Clement of Alexandria · a new plain-English translation from the original language
For every inquiry is found out of a pre-existing knowledge; and it is possible that the knowledge which pre-exists with respect to everything sought is, at one time, simply of the essence, while the works of that essence are unknown—for instance, of stones, plants, animals, whose activities we do not know, or their affections or powers, or, to put it simply, one of the things that belong to existing things; and sometimes some of these powers or affections, or some of them, are known, as with the soul, its desires and affections, while its essence is unknown and sought; and in many cases, when our very thought supposes all these things of itself, the inquiry is: to which of the essences does it belong in such and such a way? For having taken in the mind the conceptions of both, of the essence and of the activity, we thus come to the inquiry. And there are cases where, knowing even the activities together with the essences, we are ignorant of the affections.
The method of discovery, then, is this: one must begin from the very act of getting to know the problems. For quite often the shape a phrase takes will mislead and muddle and unsettle our understanding, so that one does not easily find from what kind of differentia it comes—for instance, whether that which is in the womb is an animal or not; for having some notion both of "animal" and of "that which is in the womb," we inquire whether being an animal belongs to that which is in the womb, and this is: whether to the essence that is in the womb there belongs the capacity for motion, and further the capacity for perception. So the inquiry is one of activities and affections, resting upon an essence already known beforehand.
One must at once, then, question in return the one who has put forward the problem, as to what he calls an animal; this above all must be done, whenever we see the name brought into different uses; and one must investigate whether the thing signified by the appellation is disputed or agreed upon by all. For if he should say he calls "animal" whatever grows and is nourished, we shall in turn ask whether he counts plants too among the animals; and then, if he affirms this, we must already point out that what is in the womb also grows and is nourished. For Plato calls plants too animals, as "partaking only of the third kind of soul," the appetitive; but Aristotle thinks that plants partake of the vegetative and nutritive soul, yet does not see fit to call them animals already—for he holds that only what partakes of the other soul, the perceptive one, deserves to be called animal. The Stoics, however, do not yet call the vegetative power soul. And if the one who put forward the problem denies that plants are animals, we shall reveal that his own words contradict him. For having defined animal by being nourished and growing, yet also declaring that the plant is not an animal, he seems to be saying nothing other than this: that whatever is fed and grows both counts as an animal and does not count as one. Let him say, then, what he wishes to learn: whether that which is in the belly grows and is nourished, or whether it partakes of some perception, or even of a motion driven by impulse. In the Platonic view the plant, ensouled, counts as an animal; according to Aristotle it is not yet an animal, for it lacks the perceptive faculty, but it is already ensouled—for to him "animal" is an ensouled, perceptive essence; but according to the Stoics the plant is neither ensouled nor an animal, for to them animal is an ensouled essence.
If, then, the animal is ensouled, and the soul is a perceptive nature, it is clear that what is ensouled is already perceptive.
If, then, the one who raised the inquiry, being questioned in turn whether that which is in the belly is an animal, should say he calls "animal" that which is nourished and grows, he has his answer; but if he should say that what he seeks is this: whether that which is in the womb is already perceptive, or is even capable of moving itself by some impulse, then the investigation of the matter already becomes clear, since the deception concerning the name no longer remains; but if he neither answers what has been asked in return nor is willing to say what he means, or with reference to what thing he applies the name "animal" in making his proposition, but bids us ourselves make the distinction, he would be recognized as being merely contentious. And if, there being two ways—one by question and answer, the other by continuous exposition—he has refused the one, let him listen while we go through everything bearing on the problem; then, when we have finished, it will be open to him to take up each point in turn.
But if he should attempt to interrupt the examination by asking questions, it is plain that he is not even willing to listen.
But if he should choose to answer, first of all one should ask him what thing it is to which he gives the name "animal," and when he answers this, he must again be asked what he means by "that which is in the womb" or "that which is in the belly"—whether he means by it the not-yet-formed things, and even the seed itself once deposited, that which is in the belly, or only the articulated and already formed things, called embryos. And once he has answered this too, one must proceed forthwith to complete what lies before us and to teach.
But if he should wish us to speak, without himself answering, let him hear: since you are unwilling to say with reference to what signification you speak of what you put forward (for otherwise I would not be making my argument about significations, but would already be examining the very things themselves), know that you have done something like this: as if you had put forward whether the dog is an animal. For I might reasonably say: what kind of dog? For I could run through the hound that hunts on land and the dog-shaped creature of the sea and the star set in heaven, and also Diogenes, and the other dogs in turn. For I could not divine whether you ask about all of them or about one. So do now what you would do later: say clearly which kind you are inquiring about. But if you are merely turning about names, then "that which is in the womb," this very name, is plain to everyone to be neither animal nor plant, but merely a word and a sound and a shape and a being and a something—anything sooner than an animal. And if this is what you put forward, you have your answer.
Nor indeed is what is signified by the name "that which is in the womb" an animal; rather, that is something incorporeal, and a sayable, and a matter, and an idea, and anything sooner than an animal. The nature of the animal would be something else; for it was clearly shown to belong to the very thing being inquired into. I mean the essence of the embryo—namely of what sort it is—this being a different problem from that concerning the things signified by the name "animal." I say, then, if by "animal" you mean that which is capable of perceiving and of being moved by impulse, an animal is not simply that which is moved by impulse and perceives; for it can also be asleep, or, when the perceptible things are not present, not perceive—rather, whatever is by nature suited to impulse or to perception, either one, bears the mark that makes it an animal. For something of this sort is signified by these terms. First, whether that which is in the womb is already able to perceive or to be moved by impulse—this being what is proposed for consideration. And a different question: whether that which is in the womb will at some point be able to perceive or to be moved by impulse—a signification which no one inquires about, since it is obvious. What was sought was rather whether the unborn thing already deserves the title of animal, or is instead still merely a plant. The term "animal" was next carried over into an argument, so that it might be made plain: having found it, through perception and through movement by impulse, to differ from the non-animal, we again distinguished this from the things bordering upon it, saying that one thing is that which is such potentially—which is not yet perceiving and moving, but will at some time be such—and another is that which already actually is such; and of this, one part is already active, the other capable of being active but at rest or asleep. And this is what is sought. For it is not from being nourished that the embryo is to be said to be an animal—those who reason thus depart from the essence of the thing sought, and turn their mind to other, merely incidental, matters.
Common to all things said to be discovered is set demonstration, which is an argument that establishes one thing from other things by way of proof. And the things from which what is sought must be proved need to be agreed upon and known by the learner. The starting point of all these is that which is evident to perception and to thought. Now the first demonstration is composed of these; but the demonstration that proceeds, by way of things already previously demonstrated, to establish through this again something further, is no less trustworthy than the former, yet it cannot be called first, because it is not concluded from first premises. The first kind, then, of the differentiation of things sought was shown to be threefold: I refer to that case where, though the essence is known, some of its works or affections remain unknown; the second differentia of problems was the one in which we all understand the works and affections but do not know the essence—for instance, in what part of the body the ruling faculty of the soul is.
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