concepts of the same notion and species in the intellect? We cannot examine this difficulty at length here, because it involves many matters pertaining to metaphysics.

Briefly, however, I say that two statements of St. Thomas are found in this regard, by which we can track down his view. The first is that, on the side of the thing signified, nominative and oblique forms signify the same thing and consequently have the same concept, as it were categorematically and logically: thus if a nominative form is absolute, connotative, common, univocal, and so forth, the oblique form is as well. For these are differences that are, as it were, categorematic and logical. This is taken from Thomas, On Interpretation I, at the end of lect. 4,⁴ where, following the Philosopher, he says “that the notion signified by a noun is the same also in the cases of the noun.” Therefore, on the side of the notion or thing signified, nominative and oblique forms have the same thing.

The second statement is in Quodlibet IV, a. 17,⁵ where the holy Doctor says “that a diversity of understandings can accompany a diversity of words, either because of a diversity in the thing understood or because of a diversity in the mode of understanding. This happens whenever there is a diversity of consignification that follows from a different mode of understanding one and the same thing; and it appears especially in time, which is mingled in itself with the operation of the human intellect. Therefore, one must say that the enunciable ‘Socrates sitting’ and ‘Socrates having sat’ are not the same.” Here Thomas plainly acknowledges that a difference of time in a verb requires different concepts. But the oblique cases of a verb are formed through different inflections of time, as the Philosopher says in On Interpretation I, the chapter on the verb,⁶ and Thomas there, lect. 5.⁷ The same account therefore seems to apply to the oblique cases of a noun; hence Thomas adds in the cited Quodlibet, in the reply to the third objection, “that diversity of signification removes the identity of a noun to such an extent that, according to the Philosopher, oblique forms are not nouns.”

Therefore, according to St. Thomas, one must say that oblique cases have a concept different from the nominative, not by reason of a different thing conceived, but by reason of a different mode of conceiving one and the same thing. For one and the same concept cannot represent one thing in the nominative and in the oblique, because in the oblique some relation and bearing is expressed that is not explained in the nominative: namely, the relation of possession or something like possession. For it is signified as “whose,” not as “what.” But where a different relation and bearing is expressed, there is a different concept and representation, because this relation pertains to a different mode of understanding and signifying one and the same thing. Although the concept does not vary on the side of the thing signified, it does vary in the notion and function of the noun, by turning from the mode of signifying as a “what” to the mode of signifying as “whose.” For this reason St. Thomas said that the identity of the noun is removed—namely, in its notion and mode of naming. This is clearer in the cases of a verb, since they vary according to the signification of different times, past or future, which undoubtedly require a different representation.

Two arguments remain. The first is that many modes which express a different relation and bearing posit only a different exercise of the concept, not a different representation; therefore, the same is true of oblique cases.

The antecedent is established by many examples. For the same concept can now be a predicate, now a subject, and can have this or that supposition, and can change from true to false without any intrinsic variation in its representation. The same is true of intuitive and abstractive cognition, according to the highly probable opinion that they are not essential differences of cognition.

The second argument is that if this mode of obliquity suffices to vary the intrinsic representation of a concept, we cannot avoid the conclusion that nominative and oblique forms differ categorematically, which we deny.

The consequence is proved: First, infinite nouns differ categorematically from finite ones; therefore, oblique cases differ from nominatives all the more. For oblique cases are farther from the categorematic notion—that is, of predicate or subject—than infinite nouns are. Second, every categorematic variation is only according to a different mode of expressing one and the same thing, as a noun and a verb can signify the same thing, as I run and running. But because one is in the mode of what flows and the other in the mode of what stands in itself, one is a noun and the other a verb. Likewise, white and whiteness signify the same thing and differ only on the side of what is connoted or substituted for; and this suffices for categorematic diversity. Why, then, should the mode of signifying as “what” and as “whose” not suffice, when the “whose” in the oblique also expresses a different connotation and something like inherence, denoting possession, while the “what” in the nominative does not?

