Book I



                                 1



  OUR next task is to study coming-to-be and passing-away. We are to

distinguish the causes, and to state the definitions, of these

processes considered in general-as changes predicable uniformly of all

the things that come-to-be and pass-away by nature. Further, we are to

study growth and 'alteration'. We must inquire what each of them is;

and whether 'alteration' is to be identified with coming-to-be, or

whether to these different names there correspond two separate

processes with distinct natures.

  On this question, indeed, the early philosophers are divided. Some

of them assert that the so-called 'unqualified coming-to-be' is

'alteration', while others maintain that 'alteration' and coming-to-be

are distinct. For those who say that the universe is one something

(i.e. those who generate all things out of one thing) are bound to

assert that coming-to-be is 'alteration', and that whatever

'comes-to-be' in the proper sense of the term is 'being altered':

but those who make the matter of things more than one must distinguish

coming-to-be from 'alteration'. To this latter class belong

Empedocles, Anaxagoras, and Leucippus. And yet Anaxagoras himself

failed to understand his own utterance. He says, at all events, that

coming-to-be and passing-away are the same as 'being altered':' yet,

in common with other thinkers, he affirms that the elements are

many. Thus Empedocles holds that the corporeal elements are four,

while all the elements-including those which initiate movement-are six

in number; whereas Anaxagoras agrees with Leucippus and Democritus

that the elements are infinite.

  (Anaxagoras posits as elements the 'homoeomeries', viz. bone, flesh,

marrow, and everything else which is such that part and whole are

the same in name and nature; while Democritus and Leucippus say that

there are indivisible bodies, infinite both in number and in the

varieties of their shapes, of which everything else is composed-the

compounds differing one from another according to the shapes,

'positions', and 'groupings' of their constituents.)

  For the views of the school of Anaxagoras seem diametrically opposed

to those of the followers of Empedocles. Empedocles says that Fire,

Water, Air, and Earth are four elements, and are thus 'simple'

rather than flesh, bone, and bodies which, like these, are

'homoeomeries'. But the followers of Anaxagoras regard the

'homoeomeries' as 'simple' and elements, whilst they affirm that

Earth, Fire, Water, and Air are composite; for each of these is

(according to them) a 'common seminary' of all the 'homoeomeries'.

  Those, then, who construct all things out of a single element,

must maintain that coming-tobe and passing-away are 'alteration'.

For they must affirm that the underlying something always remains

identical and one; and change of such a substratum is what we call

'altering' Those, on the other hand, who make the ultimate kinds of

things more than one, must maintain that 'alteration' is distinct from

coming-to-be: for coming-to-be and passingaway result from the

consilience and the dissolution of the many kinds. That is why

Empedocles too uses language to this effect, when he says 'There is no

coming-to-be of anything, but only a mingling and a divorce of what

has been mingled'. Thus it is clear (i) that to describe

coming-to-be and passing-away in these terms is in accordance with

their fundamental assumption, and (ii) that they do in fact so

describe them: nevertheless, they too must recognize 'alteration' as a

fact distinct from coming to-be, though it is impossible for them to

do so consistently with what they say.

  That we are right in this criticism is easy to perceive. For

'alteration' is a fact of observation. While the substance of the

thing remains unchanged, we see it 'altering' just as we see in it the

changes of magnitude called 'growth' and 'diminution'. Nevertheless,

the statements of those who posit more 'original reals' than one

make 'alteration' impossible. For 'alteration, as we assert, takes

place in respect to certain qualities: and these qualities (I mean,

e.g. hot-cold, white-black, dry-moist, soft-hard, and so forth) are,

all of them, differences characterizing the 'elements'. The actual

words of Empedocles may be quoted in illustration-



    The sun everywhere bright to see, and hot,

    The rain everywhere dark and cold;



and he distinctively characterizes his remaining elements in a similar

manner. Since, therefore, it is not possible for Fire to become Water,

or Water to become Earth, neither will it be possible for anything

white to become black, or anything soft to become hard; and the same

argument applies to all the other qualities. Yet this is what

'alteration' essentially is.

  It follows, as an obvious corollary, that a single matter must

always be assumed as underlying the contrary 'poles' of any change

whether change of place, or growth and diminution, or 'alteration';

further, that the being of this matter and the being of 'alteration'

stand and fall together. For if the change is 'alteration', then the

substratum is a single element; i.e. all things which admit of

change into one another have a single matter. And, conversely, if

the substratum of the changing things is one, there is 'alteration'.

  Empedocles, indeed, seems to contradict his own statements as well

as the observed facts. For he denies that any one of his elements

comes-to-be out of any other, insisting on the contrary that they

are the things out of which everything else comes-to-be; and yet

(having brought the entirety of existing things, except Strife,

together into one) he maintains, simultaneously with this denial, that

each thing once more comes-to-be out of the One. Hence it was

clearly out of a One that this came-to-be Water, and that Fire,

various portions of it being separated off by certain characteristic

differences or qualities-as indeed he calls the sun 'white and hot',

and the earth 'heavy and hard'. If, therefore, these characteristic

differences be taken away (for they can be taken away, since they

came-to-be), it will clearly be inevitable for Earth to come to-be out

of Water and Water out of Earth, and for each of the other elements to

undergo a similar transformation-not only then, but also now-if, and

because, they change their qualities. And, to judge by what he says,

the qualities are such that they can be 'attached' to things and can

again be 'separated' from them, especially since Strife and Love are

still fighting with one another for the mastery. It was owing to

this same conflict that the elements were generated from a One at

the former period. I say 'generated', for presumably Fire, Earth,

and Water had no distinctive existence at all while merged in one.

  There is another obscurity in the theory Empedocles. Are we to

regard the One as his 'original real'? Or is it the Many-i.e. Fire and

Earth, and the bodies co-ordinate with these? For the One is an

'element' in so far as it underlies the process as matter-as that

out of which Earth and Fire come-to-be through a change of qualities

due to 'the motion'. On the other hand, in so far as the One results

from composition (by a consilience of the Many), whereas they result

from disintegration the Many are more 'elementary' than the One, and

prior to it in their nature.



                                 2



  We have therefore to discuss the whole subject of 'unqualified'

coming-to-be and passingaway; we have to inquire whether these changes

do or do not occur and, if they occur, to explain the precise

conditions of their occurrence. We must also discuss the remaining

forms of change, viz. growth and 'alteration'. For though, no doubt,

Plato investigated the conditions under which things come-to-be and

pass-away, he confined his inquiry to these changes; and he

discussed not all coming-to-be, but only that of the elements. He

asked no questions as to how flesh or bones, or any of the other

similar compound things, come-to-be; nor again did he examine the

conditions under which 'alteration' or growth are attributable to

things.

  A similar criticism applies to all our predecessors with the

single exception of Democritus. Not one of them penetrated below the

surface or made a thorough examination of a single one of the

problems. Democritus, however, does seem not only to have thought

carefully about all the problems, but also to be distinguished from

the outset by his method. For, as we are saying, none of the other

philosophers made any definite statement about growth, except such

as any amateur might have made. They said that things grow 'by the

accession of like to like', but they did not proceed to explain the

manner of this accession. Nor did they give any account of

'combination': and they neglected almost every single one of the

remaining problems, offering no explanation, e.g. of 'action' or

'passion' how in physical actions one thing acts and the other

undergoes action. Democritus and Leucippus, however, postulate the

'figures', and make 'alteration' and coming-to-be result from them.

They explain coming-to-be and passing-away by their 'dissociation' and

'association', but 'alteration' by their 'grouping' and 'Position'.

And since they thought that the 'truth lay in the appearance, and

the appearances are conflicting and infinitely many, they made the

'figures' infinite in number. Hence-owing to the changes of the

compound-the same thing seems different and conflicting to different

people: it is 'transposed' by a small additional ingredient, and

appears utterly other by the 'transposition' of a single

constituent. For Tragedy and Comedy are both composed of the same

letters.

  Since almost all our predecessors think (i) that coming-to-be is

distinct from 'alteration', and (ii) that, whereas things 'alter' by

change of their qualities, it is by 'association' and 'dissociation'

that they come-to-be and pass-away, we must concentrate our

attention on these theses. For they lead to many perplexing and

well-grounded dilemmas. If, on the one hand, coming-to-be is

'association', many impossible consequences result: and yet there

are other arguments, not easy to unravel, which force the conclusion

upon us that coming-to-be cannot possibly be anything else. If, on the

other hand, coming-to-be is not 'association', either there is no such

thing as coming-to-be at all or it is 'alteration': or else we must

endeavour to unravel this dilemma too-and a stubborn one we shall find

it. The fundamental question, in dealing with all these

difficulties, is this: 'Do things come-to-be and "alter" and grow, and

undergo the contrary changes, because the primary "reals" are

indivisible magnitudes? Or is no magnitude indivisible?' For the

answer we give to this question makes the greatest difference. And

again, if the primary 'reals' are indivisible magnitudes, are these

bodies, as Democritus and Leucippus maintain? Or are they planes, as

is asserted in the Timaeus?

  To resolve bodies into planes and no further-this, as we have also

remarked elsewhere, in itself a paradox. Hence there is more to be

said for the view that there are indivisible bodies. Yet even these

involve much of paradox. Still, as we have said, it is possible to

construct 'alteration' and coming-to-be with them, if one 'transposes'

the same by 'turning' and 'intercontact', and by 'the varieties of the

figures', as Democritus does. (His denial of the reality of colour

is a corollary from this position: for, according to him, things get

coloured by 'turning' of the 'figures'.) But the possibility of such a

construction no longer exists for those who divide bodies into planes.

For nothing except solids results from putting planes together: they

do not even attempt to generate any quality from them.

