Galen’s Commentary on Hippocrates’ Fractures

It’s almost impossible to find English translations of Galen’s Hippocratic commentaries. There’s an English translation by W. J. Lewis of Galen’s commentary on the Nature of the Human Being available at the Society for Ancient Medicine site at Cambridge; and there are English translations by Uwe Vagelpohl of Arabic translations of some of Galen’s commentaries for the Corpus Medicorum Graecorum. That’s about it for English. The situation is only marginally better for French, German, Italian and Spanish (see the CMG’s Galen catalogue).

It is frustrating because Galen’s commentaries contain a huge amount of material on Greek scholarship of the second century—not only philosophy and medicine, but literature and philology as well. They are also important parts of the reception of earlier philosophy, medicine, literature and philology, since many later scholars drew from and responded to them in Syriac, Arabic, Latin and Greek traditions. Making them more widely available in modern language translations would help to open the field up quite a bit.

As for the texts themselves, some of Galen’s commentaries have modern critical editions and are available online in Greek and / or in Arabic at the Corpus Medicorum Graecorum of the Berlin-Brandenburg Academy of Sciences. Some are in preparation (like Airs, Waters, Places in Arabic). Others are still to be edited, like much of the Aphorisms commentary.

A lot of in-depth scholarship is still behind paywalls. The most important study, for instance, is the 1994 contribution, “Galeno commentatore di Ippocrate” by Daniela Manetti and Amneris Roselli, to the Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt (I see De Gruyter sells the article for 30 EUR). There’s also great new work by Manetti and Roselli in a few recent volumes, as well as work by (and the following are merely examples) Hans Diller, Georg Harig and Jutta Kollesch, Geoffrey Lloyd, Mario Vegetti, Paola Manuli, Heinrich von Staden and P. N. Singer. I’d add Glenn Most’s work on ancient Greco-Roman scholarship and David Sedley’s work on commentary and philosophical allegiance to the list of important resources that are not always easy to find online (less of a necessity for now while the pandemic restrictions are being relaxed). There are surely many others.

There is however a scholarly and open-access discussion of Galen’s Hippocratic commentary and Hippocratism in a piece by Jacques Jouanna called “Galen’s Reading of the Hippocratic Treatise The Nature of Man: The Foundations of Hippocratism in Galen” from the 2012 volume of his collected papers published by Brill. And there’s the wonderful 1979 book The Hippocratic Tradition by Wesley Smith that’s available online in a special electronic edition Smith revised for BIU Santé in 2002.

Lately, I’ve been posting translations of the more programmatic or weird bits of Galen’s commentaries to try to make them a bit more accessible (also to motivate me while I write a chapter on them for a handbook). This time it’s the preface to Galen’s commentary on Hippocrates’ Fractures.

Galen’s commentary on Hippocrates’ Fractures belongs to an earlier period of Galen’s Hippocratic scholarship, when he was writing mainly at the request of friends (as in last week’s post). The period includes commentaries on Aphorisms, Fractures, Joints, Prognosis, Regimen in Acute Diseases, Wounds, Injuries of the Head, and Epidemics 1. Eventually, he says he started producing commentaries for wider publication, after he came across some particularly bad but popular commentaries written by a couple of physicians named Lycos and Julian. These are commentaries on Nature of the Human Being, Epidemics 2, Epidemics 3, Epidemics 6, Humours, Nutriment, Prorrhetic, Surgery and Airs, Waters, Places.

The preface to the commentary on Fractures is unique because it contains a summary of Galen’s reflection on interpretation (exegesis) from his lost essay On Interpretation.* In that work, Galen says he defined interpretation as the ability to make what is obscure in written texts clear. He also distinguishes two kinds of interpretation according to a distinction between two kinds of obscurity: obscurity per se and obscurity relative to the audience (perhaps drawing on Platonist categorial distinction between things that exist kath’auto and pros ti). Something is obscure per se when it implies a contradiction. Something is obscure relative to an audience when the audience is unfamiliar with the subject of the discussion.

Galen thinks the result is that interpreting something that is obscure per se will be different from interpreting something that is only obscure relative to the audience. In the latter case, Galen says he’ll nearly always clarify what is relatively obscure in the case of anatomical claims, but for the most part he’ll target people who are already fairly well trained in philosophy, literature and medicine. We also find Galen’s views on what teaching at different levels consists in.

Comments on the translation welcome.

Galen’s Commentary on Hippocrates’ Fractures, preface

“Before going on to individual interpretations, it is better to have an understanding of interpretation in general: that its capacity is to make clear whatever in written treatises is obscure. To demonstrate something written down as true, or to refute it as false—even if someone alleges [the position] was defended sophistically—is distinct from interpretation, although it is customary for just about everyone who writes commentaries to do this. And, by god, there is nothing to prevent the interpreter from touching on this in moderation, but to be completely contentious about the opinions of the author is to exceed the boundaries of interpretation. Therefore, since I am not making this my aim, but what has been mentioned, I will make concise additions to the actual interpretation for the sake of making what was said plausible.

“Nevertheless, there are two different kinds of interpretation, because obscurity itself has two kinds. I think it is better to speak about this in advance; however, I will only speak briefly about these things, like a kind of summary, since they have been discussed at length in my essay On Interpretation. In that work I showed what is actually obscure being such itself through itself, and what in itself did not arise at first, but when there happened to be many differences among readers of the discussion, either in being educated and trained in argument or completely untrained, or with respect to some people being naturally sharp and intelligent, others dull and unintelligent.