TO THE FIRST I answer by denying the consequence, and I point out the difference: some modes belong to a concept by the very nature of representing or consignifying, while others belong to it because of some extrinsic comparison or application by the intellect that conceives or by the object known. Modes of the first kind require a different representation; those of the second kind do not. Hence Thomas did not reduce the difference of the oblique from the nominative to a different mode of applying concepts, but to a different mode arising from a different way of understanding one and the same thing. Thus we say that the relation of predicate and subject in concepts, diversity of supposition, and the like do not arise from the mode of understanding or representing a thing, but from the application and use of the intellect, insofar as, by understanding the relation of one thing to another, it applies and joins one to the other in different ways. Likewise, truth and falsity arise from whether a thing is or is not: when the thing exists, truth arises in the expression; when it does not exist, falsity arises, while the expression itself remains unchanged, as the Philosopher says in the chapter on substance.⁸ For the representation need not vary; rather, the existence of the object varies, so that a different relation of conformity or nonconformity to it results. In the same way, when a thing is posited as present or absent with respect to the coexistence or noncoexistence of the duration of cognition, the notion of intuitive or abstractive cognition varies while the same formal representation remains, according to that opinion. But a difference of past or future time in a verb, or a difference of consignification in the cases of a noun, pertains to a different mode of understanding one and the same thing, as Thomas says in the cited Quodlibet. For something is understood in the nominative as a person or thing acting, but in the oblique as a patient, or as connoting that it belongs to another, or something similar; these are different modifications of the representation and of the represented object. Thus, the relation of an acting, possessing, or receiving person—“from whom,” “to whom,” and so forth—is not signified as a certain thing, but as a mode of a thing, which is signified now as “from whom,” now as “to whom,” now as “what.” In this way, through that different mode of explaining it, a concept is produced; therefore, this is not mere application, but a different explanation of the concept.

TO THE SECOND: The consequence is denied, because for a term to be categorematically different, it must have a different mode as it were on the side of the thing signified, not merely on the side of signification and the mode of understanding.

To the first proof, it is said that infinite nouns transfer the noun to another signified thing, namely, the negation of its positive form, and thus differ categorematically on the side of the thing signified. Oblique forms, however, retain the same thing signified and only make its mode and relation oblique in understanding it; therefore, they do not differ categorematically from their nominative form. Their being less suited to function as predicates or subjects than infinite nouns is not due to a difference in the thing signified, but to their defect and departure from the mode required for predication: namely, signifying in the mode of a “what,” as that which is predicated or subjected. Although an infinite noun changes the thing signified from positive to negative, it still signifies it as a “what,” not as “whose.”

To the second proof, it is said that categorematic difference is according to a different mode of signifying that is attributed to and belongs to the thing itself that is signified: for example, having the mode of what inheres or stands in itself, of being common or particular, of being absolute from connotation or not absolute, and the like, which modify the thing signified itself, as it were. Oblique cases, however, are only different modes of consignification, and pertain to a certain deficiency of the noun itself as a noun. Insofar as it is a noun, it signifies a thing in such a way as to note or designate what it is; oblique forms, by contrast, note that it belongs to someone or is for someone, and so on. This varies the mode of consignifying the thing in the noun’s nature as a naming and designating term, which pertains to a mode that affects a thing categorematically. For such a mode can also be designated by a nominative form, and not only by an oblique, as is clear from the examples given of the categorematic common, connotative, absolute, and so on.

From what has been said, it is clear that this definition of a noun is essential, because it explains the generic and superior notions of a logical sign and the differential notions of such a sign, by which it differs from an expression, a verb, and adverbs, since it signifies as something and not as something qualified. Thus it is an essential definition and should be explained in every respect like the definition of a term, with the addition of the terms explained up to this point, which explain the proper quiddity and function of a noun.