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Christoph Helmig
Forms and Concepts

Commentaria in Aristotelem Graeca
et Byzantina
Quellen und Studien
Herausgegeben von
Dieter Harlfinger · Christof Rapp · Marwan Rashed
Diether R. Reinsch
Band 5
De Gruyter

Christoph Helmig
Forms and Concepts
Concept Formation
in the Platonic Tradition
De Gruyter

IV
ISBN 978-3-11-026631-3
e-ISBN 978-3-11-026724-2
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A CIP catalog record for this book has been applied for at the Library of Congress.
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Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet
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Druck und buchbinderische Verarbeitung: Hubert & Co. GmbH & Co. KG, Göttingen
ÜGedruckt auf säurefreiem Papier
Printed in Germany
www.degruyter.com

V
Für Marialucrezia, Enrico und Elena

VI

Table of contents VII
Table of contents
A word of thanks . .............................. XI
Introduction................................. 1
1. ‘How comes the mind to be furnished?’ . . ............. 1
2. Survey of recent literature...................... 5
3. Structure and contents of this study................. 9
I. Concepts – (ancient) problems and solutions . ............. 13
1. What is a concept? . ........................ 13
2. The relevance of concepts in ancient epistemological debates . . . . 24
3. Different models of concept acquisition in antiquity ........ 29
4. Forms and concepts & problematic concepts............ 35
II. Plato on learning as recollection . ................... 39
1. Forms and concepts . ........................ 39
1.1. The role of concepts in Plato................. 39
1.2. Forms, concepts, language ................... 41
2. TheParmenides and the archaeology of conceptualism....... 45
2.1. Concepts as ‘one over many’.................. 45
2.2. Refuting conceptualism? . ................... 48
2.3. Conclusion . . ........................ 51
3. TheMeno on the different stages of recollection........... 52
3.1. The transition from opinion(doxa) to knowledge....... 52
3.2. Conclusion . . ........................ 56
4. ThePhaedo on the necessity of innate knowledge . . ........ 57
4.1. The deficiency argument(Phaedo72e–77a).......... 57
4.2. The continuity betweenMeno andPhaedo........... 64
5. ThePhaedrus on acquiring universal concepts............ 65
5.1. Recollection and concept attainment
(Phaedrus249b–c)....................... 65
5.2. Forms, concepts, language again................ 70
5.3. Conclusion . . ........................ 71
6. Concept formation and concepts in theTimaeus,Theaetetus,
andSophist............................. 71

VIII Table of contents
6.1. Recollection in Plato’s later works............... 71
6.2. Innateness and the structure of the human soul........ 73
7. The limits of recollection ...................... 78
7.1. Some problematic concepts . . ................ 78
7.2. Recollection and error..................... 83
8. Forms, concepts, and recollection . . ................ 84
III. Aristotle’s reaction to Plato . ...................... 87
1. Aristotle and his teacher Plato.................... 87
1.1. A strange couple . . ...................... 87
1.2. Aristotle’s arguments against innate knowledge......... 88
2. The origin and nature of mathematical concepts.......... 90
2.1. Concepts and the division of sciences . . ........... 90
2.2. A troublesome emendation................... 92
2.3. Abstraction and thequa-operator............... 96
2.4. Aristotelian and Platonic separation.............. 98
2.5. Mathematical objects and concepts..............100
2.6. Linking abstraction
M
and induction?..............108
3. Universal concepts – induction (epag¯og¯e) and its different domains . 111
3.1. A general definition of induction ................112
3.2. Induction and its different domains..............113
3.3. The language of induction...................114
3.4. Different kinds of induction in Aristotle . ...........116
3.4.1. Induction in dialectical and rhetorical practice .....116
3.4.2. Digression: likeness and the charge of circularity....119
3.4.3. Induction in ethics and natural science.........121
3.4.4. The troublesome case of ‘complete’
or ‘perfect induction’ . . ................122
3.5. Induction and the starting points of syllogism.........125
4. Induction of first principles (Posterior Analytics II19) ........128
4.1. Introduction..........................128
4.2. What is the object ofAnalytica Posteriora II19? ........129
4.3. Articulation and summary of the argument..........132
4.4. The relation of sense perception and intellect.........134
IV. Three case studies: Alcinous, Alexander & Porphyry, and Plotinus . . . 141
1. Alcinous between empiricism and recollection . ...........141
1.1. The doctrine of the doxasticlogos...............142
1.2. Alcinous’ psychology ......................144
1.3. Empiricism vs. innate knowledge...............147
2. Alexander of Aphrodisias & Porphyry on abstraction and universals . 154
2.1. Alexander – elaborating Aristotle’s notion of abstraction....155

Table of contents IX
2.2. Neoplatonic readings of Alexander . . ............. 157
2.3. Immanent forms, definitional natures, and universal concepts . 161
2.4. A unitary theory of intellect?.................. 164
2.5. Porphyry – an abstractionist malgré lui?............ 171
2.6. The ‘short commentary’ on Aristotle’sCategories........ 172
2.7. The epistemological digression in the commentary on Ptolemy 175
3. Plotinus – ‘Wegbereiter’ of Syrianus and Proclus . . ........ 184
3.1. The doctrine of the twofold nature of thelogoi (I):
logoi as criteria in perceptual judgements........... 186
3.2. The doctrine of the twofold nature of thelogoi (II):
logoi as causes in matter . ................... 191
3.3. Plotinus on innate knowledge and recollection ........ 195
V. Syrianus’ and Proclus’ attitude towards Aristotle............ 205
1.Amicus Aristoteles, sed…....................... 205
2. Syrianus’ and Proclus’ criticism of induction and abstraction . . . . 208
2.1. Criticizing abstracted universals................ 209
2.2. Who is the target of Syrianus’ and Proclus’ criticism?..... 219
VI. The crucial role of doxastic concepts in Proclus’ epistemology..... 223
1. Proclus on sense perception andphantasia.............. 225
1.1. Place and character of sense perception............ 225
1.2. Olympiodorus on the ambiguity of sense perception..... 227
1.3. Proclus onphantasia...................... 228
1.4.Phantasia and geometry . ................... 230
1.5. Résumé: sense perception,phantasia, and concept formation . 231
2. An innovation by Proclus: his theory ofdoxa............ 232
2.1. Unfair to Proclus? – Alleged inconsistencies in his theory
ofdoxa............................. 232
2.2. More recent studies on Proclus’ theory ofdoxa......... 233
2.3. Digression:doxa in Plato and Aristotle ............. 240
2.4. Proclus ondoxa and innate knowledge ............. 243
2.5. Proclus on doxastic concepts (logoi doxastikoi)......... 254
2.6.Doxa correcting sense perception . . ............. 260
VII. Proclus’ Platonic theory of concept attainment ............. 263
1. The soul and its innate knowledge................. 264
1.1. The discursive nature of soul: Proclus ondianoia....... 264
1.2.Dianoia and thelogoi of the soul................ 265
1.3. Sources of Proclus’ doctrine of the psychiclogoi........ 268
1.4. Common notions and psychiclogoi.............. 270

X Table of contents
2. The triad of recollection: forgetting – articulation –probol¯e.....272
2.1. Recollection after Aristotle...................272
2.2. Forgetting ...........................274
2.3. Articulation(diarthr¯osis)....................278
2.3.1. The sources: Plato, Aristotle, the Stoics, and Middle
Platonism . ......................278
2.3.2. TheAnonymous in Theaetetum (AT) ..........282
2.3.3. Articulation: talent and error..............284
2.3.4. Proclus on articulation . ................286
2.4.Probol¯e.............................289
2.4.1. Meaning and translation ................290
2.4.2.Probol¯e and geometry . . ................295
2.4.3. Résumé.........................299
3. Proclus on learning and the acquisition of concepts.........299
3.1. Concept formation and the Platonic dialogue.........300
3.2. Recollection as an intentional act of the soul..........304
3.3. Different stages of recollection . ................305
3.4. Different kinds of concepts . . ................309
3.5. A difficult passage . ......................313
3.6. Recollection and error.....................317
3.7. Problematic concepts ......................325
VIII. Plato and Aristotle in harmony? – Some conclusions..........335
Bibliography . .................................343
1. Editions and translations ......................343
2. Secondary literature.........................355
Indices.....................................381
1. Index nominum ...........................381
2. Index locorum . ...........................383
3. Index rerum . . ...........................390

Table of contents XI
A word of thanks
This study took its departure a long time ago at the De Wulf-Mansion Centre
(DWMC) of the Catholic University of Leuven, where the generous financial support
from the Flemish Fund for Scientific Research (FWO – Vlaanderen) enabled me to
work on a PhD-thesis about Proclus’ epistemology under the supervision of Carlos
Steel. I would especially like to thank Carlos Steel, but also all the members and
associate members of the Leuven Proclus group (esp. Pieter d’Hoine, Caroline Macé,
Leen van Campe, and Gerd van Riel) for their help and inspiration. In this regard,
special thanks are due to Guy Guldentops (now Thomas-Institut, Cologne).
Initially, I started working on the fourth book of Proclus’Commentary on the Par-
menides, but eventually the focus of the project widened and came to encompass a
broad range of ancient authors. One of my main sources of interest and motivation
was the desire to better understand the views of Neoplatonists on the relation between
Plato and Aristotle.
The dissertation was defended in Leuven on the 26
th
of May 2006. I would like to
express my gratitude to the members of the jury (Carlos Steel, Theo Kobusch, Frans
de Haas, Russ Friedman, Gerd van Riel) for the fair and most helpful discussion at the
defense and for their many helpful suggestions and thoughtful remarks, most of
which I have tried to incorporate into this book. As such, the monograph is a thor-
oughly revised and greatly expanded version of the original thesis. I have added
chapter one, chapter four, and parts of chapter five, and have reworked substantial
sections of the chapters on Plato, Aristotle, and Proclus.
It goes without saying that the thesis and the subsequent book would never
have been completed without the help of many people, of which I can only name
a few here. Let me thank my friends, colleagues and teachers Matthias Baltes, David
Butorac, Radek Chlup, Klaus Corcilius, Amos Edelheit, Philip van der Eijk, John
Dillon, Grit Galle, Relinde Geys, Pieter Sjoerd Hasper, Marc Hill, Niall Keane,
Cal Ledsham, Christel Meier-Staubach, Jörn Müller, Christopher Noble, Jan
Opsomer, Pasquale Porro, Christian Pfeiffer, Christof Rapp, Burkhard Reis, Arnis
Redovics, Bernd Roling, Andreas Speer, Steven Spileers, and Matthias Vorwerk.
Special thanks are due to my parents, Heinrich Josef and Maria Helmig, and to my
sister, Riccarda.
The final version of the manuscript profited from many fruitful and most
enlightening discussions with Antonio L.C. Vargas. In addition, chapter four was
scrutinized by the acute eye of George Karamanolis when he was a Humboldt Fellow

XII A word of thanks
in Berlin. Charlotte Adams and Annika von Lüpke (the latter also contributed to the
indices) did their best to correct my English, prepare the book for print and helped
to improve the style considerably. Sabrina Lange has been working with me in Berlin
for several years now and I would like to thank her for her indispensable help. Finally,
I should like to express my sincerest thanks to the esteemed editors of the ‘Commen-
taria in Aristotelem Graeca et Byzantina’, especially Dieter Harlfinger, for having will-
ingly accepted my study into their young, but already so splendid series.
The book is dedicated to my children, Enrico and Elena, and especially to my
wife Marialucrezia Leone. She always was and is a source of help and guidance and it
was very good indeed that we met each other one particular day, almost ten years ago,
in Leuven at the De Wulf-Mansion Centre.

‘How comes the mind to be furnished?’ 1
Introduction
Du kannst nur von innen dazulernen;
das Äußere ist bloßer Anstoß
(Peter Handke,Gestern unterwegs, 434)
1. ‘How comes the mind to be furnished?’
‘Concepts are the most fundamental constructs in the theories of the mind.’
1
Given
their importance to all aspects of cognition, there has been a lively and continued
interest among philosophers in the investigation and determination of how concepts
originate or how we attain them.
2
A prominent example is John Locke: ‘How comes
[the mind] to be furnished? Whence comes it by that vast store […]?’
3
The aim of the
present study is to pursue the question as to how knowledge was seen to be acquired
in the so called Platonic tradition. I shall suggest that knowledge attainment can best
be described by appealing to the language of concepts. Special attention is devoted to
the period of Athenian Neoplatonism as represented by Syrianus († 434ad) and, to a
greater extent by his pupil Proclus (412–485ad). The undoubtedly significant epis-
temological contribution of these two philosophers has suffered from a notable degree
of neglect in a time where Neoplatonic studies in general are experiencing a remark-
able renaissance.
I propose a reconstruction of the Platonic tradition in epistemology as a conscious
effort to rethink the difficult interplay between sense perception and innate knowl-
1
Margolis /Laurence (1999b), 3.
2
In my study, I will use ‘concept’ to signify a (fairly) stable mental content or entity (see below ch.
I.1).Margolis /Laurence (1999b), 5–8, argue that the fact that such concepts are admittedly
subjective (that is, they depend upon a particular mind) does not exclude that they are shareable.
One necessary condition that a concept has to fulfil is, however, that it allows for the naming or
recognition of something. Generally speaking, concepts can have different degrees of complexity.
It is obvious, for instance, that my concept of ‘sun’ differs considerably from that of an astron-
omer. In ancient Greek philosophy there is no single term for ‘concept’, but rather several words,
for instance,ennoia,katholou, orlogos (see ch. I.1).
3
John Locke,An Essay Concerning Human Understanding II.1.2 (ed. P. Nidditch).

2 Introduction
edge (recollection). The inquiry will take its start from the much debated relation be-
tween Plato and Aristotle.
According to the standard narrative found in encyclopaedias and handbooks Plato
and Aristotle are the two great antipodes prefiguring, as it were, more recent debates
between empiricists and rationalists on the acquisition of knowledge. Plato’s doctrine
of learning as recollection and his appeal to transcendent Forms as the ultimate and
sole object of true knowledge do not leave much room, it would seem, for fostering
the mind’s interest in epistemology’s worldly constraints. Reciprocally, Aristotle’s
comparison of the soul with an empty writing tablet and his criticism of Plato’s theory
of Forms and innate knowledge do not appear to betray much sympathy for the
speculations of his teacher. Rather, he is viewed as the prototype of the modern em-
pirical scientist who observes, collects, and dissects.
Yet, as with every cliché, this one about Plato and Aristotle needs to be somewhat
qualified. Both philosophers agree that true knowledge is only about unchanging ob-
jects (universals or Forms). Labelling Aristotle an empiricist does not entail that he
defends a theory of knowledge comparable to the Greek medical empiricists or British
empiricists like Locke and Hume.
4
Aristotle’s empiricism is of a peculiar kind. A
wholehearted ancient empiricist, such as the medical empiricist, would hold that ex-
perience can only providefacts, not revealcauses. Moreover medical art is entirely
based onmemory and experience without being in need ofreason.
5
While Aristotle
would agree with the medical empiricists that sense perception or experience cannot
reveal the causes of things, he firmly believes that we can grasp them by means of rea-
soning and intellect.
6
Aristotle’s empiricism ought not to be confused with the kind of empiricism
championed by John Locke or David Hume either. The latter were both anti-
rationalisticand anti-metaphysical. Most importantly, they no longer shared the Aris-
totelian creed that a thing consists of matter and form. For Locke, as for Hume, the
real essence of a thing (in Aristotle,eidos orousia) is unknowable.
Given these qualifications, Aristotle’s theory of knowledge is certainlymore
empirical in nature than Plato’s. This emerges,inter alia, from his criticism of Plato’s
doctrine of innate knowledge. However, since Aristotle, as does Plato, holds that
knowledge proper is not of the particular but of the universal, the crucial question in
4
That it is not an anachronism to speak about rationalism and empiricism in Antiquity is shown
byFrede, M. (1990), esp. 225, andAllen (2001), 87–146. Both authors discuss the doctrines
of the Greek medical empiricists. Regarding the latter see alsoHankinson (2004). On Aris-
totle’s alleged empiricism, see nowHerzberg (2010).
5
SeeFrede, M. (1990) andAllen (2001), esp. 236.
6
Consider his well-known distinction between things that are ‘more familiar to us’ and things that
are ‘more familiar by nature’ (e.g.,Physics I 1, 184
a16–18). The former are identical with sensible
particulars and their properties, while the latter are the true causes of things. Aristotle does not
only assume that these causes exist, according to him we actually have the capability of discover-
ing them. On this seeWieland (
3
1992), 69–85.