“For example, in the book under discussion, On Fractures, where Hippocrates says ‘it must then be stated which of the errors of doctors one wishes to teach, which to unteach’, the passage is obscure itself through itself, since we do not expect there to be any errors that should be taught. Similar also is this one: ‘and the extension of the joint in this configuration has been bent.’ For he is saying the bent configuration of the outstretched arm has the joint at the elbow, but it seems absurd to say that the straight has been bent.

“Nevertheless, what has been said in the following way: ‘if the hinge-like part of the humerus in the cavity of the ulna is fixed in this kind of position, it makes a line with the bones of the ulna and humerus, as if the whole were one’—if someone had observed what the bones under discussion are like, there would be no obscurity; but to someone who does not know the nature of the articulation at the elbow, the passage reasonably appears obscure.

“I think it is better to interpret all such passages, because the majority of the book's readers have not learned anatomy. Nevertheless, it is fitting to pass over what is not like this, saying to those reading this book only this much about them: if you think one of the passages I have interpreted is obscure, first look into whether your book has mistakes by comparing and collating it with the most trustworthy copies. If it appears to be correct, read the same passage a second and a third time paying precise attention to it. For when I read a book together with someone in person, I am able to target the appropriate interpretation precisely, considering on each occasion the ability of the student. But when I am writing for everyone, I do not target those who are best or worst prepared. For in the former case, the interpretation will be obscure for most people; in the latter, it will be irritating for those who have to spend a long time on things that are clear.

“I think what is best, therefore, is to target one whose ability is in the middle; but when I miss this, I rather look to those who are more capable. For in general I do not think it is valuable for those whose ability is less than mediocre to read commentaries: they must be content to understand what has been said by listening many times to their teacher give the same explanations in passage after passage.”

Πρὸ τῆς τῶν κατὰ μέρος ἐξηγήσεως ἄμεινον ἀκηκοέναι καθόλου περὶ πάσης ἐξηγήσεως, ὡς ἔστιν ἡ δύναμις αὐτῆς, ὅσα τῶν ἐν τοῖς συγγράμμασίν ἐστιν ἀσαφῆ, ταῦτ' ἐργάσασθαι σαφῆ. τὸ δ' ἀποδεῖξαί τι τῶν γεγραμμένων ὡς ἀληθὲς ἢ ὡς ψεῦδος ἐλέγξαι, καὶ εἰ κατηγόρησέ τις σοφιστικῶς ἀπολογήσασθαι, κεχώρισται μὲν ἐξηγήσεως, εἴθισται δὲ γίγνεσθαι πρὸς ἁπάντων ὡς εἰπεῖν τῶν γραφόντων ὑπομνήματα. καὶ νὴ Δία οὐδὲν κωλύει καὶ τούτου μετρίως ἅπτεσθαι τὸν ἐξηγητήν. τὸ δ' ἀγωνίζεσθαι τελέως ὑπὲρ τῶν τοῦ γράφοντος δογμάτων ἐκπέπτωκε τὸν ὅρον τῆς ἐξηγήσεως. οὐ πρὸς τοῦτον οὖν τὸν σκοπὸν, ἀλλὰ πρὸς τὸν εἰρημένον ἀποβλέπων ἐγὼ προσθήσω ταῖς ὄντως ἐξηγήσεσιν ἑκάστοτε βραχέα τῆς πίστεως ἕνεκα τῶν εἰρημένων.

οὔσης μέντοι καὶ κατὰ ταύτην τὴν ἐξήγησιν διαφορᾶς διττῆς, ὅτι καὶ τὸ ἀσαφὲς αὐτὸ διττόν ἐστιν, ἄμεινον εἶναί μοι δοκεῖ καὶ περὶ τούτου προειπεῖν, εἰρήσεται δὲ καὶ αὐτὰ ταῦτα διὰ βραχέων, οἷον ἐπιτομή τις, ὧν ἰδίᾳ λέλεκται διὰ μακροτέρων ἐν τῷ περὶ ἐξηγήσεως ὑπομνήματι. δέδεικται δὲ ἐν ἐκείνῳ τὸ μὲν ὄντως ἀσαφὲς αὐτὸ δι' ἑαυτὸ τοιοῦτον ὑπάρχον, τὸ δὲ ἐν αὐτῷ πρότερον τὴν γένεσιν οὐκ ἔχον, ἐπειδὴ τῶν ἀκουόντων τοῦ λόγου διαφοραὶ πάμπολλαι τυγχάνουσιν οὖσαι κατά τε τὸ προπαιδεύεσθαι καὶ γεγυμνάσθαι περὶ λόγους ἢ παντάπασί γε ἀγυμνάστους ὑπάρχειν, εἶναί τε φύσει τοὺς μὲν ὀξεῖς τε καὶ συνετοὺς, τοὺς δὲ ἀμβλεῖς καὶ ἀσυνέτους.