  Lack of experience diminishes our power of taking a comprehensive

view of the admitted facts. Hence those who dwell in intimate

association with nature and its phenomena grow more and more able to

formulate, as the foundations of their theories, principles such as to

admit of a wide and coherent development: while those whom devotion to

abstract discussions has rendered unobservant of the facts are too

ready to dogmatize on the basis of a few observations. The rival

treatments of the subject now before us will serve to illustrate how

great is the difference between a 'scientific' and a 'dialectical'

method of inquiry. For, whereas the Platonists argue that there must

be atomic magnitudes 'because otherwise "The Triangle" will be more

than one', Democritus would appear to have been convinced by arguments

appropriate to the subject, i.e. drawn from the science of nature. Our

meaning will become clear as we proceed. For to suppose that a body

(i.e. a magnitude) is divisible through and through, and that this

division is possible, involves a difficulty. What will there be in the

body which escapes the division?

  If it is divisible through and through, and if this division is

possible, then it might be, at one and the same moment, divided

through and through, even though the dividings had not been effected

simultaneously: and the actual occurrence of this result would involve

no impossibility. Hence the same principle will apply whenever a

body is by nature divisible through and through, whether by bisection,

or generally by any method whatever: nothing impossible will have

resulted if it has actually been divided-not even if it has been

divided into innumerable parts, themselves divided innumerable

times. Nothing impossible will have resulted, though perhaps nobody in

fact could so divide it.

  Since, therefore, the be dy is divisible through and through, let it

have been divided. What, then, will remain? A magnitude? No: that is

impossible, since then there will be something not divided, whereas ex

hypothesis the body was divisible through and through. But if it be

admitted that neither a body nor a magnitude will remain, and yet

division is to take place, the constituents of the body will either be

points (i.e. without magnitude) or absolutely nothing. If its

constituents are nothings, then it might both come-to-be out of

nothings and exist as a composite of nothings: and thus presumably the

whole body will be nothing but an appearance. But if it consists of

points, a similar absurdity will result: it will not possess any

magnitude. For when the points were in contact and coincided to form a

single magnitude, they did not make the whole any bigger (since,

when the body was divided into two or more parts, the whole was not

a bit smaller or bigger than it was before the division): hence,

even if all the points be put together, they will not make any

magnitude.

  But suppose that, as the body is being divided, a minute section-a

piece of sawdust, as it were-is extracted, and that in this sense-a

body 'comes away' from the magnitude, evading the division. Even

then the same argument applies. For in what sense is that section

divisible? But if what 'came away' was not a body but a separable form

or quality, and if the magnitude is 'points or contacts thus

qualified': it is paradoxical that a magnitude should consist of

elements, which are not magnitudes. Moreover, where will the points

be? And are they motionless or moving? And every contact is always a

contact of two somethings, i.e. there is always something besides

the contact or the division or the point.

  These, then, are the difficulties resulting from the supposition

that any and every body, whatever its size, is divisible through and

through. There is, besides, this further consideration. If, having

divided a piece of wood or anything else, I put it together, it is

again equal to what it was, and is one. Clearly this is so, whatever

the point at which I cut the wood. The wood, therefore, has been

divided potentially through and through. What, then, is there in the

wood besides the division? For even if we suppose there is some

quality, yet how is the wood dissolved into such constituents and

how does it come-to-be out of them? Or how are such constituents

separated so as to exist apart from one another? Since, therefore,

it is impossible for magnitudes to consist of contacts or points,

there must be indivisible bodies and magnitudes. Yet, if we do

postulate the latter, we are confronted with equally impossible

consequences, which we have examined in other works.' But we must

try to disentangle these perplexities, and must therefore formulate

the whole problem over again.

  On the one hand, then, it is in no way paradoxical that every

perceptible body should be indivisible as well as divisible at any and

every point. For the second predicate will at. tach to it potentially,

but the first actually. On the other hand, it would seem to be

impossible for a body to be, even potentially, divisible at all points

simultaneously. For if it were possible, then it might actually occur,

with the result, not that the body would simultaneously be actually

both (indivisible and divided), but that it would be simultaneously

divided at any and every point. Consequently, nothing will remain

and the body will have passed-away into what is incorporeal: and so it

might come-to-be again either out of points or absolutely out of

nothing. And how is that possible?

  But now it is obvious that a body is in fact divided into

separable magnitudes which are smaller at each division-into

magnitudes which fall apart from one another and are actually

separated. Hence (it is urged) the process of dividing a body part

by part is not a 'breaking up' which could continue ad infinitum;

nor can a body be simultaneously divided at every point, for that is

not possible; but there is a limit, beyond which the 'breaking up'

cannot proceed. The necessary consequence-especially if coming-to-be

and passing-away are to take place by 'association' and 'dissociation'

respectively-is that a body must contain atomic magnitudes which are

invisible. Such is the argument which is believed to establish the

necessity of atomic magnitudes: we must now show that it conceals a

faulty inference, and exactly where it conceals it.

  For, since point is not 'immediately-next' to point, magnitudes

are 'divisible through and through' in one sense, and yet not in

another. When, however, it is admitted that a magnitude is

'divisible through and through', it is thought there is a point not

only anywhere, but also everywhere, in it: hence it is supposed to

follow, from the admission, that the magnitude must be divided away

into nothing. For it is supposed-there is a point everywhere within

it, so that it consists either of contacts or of points. But it is

only in one sense that the magnitude is 'divisible through and

through', viz. in so far as there is one point anywhere within it

and all its points are everywhere within it if you take them singly

one by one. But there are not more points than one anywhere within it,

for the points are not 'consecutive': hence it is not simultaneously

'divisible through and through'. For if it were, then, if it be

divisible at its centre, it will be divisible also at a point

'immediately-next' to its centre. But it is not so divisible: for

position is not 'immediately-next' to position, nor point to

point-in other words, division is not 'immediately-next' to

division, nor composition to composition.

  Hence there are both 'association' and 'dissociation', though

neither (a) into, and out of, atomic magnitudes (for that involves

many impossibilities), nor (b) so that division takes place through

and through-for this would have resulted only if point had been

'immediately-next' to point: but 'dissociation' takes place into small

(i.e. relatively small) parts, and 'association' takes place out of

relatively small parts.

  It is wrong, however, to suppose, as some assert, that

coming-to-be and passing-away in the unqualified and complete sense

are distinctively defined by 'association' and 'dissociation', while

the change that takes place in what is continuous is 'alteration'.

On the contrary, this is where the whole error lies. For unqualified

coming-to-be and passing-away are not effected by 'association' and

'dissociation'. They take place when a thing changes, from this to

that, as a whole. But the philosophers we are criticizing suppose that

all such change is 'alteration': whereas in fact there is a

difference. For in that which underlies the change there is a factor

corresponding to the definition and there is a material factor.

When, then, the change is in these constitutive factors, there will be

coming-to-be or passing-away: but when it is in the thing's qualities,

i.e. a change of the thing per accidents, there will be 'alteration'.

  'Dissociation' and 'association' affect the thing's susceptibility

to passing-away. For if water has first been 'dissociated' into

smallish drops, air comes-to-be out of it more quickly: while, if

drops of water have first been 'associated', air comes-to-be more

slowly. Our doctrine will become clearer in the sequel.' Meantime,

so much may be taken as established-viz. that coming-to-be cannot be

'association', at least not the kind of 'association' some

philosophers assert it to be.



                                 3



  Now that we have established the preceding distinctions, we must

first consider whether there is anything which comes-to-be and

passes-away in the unqualified sense: or whether nothing comes-to-be

in this strict sense, but everything always comes-to-be something

and out of something-I mean, e.g. comes-to-be-healthy out of being-ill

and ill out of being-healthy, comes-to-be-small out of being big and

big out of being-small, and so on in every other instance. For if

there is to be coming-to-be without qualification, 'something'

must-without qualification-'come-to-be out of not-being', so that it

would be true to say that 'not-being is an attribute of some

things'. For qualified coming-to-be is a process out of qualified

not-being (e.g. out of not-white or not-beautiful), but unqualified

coming-to-be is a process out of unqualified not-being.

  Now 'unqulified' means either (i) the primary predication within

each Category, or (ii) the universal, i.e. the all-comprehensive,

predication. Hence, if'unqualified not-being 'means the negation of

'being' in the sense of the primary term of the Category in

question, we shall have, in 'unqualified coming-to-be', a coming-to-be

of a substance out of not-substance. But that which is not a substance

or a 'this' clearly cannot possess predicates drawn from any of the

other Categories either-e.g. we cannot attribute to it any quality,

quantity, or position. Otherwise, properties would admit of

existence in separation from substances. If, on the other hand,

'unqualified not-being' means 'what is not in any sense at all', it

will be a universal negation of all forms of being, so that what

comes-to-be will have to come-to-be out of nothing.

  Although we have dealt with these problems at greater length in

another work,where we have set forth the difficulties and

established the distinguishing definitions, the following concise

restatement of our results must here be offered: In one sense things

come-to-be out of that which has no 'being' without qualification: yet

in another sense they come-to-be always out of what is'. For

coming-to-be necessarily implies the pre-existence of something

which potentially 'is', but actually 'is not'; and this something is

spoken of both as 'being' and as 'not-being'.