‘How comes the mind to be furnished?’ 3
Aristotle is how we can actually grasp the latter. Whereas for Plato the universal is re-
collected, for Aristotle it is acquired by induction (epag¯og¯e), which is, in turn, based
on sense perception, memory, and experience.
7
Induction is described in detail in the
last chapter of thePosterior Analytics (II 19). It sets out from the common elements in
particulars and ultimately arrives at a universal concept. Rather surprisingly, such an
inductive process is already alluded to in Plato’sPhaedrus (249b–c). Should we infer
from this that the accounts of Plato and Aristotle are similar in nature?
It is here that Proclus comes into play. Scholars have suggested that the Neopla-
tonist wouldharmonize Plato and Aristotle in his theory of concept formation.
8
Har-
monism, as one might call it, is not only a modern phenomenon. Already in antiquity
there is rich evidence for the existence of harmonizers.
9
Diogenes Laertius, for
instance, wrote that Aristotle was Plato’s most genuine or authentic pupil.
10
We know
that Iamblichus argued that Aristotle’s comparison of the soul with an empty writing
tablet can be considered in agreement with Plato’s theory of innate knowledge.
11 An-
other striking example is Asclepius, who writes in hisCommentary on the Metaphysics
that Aristotle’s criticism of the theory of Forms is not directed against Plato himself,
but against those who have misunderstood Plato’s doctrine.
12
In his recent mono-
graph entitledAristotle and other Platonists, L. Gerson maintains:
[T]here is […] a baseline agreement among the Neoplatonists as to the lineaments of harmony.
Disagreement about details does not change this.
13
The harmony thesis, which Gerson himself advocates, seems to get further support
from Proclus’ theory of concept formation. Scholars commonly distinguish between
two types of concepts in Proclus, namely those concepts that are empirically acquired
(sometimes called Aristotelian concepts) and recollected ones (sometimes called Pla-
tonic concepts).
14
Accordingly, it is widely held that the first stage in the process of
7For instance,Barnes (
21993), 167, holds that Aristotle inAn.Post. II 19 is putting forth an
‘empiricist thesis’. See now the balanced discussion inHerzberg (2010).
8
Gersh (1978), 109 with note 147 (quoted below). Refer alsode Libera (1996), 105–108, and
(1999), 233–234 with note 80;Sorabji (2004a), 180–181, and (2004c), 138–139, who con-
sider Hermias,In Phaedr. 171.8–25 an example of a harmonizer (but see below ch. II.5 and
ch. VII.3.4).Gerson’s (2005) recent monograph tries to argue comprehensively for the har-
mony thesis. See also ch. V.1 below.
9
On harmony between Aristotle and Plato in general, see alsoKaramanolis (2006) and the
literature listed below ch. V.1.
10
Diogenes Laertius V 1.6: (gn¯esi¯otatos t¯on Plat¯onos math¯et¯on). See also Ps-Plutarch,Placita 1.9.10;
Stobaeus,Anthol. 1.12, and Hippolytus,Elenchos 1.20. I owe these latter references to G.E. Ka-
ramanolis (Crete).
11
On this see the remarks inde Haas (2000), 169–170.
12Asclepius,In Met. 166.35–36.
13
Gerson (2005), 16. On Gerson’s general approach, seeHelmig (2009).
14
For this distinction between two kinds of concepts, seeSorabji (2004a), 180–181; (2004c),
138–139, and (2006).

4 Introduction
concept acquisition is purely empirical in nature, while recollection commences only
at the second stage. The distinction between two kinds of concepts is, for instance,
reflected in the following statement by S. Gersh:
Proclus never rejects the view that certain Forms are derived from sensation by a process of
mental abstraction but simply the theory that these are the only ones.
15
As I hope to show in what follows, this ‘received interpretation’ has to be modified
considerably. The main shortcomings of the commonly held view on Proclus’ theory
of concept acquisition arise because scholars have as yet not fully explored the evi-
dence on (1) Proclus’ relation to Aristotle and (2) the status and role of concepts in
Proclus. An investigation into the latter will entail a study of Proclus’ theory of knowl-
edge insofar as it is of importance for his theory of concept acquisition.
Having said this, let us come back to the distinction between two kinds of con-
cepts (Aristotelian and Platonic) in Proclus. It is certainly correct that we can distin-
guish between different kinds of concepts in Proclus’ philosophy. However, as will
turn out, in Proclus’ own theory of concept acquisition there do not figure concepts
that are acquired empirically (i.e., derived from sense perception). Moreover, contrary
to what Gersh suggests, Proclus does not endorse an abstractionism of any kind.
In recent years, scholars have become more and more aware of the fact that Syria-
nus and Proclus are rather critical regarding Aristotle.
16
Hence, it seems less plausible
to argue that both Neoplatonists harmonize Plato and Aristotle. However, as far
as Proclus is concerned, one problem has never been addressed satisfactorily: How
is it that Proclus also makes use of ‘universals of later origin’ (husterogenes– the term
usually refers to abstracted universals or universals ‘after the many’ [epi tois pollois,post
rem /post res]) in his own philosophy?
17
Does this not entail that he after all has
adopted Aristotelian concepts? The problem can be solved, I argue below, if one dis-
tinguishes between two senses ofhusterogenes in Proclus, analogous to the two kinds
of concepts discussed above.
18
At first sight, the distinction between empirical and recollected concepts seems to
be a problem that is only of interest in the scholarly debate on Proclus’ theory of con-
cept acquisition. Yet, it ought to be emphasized that it touches a sensitive issue regard-
ing thewhole of the Platonic tradition. The issue at stake is: Where does perception
15
Gersh (1978), 109; italics are mine.Gersh,ibid., 109 note 147, identifies the abstracted con-
cept with ‘the Peripatetic notion of form’ and remarks that ‘it is not immediately clear at what
level these forms are held to subsist’.
16
See, for instance,Steel (1984), (2003a), (2003b), andHelmig (2008), (2010). As far as Syria-
nus is concerned, seeO’Meara (1989),Saffrey (1990b),Longo (2005), Dillon (2006), and
Helmig (2009).
17
Proclus,In Parm. II 767.10 (Steel), IV 894.6 (Steel), and IV 896.20 (Steel). See also Hermias,In
Phaedr. 171.20.
18
For such a distinction, see alreadyHelmig (2008) and (2010).

‘How comes the mind to be furnished?’ 5
end and thinking begin? Are we in need of recollection for basic forms of conceptual
thought? In recent debates on Plato’s epistemology scholars seem to favour a reading
according to which recollection is not in charge of rudimentary forms of concept ac-
quisition. A prominent champion of such an interpretation is D. Scott, who defended
it at length in his bookRecollection and Experience. Plato’s theory of learning and its
successors (1995).
19
Regarding the Middle Platonist Alcinous a similar interpretation
has been suggested.
20
The question is crucial for every interpretation of the role
of concept formation in Plato and the Platonists after him. We ought to address the
issue, if we want to determine the role and significance of recollection for the process
of learning and concept acquisition. Ultimately, I shall argue that even Platonists such
as Alcinous, Porphyry or Hermias of Alexandria, who by unanimous consent are
seen as philosophers who entertained Platonic alongside Aristotelian concepts, do not
combine (and harmonize) Plato and Aristotle in their epistemology.
2. Survey of recent literature
21
The following survey focuses mainly on the Neoplatonist Proclus and, to a lesser extent,
on more general contributions to ancient theories of concepts and the attainment of
knowledge. As S. Gersh noted some thirty years ago, ‘the growth of interest in Neo-
platonism is largely a phenomenon of the period following the Second World War’.
22
However, at the time when Gersh was writing the interest in Neoplatonism was by no
means comparable to the developments we are witnessing today, where Neoplatonic
studies have established themselves well in the field of ancient philosophy.
23
Despite
this fortunate development, Neoplatonic theories of knowledge and concept
formation are still far from being treated exhaustively.
24
On the contrary, one cannot
19
Scott (1995).
20SeeSedley (1996a), 306ff.,Sorabji (2004a), 88, and (2004d), 104, as well asBoys-Stones
(2005), 209 note 8.
21
For more recent literature on Proclus, seeSteel et al. (2005), especially ch. V (‘Knowledge and
Language’) and ch. V.2.c (‘Concepts and Recollection’). For a philosophical introduction into
his thought, see nowHelmig /Steel (2011) andChlup (2012).
22
Gersh (1978), 7.
23
More recent research on Neoplatonism is summarized inSteel /Helmig (2004a), (2004b),
andSteel /d’Hoine (2009); see also the ‘book notes’ on Neoplatonism in the journalPhronesis
(in the fourth number of every year) as well as theInternational Journal of the Platonic Tradition
(2007ff.).
24
A notable exception is the interpretation of the Greek commentators on Aristotle’s distinction
inDe anima III 5 between active and passive intellect, which has been the object of intensive
study.

6 Introduction
help but notice a certain negligence when it comes to epistemological questions. As
far as Proclus is concerned, earlier studies on his philosophy were almost exclusively
interested in his metaphysical system.
25
The modern debate surrounding Proclus’ theory of knowledge and concept
formation was instigated by two articles of W.Beierwaltes and H.Blumenthal
(1975) respectively.
26
The authors seem to share the view that, because of his ‘soteri-
ological interests’, Proclus did not devote much attention to the lower faculties of the
soul.
27
Some twelve years after the contributions by Beierwaltes and Blumenthal,
Th.Kobusch published a study entitledSein und Sprache.Historische Grundlegung
einer Ontologie der Sprache (1987).
28
The author discusses several important Proclian
passages on the status and origin of intentional objects (‘Gedankendinge’), in the
course of which he also addresses Proclus’ criticism of Aristotle’s theory of abstraction
in theCommentary on Euclid.
29
It is the merit of Kobusch to have pointed out that
Proclus’ discussion of concepts in the human mind is deeply anti-Aristotelian in its
core. For Proclus all universal concepts (‘Begriffe’), including those derived from
sense perception, ultimately depend on the innate knowledge of the soul.
30
25
SeeBerger (1840);Simon (1845);Vacherot (1846). This also holds true forZeller
(
5
1923), 834–890;Rosán (1949,
2
2009);Beutler (1957), andReale (1989). Similarly,
Beierwaltes’ (
21979) monographProklos.Grundzüge seiner Metaphysik is mainly devoted to
metaphysical issues, but it also contains an interesting section on the role of dialectic (pp. 240ff.).
Siorvanes (1996) contains a long section on ‘Knowledge and the Levels of Being’ (114–206),
but is ultimately interested, it seems, in Proclus’ theory of science (physics and astronomy). The
many articles of J. Trouillard, listed inScotti Muth (1993), are also characterized by a strong
emphasis on Proclus’ ontology and metaphysics. Influenced by Trouillard is the (as yet unpub-
lished) dissertation ofMacIsaac (2005).
26
Beierwaltes (1975) andBlumenthal (1975).
27
The quote is a remark by Blumenthal, in the discussion after Beierwaltes’ paper, seeBeier-
waltes (1975), 190. Apart from this early contribution, Blumenthal has written other articles
on Proclus’ epistemology, seeBlumenthal (1982), (1989), and (1999).Blumenthal’s (1996)
monograph too contains some interesting material.
28
Kobusch (1987). This book has frequently been overlooked by scholars working on Proclus.
It is not mentioned inScotti Muth’s (1993) bibliography. The book treats Proclus only briefly,
but it contains nevertheless important observations on central passages. There is of course a sig-
nificant number of contributions on ‘mental entities’ in Ancient Thought (see, for instance,
Silitti [1980];Ebbesen [1981], [1986], [1990]; de Libera inde Libera /Segonds [1998],
xlv–lxviii, as well asde Libera [1996] and [1999];Perler [2001];Caston [1999], [2001],
[2002]), but none really focus on Syrianus or Proclus.
29
SeeKobusch (1987), 68–74, where he mainly discussesIn Parm. IV 890.30ff. (Steel), but also
the interesting passageIn Remp. I 260.22–25. See, moreover,ibid., 406–408, where Proclus’
criticism of Aristotle’s theory of abstraction in theCommentary on Euclid is addressed. See finally
MacIsaac (2005), ch. II and, more specifically, ch. II.ii.
30
Kobusch (1987), 71: ‘Dies macht deutlich, daß nach Proklos alle Allgemeinbegriffe, auch die
abstrahierten, auf ein apriorisches Wissen zurückzuführen sind, insofern wir durch die Sinnlich-
keit allein nie zur Bildung allgemeiner Begriffe geführt werden.’

‘How comes the mind to be furnished?’ 7
Two important articles on Proclus’ criticism of Aristotle’s doctrine of mathemat-
ical abstraction and of his general views on the status and origin of mathematical or
geometrical objects were published by I.Mueller (1987 and 1990). These articles
give a concise account of Proclus’ take on mathematical concepts, but do not discuss
universal concepts in general. Moreover, Mueller focuses exclusively on theCommen-
tary on Euclid.
31
As regards Proclus’ theory of the formation ofuniversal concepts,
an important step forward was taken in the article by C.Steel entitled ‘Breathing
thought. Proclus on the innate knowledge of the soul’ (1997).
32
The author analyzes
central passages from Proclus’ commentaries on theAlcibiades I and on theParme-
nides emphasizing the importance of the soul’s innate knowledge (logoi orlogoi
ousi¯odeis) for concept formation.
33
Steel succinctly outlines the character of the soul’s
knowledge and points to the importance of ‘putting forth’ (probol¯e)
34
and ‘articu-
lation’ (diarthr¯osis) in the process of concept acquisition. As will become clear in the
following pages, his article has been one of the main points of departure for my study
and I am in many respects indebted to Steel’s findings.
Investigations of concepts and theories of concept formation have their place in
the philosophical debates on abstraction, induction, and the nature and status of uni-
versals. In recent years, important studies have been published that considerably
deepen our knowledge on the history of these discussions.
35
In 1999 L.Gerson pointed to the fundamental role of concepts in the Platonic
tradition (in Plato, Aristotle, Alcinous, Plotinus, Proclus, and Damascius).
36
He raises
31
SeeMueller (1987) and (1990). On Proclus’Commentary on Euclid see also the study by
Schmitz (1997) and the review of the latter byBechtle (1998) as well as the collection of es-
says edited byLernould (2010). I myself have discussed Proclus’ criticism of Aristotle’s theory
of concept formation in more detail inHelmig (2009) and (2010).
32
Steel (1997).
33
On theselogoi see alsoDodds (
2
1963), 299–300;O’Meara (1989), 131–138, 156–160,
166–169, and 185–188, as well asTaormina (1993), 227–228 and 240ff., andDörrie/
Baltes (2002b), 133 with notes.O’Meara (2001) interprets thelogoi as ‘intentional objects’.
See, finally,Kotzia-Panteli (2000) andChlup (2011).
34
This word is mostly rendered ‘projection’, but I shall argue below (ch. VII.2.4) that this is not ap-
propriate in most cases.
35
On the status of universals in Antiquity and the Middle Ages, seede Libera (1996). For the
complex discussion on abstraction in Antiquity and the Middle Ages and for the respective ter-
minology, refer tode Libera (1999). On abstraction in Aristotle, see the study byHapp (1971),
584–630, andCherniss (1944), 73–80. On abstraction in the history of philosophy, see
the useful summary bySchneider (1970). See, moreover,Aubenque (1971);Kobusch
(1971), andMueller (1990). Important material on abstraction, recollection, and universals
can be found inSorabji (2004a), (2004c), (2006), and (2010). Finally, there are some more
recent studies that focus on the last chapter (II 19) of Aristotle’sPosterior Analytics:Biondi
(2004) andHerzberg (2010), the latter being concerned with Aristotle’s theory of knowledge
as a whole.
36
Gerson (1999). On abstracted concepts in Porphyry, seeChiaradonna (2012). On the ‘start-
ing points of knowledge’, see the monograph byTuominen (2007).