αὐτίκα γοῦν ἐν αὐτῷ τῷ προκειμένῳ βιβλίῳ τῷ περὶ τῶν καταγμάτων, ἔνθα μέν φησιν ὁ Ἱπποκράτης· ῥητέον οὖν ὁκόσας ἂν ἐθέλει τῶν ἁμαρτάδων τῶν ἰητρῶν τὰς μὲν διδάξαι, τὰς δὲ ἀποδιδάξαι, τὴν ἀσάφειαν ἔχει αὐτὴ δι' ἑαυτὴν ἡ λέξις, οὐ προσδεχομένων ἡμῶν εἶναί τινας ἁμαρτίας, ἃς διδάξαι χρὴ, τοιοῦτόν ἐστι κἀκεῖνο· καὶ ἡ ἀνάτασις τοῦ ἄρθρου κέκλασται ἐν τουτέῳ τῷ σχήματι. τὸ γὰρ ἐκτεταμένης τῆς χειρὸς σχῆμα κεκλασμένον, φησὶν, ἔχει τὸ ἄρθρον τὸ κατ' ἀγκῶνα. δοκεῖ δὲ τοῦτ' ἄτοπον εἶναι κεκλάσθαι φάναι τὸ εὐθύ.

τὸ μέντοι λελεγμένον οὕτως· εἰ τοῦ βραχίονος τὸ γιγγλυμοειδὲς ἐν τῇ τοῦ πήχεος βαθμίδι, ἐν τοιουτέῳ τῷ σχήματι ἐρεῖδον, ἰθυωρίην ποιέει τοῖσιν ὀστέοισι τοῦ πήχεος καὶ τοῦ βραχίονος, ὡς ἓν εἴη τὸ πᾶν. εἰ μέντοι τις ἑώρακεν ὁποῖόν ἐστι τῶν ὀστῶν ἑκάτερον, ὑπὲρ ὧν ὁ λόγος ἐστὶν, οὐδεμίαν ἀσάφειαν ἔχει. τῷ δ' ἀγνοοῦντι τῆς κατ' ἀγκῶνα διαρθρώσεως τὴν φύσιν ἀσαφὴς εἰκότως ἡ λέξις φαίνεται.

δοκεῖ δέ μοι βέλτιον εἶναι καὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα πάντα ἐξηγεῖσθαι, διὰ τὸ τοὺς πλείστους τῶν ἀναγινωσκόντων τὸ βιβλίον ἀμαθεῖς ἀνατομῆς εἶναι. τὰ μέντοι μηδὲν ἐχόντων τοιοῦτον παρέρχεσθαι προσήκει, τοσοῦτον προειπόντα περὶ αὐτῶν ἔτι τοῖς ἀναγνωσομένοις τὸ βιβλίον, ἐάν τινα λέξιν ὧν ἐξηγησάμην ἀσαφὲς ἔχειν τι νομίσῃς, ἐπίσκεψαι μὲν πρῶτον εἰ μὲν τὸ βιβλίον ἡμάρτηταί σου παραβάλλων τε καὶ ἀντεξετάζων τοῖς ἀξιοπίστοις ἀντιγράφοις· εἶτ' ἂν ὀρθῶς ἔχειν φαίνηται, δεύτερόν τε καὶ τρίτον ἀνάγνωθι τὴν αὐτὴν λέξιν προσέχων ἀκριβῶς αὐτῇ τὸν νοῦν. ἐγὼ γὰρ ὅταν μὲν παρὼν παρόντι συναναγινώσκω τι βιβλίον, ἀκριβῶς στοχάζεσθαι δύναμαι τοῦ μέτρου τῆς ἐξηγήσεως, ἀποβλέπων ἑκάστοτε πρὸς τὴν τοῦ μανθάνοντος ἕξιν. ὅταν δὲ γράφω πᾶσιν, οὔτε τοῦ ἄριστα παρεσκευασμένου οὔτε τοῦ χείριστα στοχάζομαι. τὸ μὲν γὰρ τοῖς πλείστοις ἀσαφὲς ἔσται, τὸ δὲ ἀνιᾶται χρονίζοντας ἐν τοῖς σαφέσιν.

ἄριστον οὖν ἡγοῦμαι τῶν μέσην ἕξιν ἐχόντων στοχάζεσθαι· τούτου δὲ ἀποτυγχάνων ἐπὶ τοὺς ἑκτικωτέρους ἐπόπτειν μᾶλλον. οὐδὲ γὰρ ὅλως ὑπομνήμασιν ἐντυγχάνειν ἀξιῶ, τοὺς κατωτέρους τῆς μέσης ἕξεως, οἷς ἀγαπητόν ἐστι παρὰ διδασκάλων ἀκούσασι πολλάκις τὰ αὐτὰ κατ' ἄλλην καὶ ἄλλην λέξιν ἑρμηνευόμενα συνιέναι τῶν λεγομένων.

Gal. Hipp. Frac. 18B 318–322 K.

Grasshoppers

“When I was an irrational child, I would rip off the big legs of grasshoppers and I would set them down on rocks or on the ground or wherever. There, having set them down, they were completely motionless, but when I would touch one of them, it would leap up and actually move from here to there, as if it had sensation.”

ἐγὼ γὰρ οὑτωσὶ ἀλόγως παῖς ὢν ἀνέσπων τοὺς μεγάλους τῆς ἀκρίδος πόδας καὶ ἐτίθουν αὐτοὺς ἐν πέτρᾳ ἢ γῇ ἢ ὅπου ἂν ἔτυχεν· ἐν ᾧ τεθέντες ἦσαν πάμπαν ἀκίνητοι. ὁπηνίκα δ' ἡψάμην τινὸς αὐτῶν, ἥλλετο καὶ ὅλως ἐκινεῖτο ἐκ τοῦδε εἰς τόδε τὸ ὑποκείμενον, ὡς δηλονότι αἴσθησιν ἔχον.