  These distinctions may be taken as established: but even then it

is extraordinarily difficult to see how there can be 'unqualified

coming-to-be' (whether we suppose it to occur out of what

potentially 'is', or in some other way), and we must recall this

problem for further examination. For the question might be raised

whether substance (i.e. the 'this') comes-to-be at all. Is it not

rather the 'such', the 'so great', or the 'somewhere', which

comes-to-be? And the same question might be raised about

'passing-away' also. For if a substantial thing comes-to-be, it is

clear that there will 'be' (not actually, but potentially) a

substance, out of which its coming-to-be will proceed and into which

the thing that is passing-away will necessarily change. Then will

any predicate belonging to the remaining Categories attach actually to

this presupposed substance? In other words, will that which is only

potentially a 'this' (which only potentially is), while without the

qualification 'potentially' it is not a 'this' (i.e. is not), possess,

e.g. any determinate size or quality or position? For (i) if it

possesses none of these determinations actually, but all of them

only potentially, the result is first that a being, which is not a

determinate being, is capable of separate existence; and in addition

that coming-to-be proceeds out of nothing pre-existing-a thesis which,

more than any other, preoccupied and alarmed the earliest

philosophers. On the other hand (ii) if, although it is not a 'this

somewhat' or a substance, it is to possess some of the remaining

determinations quoted above, then (as we said)' properties will be

separable from substances.

  We must therefore concentrate all our powers on the discussion of

these difficulties and on the solution of a further question-viz. What

is the cause of the perpetuity of coming-to-be? Why is there always

unqualified, as well as partial, coming-to-be? Cause' in this

connexion has two senses. It means (i) the source from which, as we

say, the process 'originates', and (ii) the matter. It is the material

cause that we have here to state. For, as to the other cause, we

have already explained (in our treatise on Motion that it involves (a)

something immovable through all time and (b) something always being

moved. And the accurate treatment of the first of these-of the

immovable 'originative source'-belongs to the province of the other,

or 'prior', philosophy: while as regards 'that which sets everything

else in motion by being itself continuously moved', we shall have to

explain later' which amongst the so-called 'specific' causes

exhibits this character. But at present we are to state the material

cause-the cause classed under the head of matter-to which it is due

that passing-away and coming-to-be never fail to occur in Nature.

For perhaps, if we succeed in clearing up this question, it will

simultaneously become clear what account we ought to give of that

which perplexed us just now, i.e. of unqualified passingaway and

coming-to-be.

  Our new question too-viz. 'what is the cause of the unbroken

continuity of coming-to-be?'-is sufficiently perplexing, if in fact

what passes-away vanishes into 'what is not' and 'what is not' is

nothing (since 'what is not' is neither a thing, nor possessed of a

quality or quantity, nor in any place). If, then, some one of the

things 'which are' constantly disappearing, why has not the whole of

'what is' been used up long ago and vanished away assuming of course

that the material of all the several comings-to-be was finite? For,

presumably, the unfailing continuity of coming-to-be cannot be

attributed to the infinity of the material. That is impossible, for

nothing is actually infinite. A thing is infinite only potentially,

i.e. the dividing of it can continue indefinitely: so that we should

have to suppose there is only one kind of coming-to-be in the

world-viz. one which never fails, because it is such that what

comes-to-be is on each successive occasion smaller than before. But in

fact this is not what we see occurring.

  Why, then, is this form of change necessarily ceaseless? Is it

because the passing-away of this is a coming-to-be of something

else, and the coming-to-be of this a passing-away of something else?

  The cause implied in this solution must no doubt be considered

adequate to account for coming-to-be and passing-away in their general

character as they occur in all existing things alike. Yet, if the same

process is a coming to-be of this but a passing-away of that, and a

passing-away of this but a coming-to-be of that, why are some things

said to come-to-be and pass-away without qualification, but others

only with a qualification?

  The distinction must be investigated once more, for it demands

some explanation. (It is applied in a twofold manner.) For (i) we

say 'it is now passing-away' without qualification, and not merely

'this is passing-away': and we call this change 'coming-to-be', and

that 'passing-away', without qualification. And (ii) so-and-so

'comes-to-be-something', but does not 'come-to-be' without

qualification; for we say that the student 'comes-to-be-learned',

not 'comes-to-be' without qualification.

  (i) Now we often divide terms into those which signify a 'this

somewhat' and those which do not. And (the first form of) the

distinction, which we are investigating, results from a similar

division of terms: for it makes a difference into what the changing

thing changes. Perhaps, e.g. the passage into Fire is 'coming-to-be'

unqualified, but 'passingaway-of-something' (e.g. Earth): whilst the

coming-to-be of Earth is qualified (not unqualified) 'coming-to-be',

though unqualified 'passing-away' (e.g. of Fire). This would be the

case on the theory set forth in Parmenides: for he says that the

things into which change takes place are two, and he asserts that

these two, viz. what is and what is not, are Fire and Earth. Whether

we postulate these, or other things of a similar kind, makes no

difference. For we are trying to discover not what undergoes these

changes, but what is their characteristic manner. The passage, then,

into what 'is' not except with a qualification is unqualified

passing-away, while the passage into what 'is' without qualification

is unqualified coming-to-be. Hence whatever the contrasted 'poles'

of the changes may be whether Fire and Earth, or some other couple-the

one of them will be 'a being' and the other 'a not-being'.

  We have thus stated one characteristic manner in which unqualified

will be distinguished from qualified coming-to-be and passing-away:

but they are also distinguished according to the special nature of the

material of the changing thing. For a material, whose constitutive

differences signify more a 'this somewhat', is itself more

'substantial' or 'real': while a material, whose constitutive

differences signify privation, is 'not real'. (Suppose, e.g. that 'the

hot' is a positive predication, i.e. a 'form', whereas 'cold' is a

privation, and that Earth and Fire differ from one another by these

constitutive differences.)

  The opinion, however, which most people are inclined to prefer, is

that the distinction depends upon the difference between 'the

perceptible' and 'the imperceptible'. Thus, when there is a change

into perceptible material, people say there is 'coming-to-be'; but

when there is a change into invisible material, they call it

'passing-away'. For they distinguish 'what is' and 'what is not' by

their perceiving and not-perceiving, just as what is knowable 'is' and

what is unknowable 'is not'-perception on their view having the

force of knowledge. Hence, just as they deem themselves to live and to

'be' in virtue of their perceiving or their capacity to perceive, so

too they deem the things to 'be' qua perceived or perceptible-and in

this they are in a sense on the track of the truth, though what they

actually say is not true.

  Thus unqualified coming-to-be and passingaway turn out to be

different according to common opinion from what they are in truth. For

Wind and Air are in truth more real more a 'this somewhat' or a

'form'-than Earth. But they are less real to perception which explains

why things are commonly said to 'pass-away' without qualification when

they change into Wind and Air, and to 'come-to-be' when they change

into what is tangible, i.e. into Earth.

  We have now explained why there is 'unqualified coming-to-be'

(though it is a passingaway-of-something) and 'unqualified passingaway

(though it is a coming-to-be-of-something). For this distinction of

appellation depends upon a difference in the material out of which,

and into which, the changes are effected. It depends either upon

whether the material is or is not 'substantial', or upon whether it is

more or less 'substantial', or upon whether it is more or less

perceptible.

  (ii) But why are some things said to 'come to-be' without

qualification, and others only to 'come-to-be-so-and-so', in cases

different from the one we have been considering where two things

come-to-be reciprocally out of one another? For at present we have

explained no more than this:-why, when two things change

reciprocally into one another, we do not attribute coming-to-be and

passing-away uniformly to them both, although every coming-to-be is

a passing-away of something else and every passing-away some other

thing's coming-to-be. But the question subsequently formulated

involves a different problem-viz. why, although the learning thing

is said to 'come-to-be-learned' but not to 'come-tobe' without

qualification, yet the growing thing is said to 'come-to-be'.

  The distinction here turns upon the difference of the Categories.

For some things signify a this somewhat, others a such, and others a

so-much. Those things, then, which do not signify substance, are not

said to 'come-to-be' without qualification, but only to

'come-to-be-so-and-so'. Nevertheless, in all changing things alike, we

speak of 'coming-to-be' when the thing comes-to-be something in one of

the two Columns-e.g. in Substance, if it comes-to-be Fire but not if

it comes-to-be Earth; and in Quality, if it comes-to-be learned but

not when it comes-to-be ignorant.

  We have explained why some things come to-be without

qualification, but not others both in general, and also when the

changing things are substances and nothing else; and we have stated

that the substratum is the material cause of the continuous occurrence

of coming to-be, because it is such as to change from contrary to

contrary and because, in substances, the coming-to-be of one thing

is always a passing-away of another, and the passing-away of one thing

is always another's coming-to-be. But there is no need even to discuss

the other question we raised-viz. why coming-to-be continues though

things are constantly being destroyed. For just as people speak of

'a passing-away' without qualification when a thing has passed into

what is imperceptible and what in that sense 'is not', so also they

speak of 'a coming-to-be out of a not-being' when a thing emerges from

an imperceptible. Whether, therefore, the substratum is or is not

something, what comes-tobe emerges out of a 'not-being': so that a

thing comes-to-be out of a not-being' just as much as it

'passes-away into what is not'. Hence it is reasonable enough that

coming-to-be should never fail. For coming-to-be is a passing-away

of 'what is not' and passing-away is a coming to-be of 'what is not'.

  But what about that which 'is' not except with a qualification? Is

it one of the two contrary poles of the chang-e.g. Earth (i.e. the

heavy) a 'not-being', but Fire (i.e. the light) a 'being'? Or, on

the contrary, does what is 'include Earth as well as Fire, whereas

what is not' is matter-the matter of Earth and Fire alike? And

again, is the matter of each different? Or is it the same, since

otherwise they would not come-to-be reciprocally out of one another,

i.e. contraries out of contraries? For these things-Fire, Earth,

Water, Air-are characterized by 'the contraries'.

  Perhaps the solution is that their matter is in one sense the

same, but in another sense different. For that which underlies them,

whatever its nature may be qua underlying them, is the same: but its

actual being is not the same. So much, then, on these topics.

                                 4



  Next we must state what the difference is between coming-to-be and

'alteration'-for we maintain that these changes are distinct from

one another.