8 Introduction
important questions about the relation between concepts and Forms. In 2002,
P.Lautner’s article ondoxa andphantasia in Proclus’Commentary on the Timaeus
was published.
37
The author is primarily concerned with distinguishingdoxa and
phantasia from one another, yet his contribution also contains an interesting analysis
of Proclus’ theory ofdoxa and its relation to innate knowledge (logoi), which, in turn,
allowsdoxa to judge and correct sense perception.
The main interest in the article by R.Sorabji entitled ‘Aristotle’s perceptual
functions permeated by Platonist reason’ (2004)
38
is that the author underlines the
contrast between Plato / later Platonists and Aristotle concerning the role of sense per-
ception. He conclusively shows that several later Platonists would hardly agree with
Aristotle’s view on what sense perception can achieve. Rather, they emphasized the
role of reason (or recollection) in the soul’s processing of sense data. In addition, Sor-
abji has contributed (as editor) the three volume sourcebookThe Philosophy of the
Commentators 200–600
ad which contains pertinent texts (with concise introduc-
tions) on universals, concepts, abstraction, induction and on Neoplatonic psychology
in general along with two extensive articles on concepts and concept formation in
ancient philosophy.
39
Likewise seminal are the contributions by D.Sedley on Platonist interpretations
of theTheaetetus that culminated in his important monograph on the dialogue:The
Midwife of Platonism (2004).
40
His analyses are fundamental for a correct understand-
ing of the history of Platonic epistemology from Plato onwards and of the central role
played by theTheaetetus in this respect. Apart from this, Sedley published an import-
ant and rather influential article on the epistemology of Alcinous, where the Middle
Platonist is portrayed as combining an empirical approach towards knowledge ac-
quisition with innatism.
41
I conclude my bibliographical survey with the bookRecollecting the Meno by
H.Tarrant (2005) and R.van den Berg’s (2008) recent study on Proclus’ com-
mentary on theCratylus.
42
Tarrant sets out his own reading of the dialogue (first part)
and investigates the ‘Wirkungsgeschichte’ (influence) of theMeno in Aristotle,
Middle and Neoplatonism (second part). In doing so, he reveals special interest in
the Middle and Neoplatonic interpretation of the phraselogismos aitias (Meno 98a).
43
37
Lautner (2002). Lautner’s mainly reacts againstBlumenthal’s (1975) claim that Proclus
would not clearly distinguish between the two faculties of the soul. On the whole debate, see also
Watson (1982a).
38
Sorabji (2004d). See also his rich papers on concept formation in the ancient commentators on
Aristotle, which contain much material stemming from Syrianus and Proclus (Sorabji [2006]
and [2010]).
39
Sorabji (2004a–c), (2006), and (2010).
40SeeSedley (1993), (1996a) and (2004).
41
Sedley (1996b).
42
Tarrant (2005) andvan den Berg (2008).
43
See alsoMarler (1992–1993), who discusses this issue in Proclus.

Structure and contents of this study 9
On the whole, Tarrant provides much material that is of interest, especially from
the period of Late Hellenism (Cicero) and Middle Platonism (e.g. the Platonist adap-
tation and interpretation of the Stoic ‘common notions’, etc.). However, his treat-
ment of Proclus and Neoplatonism in general remains rather sketchy, because it is
clearly not his primary aim to reconstruct Proclus’ theory of recollection.
44
Van den Berg’s study is relevant in that it contains several pertinent observations
on the relation between words, thoughts (concepts), and Forms as well as on the prin-
ciples of Proclus’ epistemology and his criticism of Aristotle. The author points out
that, according to Proclus, Aristotle held the view that names are only by convention.
In his commentary on Plato’sCratylus, Proclus criticizes Aristotle’s view insofar as it is
based on a wrong theory of how we acquire knowledge. On the whole, van den Berg’s
study provides further evidence for the opposition maintained by Proclus against
Aristotle’s views in epistemology.
45
3. Structure and contents of this study
This study falls into seven chapters and brings together issues connected to universal
concepts, the acquisition of knowledge, and the relation between Plato and Aristotle
in ancient theories of knowledge, as well as Platonist criticisms of Aristotle and Alex-
ander of Aphrodisias. The whole study leads to and, in a certain sense, takes its inspi-
ration from Proclus. In part, it can be read as an attempt to accurately describe his (and
his teacher’s Syrianus) views on Plato and Aristotle and to unearth possible sources for
Proclus’ theory of knowledge in the long period between the Stoics and Plotinus.
Throughout this study, it has not been my aim to demonstrate the superiority of
any one of the theories discussed. Rather, I have done my best to consider each theory
in its own right, to point out advantages and disadvantages of the different ap-
proaches and to ascertain their respectivepresuppositions. This has entailed rethinking
and reevaluating Neoplatonic criticisms of Aristotle and Alexander. The continuities
and discontinuities in the debate from Plato to Proclus are of special interest in order
to understand better how and why the latter’s complex epistemology could evolve out
of Plato’s dialogues, as it were.
44
SeeTarrant (2005), 175–178.
45
Apart from van den Berg’s monograph, I shall briefly mention two more recent publications that
exclusively focus on Proclus: E. Gritti’s work on dialectic in Proclus (Gritti [2008]), which con-
tains useful material on epistemological issues, as well as M. Martijn’s (Martijn [2010]) book
on the notion ofphysis and philosophy of nature. The latter highlights thecontinuity of theology
and the science of nature in Proclus and lays out the methodological foundations (clearly
inspired by Aristotle’s theory of science) of Proclus’Commentary on the Timaeus (especially the
prooemium).

10 Introduction
Chapter I takes its departure from the question ‘What is a concept?’ and proposes
altogether eight criteria to mark off and characterize concepts in ancient philosophi-
cal debates. I substantiate the claim that concepts are highly relevant in ancient epis-
temology from Plato to Proclus. Crucial for my investigation is the distinction of dif-
ferent models of concept acquisition (abstraction, induction, collection,anamn¯esis)
and different kinds of concepts. The chapter closes by discussing the relation between
Forms and concepts and by addressing the issue of problematic concepts (that is, con-
cepts whose acquisition is difficult to account for).
Chapter II is devoted to Plato. For him learning is recollection (Meno 81d–e and
Phaedo 74a). But how does recollection contribute to concept attainment? Does it
make only ‘higher learning’ (D. Scott) possible or also much more rudimentary forms
of knowledge acquisition? I start off by looking for traces of the existence and role of
concepts in Plato and investigate the interrelation of concepts, Forms, and language,
before turning to the dialogueParmenides, a work that is generally neglected in the
study of Plato’s theory of learning, although it contains, I will argue, a criticism of
abstraction / induction and an interesting refutation of conceptualism (i.e., the view
that Forms or universals are mere thoughts of the human mind). Then, an examin-
ation of the dialogues where Plato mentions recollection explicitly follows, namely
theMeno, thePhaedo, and thePhaedrus. The last part deals with concepts and recol-
lection in Plato’s later dialogues and addresses the issues of error and of the limits of
recollection (problematic concepts, that is, concepts difficult or impossible to recol-
lect).
Chapter III examines Aristotle’s views on concepts and concept formation as
a conscious reaction to Plato. The investigation takes its start from Aristotle’s criticism
of Plato and an important, but frequently misunderstood text on the division
of sciences (Met. E 1). The latter text, blurred by an unnecessary conjecture by
Schwegler, is crucial for marking off physical and mathematical objects and their
respective concepts. The remainder of the chapter falls into three parts: (1) Aristotle’s
notion of abstraction (aphairesis), (2) the origin and status of mathematical concepts,
(3) his theory of induction (epag¯og¯e). Abstraction is intimately connected with math-
ematical and geometrical concepts, while the process of induction is how we attain
universal concepts (An.Post. II 19). I shall address the problematic points of both
abstraction and induction with an eye to post-Aristotelian criticisms of the two
methods. Regarding induction I propose to distinguish different domains in which
the method is applied. The chapter ends with an attempt at reconsideringAn.Post.
II 19 (‘induction of first principles’) and a discussion of the interplay between sense
perception, universal concepts, and intellect.
Chapter IV casts some new light on the time after Plato and Aristotle (Alexander
of Aphrodisias, Alcinous, Plotinus, Porphyry). The focus is threefold. Contrary to the
received interpretation (Sedley, Sorabji, Boys-Stones), Alcinous will not be presented
as a Middle Platonist who combined empirically derived concepts with recollection.
It is shown that the overall evidence is far from clear and that much points to the con-

Structure and contents of this study 11
clusion that his epistemology is Platonic in character. The tension between empiri-
cism and innatism, which can already be observed in Plato himself (see ch. II and
Scott [1995]), is characteristic for the whole of the Platonic tradition and it raises fun-
damental systematic questions about the interplay between empiricism and innate
knowledge.
Alexander and Porphyry are usually considered abstractionists (Mueller [1990]).
While this is true as far as Alexander is concerned, who elaborates Aristotle’s notion
of abstraction and his theory of intellect, it is very different, I am going to argue,
in the case of the Neoplatonist Porphyry. My argument involves a new assessment of
the latter’s epistemology as it is to be found in theCommentary on Ptolemy. As with
Alcinous, Porphyry’s doctrine should not be considered a combination of Aristotelian
and Platonic theories of concept formation. Although Porphyry uses abstraction
vocabulary, his approach is entirely Platonic in its core. Most importantly, the text is
not concerned with concept formation, but displays a Neoplatonic reading of Pto-
lemy’s doctrine of the criterion. Despite the frequent use of the label ‘abstractionist’
for both Porphyry and Alexander, the difference between the two is also evident from
Neoplatonic criticism of Alexander’s theory of concept attainment.
In the last section, Plotinus is introduced as an important ‘Wegbereiter’ (prede-
cessor or trailblazer) of Syrianus and Proclus in two respects: (a) he shares with the
two Neoplatonists a theory of innate psychiclogoi and (b) he already makes explicit
use of them in his account of knowledge acquisition. I elaborate on E.K. Emilsson’s
reading of Plotinus’ theory of sense perception, by arguing that it can be made more
plausible if we connect it with Platonic recollection and the doctrine of the unde-
scended soul. However, it is still somewhat unclear how the latter relates to the
assumption that our soul contains innatelogoi. Despite the importance of theEnneads
for Proclus, telling differences remain, mainly due to a different psychological theory.
Chapters V–VII concentrate on Syrianus’ and Proclus’ theory of knowledge and
concept attainment. After summarizing their openly critical attitude towards Aris-
totle (in many areas of philosophy), and, more specifically, their criticism of theories
of abstraction and abstracted concepts, together with explaining the twofold nature of
the universal of later origin (husterogenes) in Proclus (chapter V), I turn to the import-
ance of doxastic concepts (logoi doxastikoi) in the latter’s philosophy. This entails a
brief discussion of sense perception,phantasia, anddoxa and a survey on more recent
views ondoxa in Proclus. As will turn out,doxa can recognize sensible objects and
judge sense perceptions because it has access tologoi (innate knowledge). Closely con-
nected to this is a discussion on the nature and status of the so-calledlogoi doxastikoi
and on the interplay between sense perception anddoxa (chapter VI).
Chapter VII is entirely devoted to Proclus’ theory of concept formation. It falls
into three parts. Beginning with the relation between the soul and its innate knowl-
edge, I subsequently address his systematization of Platonic recollection by distin-
guishing three elements in what one may call his ‘triad of recollection’: forgetting,
articulation (diarthr¯osis) of preconceptions, and the ‘putting forth’ (probol¯e) of innate

12 Introduction
knowledge. While articulation is characteristically Stoic and had already in the period
of Middle Platonism been combined with Platonic midwifery (in the Anonymous
Commentary on the Theaetetus),probol¯e, which I argue must not be translated ‘projec-
tion’, seems to be a Neoplatonic innovation. In a last part, I employ various criteria to
organize the elements of Proclus’ doctrine of concept formation: the role of concepts
in the exegesis of Plato, recollection as an intentional act of the soul, different kinds of
concepts and different stages of recollection, error, and problematic concepts. By
means of such a systematic approach I shall, for instance, be able to explain a rather
obscure passage in theCommentary on the Parmenides (IV 895.24–896.5 [Steel]).
Structural similarities between my analyses of Plato and Proclus (especially as far as
recollection, error, and problematic concepts are concerned) reveal the extent to
which the Neoplatonist tried to systematize what he found in Plato. The study con-
cludes by reconsidering the results against the background of the relation between
Plato and Aristotle (chapter VIII).

What is a concept? 13
I. Concepts –
(Ancient) Problems and Solutions
This first chapter is a preliminary for the study of concepts in the epistemological the-
ories of different ancient and late ancient philosophers. As I have already stated in the
introduction, a main thesis of this book is that many phenomena that were discussed
in ancient and late ancient debates around the acquisition and nature of knowledge
can be described more adequately if we have recourse to the language of concepts.
This claim will be substantiated in what follows.
The current chapter falls into four parts. To begin with, I shall provide a general
introduction to the nature of concepts (What are concepts?), before outlining the
relevance of concepts in ancient epistemological debates. Then follows a short history
of concept attainment in antiquity accompanied by an inventory of the relevant
technical terms. Finally, I shall say something on the much debated relation between
concepts, universals, and Platonic Forms (Ideas). In the first and third part, I aim to
provide the prolegomena to an, as of yet, unwritten comprehensive lexicon of the lan-
guage of concepts and concept attainment in antiquity. As will turn out, especially in
the Neoplatonic tradition, there is a stock of expressions, taken directly from Plato,
Aristotle, from the Stoics, or the Middle Platonic (anonymous)Commentary on the
Theaetetus that recur time and again in the context of knowledge acquisition and con-
cept attainment.
1. What is a concept?
Against the background of modern philosophical debates on concepts,
1
I propose sev-
eral criteria to characterize concepts in ancient philosophical texts and more specifi-
cally in the late ancient Platonic tradition in order to mark off the object of this study.
2
1See, for instance,Margolis / Laurence (1999a), (1999b), (2008), and the useful survey by
Swoyer (2006).
2
More recently, there have been several articles devoted to the role and importance of concepts in
ancient philosophy. See the literature quoted in the introduction (pp. 5–9 above).

14 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
In Antiquity, several words can stand for a concept:axi¯oma,
3
arch¯e,
4
eidos /genos,
5
ennoia,
6
koinai ennoiai,
7
epinoia,
8
no¯ema,
9
enno¯ema,
10
logos,
11
katholou,
12
katholou
logoi,
13
koinon,
14
lekton,
15
prol¯epsis.
16
Some of these expressions can be qualified by
means of adjectives such asdoxastos / doxastikos (pertaining todoxa),husterogen¯es
3
Themistius,In de anima 104.1–2 talks aboutpr¯ota axi¯omata. See, moreover,O’Meara (2001),
118, and Syrianus,In Met. 89.30ff. These axioms are mentioned in Aristotle’sMetaphysics
3–7
(law of contradiction, law of the excluded middle). Syrianus, as with Proclus, holds that true
axioms of science areinnate (In Met. 91.3:
$μ ¹ 4 $

). SeeLongo (2005), 141–223, on such axioms in Syrianus.
4
See Aristotle,An.Post. II 19, where he speaks about thepr¯otai archai of syllogism, and below
ch. III.4. The terminology recurs in the ancient commentaries onAn.Post. II 19 and in Syrianus’
and Proclus’ criticism of Aristotle, see below ch. V.1–2.
5
In Neoplatonic authors, the innate knowledge of the soul (logoi orlogoi ousi¯odeis, see below
ch. VI.2.4–6 and ch. VII.1) can also be called ‘Forms in the soul’ (eid¯e en psuch¯ei), seeHelmig
(2008), 46 with note 69. According to the Neoplatonic axiom that ‘all things are in all things’
(panta en pasin, Proclus,Elem.Theol. § 103 withDodds’ (
2
1963) commentaryad loc.), Forms
exist on all levels of reality. For the use ofgenos in this respect see Ammonius,In Isag. 68.25–69.3.
6
On the termennoia, which already occurs in Plato (e.g.,Phaedo 73c andPhilebus 59d), in
Middle and Neoplatonism seeDörrie /Baltes (2002b), 128–130. See also the next note.
7
On the Stoic common notions seeCherniss (1976);Gourinat (2000), andDyson (2009).
Chiaradonna (2007) studies the expression in Alcinous, Galen, Plotinus, and Porphyry. See,
moreover, Themistius,In de anima 103.38:
¹ λ ; On the role and func-
tion of common notions in Proclus, see below ch. VII.1.4. Syrianus’ use of the term is investi-
gated byLongo (2005), 182–201.
8
SeeBarnes (2003), 40 note 74, and on ‘bare notions’ (psillai epinoiai) pp. 41–42.
9
See alreadyParm. 132b–c (on whether Forms can be thoughts) and below ch. II.2.2. See also
Proclus,In Parm. IV 890.30–906.2 (Steel) [= Proclus’ commentary on this passage]. However,
usually the wordno¯ema refers rather to an episode of thought (thought process) and not to a con-
cept.
10
AtIn Parm. IV 896.13 (Steel), Proclus explainsenno¯emata as $μ φ
$
. The wordenno¯ema was common in Stoic circles (see von Arnim’s index s.v.).
Neoplatonists frequently use the adjectiveenno¯ematikos (together witheidos orgenos) to refer
to an abstracted universal or, more generally, a universal in the mind (Ammonius,In Isag.
68.25–69.3; Philoponus,In Cat. 58.20). See below ch. VII.7.
11Onlogos /logoi signifying the innate knowledge of the soul (from Plotinus onwards), see below
ch. IV.3.2; VI.2.4–6, and VII.1. In Proclus, theselogoi are called ‘essential reason-principles’
(logoi ousi¯odeis), because they constitute the essence of the soul (seeSteel [1997]).
12
As withkoinon (see note 14),katholou can be used for the form in matter or the universal concept
in the soul (see already Aristotle,An.Post. II 19, 100
a
16 und 100
b
2).
13
Thekatholou logoi signify universal concepts in Syrianus (In met. 25.21–22; 53.5, and 88.26)
and Proclus (In Parm. IV 896.23 [Steel] andIn Tim. I 32.6).
14
The word frequently refers to the common element in things or the form in matter. It can also
refer to the abstracted universal in the soul, see Simpl.,In Cat. 83.8–16.
15Onlekta as concepts, seeCaston (1999).
16
On the Stoic notion of pre-conceptions (prol¯epsis) seeSandbach (1971b) andGourinat
(2000) and, most recently,Dyson (2009). Outside Stoicism the word does not seem to play an
important role.