Michael of Ephesus, Commentary on Aristotle’s Parva Naturalia, 102.19–23 Wendland

Two ways to talk about eggs

Two discussions of eggs: one, from Michael of Ephesus, on the egg as a boundary between death and life; another, from Aetius of Amida, on the best way to cook eggs (soft boiled, soaked in wine and fish sauce and cooked on a double-boiler).

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Lemma: “The reason for this is that nature produces the eggs, as it were, before [their] time, because of its own incompleteness…” (Aristotle, Generation of Animals 3.8, 758b19)

"In what follows, he (sc. Aristotle) discusses the reason why insects produce at first a grub which moves itself and is generally speaking an animal; then, once the grub has grown, it turns into an egg, lacking sensation and movement; then it turns into a different animal from the grub. He says that since an insect’s nature, because of its inherent weakness, is in itself unable to nourish and complete the embryo, what it produces is incomplete. And if in addition to generating an incomplete embryo, its nature generated something lacking soul and sensation as well, the embryo would cease to exist. But if this were the case, it is quite likely that the insect-kind would be absent from the world.* So it must be for this reason that nature generates an animal that is able to be nourished from itself, and it feeds on itself until it reaches completion.** Having reached completion, it dies.*** For living and eating are granted to it so that it becomes complete, but once it has reached completion, there is no longer any point for it to eat, and so no point for it to live.**** At this moment it dies, and it is then like an egg surrounded all around by a shell.***** Later, when what is inside of this shell has been completely concocted by the climate as if by a bird and has changed into an animal, it emerges."

758b19 «Τούτου δ’ αἴτιον ὅτι ἡ φύσις ὡσανεὶ πρὸ ὥρας ᾠοτοκεῖ διὰ τὴν ἀτέλειαν τὴν αὐτῆς.»

Τὴν αἰτίαν διὰ τούτων λέγει, τίνος ἕνεκα πρῶτον μὲν σκώληξ γεννᾶται κινούμενος καὶ ὅλως ζῷον ὑπάρχων, εἶτα αὐξηθεὶς ᾠὸν γίνεται ἀναίσθητον καὶ ἀκίνητον, εἶθ’ οὕτω πάλιν ζῷον ἕτερον παρὰ τὸν σκώληκα. λέγει οὖν ὅτι ἡ τῶν ἐντόμων φύσις ἀδυνατοῦσα θρέψαι ἐν αὑτῇ καὶ τελειῶσαι τὸ κύημα διὰ τὴν οἰκείαν ἀσθένειαν, ἀτελὲς αὐτὸ γεννᾷ· ὥστ’ εἴπερ πρὸς τῷ ἀτελὲς αὐτὸ γεννᾶν καὶ ἄψυχον ἐγέννα καὶ ἀναίσθητον, ἐφθείρετο ἄν· εἰ δὲ τοῦτο, τάχιον ἂν ἐκ τοῦ παντὸς ἐξέλιπε τὸ τῶν ἐντόμων γένος. διά τοι τοῦτο γεννᾷ ζῷον ἐξ ἑαυτοῦ δυνάμενον τρέφεσθαι, καὶ τρέφεται ἕως ἂν τελειωθῇ, τελειωθὲν δὲ θνήσκει· τὸ γὰρ ζῆν καὶ ἐσθίειν δέδοται αὐτῷ διὰ τὸ τέλειον γεγονέναι, ἐπειδὴ δὲ τετελείωται, οὐκέτι χρεία αὐτῷ τοῦ ἐσθίειν, ὥστε οὐδὲ τοῦ ζῆν. καὶ ἐπὶ τούτῳ θνήσκει, καὶ ἔστι τότε οἷον ᾠὸν κύκλῳ περιεχόμενον ὑπὸ τοῦ κελύφους· εἶθ’ οὕτως τὸ ἐντὸς ὑπάρχον τούτου τοῦ κελύφους ὑπὸ τῆς ὥρας ὥσπερ ὑπὸ ὄρνιθος συμπεφθὲν καὶ εἰς ζῷον μεταβαλὸν ἔξεισιν.

Michael of Ephesus, Commentary on Aristotle's Generation of Animals 3.8, (CAG 14,3 p.153,10-25 Hayduck).

*A reductio: if nature generated embryos without soul, i.e., without life, there wouldn't be any insects in the world; but, there are insects; so, nature does not generate embryos without a soul.

**The idea is either (1) that the grub is able to feed itself, or (2) that it is able to be nourished from the whole of its own body, unlike an egg, in which one part is food (yolk) and one part becomes the animal (white). Cf. GA 2.1, 732a28-32 and Michael’s comments; 3.2, 752a27-28.