  Since, then, we must distinguish (a) the substratum, and (b) the

property whose nature it is to be predicated of the substratum; and

since change of each of these occurs; there is 'alteration' when the

substratum is perceptible and persists, but changes in its own

properties, the properties in question being opposed to one another

either as contraries or as intermediates. The body, e.g. although

persisting as the same body, is now healthy and now ill; and the

bronze is now spherical and at another time angular, and yet remains

the same bronze. But when nothing perceptible persists in its identity

as a substratum, and the thing changes as a whole (when e.g. the

seed as a whole is converted into blood, or water into air, or air

as a whole into water), such an occurrence is no longer

'alteration'. It is a coming-to-be of one substance and a passing-away

of the other-especially if the change proceeds from an imperceptible

something to something perceptible (either to touch or to all the

senses), as when water comes-to-be out of, or passes-away into, air:

for air is pretty well imperceptible. If, however, in such cases,

any property (being one of a pair of contraries) persists, in the

thing that has come-to-be, the same as it was in the thing which has

passedaway-if, e.g. when water comes-to-be out of air, both are

transparent or cold-the second thing, into which the first changes,

must not be a property of this persistent identical something.

Otherwise the change will be 'alteration.' Suppose, e.g. that the

musical man passed-away and an unmusical man came-tobe, and that the

man persists as something identical. Now, if 'musicalness and

unmusicalness' had not been a property essentially inhering in man,

these changes would have been a coming-to-be of unmusicalness and a

passing-away of musicalness: but in fact 'musicalness and

unmusicalness' are a property of the persistent identity, viz. man.

(Hence, as regards man, these changes are 'modifications'; though,

as regards musical man and unmusical man, they are a passing-away

and a coming-to-be.) Consequently such changes are 'alteration.'

When the change from contrary to contrary is in quantity, it is

'growth and diminution'; when it is in place, it is 'motion'; when

it is in property, i.e. in quality, it is 'alteration': but, when

nothing persists, of which the resultant is a property (or an

'accident' in any sense of the term), it is 'coming-to-be', and the

converse change is 'passing-away'.

  'Matter', in the most proper sense of the term, is to be

identified with the substratum which is receptive of coming-to-be

and passingaway: but the substratum of the remaining kinds of change

is also, in a certain sense, 'matter', because all these substrata are

receptive of 'contrarieties' of some kind. So much, then, as an answer

to the questions (i) whether coming-to-be 'is' or 'is not'-i.e. what

are the precise conditions of its occurrence and (ii) what

'alteration' is: but we have still to treat of growth.



                                 5



  We must explain (i) wherein growth differs from coming-to-be and

from 'alteration', and ii) what is the process of growing and the

sprocess of diminishing in each and all of the things that grow and

diminish.

  Hence our first question is this: Do these changes differ from one

another solely because of a difference in their respective

'spheres'? In other words, do they differ because, while a change from

this to that (viz. from potential to actual substance) is

coming-to-be, a change in the sphere of magnitude is growth and one in

the sphere of quality is 'alteration'-both growth and 'alteration'

being changes from what is-potentially to what is-actually magnitude

and quality respectively? Or is there also a difference in the

manner of the change, since it is evident that, whereas neither what

is 'altering' nor what is coming-to-be necessarily changes its

place, what is growing or diminishing changes its spatial position

of necessity, though in a different manner from that in which the

moving thing does so? For that which is being moved changes its

place as a whole: but the growing thing changes its place like a metal

that is being beaten, retaining its position as a whole while its

parts change their places. They change their places, but not in the

same way as the parts of a revolving globe. For the parts of the globe

change their places while the whole continues to occupy an equal

place: but the parts of the rowing thing expand over an

ever-increasing place and the parts of the diminishing thing

contract within an ever-diminishing area.

  It is clear, then, that these changes-the changes of that which is

coming-to-be, of that which is 'altering', and of that which is

growing-differ in manner as well as in sphere. But how are we to

conceive the 'sphere' of the change which is growth and diminution?

The sphere' of growing and diminishing is believed to be magnitude.

Are we to suppose that body and magnitude come-to-be out of

something which, though potentially magnitude and body, is actually

incorporeal and devoid of magnitude? And since this description may be

understood in two different ways, in which of these two ways are we to

apply it to the process of growth? Is the matter, out of which

growth takes place, (i) 'separate' and existing alone by itself, or

(ii) 'separate' but contained in another body?

  Perhaps it is impossible for growth to take place in either of these

ways. For since the matter is 'separate', either (a) it will occupy no

place (as if it were a point), or (b) it will be a 'void', i.e. a

non-perceptible body. But the first of these alternatives is

impossible. For since what comes-to-be out of this incorporeal and

sizeless something will always be 'somewhere', it too must be

'somewhere'-either intrinsically or indirectly. And the second

alternative necessarily implies that the matter is contained in some

other body. But if it is to be 'in' another body and yet remains

'separate' in such a way that it is in no sense a part of that body

(neither a part of its substantial being nor an 'accident' of it),

many impossibilities will result. It is as if we were to suppose

that when, e.g. air comes-to-be out of water the process were due

not to a change of the but to the matter of the air being 'contained

in' the water as in a vessel. This is impossible. For (i) there is

nothing to prevent an indeterminate number of matters being thus

'contained in' the water, so that they might come-to-be actually an

indeterminate quantity of air; and (ii) we do not in fact see air

coming-to-be out of water in this fashion, viz. withdrawing out of

it and leaving it unchanged.

  It is therefore better to suppose that in all instances of

coming-to-be the matter is inseparable, being numerically identical

and one with the 'containing' body, though isolable from it by

definition. But the same reasons also forbid us to regard the

matter, out of which the body comes-to-be, as points or lines. The

matter is that of which points and lines are limits, and it is

something that can never exist without quality and without form.

  Now it is no doubt true, as we have also established elsewhere,'

that one thing 'comes-tobe' (in the unqualified sense) out of

another thing: and further it is true that the efficient cause of

its coming-to-be is either (i) an actual thing (which is the same as

the effect either generically-or the efficient cause of the

coming-to-be of a hard thing is not a hard thing or specifically, as

e.g. fire is the efficient cause of the coming-to-be of fire or one

man of the birth of another), or (ii) an actuality. Nevertheless,

since there is also a matter out of which corporeal substance itself

comes-to-be (corporeal substance, however, already characterized as

such-and-such a determinate body, for there is no such thing as body

in general), this same matter is also the matter of magnitude and

quality-being separable from these matters by definition, but not

separable in place unless Qualities are, in their turn, separable.

  It is evident, from the preceding development and discussion of

difficulties, that growth is not a change out of something which,

though potentially a magnitude, actually possesses no magnitude.

For, if it were, the 'void' would exist in separation; but we have

explained in a former work' that this is impossible. Moreover, a

change of that kind is not peculiarly distinctive of growth, but

characterizes coming-to-be as such or in general. For growth is an

increase, and diminution is a lessening, of the magnitude which is

there already-that, indeed, is why the growing thing must possess some

magnitude. Hence growth must not be regarded as a process from a

matter without magnitude to an actuality of magnitude: for this

would be a body's coming-to-be rather than its growth.

  We must therefore come to closer quarters with the subject of our

inquiry. We must grapple' with it (as it were) from its beginning, and

determine the precise character of the growing and diminishing whose

causes we are investigating.

  It is evident (i) that any and every part of the growing thing has

increased, and that similarly in diminution every part has become

smaller: also (ii) that a thing grows by the accession, and diminishes

by the departure, of something. Hence it must grow by the accession

either (a) of something incorporeal or (b) of a body. Now, if (a) it

grows by the accession of something incorporeal, there will exist

separate a void: but (as we have stated before)' is impossible for a

matter of magnitude to exist 'separate'. If, on the other hand (b)

it grows by the accession of a body, there will be two bodies-that

which grows and that which increases it-in the same place: and this

too is impossible.

  But neither is it open to us to say that growth or diminution occurs

in the way in which e.g. air is generated from water. For, although

the volume has then become greater, the change will not be growth, but

a coming to-be of the one-viz. of that into which the change is taking

place-and a passing-away of the contrasted body. It is not a growth of

either. Nothing grows in the process; unless indeed there be something

common to both things (to that which is coming-to-be and to that which

passed-away), e.g. 'body', and this grows. The water has not grown,

nor has the air: but the former has passed-away and the latter has

come-to-be, and-if anything has grown-there has been a growth of

'body.' Yet this too is impossible. For our account of growth must

preserve the characteristics of that which is growing and diminishing.

And these characteristics are three: (i) any and every part of the

growing magnitude is made bigger (e.g. if flesh grows, every

particle of the flesh gets bigger), (ii) by the accession of

something, and (iii) in such a way that the growing thing is preserved

and persists. For whereas a thing does not persist in the processes of

unqualified coming-to-be or passing-away, that which grows or 'alters'

persists in its identity through the 'altering' and through the

growing or diminishing, though the quality (in 'alteration') and the

size (in growth) do not remain the same. Now if the generation of

air from water is to be regarded as growth, a thing might grow without

the accession (and without the persistence) of anything, and

diminish without the departure of anything-and that which grows need

not persist. But this characteristic must be preserved: for the growth

we are discussing has been assumed to be thus characterized.

  One might raise a further difficulty. What is 'that which grows'? Is

it that to which something is added? If, e.g. a man grows in his shin,

is it the shin which is greater-but not that 'whereby' he grows,

viz. not the food? Then why have not both 'grown'? For when A is added

to B, both A and B are greater, as when you mix wine with water; for

each ingredient is alike increased in volume. Perhaps the

explanation is that the substance of the one remains unchanged, but

the substance of the other (viz. of the food) does not. For indeed,

even in the mixture of wine and water, it is the prevailing ingredient

which is said to have increased in volume. We say, e.g. that the

wine has increased, because the whole mixture acts as wine but not

as water. A similar principle applies also to 'alteration'. Flesh is

said to have been 'altered' if, while its character and substance

remain, some one of its essential properties, which was not there

before, now qualifies it: on the other hand, that 'whereby' it has

been 'altered' may have undergone no change, though sometimes it too

has been affected. The altering agent, however, and the originative

source of the process are in the growing thing and in that which is

being 'altered': for the efficient cause is in these. No doubt the

food, which has come in, may sometimes expand as well as the body that

has consumed it (that is so, e.g. if, after having come in, a food

is converted into wind), but when it has undergone this change it

has passedaway: and the efficient cause is not in the food.