What is a concept? 15
(later-born or of later origin, that is, abstracted),ousi¯od¯es (essential), orenno¯ematikos
(having the nature of a concept).
17
These latter adjectives can, in turn, be used as
nouns.
Amongst this diversity of designations, the most important terms to pick out a
concept are undoubtedlyennoia (koinai ennoiai),logos, andkatholou. The latter sig-
nifies a universal in the broad sense of the word and especially the universal (concept)
in the soul (Aristotle,An.Post. II 19). From Plotinus onwards, Neoplatonists refer to
innate knowledge aslogoi (reason-principles). The termennoia goes back to Plato, was
frequently used in Stoicism, and gained currency in Middle Platonism as referring
to the innate content of the soul (lat.notio). It is only in the Middle Ages (e.g. in Ock-
ham) that we find the termconceptum (‘something conceived’ [sc. by the mind],
already Boethius usesconceptio in this sense) in the sense of concept (‘Begriff’).
In order to bridge the gap between the manifold vocabulary of the Greeks and the
single term ‘concept’, it is necessary, first of all, to be clear about what is meant by the
term. Roughly speaking, I take ‘concept’ to refer to an inner-mental or inner-psychic
entity that is, to a certain extent, stable, permanent (persistent across time and trans-
formations), objective, shareable anduniversal. Hence, a single sense impression,
a single episode of thought, a judgement, or a dream does not qualify as a concept.
However, an episode of thought, a judgement, or a dream may originate because of
already existing concepts or preconceptions (imperfect concepts).
18
It is important to
note that especially the stability and universality of concepts lets us distinguish them
from other psychic phenomena such as sense perception, imagination, and memory.
Evidence for such a distinction can already be found in Aristotle who asserts both in
Met. A 1 andAn.Post. II 19 that universal concepts (katholou) originate on the basis of
many similar sense perceptions, memories, and also experience.
In this study, I shall focus onuniversal concepts in the Aristotelian sense of the
word, namely ‘universal’ meaning ‘that which is such that it can be predicated of several
things’ (De Int. 17
a
39–4). Concepts of individuals do not seem to be relevant in ancient
epistemological debates, since knowledge is equated with universal knowledge.
19
One difficulty in defining ‘concept’ is demarcating it from belief. On the one
hand, concepts constitute beliefs.
20
On the other hand, when we change our beliefs
17
On ‘concepts of later origin’, see below ch. V.2, on the ‘essential reason principles’ ch. VII.1. On
the adjectiveenno¯ematikos see note 10.
18
On the distinction between concepts and preconceptions, see below [A-6].
19
Of course, the fact that concepts are usually universal does not exclude that I have conceptual
knowledge of individuals such as Socrates (the teacher of Plato [469–399 BC]) or Eric Robert-
son Dodds (an Irish classicist and former Regius Professor of Greek at Oxford [1893–1979]).
Following the ancient terminology, I cannot have akatholou or alogos (in the sense of universal
concept) of Socrates, but rather a notion (ennoia) or a memory image (phantasma). Further
thoughts on this can be found in ch. VII.7.
20
Swoyer (2006), 133: ‘Concepts are constituents of beliefs, desires, intentions and many other
thoughts.’

16 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
about something, the concepts that figure in the beliefs usually change as well. Never-
theless, it seems that concepts are more fundamental, more basic, and more stable
than beliefs.
21
In what follows, I shall suggest different criteria to illustrate my use of
‘concept’ in the rest of this study.
[A-1] Concepts are (fairly) stable mental entities
A concept (e.g. of tree, dog, justice) is a fairly stable mental entity that (a) allows us to
recognize a range of individual entities / instances / actions that are to be categorized
under this concept and that (b) determines the conditions under which we use a cer-
tain word corresponding to this concept. This is a minimal requirement every con-
cept is to fulfil.
Several things are worth noting here: First, if we speak about concepts, we usually
meanuniversal concepts or ‘universals’.
22 Second, concepts have to bestable in order
to differentiate them from sense impressions, memories, beliefs, experiences, or epi-
sodes of thought.
23
Sometimes, a distinction is made between concepts and pre-con-
ceptions (or conceptions). This distinction implies that pre-conceptions are only
a preliminary phase in the process of concept attainment. Pre-conceptions are less
developed or less articulated (less perfect) than concepts (see below [A-5]) and have
not been well reflected upon.
Calling concepts ‘mental entities’ is common practice with scholars.
24
It avoids
some difficulties that arise, for instance, from talking about abstract entities, but
it also creates others. Saying that a concept is a mental entity entails that it inheres in
individual souls or minds. Thus, it is confined to an individual person; it is, as it were,
a ‘private’ possession. However, in order to qualify as a (general) concept it must be
shareable [A-2] and link up with reality [A-3].
It has been argued, most notably by Frege,
25
that concepts cannot be identified
with mental entities; rather, they must be ‘senses’ of words (in the ancient debate, this
comes close to the Stoic view, who positedlekta which likewise were identified with
the meanings of words).
26
It is immediately clear what the advantage of Frege’s claim
21
On the difficulty of distinguishing concepts and beliefs see againSwoyer (2006), 136: ‘[…]
[T]here is often no precise point in our concepts where one more change in belief would rub out
the old concept and give rise to a new one. On this view there is no useful distinction between
change in concept and change in belief.’
22
On universals and universal concepts in ancient philosophy, see the excellent survey bySorabji
(2006).
23
In Plato and Aristotle, this stability is referred to as ‘coming to a halt’ or ‘coming to a stand’
(Meno 97e–98a,Phaedo 96b, andAn.Post. II 19, 100
a
6 and 100
b
2).
24Swoyer (2006), 133.
25
I take the reference to Frege fromMargolis / Laurence (1999b), 6–8.
26
Onlekta as meanings of words seeRist (1969), 152–154.Caston (1999) interpretslekta as
concepts.

What is a concept? 17
is. Since mental entities are subjective, that is, situated in different human minds their
objectivity and shareability can by no means be taken for granted. Mental entities are
‘subjective’, whereas senses are supposed to beobjective. Hence, in Frege’s reading con-
cepts would correspond to objectivecontents of concepts.
However, against such a view, the following argument can be advanced.
27
The fact
that mental entities are ‘subjective’, in the above mentioned sense, does not preclude
that they are shareable. Concepts are mental entities insofar as they are situated in dif-
ferent minds, but they can be objective insofar as they are shareable, that is, insofar as
two or more people share the same or at least a sufficiently similar concept. The sub-
jective character of concepts does not, therefore, result in conceptual idiosyncrasy.
What has to be explained, of course, is why concepts are shareable.
[A-2] Concepts must be objective and shareable (universal)
Concepts are (fairly) stable mental entities. Being situated in different minds, they
have to fulfil the requirement of objectivity and shareability. In other words, my con-
cept of cat should agree to such an extent with the same concept of another person that
communication and even scientific discourse about cats is possible.
In ancient and late ancient debates on the status and acquisition of concepts several
strategies can be distinguished to explain the shareability of concepts. The easiest way
out is to argue that concept acquisition depends upon innate knowledge and that this
knowledge is shared by all human beings. This seems to be a standard Neoplatonic
answer that can, for instance, be found in Syrianus or Proclus. The second strategy,
found according to some interpreters already in Aristotle, is to assume that the process
of concept attainment works in a similar way for everyone. Both arguments for the
shareability and objectivity of concepts have to deal with the problem of error [A-6].
There are, of course, many examples for less objective and less shareable concepts
(conceptions or pre-conceptions). In the early Platonic dialogues (‘Tugenddialoge’),
we find examples of people who possess certain conceptions or pre-conceptions of,
say, virtue, justice, or piety, because of their biography, personal background, or pro-
fession. One aim of Socrates’ questioning is to uncover and eradicate the more sub-
jective elements in these concepts / conceptions and to lead the interlocutor to an
insight into theobjective nature of certain values or virtues.
Another example for more subjective concepts / conceptions can be found in
small children who in the process of concept attainment go through certain stages.
For instance, Aristotle mentions small children who at first call all men ‘daddy’ and all
women ‘mommy’.
28
Less objective and less shareable concepts can more appropriately
be described asincomplete orimperfect concepts (see below [A-4] and [A-5]).
27
Margolis / Laurence (1999b), 7.
28
Aristotle,Physics I 1.

18 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
To conclude, in spite of the objectivity / shareability requirement, there can be no
doubt that concepts insofar as they are mental entities belonging to different individ-
uals also contain idiosyncratic elements. If these idiosyncratic elements are not rel-
evant to the content of the concepts, they do not conflict with the shareability cri-
terion and they can, in most cases of human communication, be neglected. There are
cases, however, especially during the process of concept attainment, where concepts
are still incomplete or imperfect due to limited experience and / or insight (see [A-4]
below). The process of concept attainment and learning should, ideally, provide the
possibility to further develop an imperfect concept.
[A-3] Concepts must link up with reality
In order for concepts to be useful they must correspond to this world and to its
elements. If concepts were not linked up with reality they would not teach us any-
thing about the world around us.
This criterion is the most fundamental requirement for any theory of concept attain-
ment. For if concepts were purely mental and did not inform us about the world
around us, they would be of very limited value. Therefore, concepts cannot be ‘purely
mental’.
29
Every theory of concept attainment should be able to explainwhy our con-
cepts tell us something about reality. Hence, such a theory must also accompany a
theory about the world. In Aristotle, concept acquisition is based on the fact that we
are somehow able to extract or isolate the enmattered forms of things. And these en-
mattered forms, later calledenhula eid¯e, constitute theessence of sensible particulars
(see [A-5]).
30
Accordingly, it is a crucial assumption of Aristotle’s theory that all
human beings or all horses or all dogs share thesame enmattered form (An.Post. II 19,
100
a
3–9). With the Neoplatonists, the link between our concepts and the world
around us is established by the fact that (most of) our concepts are copies or images of
the transcendent Forms. And since the latter are at the same time the ontological prin-
ciples of the sensible world, knowing the world by means of our (innate) concepts is
knowing the world according to its causes.
31
[A-4] Concept formation and learning
In concept formation we encounter the phenomenon of incomplete concepts or con-
cepts with more idiosyncratic than objective features. Through learning we can de-
velop or articulate our concepts and make them more perfect, universal, and objec-
tive.
29
Swoyer (2006), 133.
30
For Aristotle’s theory of concept attainment, see ch. III.4 below.
31
This is the Aristotelian requirement for knowledge, seeAn.Post. I 2.

What is a concept? 19
‘Mastery of a concept can come in degrees.’
32
To decide whether a concept is com-
plete / perfect or not, requires a standard against which this can be judged (see [A-5]).
This standard, however, might differ from context to context. We might distinguish
between everyday concepts, that is, concepts that allow us to speak about certain phe-
nomena in a more loose way, and developed scientific concepts that fulfil the objec-
tivity / shareability requirement to the greatest extent possible (cf. [A-2]). The scope
of the present investigation is not confined to scientific concepts in the strict sense,
but identifiesseveral kinds of concepts [see [A-7]).
[A-5] Degrees in the mastery of concepts (complete and incomplete concepts) and the im-
portance of ‘essences’
Already the term ‘concept formation’ implies that concepts can be formed and de-
veloped and thus perfected. Such a development, however, presupposes the existence of
complete and incomplete concepts, that is, concepts that are perfect mental represen-
tations of certain things, and concepts that represent such things only to a certain ex-
tent. In other words, concepts can be measured according to their capacity to grasp
‘essences’.
Modern research on concepts and concept formation is closely linked to work done in
cognitive or developmental psychology. The question of what it is for someone to
possess a concept is discussed against the background of empirical research. In An-
tiquity and the Middle Ages this was rather different. Plato, Aristotle, the Middle and
Neoplatonists believed that certain kinds of things (substances) have an essence
(ousia) and that this essence can be known. ‘Essence’ was identified with ‘what some-
thing (really) is’ or with a thing’s truenature. Plato had assumed that these essences
exist independently from their sensible instantiations and are not mind-dependent
entities. These essences (ousiai) were also called Forms (eid¯e,ideai).
With Aristotle the ontological status of essences becomes problematic. On the one
hand, he criticizes Plato’s assumption of the existence of Forms and his ‘separation’
(ch¯orismos) of forms from sensible particulars. On the other hand, he frequently talks
about forms (eid¯e) in matter. On a certain view, these forms are for him the objects
of science and philosophy (as abstracted universals). Consequently, they have to
be eternal and unchanging. Philosophy aims at cognizing these essences of things.
Later philosophers like Descartes still retained this notion of essence (substantia)
and it is especially with the British empiricists that attempts were made to abandon
‘essences’.
Against this background, we can understand why it is crucial to speak of complete
and incomplete concepts in ancient philosophy. As soon as someone has discovered
or perceived the essence of something, he can be said to possess a complete concept.
32
Swoyer (2006), 135.

20 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
We possess a complete concept of x if we have fully grasped the essence or nature of x.
Once I assume that essences exist and that they can be known, I have a suitable cri-
terion for the completeness / incompleteness of concepts.
On the whole, the ancient view on concept formation is teleological, as it were, in
that it aims at a definite end-point. Problems such as scientific progress do not play a
role in the ancient debate. This is a crucial difference compared to modern dis-
cussions on the completeness or incompleteness of concepts. If I am a natural scientist
believing in scientific progress I shall be rather reluctant to admit that there is some-
thing like complete knowledge of something (i.e., a complete concept).
33
[A-6] Concept formation and error
Concept formation, that is, the attainment of an adequate concept of something, is
naturally bound to involve error. The same holds true for the application of already
acquired concepts. This can have several reasons such as defective sense perception,
wrong or deficient concepts or false judgements.
Problems concerned with ignorance and error are challenging for every theory of con-
cepts / concept formation.
34
For our purposes it is sufficient to outline three main
causes of how error may come about in concept attainment.
35
First, we might possess
a false or insufficiently developed concept of something. Hence the error occurs
because of the nature of the concept. Second, the data provided by sense perception
might not allow us to identify a given object correctly, although we have a correct con-
cept of the object in question. The reason might be that the object is too far away or
that there is a defect within a sense organ and so on. And thirdly, although we possess
a correct concept of something and our sense perception is not impeded, our judge-
ment that connects the sense perception to a concept that we have already acquired is
mistaken. This might be the case, if we are not sober or if our faculty of judgment is
otherwise distorted (because of an illness etc.). The latter two kinds of error do not
concern concept attainment as such, but rather judgements about sense impressions
that, in turn, depend upon concepts.
It is obvious that every ancient theory of knowledge acquisition tries to account
for how error can be avoided. We need acriterion of truth, a paradigm / normative case
of knowledge that allows us to judge whether something is true or false.
36 In Aristotle,
for instance, this role is given to intellect that grasps its objects without error (An.Post.
II 19, 100
b
5–14). In Stoicism, it is thecataleptic phantasia that is responsible for cor-
33
A good example of how scientific progress changes our views / concepts about something are the-
ories of space and time before and after Einstein.
34SeeMargolis / Laurence (1999b), especially 21–23, 34–35, 47–48, and 55–56.
35
For such a threefold distinction, seeDelcomminette (2003).
36
On the criterion of truth seeStriker (1974) and (1990) and the volume edited byHuby /
Neal (1989).