***Michael might be thinking of allegories of metempsychosis. I have yet to find whether the psuchê (butterfly) was used as a symbol of resurrection by late Byzantine Christians. Whether or not that's what he has in mind, the idea is not Aristotle’s—he nowhere says that grubs die when they become cocoons, nor does he say, as Michael takes him to, that cocoons are akinêton or without movement; rather, he says they are akinêtisanta or at rest. Elsewhere, Aristotle claims cocoons move when touched, e.g. HA 5.19, 551a19-20. Just how familiar Michael was with the HA is not clear; but Michael is nevertheless right that in the passage he is commenting on, Aristotle emphasizes the lack of motion of chrysalids throughout. And even if allegories of metempsychosis are in the background, Michael is most likely drawing the following inference: if something is alive, it has nutritive (and sensitive) soul; if something has nutritive (and sensitive) soul, then it can (move, sense), eat, and excrete residues; cocoons do none of these things; hence cocoons are not alive. The inference of course would be false: at most it would imply that cocoons are asleep. Michael, however, likely sees that there would be a deeper problem in saying cocoons are alive in this sense of 'sleeping': on the one hand, the soul of the grub and the soul of the completed animal cannot be identical, since the animals have different bodily organs, and souls and the organs they use are correlative; on the other hand, it seems implausible that the grub should have both souls simultaneously. But if it cannot have both souls simultaneously, and it must have a soul, then it must have the souls successively, and so must ‘die’ in some sense. Michael, then, thinks it is better to say that the soul the grub had has perished, while what it left behind is something alive potentially, but actually dead, namely an egg, which comes back to life when warmed by the season. Michael hints that this is what he has in mind by emphasizing that cocoons are like eggs, although he does not explicitly distinguish actual and potential kinds of living. It's telling that another commentator, Philoponus, denies caterpillars perish, and claims they merely change from one form to another (On Physics 8, CAG 16 180,19-20). This suggests people other than Michael were thinking through this problem.

****Michael’s interpretation likely relies on the familiar Arisotelian claim that nature does nothing in vain: it would be in vain for an animal whose purpose is to become an egg to continue to live.

*****A similar point is made by Plutarch, Quaest. Conv. 2.3 (Moralia 636C3-D7)

Eggs the right way, soft boiled and in cups. Detail from a 3rd century mosaic at the Hatay Archaeological Museum in Antakya, Turkey. 

"Eggs of hens and of pheasants are better, while those of geese and ostriches [literally, 'sparrow-camels'] are worse. Best for the body's nourishment are the ones called 'trembling' [i.e., soft-boiled], while runny ones nourish less, but are passed more easily. They soothe the roughness in the throat caused by shouting or an acrid humour, when they are plastered on the affected places and remain there like a poultice; they also cure roughness because their whole substance is not stinging. For the same reason, they heal roughness in the stomach, bowels and bladder. An egg boiled in vinegar, when eaten, dries the discharges in the bowels. And if you mix things suitable for dysentery or a colic disposition with it and then broil it on coals and give it to eat, you will offer no small benefit to your patients. Suitable for these dispositions are the juice of unripe grapes, unripe mulberry plastered on, ashes of snails burnt whole, and grape seeds, myrtle berries and similar things.  Boiled eggs are hard to digest, pass slowly and provide thick nourishment to the body. The ones baked in hot ashes pass even more slowly and produce even thicker humours than them. Fried eggs have the least nutrition in every respect. For when they are cooked they become greasy and produce a thick humor that is bad and full of residues. Better than boiled and baked ones are those called 'curdled': briefly soaked in oil, garum and wine, and boiled on a double-boiler to a medium consistency. Eggs thickened longer become like boiled or baked ones. The same thing should also be done in cases where eggs are poured on a frying pan, taking the frying pan off the fire when the eggs are still soft."

Ὠὰ ἀμείνω τά τε τῶν ἀλεκτορίδων ἐστὶ καὶ τῶν φασιανῶν, φαυλότερα δὲ τὰ τῶν χηνῶν καὶ στρουθοκαμήλων. κάλλιστα μὲν οὖν εἰς τροφὴν τοῦ σώματός ἐστι τὰ τρομητὰ καλούμενα, τὰ δὲ ῥοφητὰ ἧττον μὲν τρέφει, ῥᾷον δὲ ὑποχωρεῖ. τὰς δὲ ἐν τῷ φάρυγγι τραχύτητας διὰ κραυγὴν ἢ χυμοῦ δριμύτητα ἐκλεαίνει, περιπλαττόμενα τοῖς πεπονθόσι τόποις καὶ προσμένοντα ὥσπερ τι κατάπλασμα καὶ τῷ τῆς ὅλης οὐσίας ἀδήκτῳ ἐκθεραπεύοντα καὶ τὰς τραχύτητας. τῷ δὲ αὐτῷ λόγῳ καὶ τὰς κατὰ τὸν στόμαχον καὶ γαστέρα καὶ κύστιν ἰᾶται τραχύτητας· ἐν ὄξει δὲ ἑψηθὲν ὠὸν εἰ βρωθείη, ξηραίνει τὰ κατὰ γαστέρα ῥεύματα. καὶ εἰ μίξας δὲ αὐτῷ τι τῶν πρὸς δυσεντερίαν ἢ κοιλιακὴν διάθεσιν ἁρμοττόντων, εἶτα ἐπ' ἀνθράκων ταγηνίσας, δοίης φαγεῖν, οὐ σμικρὰ τοὺς κάμνοντας ὠφελήσεις. ἐπιτήδεια δέ ἐστιν εἰς ταῦτα ὀμφάκιον καὶ ῥοῦς ἐπιπαττόμενος καὶ τέφρα τῶν κοχλιῶν ὅλων καέντων γίγαρτά τε σταφυλῆς καὶ μύρτα καὶ τὰ παραπλήσια. τὰ δὲ ἑφθὰ ὠὰ δύσπεπτα καὶ βραδύπορα καὶ τροφὴν παχεῖαν ἀναδίδωσι τῷ σώματι. τούτων δὲ ἔτι μᾶλλον βραδυπορώτερά τε καὶ παχυχυμότερα τὰ κατὰ θερμὴν σποδιὰν ὀπτηθέντα. τὰ δὲ ταγηνισθέντα χειρίστην ἔχει τροφὴν εἰς ἅπαντα· καὶ γὰρ ἐν τῷ πέττεσθαι κνισσοῦται καὶ παχὺν χυμὸν γεννᾷ καὶ μοχθηρὸν καὶ περιττωματικόν. ἀμείνω δὲ τῶν ἑφθῶν τε καὶ ὀπτῶν ἐστι τὰ καλούμενα πηκτὰ μετ' ἐλαίου καὶ γάρου καὶ οἴνου βραχέος ἀναδευθέντα καὶ ἐπὶ διπλώματος ἑψηθέντα μέχρι μετρίας συστάσεως. τὰ γὰρ ἐπὶ πλέον παχυνθέντα παραπλήσια τοῖς ἑψηθεῖσι καὶ ὀπτηθεῖσι γίγνεται. τὸ αὐτὸ δὲ χρὴ ποιεῖν κἀπὶ τῶν ἐπιχεομένων ταῖς λοπάσιν ὠῶν, ἔτι ἐγχύλων ὄντων ἀπὸ τοῦ πυρὸς αἴροντας τὴν λοπάδα.