  We have now developed the difficulties sufficiently and must

therefore try to find a solution of the problem. Our solution must

preserve intact the three characteristics of growth-that the growing

thing persists, that it grows by the accession (and diminishes by

the departure) of something, and further that every perceptible

particle of it has become either larger or smaller. We must

recognize also (a) that the growing body is not 'void' and that yet

there are not two magnitudes in the same place, and (b) that it does

not grow by the accession of something incorporeal.

  Two preliminary distinctions will prepare us to grasp the cause of

growth. We must note (i) that the organic parts grow by the growth

of the tissues (for every organ is composed of these as its

constituents); and (ii) that flesh, bone, and every such part-like

every other thing which has its form immersed in matter-has a

twofold nature: for the form as well as the matter is called 'flesh'

or 'bone'.

  Now, that any and every part of the tissue qua form should

grow-and grow by the accession of something-is possible, but not

that any and every part of the tissue qua matter should do so. For

we must think of the tissue after the image of flowing water that is

measured by one and the same measure: particle after particle

comes-to-be, and each successive particle is different. And it is in

this sense that the matter of the flesh grows, some flowing out and

some flowing in fresh; not in the sense that fresh matter accedes to

every particle of it. There is, however, an accession to every part of

its figure or 'form'.

  That growth has taken place proportionally, is more manifest in

the organic parts-e.g. in the hand. For there the fact that the matter

is distinct from the form is more manifest than in flesh, i.e. than in

the tissues. That is why there is a greater tendency to suppose that a

corpse still possesses flesh and bone than that it still has a hand or

an arm.

  Hence in one sense it is true that any and every part of the flesh

has grown; but in another sense it is false. For there has been an

accession to every part of the flesh in respect to its form, but not

in respect to its matter. The whole, however, has become larger. And

this increase is due (a) on the one hand to the accession of

something, which is called 'food' and is said to be 'contrary' to

flesh, but (b) on the other hand to the transformation of this food

into the same form as that of flesh as if, e.g. 'moist' were to accede

to 'dry' and, having acceded, were to be transformed and to become

'dry'. For in one sense 'Like grows by Like', but in another sense

'Unlike grows by Unlike'.

  One might discuss what must be the character of that 'whereby' a

thing grows. Clearly it must be potentially that which is

growing-potentially flesh, e.g. if it is flesh that is growing.

Actually, therefore, it must be 'other' than the growing thing. This

'actual other', then, has passed-away and come-to-be flesh. But it has

not been transformed into flesh alone by itself (for that would have

been a coming-to-be, not a growth): on the contrary, it is the growing

thing which has come-to-be flesh (and grown) by the food. In what way,

then, has the food been modified by the growing thing? Perhaps we

should say that it has been 'mixed' with it, as if one were to pour

water into wine and the wine were able to convert the new ingredient

into wine. And as fire lays hold of the inflammable, so the active

principle of growth, dwelling in the growing thing that which is

actually flesh), lays hold of an acceding food which is potentially

flesh and converts it into actual flesh. The acceding food, therefore,

must be together with the growing thing: for if it were apart from it,

the change would be a coming-to-be. For it is possible to produce fire

by piling logs on to the already burning fire. That is 'growth'. But

when the logs themselves are set on fire, that is 'coming-to-be'.

  'Quantum-in-general' does not come-to-be any more than 'animal'

which is neither man nor any other of the specific forms of animal:

what 'animal-in-general' is in coming-to-be, that 'quantum-in-general'

is in growth. But what does come-to-be in growth is flesh or bone-or a

hand or arm (i.e. the tissues of these organic parts). Such things

come-to-be, then, by the accession not of quantified-flesh but of a

quantified-something. In so far as this acceding food is potentially

the double result e.g. is potentially so-much-flesh-it produces

growth: for it is bound to become actually both so-much and flesh. But

in so far as it is potentially flesh only, it nourishes: for it is

thus that 'nutrition' and 'growth' differ by their definition. That is

why a body's' nutrition' continues so long as it is kept alive (even

when it is diminishing), though not its 'growth'; and why nutrition,

though 'the same' as growth, is yet different from it in its actual

being. For in so far as that which accedes is potentially 'so

much-flesh' it tends to increase flesh: whereas, in so far as it is

potentially 'flesh' only, it is nourishment.

  The form of which we have spoken is a kind of power immersed in

matter-a duct, as it were. If, then, a matter accedes-a matter,

which is potentially a duct and also potentially possesses determinate

quantity the ducts to which it accedes will become bigger. But if it

is no longer able to act-if it has been weakened by the continued

influx of matter, just as water, continually mixed in greater and

greater quantity with wine, in the end makes the wine watery and

converts it into water-then it will cause a diminution of the quantum;

though still the form persists.



                                 6



  (In discussing the causes of coming-tobe) we must first

investigate the matter, i.e. the so-called 'elements'. We must ask

whether they really are clements or not, i.e. whether each of them

is eternal or whether there is a sense in which they come-to-be:

and, if they do come-to-be, whether all of them come-to-be in the same

manner reciprocally out of one another, or whether one amongst them is

something primary. Hence we must begin by explaining certain

preliminary matters, about which the statements now current are vague.

  For all (the pluralist philosophers)- those who generate the

'elements' as well as those who generate the bodies that are

compounded of the elements- make use of 'dissociation' and

'association', and of 'action' and 'passion'. Now 'association' is

'combination'; but the precise meaning of the process we call

'combining' has not been explained. Again, (all the monists make use

of 'alteration': but) without an agent and a patient there cannot be

'altering' any more than there can be 'dissociating' and

'associating'. For not only those who postulate a plurality of

elements employ their reciprocal action and passion to generate the

compounds: those who derive things from a single element are equally

compelled to introduce 'acting'. And in this respect Diogenes is right

when he argues that 'unless all things were derived from one,

reciprocal action and passion could not have occurred'. The hot thing,

e.g. would not be cooled and the cold thing in turn be warmed: for

heat and cold do not change reciprocally into one another, but what

changes (it is clear) is the substratum. Hence, whenever there is

action and passion between two things, that which underlies them

must be a single something. No doubt, it is not true to say that all

things are of this character: but it is true of all things between

which there is reciprocal action and passion.

  But if we must investigate 'action-passion' and 'combination', we

must also investigate 'contact'. For action and passion (in the proper

sense of the terms) can only occur between things which are such as to

touch one another; nor can things enter into combination at all unless

they have come into a certain kind of contact. Hence we must give a

definite account of these three things- of 'contact', 'combination',

and 'acting'.

  Let us start as follows. All things which admit of 'combination'

must be capable of reciprocal contact: and the same is true of any two

things, of which one 'acts' and the other 'suffers action' in the

proper sense of the terms. For this reason we must treat of

'contact' first. every term which possesses a variety of meaning

includes those various meanings either owing to a mere coincidence

of language, or owing to a real order of derivation in the different

things to which it is applied: but, though this may be taken to hold

of 'contact' as of all such terms, it is nevertheless true that

contact' in the proper sense applies only to things which have

'position'. And 'position' belongs only to those things which also

have a Place': for in so far as we attribute 'contact' to the

mathematical things, we must also attribute 'place' to them, whether

they exist in separation or in some other fashion. Assuming,

therefore, that 'to touch' is-as we have defined it in a previous

work'-'to have the extremes together', only those things will touch

one another which, being separate magnitudes and possessing

position, have their extremes 'together'. And since position belongs

only to those things which also have a 'place', while the primary

differentiation of 'place' is the above' and 'the below' (and the

similar pairs of opposites), all things which touch one another will

have 'weight' or 'lightness' either both these qualities or one or the

other of them. But bodies which are heavy or light are such as to

'act' and 'suffer action'. Hence it is clear that those things are

by nature such as to touch one another, which (being separate

magnitudes) have their extremes 'together' and are able to move, and

be moved by, one another.

  The manner in which the 'mover' moves the moved' not always the

same: on the contrary, whereas one kind of 'mover' can only impart

motion by being itself moved, another kind can do so though

remaining itself unmoved. Clearly therefore we must recognize a

corresponding variety in speaking of the 'acting' thing too: for the

'mover' is said to 'act' (in a sense) and the 'acting' thing to

'impart motion'. Nevertheless there is a difference and we must draw a

distinction. For not every 'mover' can 'act', if (a) the term

'agent' is to be used in contrast to 'patient' and (b) 'patient' is to

be applied only to those things whose motion is a 'qualitative

affection'-i.e. a quality, like white' or 'hot', in respect to which

they are moved' only in the sense that they are 'altered': on the

contrary, to 'impart motion' is a wider term than to 'act'. Still,

so much, at any rate, is clear: the things which are 'such as to

impart motion', if that description be interpreted in one sense,

will touch the things which are 'such as to be moved by them'-while

they will not touch them, if the description be interpreted in a

different sense. But the disjunctive definition of 'touching' must

include and distinguish (a) 'contact in general' as the relation

between two things which, having position, are such that one is able

to impart motion and the other to be moved, and (b) 'reciprocal

contact' as the relation between two things, one able to impart motion

and the other able to be moved in such a way that 'action and passion'

are predicable of them.