What is a concept? 21
rectly apprehending something.
37
For Epicurus allegedly ‘all sensations are true’.
38
In
the Platonic tradition, it seems that in grasping the transcendent Forms we cannot err.
For either we grasp them or we do not, but there is no room left for grasping them er-
roneously, as it were. A difficulty that is only insufficiently addressed among Platonists
lies in the question of whether the theory of recollection allows for error. It goes with-
out saying, however, that the problem is crucial for an evaluation of Platonist theories
of concept formation.
39
Finally, the fact that error is possible in the process of concept attainment seems to
be a further argument for distinguishing between ‘complete’ and ‘incomplete’ con-
cepts (A-5):
Arguments from ignorance and error present compelling reasons to suppose that it’s possible to
possess a concept without representing necessary or sufficient conditions for its application.
40
[A-7] Different kinds of concepts
Concepts can be classified according to their origin or according to their content and
function. The former classification is more fundamental. It arises from the import-
ant distinction between concepts gained empirically and concepts that are recollected
(or innate). The latter classification separates concepts that allow us to recognize ob-
jects (factual concepts) from concepts that provide knowledge of the essence or nature
of the thing [cf. A-5].
The distinction between empirically acquired concepts and concepts that are recol-
lected, sometimes referred to as Platonic and Aristotelian concepts, can be found in
the scholarly literature.
41
It is not as anachronistic as it may seem, since it can be
traced back to passages in Neoplatonic authors where Plato’s and Aristotle’s (some-
times Peripatetic) theories of knowledge acquisition are contrasted.
42
What is import-
ant to stress, however, is the fact that the Neoplatonists did not consider Aristotle’s
theory of knowledge acquisition as proceedingmerely empirically.
43
For that would
contradict Aristotle’s own statement that sense-perception in itself does not yield
knowledge (An.Post. I 31). Rather, the Neoplatonists emphasized that in Aristotle’s
account of the acquisition of knowledge sense perception plays a much more funda-
mental role than in Plato. Consider, for instance, the following text from Olympio-
dorus’Commentary on the Phaedo:
37
On thecataleptic phantasia as a criterion of truth see the brief remarks below ch. VII.2.3 (i) as
well asFrede, M. (1999).
38
On this seeStriker (1977);Taylor (1980);Asmis (1984) as well asSedley (1989).
39
On recollection and error, see below ch. II.7.2 and ch. VII.6.
40Margolis / Laurence (1999b), 22.
41
See, for instance,Sorabji (2006) and below ch. V.2.
42
See, for instance,Helmig (2007c), (2009), and (2010).
43
On Aristotle’s empiricism, see also above (pp. 1–5) as well as most recentlyHerzberg (2010).

22 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
We shall not agree with the Peripatos, which considers sense perception the beginning (or cause,
arch¯e) of knowledge, for never can inferior and secondary things be the principles or causes of
superior things. If we must adhere to what was said in the general course, that sense perception is
the beginning of knowledge, we will say that it is the beginning not in the sense of an efficient
cause, but in so far as it awakes in the mind the recollection of universals and plays the part of a
messenger or herald, provoking the development of latent knowledge in the soul.
44
The text contrasts the Peripatetic view that sense perception is thecause of knowledge
with the Platonic view that it figures as a mere trigger for recollection. The contrast in
question can also be described as between abstractionists (Aristotle, Alexander of
Aphrodisias) and those who criticize theories of abstraction (Syrianus, Proclus). We
possess several Neoplatonic texts that refer to Aristotle as being an abstractionist.
45
In
Syrianus and Proclus it can be observed that they criticize abstracted universals (called
husterogen¯e) as being deficient and of less value than sensibles.
46
A likewise fundamental distinction can be found in Proclus who, in hisCommen-
tary on Plato’s Timaeus, explicitly differentiates between factual concepts that tell us
something about the ‘that’ (hoti) of a thing and concepts that reveal something about its
nature (dihoti– ‘because’). The former he connects to the faculty of opinion (doxa),
while the latter concepts belong to discursive reasoning (dianoia).
47
In other words,
what we have here are two types of concepts: first, concepts that allow us to identify or
recognize certain objects and second, concepts that enable us to give scientific (or
causal) explanations of certain phenomena. Such distinction goes back to Plato and was
developed further by his pupil Aristotle, especially in hisPosterior Analytics. According
to Aristotle, a type-1 concept allows us to say that something exists (factual concept).
Concepts of the second type, on the other hand, allow us to give an account of the phe-
nomenon in question (itscause). The latter is, according to Aristotle and Plato, the
requirement for scientific knowledge. Concept formation may describe the attainment
of a type-1 concepts, but may also describe the development from type-1 concepts to
type-2 concepts. This distinction is fundamental for our whole investigation.
Let me give an example. Someone may be able to identify a horse, because he has
learnt from others that this particular animal is called horse. However, this person
does not necessarily know the essence or nature of a horse. Acquiring the word ‘horse’
44
Olympiodorus,In Phaedonem § 4, 8, translated by L.G. Westerink: Pμ« μ φ
Ρ " ) P) # $%κ '« κ ('
·"#
%* λ $% λ ν ( ,
., - λ -« .*« '
* λ $%κ ,- κ (' /« '«
,# "κ $%κ "% ³«
'
,$# ³« *1. κ π# 3.%κ ,« $' . λ
$#. λ .«
, κ π# 3.%κ ,« 5κ '.
45
This is most prominent in Syrianus’ commentary on the two last books of Aristotle’sMetaphysics.
46On the termhusterogenes and on the two kinds ofhusterogenes-concepts (abstracted and recol-
lected) in Proclus, see ch. V.2.
47
Proclus,In Tim. I 248.11–13, 18–20; I 251.6–7. On the distinction between the two kinds of
concepts, see below ch. VI.2.4 and ch. VII.3.6.

What is a concept? 23
does not entail being able to give a definition of horse or knowing its essence. Anal-
ogously, we may also consider the difference between the knowledge of an expert and
a non-expert. After all, it is a truism to say that ‘at any rate a picture is observed dif-
ferently by an expert and an inexpert person.’
48
Appendix: Concepts and the harmony of Plato and Aristotle
Given the scholarly distinction between Platonic and Aristotelian concepts [A-7], the
question as to whether Platonists combined the two approaches of Plato and Aristotle
in their theories of the acquisition of knowledge remains open to debate. The alleged
fact that they do so has often been taken as another proof for harmonizing tendencies
in (Neo)Platonism.
It has often been claimed that Neoplatonists harmonized Plato’s and Aristotle’s
theories of concept formation. As I have made clear in my introduction, this is a view
that I consider misguided (even in the case of Alcinous or Porphyry). Scholars who
endorse the harmonizing view usually argue that knowledge acquisition takes its start
from Aristotelian concepts which are later transformed into Platonic concepts. A still
widespread reading assumes that by means of the theory of recollection we can some-
how make empirical concepts more perfect. Against such an interpretation it has to be
said that we possess little if any textual evidence that a Neoplatonist held such a
view.
49
To the contrary, Proclus and his teacher Syrianus, for instance, who criticize
theories of abstraction, argue that empirical concepts cannot be made more perfect.
AtIn Parm. IV 893.15–18 (Steel), Proclus explicitly says that the objects ofphantasia,
that is the sense-impressions stored inphantasia, cannot be perfected:
The concept which is taken from sense-perception is an object ofphantasia […] and it has to
remain in the soul such as it was originally received, so that it does not become false or something
that is not; but it cannot become more perfect or more worthy of respect.
50
This passage clearly excludes the possibility that an object ofphantasia can be made
more perfect than a perception.
51
Moreover, Syrianus draws a strong contrast between
48Diogenes Laertius 7.51 (= SVF 2.61). SeeAnnas (1992), 81 (on the Stoics): ‘Different people,
then, will have different perceptual beliefs when faced by the same objects, because they have dif-
ferent thoughts which reflect their different degrees of understanding of what is given them in
the appearances.’
49
PaceLautner (2009), 382–383 (on Hermias and Syrianus). Note that Porphyry,In Ptol. Harm.
14.2 (where he employsakribo¯o) cannot be used as evidence for such a view, because therephan-
tasia is said to make a memory image resemble its sensible counterpart; see below ch. IV.2.7.
50
In Parm. IV 893.15–18 (Steel):μ ,' 5 φ λ
" , λ 7φ* # , 8 φ' κ $%, 9 κ 3« 9;
λ μ κ <, $# "%λ * λ
.
51
A parallel passage can be found in Syrianus,In met. 96.6–10: Ρ« $
$μ ,' .%'# π- κ , φ $# " ,#% κ
" μ 9; #α Ν% φ * « %- # ,« ,« π»« ('

24 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
Peripatetics such as Alexander and his own view when it comes to concept attain-
ment.
[I]n the words of Alexander of Aphrodisias, it [sc. the soul] fabricates for itself certain objects
of intellection, which are not by their own nature intelligible, and then toys futilely with
them.
52
The context of the passage and its strong polemical tone makes it clear that Syrianus is
criticizing Alexander’s position to the effect that one cannot transform a sense impres-
sion stored inphantasia into an object of intellection (no¯eton).
53
Once again, Syrianus’
text provides an argument against the view that an object ofphantasia can be made
more perfect so as to serve as a reliable concept.
2. The relevance of concepts in ancient epistemological debates
Although it is commonplace to talk about concepts (and concept formation) in
scholarly contributions on ancient and late ancient philosophy, scholars have gen-
erally neglected to ask questions regarding the relevance or importance of concepts in
ancient epistemological debates. One may ask, for instance, whether it is anachron-
istic to introduce the language of concepts in the exegesis of ancient texts. Does not
the wide range of terms that may signify ‘concept’ (see ch. I.1) and the relatively late
appearance of the term ‘conceptum’ / ‘conceptio’ (early Middle Ages) cast doubt on the
view that among ancient philosophers one is able to detect a unified notion of con-
cept? Doennoiai, epinoiai, enno¯emata, logoi, katholou, andprol¯epseis really have so
much in common that it is justified to refer to them collectively as concepts?
Despite considerable differences when it comes to theories of cognition and
knowledge, ancient philosophical schools seem all to be interested in mental entities.
By ‘mental entities’ I refer to entities situated in souls / minds that play an important
part in our cognitive processes. Plato refers several times to mental entities and em-
phasizes their crucial role in our cognition, most prominently in theTimaeus and its
description of the constitution of the human soul.
54
What is more, the well-known
‘commons’ (koina) in Plato’sTheaetetus (185a–186b) can hardly refer to transcendent
, ψ κ λ "9/ 9/ φ *) Ν # # λ 8
,..
52
Syrianus,In met. 96.17–19, translated byDillon / O’Meara (2006): φ'λ ² #Aφ-
C« #A# «, ' Ν D .9/ $ , " < 9/ ,*) φ ',
λ " ' %
.
53
On Alexander’s theory of concept attainment, see below ch. IV.2.1–3.
54
SeeFrede, D. (1996), who explicitly talks about ‘common concepts’ in this respect.

The relevance of concepts in ancient epistemological debates25
Platonic Forms since it seems doubtful that Plato ever assumed a Form of Non-Being.
Therefore, scholars have interpreted these ‘commons’ as concepts.
55
Finally, the dis-
cussion on falsehood and Non-Being in theSophist has been explained as ultimately
dealing with concepts.
56
These few remarks show already that scholars have invoked
concepts to explain central passages or problems in the Platonic writings.
Following Plato, Aristotle acknowledges that a craftsman possesses an interior
plan (alogos in the mind) of his product before he sets out to manufacture it (Met. Z 7,
1032
b
1). Moreover, both in theMetaphysics and thePosterior Analytics he aims at
explaining how universals (ta katholou) originate in the soul. Already in the ancient
commentary tradition, Aristotle’sCategories was read as a treatise about words that
signifies things (pragmata) through thoughts (no¯emata). For language presupposes
concepts (ennoiai).
57
Further on, within Stoic epistemology, we find discussions
about how mental entities are articulated (i.e., developed further). Drawing upon
Stoic contributions, Middle Platonists then develop a psychological terminology of
learning in trying to come to grips with the psychological aspects of Plato’s doctrine of
recollection. Finally, in Neoplatonism, predication was interpreted as being con-
cerned with concepts, not with mere words.
58
For the former are more substantial and
causes of the latter.
59
What is more, in the afterlife of ‘Platonic universals’ in the three-
fold distinction ofante res, in rebus, andpost res universals, concepts figure as ‘univers-
als over the many’ (epi tois pollois, post res).
Given this, as it were, common ground, of various ancient epistemological
approaches, let us return to the seven criteria [A1–7] discussed above. It seems that
the robust notion of concept outlined by these seven criteria is at the same time rich
enough to imply the wide range of phenomena designated by the variegated ancient
vocabulary. Interestingly, we shall see that in Neoplatonism and especially in Proclus’
epistemology many of the views of other ancient philosophical schools are, as it were,
woven together in order to provide a theory of concepts that is able to respond to sev-
eral pressing philosophical challenges.
Criterion [A-1] aims at distinguishing concepts from other, less stable psychic
phenomena such as sense perceptions, memories, beliefs. The definition of concepts
as ‘(fairly) stable mental entities’ corresponds well to the ancient way of talking about
epistemological phenomena, because ever since Plato and Aristotle knowledge or the
universal (katholou– universal concept) in order to be acquired is said to haveto come
55
SeeSedley (2004), who argues that the commons are not yet Platonic Forms (115). He refers to
them once as concepts (107).
56
Seede Rijk (1986).
57
Ammonius,In Cat. 9.17–25.
58Such a view was derived from Aristotle,De Interpretatione 16
a3–4, where words are defined as
‘symbols of the affections of the soul’.Sorabji (2004c), 205–211, provides a survey of ancient
interpretations of the passage.
59
See Ammonius,In De Int. 18.6–7.

26 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
to a stand in the soul.
60
At the other end of the tradition, in Neoplatonism the talk of
logoi as being the essence of the soul characterises them as thepermanent element par
excellence in human psychology. The ubiquitous doctrine oflogoi, which is for the
first time traceable in Plotinus (ch. IV.3), however, does point to an important differ-
ence between ancient and modern theories of concepts. While in the modern debate
concepts are mental entities that constitute, as it were, an interface between our mind
and the world, Platonists considerlogoi also as ontological principles of the sensible
realm.
Criterion [A-2] asserts that concepts ought to be objective and shareable (univer-
sal). Plato was probably the first who saw the need for objective principles of knowl-
edge. With his theory of Forms he reacted first of all against a cognitive relativism. In
the Platonic tradition, the psychological theory ofanamn¯esis explains why different
people recollect the same Forms and hence share the same concepts. InPosterior Ana-
lytics II 19, Aristotle seems to presuppose that concept acquisition (that is, the acquisi-
tion ofpr¯otai archai of syllogism or universals [katholou]) works in the same fashion
for everyone. This is in accordance with the nature of the soul (seeAn. Post. II 19,
100
a
13–14) and the fact that the whole process is based onin-rebus-properties (im-
manent forms). It goes without saying that a stock of shareable concepts is prerequi-
site for language, discourse, and scientific research.
Criterion [A-3] emphasizes that our knowledge of the world around us ought to
correspond to this world. In the Platonic tradition, such a correspondence is assured,
since sensibles are known by means of their intelligibleprinciples (Forms orlogoi).
In Aristotelian induction aiming at thekatholou (universal knowledge) and the Stoic
articulation ofennoiai, knowledge acquisition is ultimately based on sense perception
and hence on sensible particulars. It seems characteristic for the ancient discussion
that the fact that our knowledge matches up with the world around us is taken for
granted and rarely questioned. We find traces of such a debate in antiquity, for in-
stance, in the Platonist attack of empirical modes of knowledge acquisition and in dis-
cussions as to whether some specific universal concepts (universals) such as goat-stags
or golden mountains are purely mental (mere concepts,psillai ennoiai / epinoiai).
Criteria [A-4] and [A-5] are central for an approach to ancient epistemological
texts that is based on concepts, because attention to preconceptions and concept
formation allows for a more adequate description of theprocess of learning and there-
fore can include ancient discussion of mental entities that are not yet fully fledged
items of scientific knowledge. As an example of ancient concern with concept
formation, Plato’s earlier dialogues (or his dialogues in general) can be taken to illus-
trate how concepts or pre-conceptions are corrected and developed further. Such a
reading was first suggested in the period of Middle Platonism (in the Anonymous
Commentary on Plato’s Theaetetus) and later systematized by Proclus (in his commen-
60
This holds true both for Plato and Aristotle, see above note 23.