Aetius of Amida, Libri Medicinales, II 134, 201,19-202,14 Olivieri

More from Michael of Ephesus on dreams

Michael is again talking about his dreams.  Here, he comments on a passage from On prophesying by dreams. Aristotle says in this passage that dreams are more vivid when they involve things we are anxious or thinking about. Michael disagrees--dreams about our anxieties (or even our recent conscious thoughts) are not the only ones that can be extremely vivid. We can have dreams about things that are not on our minds, as well, that feel just as bright and real. As an example, he mentions a dream he had about a colleague who died when he was young, and whom he (curiously) distinguishes from his current, more famous, colleague and collaborator on ‘the discourses’. The names of both have been lost to time.

"And in fact [we have vivid dreams] even if something else should appear to us, [something] which we are not [currently] thinking about. Like the time I saw my colleague in a dream—not my famous [colleague], who is alive and working with me on the discourses (τοὺς λόγους), but another one who, because of the quick approach of death, wrote down only a few works in philosophy—anyway, I saw the one who died long ago in a dream; he was discussing things with me which I had not thought about during that whole month, or even the month before, [but which I] had thought about a lot in earlier times. For both my questions to him and his answers to me were about the soul."

καὶ γὰρ κἂν ἄλλο τι ἡμῖν φαίνηται, οὗπερ οὐ φροντίζομεν· ὥσπερ ἐμοὶ ἰδόντι τὸν ἐμὸν ἑταῖρον, οὐχὶ τὸν κλεινόν μοι τουτονί, ὅστις ἔτι μοι ζῶν συμπονεῖ περὶ τοὺς λόγους, ἀλλ' ἄλλον ὀλίγους ἐν φιλοσοφίᾳ πόνους καταβεβληκότα διὰ τὴν τοῦ θανάτου σύντομον προσέλευσιν, ἐγὼ γοῦν ἐκεῖνον πάλαι θανόντα εἶδον καθ' ὕπνον διαλεγόμενόν μοι, περὶ ὧν ἐγὼ κατ' ἐκεῖνον ὅλον τὸν μῆνα καὶ ἔτι τὸν πρὸ ἐκείνου οὐκ ἐφρόντισα, πρότερον πολλὰ φροντίσας· ἦσαν γὰρ περὶ ψυχῆς αἱ ἐμαί τε πρὸς ἐκεῖνον ἐρωτήσεις κἀκείνου πρός με αἱ ἀποκρίσεις.

Michael of Ephesus, In parva naturalia commentaria, CAG 22.1, 85,3-11 Wendland

Byzantine Silk

In this passage from his commentary on Aristotle’s Generation of Animals, Michael of Ephesus tries to explain a reference to insects generated in wool. Michael thinks Aristotle cannot mean wool, as in the material made from sheep’s hair; rather, he believes Aristotle was talking about silk, specifically the raw silk of a silkworm's cocoon.

Now, Michael is almost certainly wrong about this. The method of producing silk was unknown in the west in Aristotle’s time and would remain so until the reign of Justinian (6th century CE). But in trying to explain what Aristotle meant, Michael ends up giving an amazing description of the process of silk-making during the Byzantine middle-ages.

“[Generation] happens in the same way as [it does among caterpillars] in the case of the other [insects] that are generated in wool and not from copulation.” (Aristotle, De generatione animalium III 9, 758b21)

“By ‘wool’ he means what is now in fact called ‘silk’* by many people. For a certain kind of worm produces this silk. There is really nothing to stop [someone from] observing their generation. Certain winged animals copulate with one another (the males obviously with the females), and from their copulation something worm-like is produced, something which nevertheless does not have the ability to sense [i.e., is not yet really alive].** The women whose job is to produce the silk collect [these worm-like things] and place [them] in the folds of their robes, warming them, until the worm acquires sensation and becomes an animal. Once they become animals, the women place them into a sieve and give them leaves of mulberry to eat.*** By feeding on these leaves, the worms grow and so produce a cocoon around each of them, and it is the cocoon which the women unwind into silk. Then the worm dies. And after a time, out of the cocoons that have broken open, a certain winged creature emerges, resembling those that generated the worms. And it goes on in this way forever. For from this winged creature in turn a worm is produced; and from this worm, a woolen cocoon and a winged [creature]; and again from this winged creature a worm, and so on forever.”