  As a rule, no doubt, if A touches B, B touches A. For indeed

practically all the 'movers' within our ordinary experience impart

motion by being moved: in their case, what touches inevitably must,

and also evidently does, touch something which reciprocally touches

it. Yet, if A moves B, it is possible-as we sometimes express it-for A

'merely to touch' B, and that which touches need not touch a something

which touches it. Nevertheless it is commonly supposed that 'touching'

must be reciprocal. The reason of this belief is that 'movers' which

belong to the same kind as the 'moved' impart motion by being moved.

Hence if anything imparts motion without itself being moved, it may

touch the 'moved' and yet itself be touched by nothing-for we say

sometimes that the man who grieves us 'touches' us, but not that we

'touch' him.

  The account just given may serve to distinguish and define the

'contact' which occurs in the things of Nature.



                                 7



  Next in order we must discuss 'action' and 'passion'. The

traditional theories on the subject are conflicting. For (i) most

thinkers are unanimous in maintaining (a) that 'like' is always

unaffected by 'like', because (as they argue) neither of two 'likes'

is more apt than the other either to act or to suffer action, since

all the properties which belong to the one belong identically and in

the same degree to the other; and (b) that 'unlikes', i.e.

'differents', are by nature such as to act and suffer action

reciprocally. For even when the smaller fire is destroyed by the

greater, it suffers this effect (they say) owing to its

'contrariety' since the great is contrary to the small. But (ii)

Democritus dissented from all the other thinkers and maintained a

theory peculiar to himself. He asserts that agent and patient are

identical, i.e. 'like'. It is not possible (he says) that 'others',

i.e. 'differents', should suffer action from one another: on the

contrary, even if two things, being 'others', do act in some way on

one another, this happens to them not qua 'others' but qua

possessing an identical property.

  Such, then, are the traditional theories, and it looks as if the

statements of their advocates were in manifest conflict. But the

reason of this conflict is that each group is in fact stating a

part, whereas they ought to have taken a comprehensive view of the

subject as a whole. For (i) if A and B are 'like'-absolutely and in

all respects without difference from one another -it is reasonable

to infer that neither is in any way affected by the other. Why,

indeed, should either of them tend to act any more than the other?

Moreover, if 'like' can be affected by 'like', a thing can also be

affected by itself: and yet if that were so-if 'like' tended in fact

to act qua 'like'-there would be nothing indestructible or

immovable, for everything would move itself. And (ii) the same

consequence follows if A and B are absolutely 'other', i.e. in no

respect identical. Whiteness could not be affected in any way by

line nor line by whiseness-except perhaps 'coincidentally', viz. if

the line happened to be white or black: for unless two things either

are, or are composed of, 'contraries', neither drives the other out of

its natural condition. But (iii) since only those things which

either involve a 'contrariety' or are 'contraries'-and not any

things selected at random-are such as to suffer action and to act,

agent and patient must be 'like' (i.e. identical) in kind and yet

'unlike' (i.e. contrary) in species. (For it is a law of nature that

body is affected by body, flavour by flavour, colour by colour, and so

in general what belongs to any kind by a member of the same kind-the

reason being that 'contraries' are in every case within a single

identical kind, and it is 'contraries' which reciprocally act and

suffer action.) Hence agent and patient must be in one sense

identical, but in another sense other than (i.e. 'unlike') one

another. And since (a) patient and agent are generically identical

(i.e. 'like') but specifically 'unlike', while (b) it is

'contraries' that exhibit this character: it is clear that

'contraries' and their 'intermediates' are such as to suffer action

and to act reciprocally-for indeed it is these that constitute the

entire sphere of passing-away and coming-to-be.

  We can now understand why fire heats and the cold thing cools, and

in general why the active thing assimilates to itself the patient. For

agent and patient are contrary to one another, and coming-to-be is a

process into the contrary: hence the patient must change into the

agent, since it is only thus that coming-to be will be a process

into the contrary. And, again, it is intelligible that the advocates

of both views, although their theories are not the same, are yet in

contact with the nature of the facts. For sometimes we speak of the

substratum as suffering action (e.g. of 'the man' as being healed,

being warmed and chilled, and similarly in all the other cases), but

at other times we say 'what is cold is 'being warmed', 'what is sick

is being healed': and in both these ways of speaking we express the

truth, since in one sense it is the 'matter', while in another sense

it is the 'contrary', which suffers action. (We make the same

distinction in speaking of the agent: for sometimes we say that 'the

man', but at other times that 'what is hot', produces heat.) Now the

one group of thinkers supposed that agent and patient must possess

something identical, because they fastened their attention on the

substratum: while the other group maintained the opposite because

their attention was concentrated on the 'contraries'. We must conceive

the same account to hold of action and passion as that which is true

of 'being moved' and 'imparting motion'. For the 'mover', like the

'agent', has two meanings. Both (a) that which contains the

originative source of the motion is thought to 'impart motion' (for

the originative source is first amongst the causes), and also (b) that

which is last, i.e. immediately next to the moved thing and to the

coming-to-be. A similar distinction holds also of the agent: for we

speak not only (a) of the doctor, but also (b) of the wine, as

healing. Now, in motion, there is nothing to prevent the firs; mover

being unmoved (indeed, as regards some 'first' movers' this is

actually necessary) although the last mover always imparts motion by

being itself moved: and, in action, there is nothing to prevent the

first agent being unaffected, while the last agent only acts by

suffering action itself. For agent and patient have not the same

matter, agent acts without being affected: thus the art of healing

produces health without itself being acted upon in any way by that

which is being healed. But (b) the food, in acting, is itself in

some way acted upon: for, in acting, it is simultaneously heated or

cooled or otherwise affected. Now the art of healing corresponds to an

'originative source', while the food corresponds to 'the last' (i.e.

'continuous') mover.

  Those active powers, then, whose forms are not embodied in matter,

are unaffected: but those whose forms are in matter are such as to

be affected in acting. For we maintain that one and the same

'matter' is equally, so to say, the basis of either of the two opposed

things-being as it were a 'kind'; and that that which can he hot

must be made hot, provided the heating agent is there, i.e. comes

near. Hence (as we have said) some of the active powers are unaffected

while others are such as to be affected; and what holds of motion is

true also of the active powers. For as in motion 'the first mover'

is unmoved, so among the active powers 'the first agent' is

unaffected.

  The active power is a 'cause' in the sense of that from which the

process originates: but the end, for the sake of which it takes place,

is not 'active'. (That is why health is not 'active', except

metaphorically.) For when the agent is there, the patient he-comes

something: but when 'states' are there, the patient no longer

becomes but already is-and 'forms' (i.e. lends') are a kind of

'state'. As to the 'matter', it (qua matter) is passive. Now fire

contains 'the hot' embodied in matter: but a 'hot' separate from

matter (if such a thing existed) could not suffer any action. Perhaps,

indeed, it is impossible that 'the hot' should exist in separation

from matter: but if there are any entities thus separable, what we are

saying would be true of them.

  We have thus explained what action and passion are, what things

exhibit them, why they do so, and in what manner. We must go on to

discuss how it is possible for action and passion to take place.



                                 8



  Some philosophers think that the 'last' agent-the 'agent' in the

strictest sense-enters in through certain pores, and so the patient

suffers action. It is in this way, they assert, that we see and hear

and exercise all our other senses. Moreover, according to them, things

are seen through air and water and other transparent bodies, because

such bodies possess pores, invisible indeed owing to their minuteness,

but close-set and arranged in rows: and the more transparent the body,

the more frequent and serial they suppose its pores to be. Such was

the theory which some philosophers (induding Empedocles) advanced in

regard to the structure of certain bodies. They do not restrict it

to the bodies which act and suffer action: but 'combination' too, they

say, takes place 'only between bodies whose pores are in reciprocal

symmetry'. The most systematic and consistent theory, however, and one

that applied to all bodies, was advanced by Leucippus and

Democritus: and, in maintaining it, they took as their

starting-point what naturally comes first.

  For some of the older philosophers thought that 'what is' must of

necessity be 'one' and immovable. The void, they argue, 'is not':

but unless there is a void with a separate being of its own, 'what is'

cannot be moved-nor again can it be 'many', since there is nothing

to keep things apart. And in this respect, they insist, the view

that the universe is not 'continuous' but 'discretes-in-contact' is no

better than the view that there are 'many' (and not 'one') and a void.

For (suppose that the universe is discretes-in-contact. Then), if it

is divisible through and through, there is no 'one', and therefore

no 'many' either, but the Whole is void; while to maintain that it

is divisible at some points, but not at others, looks like an

arbitrary fiction. For up to what limit is it divisible? And for

what reason is part of the Whole indivisible, i.e. a plenum, and

part divided? Further, they maintain, it is equally necessary to

deny the existence of motion.

  Reasoning in this way, therefore, they were led to transcend

sense-perception, and to disregard it on the ground that 'one ought to

follow the argument': and so they assert that the universe is 'one'

and immovable. Some of them add that it is 'infinite', since the limit

(if it had one) would be a limit against the void.

  There were, then, certain thinkers who, for the reasons we have

stated, enunciated views of this kind as their theory of 'The

Truth'.... Moreover, although these opinions appear to follow

logically in a dialectical discussion, yet to believe them seems

next door to madness when one considers the facts. For indeed no

lunatic seems to be so far out of his senses as to suppose that fire

and ice are 'one': it is only between what is right and what seems

right from habit, that some people are mad enough to see no

difference.