The relevance of concepts in ancient epistemological debates27
taries on theAlcibiades and theParmenides). For the Platonists, this approach
entailed a systematization of Plato’s doctrine of recollection in combination with So-
crates’ midwifery. In this view, then, a philosophical dialogue aims at articulating cer-
tain concepts or preconceptions (ennoiai) in order to fully grasp the innate knowledge
of the soul.
Especially in the Hellenistic philosophy of mind, the development of concepts is
presupposed, when philosophers talk about mental entities (ennoiai, prol¯epseis) that
ought to be articulated (i.e., pre-conceptions) in order to become objective universal
concepts. Following the AnonymousCommentary on Plato’s Theaetetus, Proclus takes
up this kind of language and combines it with Platonic recollection. In such a view,
preconceptions (ennoiai) are nothing but our confused or dim awareness of our innate
knowledge.
Criterion [A-6] deals with error. A promising strategy to explain error is to con-
nect it to false, confused (inarticulate) or incomplete concepts. In the framework of
an epistemology that tries to do away with concepts, the phenomenon ‘error’ on the
different levels of the intellectual development of a human being seems much more
difficult to account for. For if we suppose that an agent is at least partly responsible for
his errors, the latter must to some extend depend upon his epistemic disposition or
his conceptual apparatus.
Criterion [A-7] considers concepts according to their origin and function or con-
tent. It contrasts those theories that ultimately derive universals from sense perception
(Aristotle, the Stoics, the Epicureans, Alexander of Aphrodisias) and those that argue
that universal knowledge is innate (Plato, Middle and Neoplatonists). This difference
is spelled out in my study in terms of the distinction between Platonic (recollected)
and Aristotelian (abstracted
F
) concepts.
61
It is designed, therefore, to include both
epistemological traditions within the single notion of concept.
Summing up the import of criteria [A-5], [A-6], and [A-7], it is clear that if we are
prepared to presuppose the existence of concepts (mental entities) in the soul, epis-
temic progress can best be explain by means of different types of concepts (concepts
that enable us to recognize sensible objects vs concepts that provide knowledge of
things) and through the process of developing further or articulating concepts (turn-
ing imperfect concepts or preconceptions into complete concepts).
In going through the different criteria suggested in ch. I.1, I conclude that con-
cepts are a running concern in the ancient epistemological debates. It is, of course,
true that in ancient and late ancient texts we do not find a unified terminology to des-
ignate the whole range of what I call ‘concepts’. Philosophers did not apply a blanket
term to refer to all of them, lest we count such very general expressions as ‘in the soul’
or ‘in the mind’. And it is not entirely clear why this is so. In Proclus, at least, it clearly
emerges that he recognized the affinity and, at the same time, the difference (regard-
61
See above ch. I.2 (A-7).

28 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
ing content and function) between, for instance,ennoia,logos,eidos, andkatholou.
What is common between all such ancient terms is that they refer to mental entities
(entities inside the soul). Moreover, they all play an important part in the soul’s cog-
nitive functions or development. By treating these mental entities as concepts, it is
easier to compare them to each other and find common features and differences.
Common terminology must not, this goes without saying, deceive us in assuming
that there are no differences between ancient notions of mental entities. To the
contrary, the obvious differences can be accounted for by introducing different types
and levels of concepts (see especially criteria [A-5] and [A-7]).
Because of all this, it seems advisable to base a theory of knowledge on the unified
modern terminology of concepts rather than employing the variegated ancient
vocabulary. For ‘concepts’ are, I have argued above, an appropriate term for the ubi-
quitous phenomenon of mental entities. And it is a central aim of this investigation
to demonstrate the usefulness of ‘concepts’ in ancient epistemological debates and to
illustrate that the entire range of phenomena spoken of in the Platonic tradition in
epistemology is contained or referenced in talk of concepts.
62
In Neoplatonism the
language of concepts is ubiquitous, given the identification of thelogoi of the soul
with concepts. In Proclus, for instance, we find an elaborated terminology of con-
cepts, concept attainment, and concept development (ch. VII.3). He identifies vari-
ous kinds of concepts (ch. VII.3.6).
A last example may illustrate this importance of concepts in the Platonic tradition.
It relates to difficulties centering around the knowledge of Forms. Specialists of Plato
have argued that one can only have knowledge of the Forms, but that one cannot
have beliefs (doxai) about them. This argument is reasonable if we consider that Plato
(and Aristotle) defined knowledge according to its objects. On the other hand, such a
reading would confine the relevance of the Forms to some kind of expert knowledge
(higher learning).
63
However, for later Platonists, Forms (innate knowledge) were
taken to be the basis of all our cognitive processes. By means of psychic concepts
understood as images of the Forms we can explain howdoxa can actually have access
to the Forms, and the process of getting to know the Forms can be seen asgradual
(not as a sudden change from ignorance to wisdom).
64
I take it that the latter was
be maintained, because from Iamblichus onwards, knowledge was considered to be
determined by the knower, not by the object known.
65
62
At least as far as the discursive processes of the soul are concerned. In this study, I shall not be
concerned with the various problems regarding Neoplatonic theories of intellect (nous).
63
This is the thesis ofScott (1995).
64
See below ch. VI on the crucial role ofdoxa in Proclus’ epistemology.
65
On this, see below ch. VI.2.4 (in the end).

Different models of concept acquisition in antiquity29
3. Different models of concept acquisition in antiquity
In Antiquity, we can single out two main models of concept attainment (see above
[A-7]). These two models correspond, broadly speaking, to the more empirical the-
ories of Aristotle (described, for instance, in the last chapter of thePosterior Analytics),
of Peripatetics such as Theophrastus and Alexander of Aphrodisias, and of the Stoics
and Epicureans on the one hand, and to Plato’s theory, on the other. For the latter,
concept attainment wasrecollection, that is, recovery of innate knowledge (anamn¯esis).
Recollection is either triggered by sense perception or during a philosophical dialogue
with an experienced teacher. The latter mode of knowledge acquisition is frequently
connected to Socrates’ maieutic method (midwifery).
As a rule, both methods of deriving or acquiring concepts are described in a rather
technical language. In what follows, I shall present a small and probably still some-
what incomplete glossary of concept formation for the ancient Greek philosophical
tradition.
66
‘Abstraction’ or ‘to abstract’ translate the Greek wordsaphairesis oraphairein
which literally signify ‘to take away something from something else’. Aristotle uses
aphairein andaphairesis in the sense of ‘takingmatter away from something’. This
kind of abstraction will be termed abstraction
M
(abstraction of matter) in what fol-
lows. It represents the usual employment ofaphairesis /aphairein in Aristotle. Some
people claim that Aristotle knows another and much less prominent usage of the
verb, namely to abstract a form from matter (abstraction
F
– abstraction of form).
However, the passage referred to in this respect (Met.
E 6, 1048
a
32–33) is by no
means decisive and it is more plausible to construe it in such a way that Aristotle is
not asserting that a statue of Hermes (i.e., the form of the statue) is abstracted from
matter.
67
If this is correct, abstraction of form can, as far as I can see, for the first time
be detected in Alexander’sDe intellectu.
68
66
To my knowledge, no one has as yet tried to systematically collect the relevant terms. Useful
material can be found inPhilippe (1948),de Strycker (1955),Morrison (1985),Happ
(1971), 615–649,Mueller (1990),Detel (1993b), 189–232,Detel (2005),Porro
(
2
2007). As far as the Platonic tradition is concerned, the studies ofSorabji (2006) and (2010)
are very valuable.
67
I fully agree with howBeere (2009), 172 note 8, suggests to take the phrase. See also below,
ch. III.2.3 note 50.
68
Such a usage ofaphairein can be found in Alexander,De intellectu 110.19 and 111.16. In his
Commentary on Ptolemy’s Harmonica, Porphyry employsch¯orizein (11.31),aposp¯an (‘tear off’,
13.22), andanalambanein (14.20–21), while Themistius,In de anima 97.37–98.2 speaks of
‘cutting (the universal) out’ (sc. of matter) (apotemnein). Syrianus,In met. 137.1 uses the verb ‘to
strip of’ (aposulan).

30 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
Abstraction
F
roughly corresponds to the modern employment of abstraction.
69
Frequently, Aristotle refers to mathematical or geometrical objects as ‘the results of ab-
straction’ (ta ex aphairese¯os). By contrast, physical objects are said to be ‘from addition’
(ek prosthese¯os).
70
There is another group of words that refers to the process ofsepar-
ation / the state ofbeing separated from matter, namelych¯oris,ch¯orizein,ch¯orismos, and
ch¯oristos. At this point, we will not enter into a discussion about the intricate problems
connected to the Aristotelian notion of separation.
71
All that interests us at present is
thatch¯orizein can be used synonymously withaphairein (in the sense of abstraction
M
),
but can also refer to a separation in thought.
72
In the latter sense, it comes close to
abstraction
F
. As has frequently been observed,aphairein /aphairesis is confined
to mathematical or geometrical objects in Aristotle, while the current use links it to
universal concepts in general. Such a tendency can already be observed in Alexander
(ch. IV.2.1).
Whereas the Aristotelian notion of taking-away is usually employed in connec-
tion with mathematical or geometrical objects, Aristotle’s procedure, as it were,
to attain universal concepts is calledinduction (epag¯og¯e /epagein). InAn.Post. II 19,
Aristotle describes in some detail of how induction of universal concepts works.
73
As a
rule, induction starts from a number of similar particulars and eventually yields a uni-
versal concept.
Apart from abstraction and induction there is a third way of referring to the
process of concept attainment, to wit ‘collection’, that is,to gather together a universal
concept from a group of particulars. The English word ‘collection’ is derived from the
Latincollectio which is used by Boethius in the sense of collecting a universal concept
from similar particulars.
74
Note, moreover, that already William of Moerbeke
(13
th
century) translates several technical Greek terms referring to ‘collection’ such as
kephalaioun andsunhathroizein bycolligere (ibid. 231).
In a certain sense, induction can be interpreted as collection, because it also takes
its start from a group of sensible particulars. Both methods (collection and induction)
69
Guthrie (1981), 105, talks about an Aristotelian ‘abstraction of form’, whileSpruit (1994),
45, asserts that for Aristotle ‘the objects of thinking are essences existing in the mind as universals
abstracted from their concrete manifestations’.
70
Cf.De caelo 3, 299
a
15–17: […] $φ #« # , ' ,
φ. #«
. It should be said, however, thatprosthesis for Aristotle is not confined
to physical objects. The same holds true for abstraction (aphairesis), which is not confined to
mathematicals objects. Seede Rijk (2002a), 648: ‘Both terms [sc.aphairesis andprosthesis]
refer […] to the semantic process of either singling out, or appending some notional component,
respectively.’
71
See below ch. III.2.4.
72In this meaning it is usually accompanied byt¯oi log¯oi or similar expressions, see below
ch. III.2.3–4.
73
On induction in Aristotle, see below ch. III.3.
74
Seede Libera (1999), 224ff.

Different models of concept acquisition in antiquity31
differ slightly in that the Greek word for induction (epagein) suggests that particulars
areadduced,
75
while in collection they areassembled. Nevertheless with verbs like
episunagein, which was employed for the process of collection,
76
both induction and
collection seem almost to coincide. This is warranted by the fact that later authors
(such as Themistius) use language of collection in their reading of Aristotelian induc-
tion (An. Post. II 19).
It is a rather intricate question as to how we can characterize the relation between
abstraction
M
on the one hand and induction / collection on the other. For it seems
clear that it does not suffice to assemble similar particulars in order to reach a univer-
sal concept. If we assume that collection aims at assembling only thecommon element
(form in matter) of these particulars, it appears to be a pre-requisite to remove matter
(abstraction
M
). Therefore, it has been suggested by Alain de Libera to call Aristotelian
induction ‘induction abstractive’ and Aristotelian abstraction (aphairesis) ‘abstraction
mathématique’.
77 At this stage, however, I shall not pursue the problem further, but
return to it later on in my analysis of Aristotle’s epistemology.
78
Let us now, for a moment, come back to the notion ofcollection. Thelocus classicus
for this kind of concept attainment is Plato’sPhaedrus 249b–c, where we find the
wordsunhairein.
79
From this passage it also emerges that collection represents a move-
ment ‘from the many towards one’ (ek poll¯on eis hen). In the later tradition, different
terms have been used to refer to collection, in Stoicism (where the notion was promi-
nent), the commentators on Aristotle, and Neoplatonism:
80
hathroisis /hathroizein,
81
sunhathroizein,
82
sunagein,
83
episunagein,
84
sunhairein,
85
sunageirein,
86
sullegein,
87
ke-
75
On this see below ch. III.3.3.
76
Pseudo-Philoponus,In An.Post. 436.8.
77
De Libera (2004).
78
See below ch. III.2.6.
79
Note, however, that in this context Plato refers to recollection, see below ch. II.5.
80In what follows, I am much indebted toSorabji (2004a), 174, and (2006), 115 with note 24.
81
Proclus,In Eucl. 12.6–7 and 14.1 as well as Simplicius,In Phys. 1075.7–8 and Eustratius,
In Anal.Post. 266.19 (forsunhathroizein and cognates see the next note). Note that the term
hathroisma was prominent in Stoicism. Chrysippus callstechn¯e ahathroisma katal¯epse¯on (SVF
2.23.21–22 [= Sextus Empiricus,Adv.Math. VII 372]) and is referred to as a
Ϊ
λ 3
(SVF 2.228.23–24 [= Galen,De Hipp.et Plat.plac. V 3 (160)]). For a com-
parable use ofhathroisma, see Philoponus,In Phys. 12.15.
82
Themistius,In de anima 4.2 and 56.21; Iamblichus,Comm.math. 20.8–9; Hermias,In Plat.
Phaedr. 171.10 and 15; Pseudo-Simplicius,In de anima 269.39; Pseudo-Philoponus,In de
anima 515.27. Onsunhathroizein seede Libera (1999), 229ff. and 233 note 80. AtIn Eucl.
15.17, Proclus uses the nounsunhathroismos, whilesunhathroisis (together withsunag¯og¯e) is em-
ployed by Ammonius,In Cat. 49.9.
83
Hermias,In Plat.Phaedr. 171.19 (Couvreur) and Simplicius,In Phys. 1075.4–5 and 11.
84Pseudo-Philoponus,In An.Post. 436.8.
85
Plato,Phaedrus 249b–c.
86
Themistius,In An.Post. 64.26–27 (sunageirein to katholou).
87
Philoponus,In Phys. 12.24.

32 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
phalaiousthai /kephalai¯oma,
88
sunkephalai¯osis
89
. It is interesting to note that in the
Platonic tradition in epistemology, the notion of collection is much more prominent
than the notion of abstraction (due toPhaedrus 249b–c). However, in the secondary
literature the process of collecting a universal concept is frequently referred to as ab-
straction. This sometimes causes confusion.
As we have seen, there existed a fixed terminology to refer to the attainment of
universal concepts. And so far, three methods have been singled out, namelyabstrac-
tion,induction, andcollection. It is basically true to say that abstraction (aphairesis) is a
notion that originated in Aristotle. It is linked to mathematical / geometrical objects
in the mind, which are called ‘the results of abstraction’ (ta ex aphairese¯os). The attain-
ment of universal concepts is described by Aristotle as induction (epag¯og¯e,An.Post.
II 19). In the Platonic tradition, the notion of collection (collecting a universal con-
cept from similar particulars) can be traced back toPhaedrus 249b–c. As we have
seen, induction and collection share many characteristics, and I have suggested to take
induction as a kind of collection. This is confirmed by Aristotelian commentators
who appeal to collection in their paraphrase / exegesis of the last chapter of the
Posterior Analytics.
90
In Stoicism too, the notion of collection figures in the process of
concept attainment. This emerges,inter alia, from the fact that the soul is called a
‘athroisma,’ that is, aconglomeration of sense impressions (SVF 2.228).
To these three forms of concept attainmentPlatonic recollection is to be added.
91
Plato was the first to argue that all knowledge is recollection (anamn¯esis). According
to him, the process of recollection is instigated or aroused by sense perception. To
refer to this arousal Plato uses verbs such asanakinein (Meno 85c). In the Platonic
tradition, innate knowledge and recollection is fundamental for the process of knowl-
edge acquisition. The innate knowledge of the soul is frequently referred to aslogoi or
eid¯e and the process of recollection is often connected toprobol¯e (‘putting forth’ or
‘advancing’ [sc. of innate knowledge]).
92
88
The use of the verbkephalaiousthai and cognates can be found in epistemological contexts as
early as Alexander,In top. 1.18, cf. alsoIn metaph. 5.2 (sunkephalai¯osis). Cf. also the parallel in
Plotinus VI 5 [23] 1.10 (sunkephalaiousthai). I would like to thank Guy Guldentops (Cologne)
for drawing my attention to the latter passage. Note, moreover, that Plotinus in VI 2 [43] 5.12
calls soul akephalaion t¯on log¯on. Themistius uses the verb in his exegesis ofAn.Post. II 19 (In An.
Post. 64.15–16; cf. 3.33) as an illustration of induction:
# κ »« ²
#« μ . φ « «
. AtIn Parm. II 731.15 (Steel)kephalai¯oma is used
in the sense of ‘universal gathered together from sensible particulars’.
89
Cf. already the last note. This noun is used by Theophrastus, fr. 301A (Fortenbaugh et al.) [=
Sextus Empiricus,Adv. Math. VII, 223–224]. I owe the reference toChase (2010), 397 note 50.
90
See, for instance, Themistius,In An.Post. 64.26–27.
91I add ‘Platonic’ here, to distinguish this type ofanamn¯esis from the one Aristotle discusses in his
De memoria. On the latter notion ofanamn¯esis, seeSorabji (
2
2004),King (2004) andidem
(2009), 90–103.
92
On the Neoplatonic notion ofprobol¯e, see below ch. VII.2.4.