758b21 «Τὸν αὐτὸν δὲ τρόπον συμβαίνει καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν ἄλλων τῶν μὴ ἐξ ὀχείας γινομένων ἐν ἐρίοις.»

Ἔρια λέγει νῦν καὶ τὴν καλουμένην ὑπὸ τῶν πολλῶν μέταξαν· σκώληκες [154] γάρ τινες ταύτην τὴν μέταξαν γεννῶσιν. ἴσως δὲ οὐδὲν κωλύει τὴν τούτων γένεσιν ἱστορῆσαι. ζῷά τινα πτηνὰ ὀχεύουσιν ἄλληλα, τὰ ἄρρενα δηλαδὴ τὰ θήλεα, ἐκ δὲ τῆς τούτων ὀχείας γεννᾶται σκωληκώδη τινά, ἀναίσθητα μέντοι, ἃ δὴ συλλέξασαι αἱ περὶ τὴν μέταξαν πονοῦσαι γυναῖκες καὶ ὑπὸ τὸν κόλπον ἐμβιβάσασαι θερμαίνουσιν, ἕως ἂν αἴσθησιν λάβῃ καὶ ζῷα γένηται. ζῴων δὲ γεγονότων, τίθενται αὐτὰ εἰς κόσκινα καὶ διδόασιν ἐσθίειν φύλλα συκαμίνων, ἐξ ὧν φύλλων τρεφόμενα αὔξονται καὶ οὕτως ἐργάζονται τὸ κέλυφος κύκλῳ ἕκαστον αὐτῶν, καὶ ἔστι τὸ κέλυφος ὃ ἀναλύουσιν εἰς μέταξαν· εἶτα ἀποθνήσκει. καὶ μετὰ χρόνον τινὰ τοῦ κελύφους ῥαγέντος ἐξέρχεται ζῷον πτηνὸν ὅμοιον τῷ γεννήσαντι τὸν σκώληκα, καὶ τοῦτο ἀεὶ οὕτω γίνεται. πάλιν γὰρ ἐκ τοῦ πτηνοῦ τούτου γεννᾶται σκώληξ, ἐκ δὲ τούτου ἔριον κέλυφος καὶ πτηνόν, καὶ πάλιν ἐκ τοῦ πτηνοῦ τούτου σκώληξ, καὶ οὕτως ἀεί.

Michael of Ephesus, In de generatione animalium commentaria, 153,29-154,13 Hayduck

*Silk had been produced in the Eastern Roman Empire since the time of Justinian (483-565 CE). In his History of the Wars, Procopius reports that Justinian wanted to solve the “silk question”: how to acquire silk without having to buy it from their Persian enemies (VIII.vi.1-8). Some monks who had recently returned from India came to Justinian with an answer. They had visited a land north of India called Serinda (Σηρίνδα, China), and discoverd the secret of silk production and how it might be produced by the Romans. Silk, they said, was produced by grubs. And while it was impossible to bring the grubs back from China alive, they could (and eventually did) bring back their eggs, hatched them in Byzantium, and began an industry that would last almost a thousand years.

**Michael is no doubt talking about the eggs laid by the silk moth (bombyx mori). Michael refuses to call them eggs, considering them instead imperfect worms. This is why the women who produce silk need to warm them: to finish the process of bringing the worm to life. He refuses to call them eggs, because, at least according to Aristotle, the immediate offspring of metamorphosizing insects are worms, a stage of life that precedes the egg. The egg itself for Aristotle (and Michael when he is interpreting him) is what we call a pupae or cocoon. Procopius in the passage cited above, does not hesitate to call the things laid by silk moth ‘eggs’, and it is remarkable to me that Michael would think they are anything else. But he seems to endorse Aristotle’s view that what the silk moth produces are tiny non-animals that need to be warmed into life, only to die when they become the egg of a different kind of animal.

***In researching this, I had no idea how silk was actually produced, so I went to youtube. I found this video from the “High Fashion Silk Company” in China which claims that “in ancient times, farmers tucked the [silkworm] eggs into their clothes so the larvae would grow up healthy”. And this video of a traditional silk-farm in Cambodia shows the silk-growers feeding the silkworms mulberry leaves in something that resembles a sieve, like Michael describes. I think the resemblance of these techniques and those described by Michael is just brilliant.

Michael of Ephesus on death and the decisions of Providence

Michael of Ephesus  (11/12 c. CE) was a Byzantine commentator and teacher of Aristotelian philosophy. He was probably one of the intellectuals who gathered around Anna Komnene after she gave up her attempt to claim her father’s throne. Komnene had asked this group to write commentaries on Aristotle’s works which had not been commented on before (see Browning, “An Unpublished Funeral Oration on Anna Comnena”, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society, 8, pp 1-12). Michael took up the request, and he covered a pretty amazing range of topics: the never-before-commented-on animal works (PA, IA, MA, GA), the Parva Naturalia, Metaphysics Ζ-Ν, and Colours (In PN 148.21-149.15). We also have commentaries attributed to him on the Nicomachean Ethics (books 5 & 9-10) and the Sophistical Refutations.