  Leucippus, however, thought he had a theory which harmonized with

sense-perception and would not abolish either coming-to-be and

passing-away or motion and the multiplicity of things. He made these

concessions to the facts of perception: on the other hand, he conceded

to the Monists that there could be no motion without a void. The

result is a theory which he states as follows: 'The void is a "not

being", and no part of "what is" is a "not-being"; for what "is" in

the strict sense of the term is an absolute plenum. This plenum,

however, is not "one": on the contrary, it is a many" infinite in

number and invisible owing to the minuteness of their bulk. The "many"

move in the void (for there is a void): and by coming together they

produce "coming to-be", while by separating they produce

"passing-away". Moreover, they act and suffer action wherever they

chance to be in contact (for there they are not "one"), and they

generate by being put together and becoming intertwined. From the

genuinely-one, on the other hand, there never could have come-to-be

a multiplicity, nor from the genuinely-many a "one": that is

impossible. But' (just as Empedocles and some of the other

philosophers say that things suffer action through their pores, so)

'all "alteration" and all "passion" take place in the way that has

been explained: breaking-up (i.e. passing-away) is effected by means

of the void, and so too is growth-solids creeping in to fill the

void places.' Empedocles too is practically bound to adopt the same

theory as Leucippus. For he must say that there are certain solids

which, however, are indivisible-unless there are continuous pores

all through the body. But this last alternative is impossible: for

then there will be nothing solid in the body (nothing beside the

pores) but all of it will be void. It is necessary, therefore, for his

'contiguous discretes' to be indivisible, while the intervals

between them-which he calls 'pores'-must be void. But this is

precisely Leucippus' theory of action and passion.

  Such, approximately, are the current explanations of the manner in

which some things 'act' while others 'suffer action'. And as regards

the Atomists, it is not only clear what their explanation is: it is

also obvious that it follows with tolerable consistency from the

assumptions they employ. But there is less obvious consistency in

the explanation offered by the other thinkers. It is not clear, for

instance, how, on the theory of Empedocles, there is to be

'passing-away' as well as 'alteration'. For the primary bodies of

the Atomists-the primary constituents of which bodies are composed,

and the ultimate elements into which they are dissolved-are

indivisible, differing from one another only in figure. In the

philosophy of Empedocles, on the other hand, it is evident that all

the other bodies down to the 'elements' have their coming-to-be and

their passingaway: but it is not clear how the 'elements'

themselves, severally in their aggregated masses, come-to-be and

pass-away. Nor is it possible for Empedocles to explain how they do

so, since he does not assert that Fire too (and similarly every one of

his other 'elements') possesses 'elementary constituents' of itself.

  Such an assertion would commit him to doctrines like those which

Plato has set forth in the Timaeus. For although both Plato and

Leucippus postulate elementary constituents that are indivisible and

distinctively characterized by figures, there is this great difference

between the two theories: the 'indivisibles' of Leucippus (i) are

solids, while those of Plato are planes, and (ii) are characterized by

an infinite variety of figures, while the characterizing figures

employed by Plato are limited in number. Thus the 'comings-to-be'

and the 'dissociations' result from the 'indivisibles' (a) according

to Leucippus through the void and through contact (for it is at the

point of contact that each of the composite bodies is divisible),

but (b) according to Plato in virtue of contact alone, since he denies

there is a void.

  Now we have discussed 'indivisible planes' in the preceding

treatise.' But with regard to the assumption of 'indivisible

solids', although we must not now enter upon a detailed study of its

consequences, the following criticisms fall within the compass of a

short digression: i. The Atomists are committed to the view that every

'indivisible' is incapable alike of receiving a sensible property (for

nothing can 'suffer action' except through the void) and of

producing one-no 'indivisible' can be, e.g. either hard or cold. Yet

it is surely a paradox that an exception is made of 'the hot'-'the

hot' being assigned as peculiar to the spherical figure: for, that

being so, its 'contrary' also ('the cold') is bound to belong to

another of the figures. If, however, these properties (heat and

cold) do belong to the 'indivisibles', it is a further paradox that

they should not possess heaviness and lightness, and hardness and

softness. And yet Democritus says 'the more any indivisible exceeds,

the heavier it is'-to which we must clearly add 'and the hotter it

is'. But if that is their character, it is impossible they should

not be affected by one another: the 'slightly-hot indivisible', e.g.

will inevitably suffer action from one which far exceeds it in heat.

Again, if any 'indivisible' is 'hard', there must also be one which is

'soft': but 'the soft' derives its very name from the fact that it

suffers a certain action-for 'soft' is that which yields to pressure.

  II. But further, not only is it paradoxical (i) that no property

except figure should belong to the 'indivisibles': it is also

paradoxical (ii) that, if other properties do belong to them, one only

of these additional properties should attach to each-e.g. that this

'indivisible' should be cold and that 'indivisible' hot. For, on

that supposition, their substance would not even be uniform. And it is

equally impossible (iii) that more than one of these additional

properties should belong to the single 'indivisible'. For, being

indivisible, it will possess these properties in the same point-so

that, if it 'suffers action' by being chilled, it will also, qua

chilled, 'act' or 'suffer action' in some other way. And the same line

of argument applies to all the other properties too: for the

difficulty we have just raised confronts, as a necessary

consequence, all who advocate 'indivisibles' (whether solids or

planes), since their 'indivisibles' cannot become either 'rarer' or

'derser' inasmuch as there is no void in them.

  III. It is a further paradox that there should be small

'indivisibles', but not large ones. For it is natural enough, from the

ordinary point of view, that the larger bodies should be more liable

to fracture than the small ones, since they (viz. the large bodies)

are easily broken up because they collide with many other bodies.

But why should indivisibility as such be the property of small, rather

than of large, bodies?

  IV. Again, is the substance of all those solids uniform, or do

they fall into sets which differ from one another-as if, e.g. some

of them, in their aggregated bulk, were 'fiery', others earthy'? For

(i) if all of them are uniform in substance, what is it that separated

one from another? Or why, when they come into contact, do they not

coalesce into one, as drops of water run together when drop touches

drop (for the two cases are precisely parallel)? On the other hand

(ii) if they fall into differing sets, how are these characterized? It

is clear, too, that these, rather than the 'figures', ought to be

postulated as 'original reals', i.e. causes from which the phenomena

result. Moreover, if they differed in substance, they would both act

and suffer action on coming into reciprocal contact.

  V. Again, what is it which sets them moving? For if their 'mover' is

other than themselves, they are such as to 'suffer action'. If, on the

other hand, each of them sets itself in motion, either (a) it will

be divisible ('imparting motion' qua this, 'being moved' qua that), or

(b) contrary properties will attach to it in the same respect-i.e.

'matter' will be identical in-potentiality as well as

numerically-identical.

  As to the thinkers who explain modification of property through

the movement facilitated by the pores, if this is supposed to occur

notwithstanding the fact that the pores are filled, their postulate of

pores is superfluous. For if the whole body suffers action under these

conditions, it would suffer action in the same way even if it had no

pores but were just its own continuous self. Moreover, how can their

account of 'vision through a medium' be correct? It is impossible

for (the visual ray) to penetrate the transparent bodies at their

'contacts'; and impossible for it to pass through their pores if every

pore be full. For how will that differ from having no pores at all?

The body will be uniformly 'full' throughout. But, further, even if

these passages, though they must contain bodies, are 'void', the

same consequence will follow once more. And if they are 'too minute to

admit any body', it is absurd to suppose there is a 'minute' void

and yet to deny the existence of a 'big' one (no matter how small

the 'big' may be), or to imagine 'the void' means anything else than a

body's place-whence it clearly follows that to every body there will

correspond a void of equal cubic capacity.

  As a general criticism we must urge that to postulate pores is

superfluous. For if the agent produces no effect by touching the

patient, neither will it produce any by passing through its pores.

On the other hand, if it acts by contact, then-even without pores-some

things will 'suffer action' and others will 'act', provided they are

by nature adapted for reciprocal action and passion. Our arguments

have shown that it is either false or futile to advocate pores in

the sense in which some thinkers conceive them. But since bodies are

divisible through and through, the postulate of pores is ridiculous:

for, qua divisible, a body can fall into separate parts.



                                 9



  Let explain the way in which things in fact possess the power of

generating, and of acting and suffering action: and let us start

from the principle we have often enunciated. For, assuming the

distinction between (a) that which is potentially and (b) that which

is actually such-and-such, it is the nature of the first, precisely in

so far as it is what it is, to suffer action through and through,

not merely to be susceptible in some parts while insusceptible in

others. But its susceptibility varies in degree, according as it is

more or less; such-and such, and one would be more justified in

speaking of 'pores' in this connexion: for instance, in the metals

there are veins of 'the susceptible' stretching continuously through

the substance.

  So long, indeed, as any body is naturally coherent and one, it is

insusceptible. So, too, bodies are insusceptible so long as they are

not in contact either with one another or with other bodies which

are by nature such as to act and suffer action. (To illustrate my

meaning: Fire heats not only when in contact, but also from a

distance. For the fire heats the air, and the air-being by nature such

as both to act and suffer action-heats the body.) But the

supposition that a body is 'susceptible in some parts, but

insusceptible in others' (is only possible for those who hold an

erroneous view concerning the divisibility of magnitudes. For us)

the following account results from the distinctions we established

at the beginning. For (i) if magnitudes are not divisible through

and through-if, on the contrary, there are indivisible solids or

planes-then indeed no body would be susceptible through and through

:but neither would any be continuous. Since, however, (ii) this is

false, i.e. since every body is divisible, there is no difference

between 'having been divided into parts which remain in contact' and

'being divisible'. For if a body 'can be separated at the contacts'

(as some thinkers express it), then, even though it has not yet been

divided, it will be in a state of dividedness-since, as it can be

divided, nothing inconceivable results. And (iii) the suposition is

open to this general objection-it is a paradox that 'passion' should

occur in this manner only, viz. by the bodies being split. For this

theory abolishes 'alteration': but we see the same body liquid at

one time and solid at another, without losing its continuity. It has

suffered this change not by 'division' and composition', nor yet by

'turning' and 'intercontact' as Democritus asserts; for it has

passed from the liquid to the solid state without any change of

'grouping' or 'position' in the constituents of its substance. Nor are

there contained within it those 'hard' (i.e. congealed) particles

'indivisible in their bulk': on the contrary, it is liquid-and

again, solid and congealed-uniformly all through. This theory, it must

be added, makes growth and diminution impossible also. For if there is

to be opposition (instead of the growing thing having changed as a

whole, either by the admixture of something or by its own

transformation), increase of size will not have resulted in any and

every part.