Different models of concept acquisition in antiquity33
Apart from the different methods of attaining universal concepts, ancient authors
also reflected upon the process ofconcept development. As early as in Plato’s first dia-
logues we see this process at work. From the Middle PlatonicAnonymous Commentary
on Plato’s Theaetetus onwards, we can observe a tendency to interpret the dialogues of
Plato as illustrations of the development of innate concepts. The main idea is that
concept acquisition starts with pre-conceptions, that is, for the most part confused
concepts (sunkechumena) or even wrong presuppositions which are corrected and
articulated as the dialogue proceeds. On the whole, two stages can be identified. The
first stage consists in eliminating wrong pre-conceptions of the interlocutor (Socratic
elenchos), while during the second stage confused or incomplete concepts arearticu-
lated (diarthroun, the process of articulation being calleddiarthr¯osis). The notion of
articulation of concepts or preconceptions can already be found in Stoic texts where
they are frequently referred to asennoiai. In a Platonic framework, articulation was
for the first time connected to recollection by the previously mentioned anonymous
Middle Platonic author of theCommentary on the Theaetetus. And it is taken up by
Platonists such as Plutarch, Porphyry, Proclus, and Damascius. In Proclus, the aim of
articulation is the transition from pre-conceptions (ennoiai) to a recognition of the
psychiclogoi (i.e., the innate knowledge of the soul). In a certain sense, the process of
articulation is already prefigured in Plato who holds that recollection consists of sev-
eral steps.
93
After having discussed the lexicon of concept attainment and of the articulation of
concepts in Antiquity and having distinguished between two main kinds of attaining
concepts, namely abstraction / collection (to which induction belongs), and recollec-
tion (anamn¯esis), let us now consider the question ofhow we can abstract or collect at
all. As has been said already in the introduction, scholars commonly differentiate be-
tween Platonic or innate concepts and Aristotelian concepts that are empirically ac-
quired.
94
Furthermore, it has frequently been asserted that in the later Platonic tradi-
tion we find harmonization of Plato and Aristotle in that Platonic and Aristotelian
concepts are somehow combined in the process of concept attainment. Such a view
was spelled out as follows: The acquisition of concepts starts with Aristotelian con-
cepts. However, these empirically acquired concepts are only the first stage. As we
proceed, we are eventually able to recollect and hence attain Platonic concepts.
I shall argue in what follows that such a view of the story is untenable as far as a
number of Platonists such as Syrianus, Proclus and others are concerned.
95
In their
theory of concept attainment, concepts that are derived from sensible particulars do
not play any role whatsoever in the process of concept attainment. Rather, such a way
of concept acquisition is criticized by means of a number of arguments. In the back-
93On recollection in Plato, see ch. II below (especially II.3–5).
94
See above ch. I.2 [A-7].
95
In what follows I shall discuss, alongside Syrianus and Proclus, Alcinous, Plotinus, Porphyry,
Hermias of Alexandria.

34 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
ground of this criticism stands the conviction that we can only acquire reliable con-
cepts if we possess innate knowledge.
It has sometimes been suggested that the criticism of abstractionism only concerns
abstraction proper (aphairesis), whereas collection is not affected by it. However, this
does not seem to be quite right. What some Neoplatonists criticize is not a certain
method of concept attainment, but rather the fact that philosophers before them, such
as Aristotle, the Stoics, and the Peripatetics entertained the view that conceptsorig-
inate from sense perception and sensible individuals. Accordingly, we find Platonists
like Proclus and Hermias who employ the notion of collection in a positive sense in
their exegesis of Plato,Phaedrus 249b–c, whereas the same Proclus in hisCommentary
on Euclid criticizes collection. One may ask how this is possible; the answer is that for
these Platonists collection can only be explained if it is backed by an innatist theory of
knowledge.
A related question has been posed by scholars. When does recollection begin?
Some people, most notably the already mentioned Dominic Scott, have argued that
recollection is only concerned with higher learning.
96
Such a view squares well with
a harmonizing interpretation of Plato and Aristotle, where the first phase of concept
attainment solely consists of the empirical acquisition of knowledge. However, as we
will see, there are Platonists such as Syrianus and Proclus who argue that even object
recognition is ultimately based on innate knowledge.
Before I summarize the different kinds / methods of concept attainment in An-
tiquity, I shall briefly mention another rather crucial aspect of ancient theories of con-
cept acquisition, to witthe role of intellect. When compared to Plato’s theory of innate
knowledge, Aristotle has often been called an empiricist. However, the latter says
explicitly that ‘sense perception does not yield universal knowledge’ (An.Post. I 31).
Moreover, inAn.Post. II 19, where we find Aristotle’s most detailed description of
concept attainment by induction (epag¯og¯e), intellect eventually grasps the concept
‘without mistake’ (An.Post. II 19, 100
b
5–17). Thus, intellect plays a crucial role in ac-
quiring knowledge.
The ancient commentators put forth different interpretations of intellect (nous)
in Aristotle.
97
In the wake of what Aristotle says inDe anima III 5 it was discussed,
for instance, whether the active intellect is part of the human soul or ought to be
identified with a divine intellect. In Alexander of Aphrodisias we find the view that in
the process of abstraction the intellect is somehow able to make the forms in matter
(enhula eid¯e) actual objects of thought (no¯eta).
98
But how can the intellect do this?
Some philosophers argued that since something potential can only be actualized by
96
SeeScott (1995) and introduction (pp. 4–5).
97On ancient interpretations of Aristotle’s productive or active intellect (nous poi¯etikos), see, for
instance,Kurfess (1911);Hamelin (1953);Schroeder (1981) and (1982);Todd /
Schroeder (1990);Blumenthal (1996), 151–170.
98
See below, ch. IV.2.4.

Forms and concepts & problematic concepts 35
something already in actuality (Aristotle,Met.
E 8, 1049
b
24–25), all the forms / ob-
jects of thought must be contained in act by the intellect. This is, of course, very
different from an empiricist approach to knowledge acquisition. Nevertheless, what
distinguishes views found in Aristotle or Alexander from those of Syrianus and
Proclus is that with the former two sense perception plays a much greater role, since
concept attainment is ultimately based upon sensible particulars.
To conclude I suggest to divide the different ancient theories of concept attain-
ment in the following way: The main dichotomy is between philosophers who hold
that concepts ultimatelyoriginate from sense perception and philosophers who base
their theory on innate knowledge (recollection). In the second group, sense percep-
tion is a mere instigator or trigger of the process of recollection. In the first group, we
have a further subdivision between those who defend a thoroughly empirical theory
(Stoics, Epicurus) and those authors who, as with Aristotle and Alexander, argue that
intellect plays a crucial role in concept attainment. As mentioned before, I take it that
there are no compelling examples of Platonists who combined the Aristotelian ap-
proach with the Platonic one or, to put it differently, who accepted Platonic alongside
Aristotelian concepts. This shall be demonstrated below as far as Alcinous, Porphyry,
Syrianus, Proclus, and Hermias are concerned.
4. Forms and concepts & problematic concepts
To conclude this chapter, I shall address two at first sight unconnected problems,
namely (a) the question as to how Platonic Forms (Ideas) are related to concepts and
(b) the question of how we can acquire what I suggest to termproblematic concepts.
As will turn out, for Platonists the two problems are at least to some extent interre-
lated. To start with, the question how Platonic Forms are linked to concepts in the
mind is complex. Most contemporary Plato scholars agree that (1) Forms are not
(purely) mental concepts and (2) not all concepts require transcendent Forms. For the
first thesis we find several arguments in Plato’s writings.
99
It is interesting to note,
however, that already in Antiquity we have evidence of philosophers who considered
Platonic Forms mere concepts.
100
The second thesis, in order to be meaningful, has to
be explained. If we say that ‘not all concepts require transcendent Forms,’ we say
something about concepts, Forms and their relation to each other. In order to assert
that ‘not all concepts require transcendent Forms’ we somehow have to presuppose
99See, for instance,Cherniss (1944), 214–216,Lafrance (1984), andHelmig (2007a),
305–308.
100
Proclus,In Parm. IV 899.10 (Steel). See alsoHelmig (2007a), 306–307 with further literature,
on Speusippus and Antisthenes as possible candidates for such a view.

36 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions
that we know the extension of the realm of concepts and that of the realm of Forms
and that both are not of the same extension.
The question of what things are there Forms had been addressed already by Plato
himself, most notably in theParmenides 130b–e. In later Neoplatonism, the problem
was more or less settled, as emerges from Syrianus’Commentary on the Metaphysics
and Proclus’Commentary on the Parmenides.
101
According to the two Neoplatonists,
there are no Forms of,inter alia, things contrary to nature (including evil things),
parts, or individuals. On the other hand, no one will seriously doubt that we possess
universal knowledge pertaining to things contrary to nature, parts, and to individuals
(e.g., as members of a species).
If we agree that for Neoplatonists such as Syrianus and Proclus concept attain-
ment is recollection and that concepts originate because of recollection, concepts to
which no Forms correspond can, strictly speaking not be recollected. Hence, concepts
to which no Forms correspond areproblematic in that it is not clear how we can
acquire them.
The problem just described can also be rephrased in the following terms: Does
Plato hold that to every general term corresponds a Form? As we have seen above, the
answer to this question depends on the extension of the realm of Forms. Take, for
instance, the term non-being; it is very unlikely that Plato ever posited a Form of
Non-Being. The same holds true, we may assume, for a Form of evil. Hence, it be-
comes plain how the question of the relation between Forms and concepts and dis-
cussion about problematic concepts are interrelated in the Platonic tradition.
The question remains, then, as to how these problematic concepts can be acquired.
Consider that such concepts figure not only in Platonist accounts. In the more
empirical theories of the Epicureans and the Stoics, we encounter a similar difficulty.
Both schools have to deal with the problem as to how we can acquire concepts of
things which we do not perceive. Well-known examples are concepts of god, the void,
atoms. The Hellenistic schools used different strategies to solve this difficulty. Prob-
ably the most important was the method of inference (metabasis), that is, the transi-
tion from the evident to the non-evident.
102
How it worked is described in the fol-
lowing text:
In general, also, everything conceived is conceived in two main ways, either by way of clear
impression or by way of transference (metabasis) from things clear, and this way is threefold, – by
similarity (homoi¯otik¯os), or by composition (episunthetik¯os), or by analogy (analogistik¯os). Thus,
by clear impression are conceived the white, the black, the sweet and the bitter, and by transfer-
ence from things clear are concepts due to similarity, – such as Socrates himself from a likeness of
Socrates, and those due to composition, – such as the hippocentaur from horse and man, or by
101SeeDörrie / Baltes (1998), 70–78 and 336–350, and the numerous contributions by
d’Hoine (2006a), (2006b) [both on Forms of artefacts], (2009), (2010a), and (2010b).
102
On the ‘transition from the evident to the non-evident’, seeAllen (2001) andTuominen
(2007), 254–272.

Forms and concepts & problematic concepts 37
mixing the limbs of horse and man we have imagined the hippocentaur which is neither man nor
horse but a compound of both. And a thing is conceived by way of analogy (analogistik¯os) also
in two ways, sometimes by way of increase (aux¯etik¯os), sometimes by decrease (mei¯otik¯os); for
instance, from ordinary men – ‘such mortals as now we see’ – we conceive by way of increase the
Cyclops who was ‘less like a corn-eating man than a forest-clad peak of the mountains’ (Homer,
Odyssee IX 191); and by way of decrease we conceive the pygmy whom we have not perceived
through sense-impressions.
103
Interestingly, Neoplatonists will use similar strategies to explain the origin of concepts
to which no transcendent Forms correspond.
104
The crucial problem is: How can
someone recollect something that he does not encounter in sense perception (that is
not visible)? Obvious examples are the concept of matter or of Non-Being. To resolve
this difficulty Platonists appealed to, for instance, the method of inference. Another
argument that was employed in Platonic circles in order to explain the existence of
concepts of things that cannot be perceived is the argument from the knowledge of
opposites. Ultimately going back to Plato and Aristotle, but also diffused in the Hel-
lenistic age, the argument asserts that knowledge of something entails the knowledge
of its opposite. Such pairs are ‘good – evil’ or ‘according to nature – contrary to nature’
etc.
After having defined the scope of my study and after having worked out the details
of a notion of ‘concept’ compatible with the diversified ancient vocabulary of mental
entities let us now start our exposition of concept formation in the Platonic tradition,
first turning to Plato himself.
103Sextus Empiricus,Against the professors III 40–42, translated by R.G. Bury: . » μ
C« G.« - .«α ν * / ν
κ $μ 5 , λ ' α ν ²« ν .-
« ν $ «
.$ κ - μ .μ λ μ
# λ .C λ , κ $μ 5 ²«
- $μ /« H.« ,« H'« "«, .«
$μ 9. λ $G. ¹# .«α 9 λ 5 * « #' φ -
G' μ Ν 9 $2 $φ# ¹# .
.
$ « # - .«, ² "'« ² «,
8 $μ $G, 8 5* ,, .'«
K , J« " )G $* φ) $ L*) M, « μ . -
Ν, J« "% M# π- «
.
104
See below ch. VII.3.7 on ‘problematic concepts’.

38 Concepts – (Ancient) Problems and Solutions

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CHAPTER XXVI
THE TURRET ROOM
Fauchard, the ranger's, cottage lay at the meeting of two drives; all
the trees here were pines, and the air was filled with their balsam.
It was, even in 1869, an old-fashioned cottage, set back in a clearing
amidst the trees. The tall pines seemed to have stepped back to give
it room, and were eternally blowing their compliments to it. Ah, they
were fine fellows to live amongst, those pine-trees, true noblemen of
the forest, erect as grenadiers, spruce, perfumed; and the blue sky
looked never so beautiful as when seen over their tops.
The cottage had an old wooden gallery under the upper windows,
and an outside staircase gone to decay; the porch was covered with
rambler roses; on the apex of the red-tiled roof pigeons white as
pearls sat in strings, fluttering now to the ground, and now circling
in the blue above the trees like a ring of smoke.
It was a place wherein to taste the beauty of summer to the very
dregs. Dawn, coming down the pine-set drive, touching the branches
with her fingers and setting the woods a-shiver, peeped into
Fauchard's cottage as she never peeped into the Tuileries. Noon sat
with folded hands before the rose-strewn porch, singing to herself a
song which mortals heard in the croonings of the pigeons. Dusk set
glow-worms, like little lamps, amidst the roses of the porch.
When we arrived, Fauchard was out, but his wife was in and
received us. Madame Fauchard was over seventy; a woman as clean
and bright as a new pin, active as a cat; a woman who had brought
twelve children into the world, yet had worked all her life as hard as
a man.