In this passage from his De respiratione commentary (part of the Parva Naturalia commentary), Michael interrupts a discussion about the difference between natural and violent death to talk about Providence’s decision to take away his favourite teacher and his feelings about the people he was left to work with :

[Death is] natural whenever [the origin is] internal and the condition of the part is like what it was originally. (Aristotle, De respiratione 17, 478b27-8) 

“In other words, death is also natural if the condition of the lungs [leading to death] arises from a natural origin. For when the lungs have become dry due to old age, they cannot do their work. And since this kind of  condition—i.e., a dry one—has a natural origin and cause (for it is ‘from’ old age, i.e., due to old age), then death from it is natural. But whenever the condition comes from ‘some acquired affliction’, like when there is an inflammation of the lungs [sc. peripneumonia] (in these cases, because the lungs are filled with ichor and other such things, they cannot do their work), then this kind of death is violent.

Speaking of inflammation of the lungs, even my renowned and most revered teacher—what a brilliant mind—when he had been ruined by an inflammation of the lungs, he died. He left us lamenting and mourning and totally deprived of the ability to speak to and take care of those eager to learn. I don’t mean to sound divisive and contentious, and I don’t say this with any jealousy towards my colleagues—I swear on my teacher’s soul, which I esteem and worship second only to God. But honestly, speaking from my experience with the other teachers, some of them are completely dumb. They don’t understand at all the actual words written on the page, never mind their deeper meaning. Sure, some of them are slightly more clever and have sporadic thoughts, but they are a ways off from establishing the text correctly, and others just wander at random. I don’t need to get into these things, and besides, I respect them and I am fond of them. Anyway, since Providence thought it was a good idea, my teacher flew away to heaven, while we, with Providence as our guide and helper, ought to get back to the work that lies before us.”

«Κατὰ φύσιν δ' ὅταν [ἡ ἀρχὴ] ἐν αὐτῷ [ᾖ] καὶ ἡ τοῦ μορίου σύστασις ἐξ ἀρχῆς τοιαύτη»

Τουτέστι καὶ ὅταν ἡ τοῦ πνεύμονος σύστασις γένηται ἐκ φυσικῆς ἀρχῆς· ὅταν γὰρ ξηρανθεὶς διὰ γῆρας ὁ πνεύμων οὐ δύνηται τὸ ἑαυτοῦ ἔργον ποιεῖν, ἡ τοιαύτη σύστασις καὶ ξηρότης ἐξ ἀρχῆς καὶ αἰτίας οὖσα φυσικῆς (ἐκ γὰρ τοῦ γήρως καὶ διὰ τοῦ γήρως), τότε ὁ ἐκ τούτου θάνατος φύσει ἐστίν. ὅταν δὲ «ἐπίκτητόν τι πάθος» γένηται, ὥσπερ ἐν ταῖς περιπνευμονίαις (ἐν ταύταις γὰρ πληρούμενος ὑπὸ τῶν ἰχώρων καὶ ἄλλων τοιούτων ὁ πνεύμων οὐ δύναται τὸ ἑαυτοῦ ἔργον ποιεῖν), ὁ τοιοῦτος θάνατος βίαιος.

περιπνευμονίᾳ καὶ ὁ ἐμὸς κλεινότατος καὶ πανσέβαστος διδάσκαλος, αἲ αἴ, ὁ νοῦς ἐκεῖνος, νοῦς ὁ ἐνεργήσας, περιπνευμονίᾳ δὴ ἁλοὺς τὴν ζωὴν κατέλυσεν, καταλιπὼν ἡμᾶς στένοντας καὶ ὀλοφυρομένους καὶ ἐν ἐρημίᾳ παντελεῖ τῶν δυναμένων λέγειν καὶ ὠφελεῖν τοὺς φιλομαθοῦντας. ταῦτα δὲ λέγω οὐ διαφορᾷ ἢ φιλονεικίᾳ ἢ φθόνῳ τῷ πρὸς τοὺς καθ' ἡμᾶς, οὐ μὰ τὴν ἐκείνου ψυχήν, ἣν ἐγὼ μετὰ θεὸν σέβομαί τε καὶ προσκυνῶ, ἀλλ' ἀληθείᾳ καὶ πείρᾳ τῇ πρὸς τούτους μοι γεγονυίᾳ. οἱ μὲν γὰρ αὐτῶν παντελῶς εἰσιν ἄφωνοι μηδὲν ὅλως ἐννοοῦντες, τί ποτ' ἐστὶν ὅλως τὰ ἐν τοῖς βιβλίοις γεγραμμένα καὶ τίς ὁ τούτων νοῦς, τινὲς δὲ τῶν χαριεστέρων τῆς μὲν διανοίας ἐφάπτονται σποράδην, τοῦ δὲ τὴν λέξιν καθιστάνειν πόρρω ποι ἀποπλανῶνται, ἄλλοι δ' ἄλλως· περὶ ὧν οὐ δεῖ με λέγειν. πλὴν καὶ τούτους τιμῶ καὶ ἀσπάζομαι, ἀλλ' ἐκεῖνος μέν, ὡς ἔδοξε τῇ προνοίᾳ, ἡμῶν ἀπέπτη, ἡμεῖς δ' ὑπὸ ταύτης χειραγωγούμενοι καὶ βοηθούμενοι ἐπὶ τὸ προκείμενον ἐπανέλθωμεν.

Michael of Ephesus, In Parva Naturalia commentaria, CAG 22.1, 141,31-142,18 Wendland