  So much, then, to establish that things generate and are

generated, act and suffer action, reciprocally; and to distinguish the

way in which these processes can occur from the (impossible) way in

which some thinkers say they occur.



                                10



  But we have still to explain 'combination', for that was the third

of the subjects we originally proposed to discuss. Our explanation

will proceed on the same method as before. We must inquire: What is

'combination', and what is that which can 'combine'? Of what things,

and under what conditions, is 'combination' a property? And,

further, does 'combination' exist in fact, or is it false to assert

its existence?

  For, according to some thinkers, it is impossible for one thing to

be combined with another. They argue that (i) if both the 'combined'

constituents persist unaltered, they are no more 'combined' now than

they were before, but are in the same condition: while (ii) if one has

been destroyed, the constituents have not been 'combined'-on the

contrary, one constituent is and the other is not, whereas

'combination' demands uniformity of condition in them both: and on the

same principle (iii) even if both the combining constituents have been

destroyed as the result of their coalescence, they cannot 'have been

combined' since they have no being at all.

  What we have in this argument is, it would seem, a demand for the

precise distinction of 'combination' from coming-to-be and passingaway

(for it is obvious that 'combination', if it exists, must differ

from these processes) and for the precise distinction of the

'combinable' from that which is such as to come-to-be and pass-away.

As soon, therefore, as these distinctions are clear, the

difficulties raised by the argument would be solved.

  Now (i) we do not speak of the wood as 'combined' with the fire, nor

of its burning as a 'combining' either of its particles with one

another or of itself with the fire: what we say is that 'the fire is

coming-to-be, but the wood is 'passing-away'. Similarly, we speak

neither (ii) of the food as 'combining' with the body, nor (iii) of

the shape as 'combining' with the wax and thus fashioning the lump.

Nor can body 'combine' with white, nor (to generalize) 'properties'

and 'states' with 'things': for we see them persisting unaltered.

But again (iv) white and knowledge cannot be 'combined' either, nor

any other of the 'adjectivals'. (Indeed, this is a blemish in the

theory of those who assert that 'once upon a time all things were

together and combined'. For not everything can 'combine' with

everything. On the contrary, both of the constituents that are

combined in the compound must originally have existed in separation:

but no property can have separate existence.)

  Since, however, some things are-potentially while others

are-actually, the constituents combined in a compound can 'be' in a

sense and yet 'not-be'. The compound may he-actually other than the

constituents from which it has resulted; nevertheless each of them may

still he-potentially what it was before they were combined, and both

of them may survive undestroyed. (For this was the difficulty that

emerged in the previous argument: and it is evident that the combining

constituents not only coalesce, having formerly existed in separation,

but also can again be separated out from the compound.) The

constituents, therefore, neither (a) persist actually, as 'body' and

'white' persist: nor (b) are they destroyed (either one of them or

both), for their 'power of action' is preserved. Hence these

difficulties may be dismissed: but the problem immediately connected

with them-whether combination is something relative to perception'

must be set out and discussed.

  When the combining constituents have been divided into parts so

small, and have been juxtaposed in such a manner, that perception

fails to discriminate them one from another, have they then 'been

combined Or ought we to say 'No, not until any and every part of one

constituent is juxtaposed to a part of the other'? The term, no doubt,

is applied in the former sense: we speak, e.g. of wheat having been

'combined' with barley when each grain of the one is juxtaposed to a

grain of the other. But every body is divisible and therefore, since

body 'combined' with body is uniform in texture throughout, any and

every part of each constituent ought to be juxtaposed to a part of the

other.

  No body, however, can be divided into its 'least' parts: and

'composition' is not identical with 'combination', but other than

it. From these premises it clearly follows (i) that so long as the

constituents are preserved in small particles, we must not speak of

them as 'combined'. (For this will be a 'composition' instead of a

'blending' or 'combination': nor will every portion of the resultant

exhibit the same ratio between its constituents as the whole. But we

maintain that, if 'combination' has taken place, the compound must

be uniform in texture throughout-any part of such a compound being the

same as the whole, just as any part of water is water: whereas, if

'combination' is 'composition of the small particles', nothing of

the kind will happen. On the contrary, the constituents will only be

'combined' relatively to perception: and the same thing will be

'combined' to one percipient, if his sight is not sharp, (but not to

another,) while to the eye of Lynceus nothing will be 'combined'.)

It clearly follows (ii) that we must not speak of the constituents

as 'combined in virtue of a division such that any and every part of

each is juxtaposed to a part of the other: for it is impossible for

them to be thus divided. Either, then, there is no 'combination', or

we have still to explain the manner in which it can take place.

  Now, as we maintain, some things are such as to act and others

such as to suffer action from them. Moreover, some things-viz. those

Which have the same matter-'reciprocate', i.e. are such as to act upon

one another and to suffer action from one another; while other things,

viz. agents which have not the same matter as their patients, act

without themselves suffering action. Such agents cannot 'combine'-that

is why neither the art of healing nor health produces health by

'combining' with the bodies of the patients. Amongst those things,

however, which are reciprocally active and passive, some are

easily-divisible. Now (i) if a great quantity (or a large bulk) of one

of these easily-divisible 'reciprocating' materials be brought

together with a little (or with a small piece) of another, the

effect produced is not 'combination', but increase of the dominant:

for the other material is transformed into the dominant. (That is

why a drop of wine does not 'combine' with ten thousand gallons of

water: for its form is dissolved, and it is changed so as to merge

in the total volume of water.) On the other hand (ii) when there is

a certain equilibrium between their 'powers of action', then each of

them changes out of its own nature towards the dominant: yet neither

becomes the other, but both become an intermediate with properties

common to both.

  Thus it is clear that only those agents are 'combinable' which

involve a contrariety-for these are such as to suffer action

reciprocally. And, further, they combine more freely if small pieces

of each of them are juxtaposed. For in that condition they change

one another more easily and more quickly; whereas this effect takes

a long time when agent and patient are present in bulk.

  Hence, amongst the divisible susceptible materials, those whose

shape is readily adaptable have a tendency to combine: for they are

easily divided into small particles, since that is precisely what

'being readily adaptable in shape' implies. For instance, liquids

are the most 'combinable' of all bodies-because, of all divisible

materials, the liquid is most readily adaptable in shape, unless it be

viscous. Viscous liquids, it is true, produce no effect except to

increase the volume and bulk. But when one of the constituents is

alone susceptible-or superlatively susceptible, the other being

susceptible in a very slight degree-the compound resulting from

their combination is either no greater in volume or only a little

greater. This is what happens when tin is combined with bronze. For

some things display a hesitating and ambiguous attitude towards one

another-showing a slight tendency to combine and also an inclination

to behave as 'receptive matter' and 'form' respectively. The behaviour

of these metals is a case in point. For the tin almost vanishes,

behaving as if it were an immaterial property of the bronze: having

been combined, it disappears, leaving no trace except the colour it

has imparted to the bronze. The same phenomenon occurs in other

instances too.

  It is clear, then, from the foregoing account, that 'combination'

occurs, what it is, to what it is due, and what kind of thing is

'combinable'. The phenomenon depends upon the fact that some things

are such as to be (a) reciprocally susceptible and (b) readily

adaptable in shape, i.e. easily divisible. For such things can be

'combined' without its being necessary either that they should have

been destroyed or that they should survive absolutely unaltered: and

their 'combination' need not be a 'composition', nor merely

'relative to perception'. On the contrary: anything is 'combinable'

which, being readily adaptable in shape, is such as to suffer action

and to act; and it is 'combinable with' another thing similarly

characterized (for the 'combinable' is relative to the

'combinable'); and 'combination' is unification of the

'combinables', resulting from their 'alteration'.



                              Book II

                                 1



  WE have explained under what conditions 'combination', 'contact',

and 'action-passion' are attributable to the things which undergo

natural change. Further, we have discussed 'unqualified'

coming-to-be and passing-away, and explained under what conditions

they are predicable, of what subject, and owing to what cause.

Similarly, we have also discussed 'alteration', and explained what

'altering' is and how it differs from coming-to-be and passing-away.

But we have still to investigate the so-called 'elements' of bodies.

  For the complex substances whose formation and maintenance are due

to natural processes all presuppose the perceptible bodies as the

condition of their coming-to-be and passing-away: but philosophers

disagree in regard to the matter which underlies these perceptible

bodies. Some maintain it is single, supposing it to be, e.g. Air or

Fire, or an 'intermediate' between these two (but still a body with

a separate existence). Others, on the contrary, postulate two or

more materials-ascribing to their 'association' and 'dissociation', or

to their 'alteration', the coming-to-be and passing-away of things.

(Some, for instance, postulate Fire and Earth: some add Air, making

three: and some, like Empedocles, reckon Water as well, thus

postulating four.)

  Now we may agree that the primary materials, whose change (whether

it be 'association and dissociation' or a process of another kind)

results in coming-to-be and passingaway, are rightly described as

'originative sources, i.e. elements'. But (i) those thinkers are in

error who postulate, beside the bodies we have mentioned, a single

matter-and that corporeal and separable matter. For this 'body' of

theirs cannot possibly exist without a 'perceptible contrariety': this

'Boundless', which some thinkers identify with the 'original real',

must be either light or heavy, either cold or hot. And (ii) what Plato