Oh, yes! she would be very glad to take a lodger, if he would be
satisfied with their simple place. She showed us over the little house.
It smelt sweet as lavender, and the spare room was so close to the
trees that the pine-branches almost brushed the window.
"It will be lovely for him," said Eloise, when, having settled about
terms with Fauchard's wife, we were taking our way back to the
Pavilion. "But will he find it dull when he is not writing his music?"
"If he does," said I, "he can come over to the Pavilion and see you.
Then he will love Etiolles, where he will, no doubt, find friends; and
he has the woods, and Fauchard will take him out with him. Oh, no;
he will not find it dull."
"Toto," said Eloise, as though suddenly remembering something, just
as we reached the drawbridge.
"Yes."
"You remember the day before yesterday you said you would show
me over the château the next time you came. Let us go over it now."
"Very well," I replied. "Wait for me here, and I will get the key."
The Château de Saluce had not been lived in for years—ever since
my mother's death, in fact. But it had been well cared for. Fires had
been lit every fortnight or so to air the rooms during the autumn and
winter; every room had been left in exactly the same state it was in
at my mother's death, and the gardens had been tended and looked
after as though the family were in residence.
"When you marry," said my guardian, "it will make a very nice
present for your wife. Let it! Good God, Patrique, are we
shopkeepers?"
"Here's the key," said I, coming back to Eloise, who had waited for
me at the angle of the drawbridge. She was standing with her elbow
on the drawbridge rail, and her eyes fixed on the water. She seemed
paler than when I had left her; and when I touched her arm she

drew her gaze away from the water lingeringly, as if fascinated by
something she had seen there.
"Toto," said Eloise, "are there fish in the moat?"
"I never hear of any. Why?"
"I saw something white and flat," said Eloise, "deep down. I first
thought it was a flat-fish, then it looked like a ball of mist in the
water deep down, and then it looked like a—a face."
"A face!" said I, laughing, and looking over the bridge-rail and down
into the water.
"I know it was only fancy," said Eloise. "Perhaps I went asleep for a
second and dreamed it. It felt like a dream, and I felt just as a
person feels wakened up from sleep when you touched me on the
arm just now. It was a man's face, pale, and—and—— Ah, well, it
was perhaps only my imagination!"
She shivered, and took my arm; and I led her along a by-path that
took us to the carriage drive and the front door of the château.
The great hall, with its oak gallery and ceiling painted by Boucher,
echoed our footsteps and our voices.
This echo was the defect of the hall, as I have often heard my father
say. The builder of the place had, by some mischance, imprisoned an
echo. She was there, and nothing would dislodge her—everything
had been tried. Architects from Paris had been consulted—even the
great Violette Le Duc himself—without avail. She was there like a
ghost, and nothing would drive her out. Whether she was hiding in
the gallery or the coigns of the ceiling, who can say? But one thing
was certain: her voice changed. It was sometimes louder, sometimes
lower, sometimes harsher, sometimes sweeter; a change caused, I
believe, by atmospheric influence. But superstition takes no account
of atmospheric influence or natural causes. Superstition said that the
echo was the voice of Marianne de Saluce, a girl famed for her
beautiful voice, who, like Antonina in the Violon de Cremone, had

died singing, under tragic circumstances, one winter day here in the
hall of the château, in the late years of the reign of his sun-like
Majesty Louis XIV.
"The blood flowing from her mouth had mixed with her song," said
the old chronicle; and this, with the fact that she was wild, wayward,
and bad, gave superstition groundwork for a conceit not without
charm.
"Marianne!" cried Eloise, when I had told her this tale; and
"Marianna—Marianne!" the ghostly voice replied.
Eloise laughed, and Marianne laughed in reply all along the gallery,
as though she were running from room to room; and, to my mind,
made fanciful by the recollection of the old legend, it seemed that
there was something sinister and sneering in the laughter of
Marianne.
Then I called out myself, making my voice as deep as possible; and
the answer was so horrible as to make us both start. For it was as
though a woman, leaning over the gallery and imitating my man's
voice, were mocking me.
I have never heard anything more hobgoblin, if I may use the
expression.
"Ugh!" said Eloise. "Don't speak to her any more. Speak in whispers;
don't give her the satisfaction of answering. Toto, are those men in
armour your ancestors?"
"They are the shells of old Saluces," I replied. "Eloise, do you
remember the man in armour in the tower of Lichtenberg—the one
who struck the bell?"
"Don't speak of him," said Eloise; "at least, here. The place is
ghostly enough. Shall we go upstairs?"
We went up the broad staircase, peeped into the sitting-rooms and
boudoirs of the first floor, and then up another flight of stairs to the

floor of the bedrooms.
"See the funny little staircase?" said Eloise, when we had looked into
the bedrooms, ghostly and deserted. She was pointing to a narrow
staircase leading from the corridor we were in.
"Let's see where it goes," said I, for it was years since I had
explored this part of the château. "It looks ugly and wicked enough
to lead to a Bluebeard's chamber."
But it did not. It led to a turret room, with four windows looking
north, south, east, and west. A charming little room, with a painted
ceiling, on which cupids disported themselves with doves.
Faded rose-coloured couches were placed at each window; on a
table in the centre lay some old books, dust on their covers. The
view was superb.
One window showed the forest, another the Seine winding blue
through the country of spring, another the country of fields and
gardens, vineyards, and far white roads.
The smoke of Etiolles made a wreath above the poplar-trees.
We sat down on a couch by the window overlooking Etiolles. We
were so close together that I could feel the warmth of her arm
against mine, and her hand hanging loose beside her was so close to
mine that I took it without thinking. The picture outside, the picture
of Nature and the wind-blown trees over which the larks were
carolling and the small white clouds drifting, contrasted strangely
with the room we were in and the silence of the great empty house.
The little hand lying in mine suddenly curled its little finger around
my thumb.
"Eloise!" I said.
She turned her head, her breath, sweet and warm, met my face.
Then I kissed her, not as a brother but as a lover.

CHAPTER XXVII
REMORSE
And I did not love her at all. Nor did she love me. It was just as
though the great tide of Nature had seized us, innocently floating,
and flung us together, drifted us together for a little while, and then
let us part; for we never referred to the matter again after that day.
But a cloud had arisen on my horizon, a cloud no larger than Eloise's
hand.
I installed Franzius at Fauchard's cottage.
He brought his luggage with him, done up in a brown-paper parcel,
under his right arm; under his left he carried his violin. I will never
forget him that afternoon as he stepped from the train at Evry
station, where Eloise and I were waiting to receive him. Such a
Bohemian, bringing the very pavement of Paris with him, the music
of Mirlitons, the gaslight of the Rue Coquenard, and the sawdust of
La Closerie de Lilas.
Unhappy man! Paris had marked him for her own. Heaven itself
could never entirely remove from his exterior the stains and the
scorching, the lines around his eyes drawn during the early hours in
dancing hall and café, the bruised look that poverty, hunger, and
cold impress upon the servants who wait upon the Muses—the lower
servants, whose place is the courtyard! But the stains and the
scorching had not reached his soul; like Shadrach he had passed
through the burning fiery furnace and come out a living man.
Besides his luggage and his violin he was carrying some rolls of
music-paper.

We walked to the Pavilion, and from there through the woods to
Fauchard's cottage. The bees were working in the little garden, and
the pearl-white pigeons were drawn up in parade order on the roof
as if to receive us. Never seemed so loud the shouting and laughter
of the birds, never so beautiful the rambler roses round the porch!
The humble things of Nature seemed to have put themselves en fête
to welcome back their own.
I did not go to Etiolles for some days after this. A new era of my life
had begun.
And now it was that the truth of the Vicomte's philosophy was borne
in upon me:
"You are getting yourself into a position from which you cannot
escape with honour. You cannot marry Mademoiselle Feliciani, for
Paris would not receive her as your wife."
What was I to do with her? Of course, a man of the world would
have answered the question promptly; but I was not a man of the
world. And the summer went on; and I was taken about to balls and
fêtes by my guardian, and as I was young, not bad-looking, and
wealthy, I was well received.
The summer went on, the cuckoos hoarsened in the forest of Sénart,
the splendour of Nature deepened, the corn in the fields at Evry was
tall and yellow, the grapes in the vineyards full-globed, and the
dragon-flies had attained the zenith of their magnificence, and all
day mirrored themselves in the moat of the Pavilion. Franzius, lost in
his music and in the paradise in which he found himself, had got
back years of his youth. His genius, clipped and held back, had
suddenly burst into bloom. He was projecting and carrying out a
great work—an opera founded on an old German legend. Carvalho
had inspected some of the scores, and had become enthusiastic. All
was well with Franzius, but not with Eloise. As the summer went on
she seemed to droop.

At first I thought it was only my fancy, but by the end of July I was
certain.
Franzius was a frequent visitor at the Pavilion. When he was there
with us she seemed bright and gay, but when we found ourselves
alone she grew abstracted and sad. Her cheeks had lost colour, and
Madame Ancelot declared that she did not eat. The meaning of all
this was plain—at least, I thought so. She cared for me.
This thought, which would have given a lover joy, filled me with
deep sadness. I had offered and given the girl my protection,
Heaven knows, from the highest motives. And now behold the
imbroglio! If she cared for me, it was my duty to marry her and give
her a future. If I married her, society would not receive her as my
wife. I had, in fact, in trying to make her future happy, gone a long
way towards ruining my own. Heaven knows, if I had loved her, little
I would have cared for society; but the mischief and the misery of
the thing was just that—I did not love her.
I felt a repulsion towards her whenever the idea of love came into
my mind, with her image. It was as if a man, who, tasting a fruit in a
sudden fit of hunger and finding it nauseous and insipid, were
suddenly condemned to eat of that fruit for ever after, and none
other.
And I had the whole of life before me, and I would be tied to a
woman all through life—to a woman I did not love! And the worst
part of the whole business was the fact that I could get out of the
whole thing as easily as a man steps out of a cab—as easily as a
man crushes a flower. And that was what bound me.
To stay in the affair, to be made party to my own social ruin, was the
most difficult business on earth.
Days of argument I spent with myself. The two terrible logicians that
live in every man's brain fought it out; there was no escaping from
the conclusion: "If you have made this girl love you, you must ask
her to be your wife, for under the guise of a brother's friendship you

have treated her just as any of these Boulevard sots and fools would
have treated her. Oh, don't talk of Nature and sudden impulse—that
is just the argument they would use! You did this thing
unpremeditatedly, we will admit. Well, you have your whole life to
meditate over the reparation and to make it. Faults of this
description are ugly toys made by the devil, and they have to be
paid for with either your happiness or your soul. Of course, you can
treat her as your mistress; and she, poor child, tossed already about
and bruised by the waves of chance, would be content. But would
you? Would you be content to thrust still deeper in the mud of life
this creature that fate has thrown on your hands? The powers of
darkness have surely conspired against this unfortunate being. She,
a daughter of the Felicianis, has been dragged in the mire of Paris.
Would you be on the side of darkness too?"
That was what my heart said against all the arguments of my head.
And so it remained.
"To-morrow," said I, "I will go to Etiolles, and I will ask Eloise to be
my wife."
That afternoon, walking in the Rue de Rivoli, I saw Franzius—
Franzius, whom I imagined to be at Fauchard's cottage, green
leagues away from Paris! He was walking rapidly. I had to run to
catch him up; and when he turned his face I saw that he was in
trouble. He was without his violin.
"Why, Franzius," I cried, "what are you doing here, and what ails
you? Have you lost your violin?"
"Oh, my friend!" said Franzius. "What ails me? I am in trouble. No, I
have not lost my violin, I have forgotten it—it has ceased to be, for
me. Ah, yes, there is no more music in life! The birds have ceased
singing, the blue sky has gone—Germany calls me back."
"Good heavens!" I said. "What's the matter? You haven't left Etiolles
for good, have you?"

"Oh, no! I am going back for a few days. I came to Paris to-day to
seek relief—to hear the streets—to forget——"
"To forget what? Come, tell me what has happened."
"Not now," said Franzius. "I cannot tell you now. To-morrow I will
call on you at your house in the Place Vendôme. Then I will tell you."
That was all I could get from him; and off he went, having first
wrung both my hands, the tears running down his face so that the
passers-by turned to look and wonder at him.
"Come early to-morrow," I called out after him as he went. Then I
pursued my way home to the Place Vendôme, wondering at the
meaning of what I had seen and troubled at heart.

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE OLD COAT
Next morning I sent Joubert to my guardian's apartments with a
message craving an interview.
It was nine o'clock, and the old gentleman received me in his
dressing-room and in his dressing-gown. Beril had just shaved him,
and he was examining his rubicund, jovial face in a hand-mirror. The
place smelt of Parma violets and shaving-soap. It was like the
dressing-room of a duchess, so elaborate were the fittings and so
complex the manicure instruments and toilet arrangements set out
on the dressing-table.
"Leave me, Beril," said the old gentleman, when he had made a little
bow to my reflection in the big mirror facing him. Then, taking up a
tooth instrument—for, like M. Chateaubriand, he kept on his toilet-
table a set of dental instruments with which he doctored his own
pearly teeth—he motioned me to take a seat and proceed.
"I have come this morning, monsieur, to place my position before
you and to tell you of a serious step in life which I have decided to
take."
"Yes?" replied the Vicomte, tenderly tapping with the little steel
instrument on a front tooth, as though he were questioning it as to
its health.
"You told me once that I was getting myself into a difficult position.
Well, as a matter of fact——"
"You have?"
"Yes, monsieur."

Then I told him everything.
When I had finished, the old gentleman put away the tooth
instrument, folded his dressing-gown more closely round him, and
examined contemplatively his hands, of which he was very proud.
"The only thing that would have surprised me," said he at last,
"would have been if all this had not occurred. Well, now, let us make
the best of it. We will assure her future, and she will forget."
"Monsieur, I am this morning about to offer Mademoiselle Feliciani
my hand in marriage."
My guardian, who had been attending to his left-hand little finger
with an ivory polisher, turned in his chair and looked at me. He saw I
was in earnest. The blow was severe, yet his power of restraint was
so great that his face did not alter.
Only the hand which held the ivory manicure instrument trembled
slightly.
"You have decided on this step?"
"Absolutely, monsieur."
"You know, of course, it will mean your social ruin, and, as you do
not love the girl, the ruin of your happiness?"
"I am aware of all that, monsieur—bitterly."
My guardian sighed, rubbed his chin softly, and, for a moment,
seemed plunged in a profound reverie.
"I am growing old," said he. "I have no children. I looked upon you
almost as a child of mine. I made plans for your future, a
magnificent future; I took pleasure to introduce you to my friends, in
seeing you well dressed. With the Emperor at your right hand you
would have made a very great figure in society, monsieur. Ah, yes,
you might have been what you would! And now, in a moment, this
has all vanished. Excuse me if I complain. Of course, as you are not

of full age I could compel you not to take this step. I could, as a
matter of fact, sequestrate you; but I know your spirit, and I am not
a believer in brute force. Well, well, what can I say? You come and
tell me this thing—your suicide would sadden me less than this
marriage which will be your social death. You are a man, and it is
not for me to treat you as though you were a child. Think once again
on the matter, and then—— Why, then act as your will directs."
He rang the bell for Beril to complete his toilet, and I left the room
smitten to the heart. His unaffected sadness, his kindness, his
straightforwardness would have moved me from my course if
anything mortal could have done so.
Yet I left the room with my determination unshaken.
I was coming down the stairs when a footman accosted me on the
first landing.
"A person has called to see you, monsieur, and I have shown him
into the library."
I turned to the library, opened the door, and found myself engulfed
in the arms of Franzius.
"Mind the violin, mind the violin!" I cried, for he was carrying it, and
I felt the bridge snapping against my chest. Then I held him at arm's
length.
He was radiant, laughing like a boy. He had come from Etiolles, all
the way on foot, and all the joy that had been bottled up in him
during the twenty-four miles' tramp had burst loose.
"And now," I said, laughing, too, from the infection of his gaiety,
"what is it?"
"Oh, my friend," said Franzius, "she loves me!"
"Good heavens! Who?"

But you might just as well have questioned the Sud Express going
full speed.
"Yesterday you saw me—I was in despair. I had not understood
aright. She had not understood me. She thought I cared for nothing
but my music; she did not know that my music was herself—that her
soul had entered into me, that she was me——"
"But stay!" I cried, recalling to mind all the women at Etiolles, from
Madame Fauchard to Elise, the station-master's pretty daughter;
recalling to my mind all but the right one. "But, stay!"
"That she was me, that my music was her—that every strand of her
golden hair, every motion of her lips, every——"
Ah, then it began to dawn on me!
"Franzius," I cried, suddenly seizing him by the shoulders, "Franzius,
is it Mademoiselle Eloise?"
"They call her that," replied the stricken one, "but for me she is my
soul."
Then I embraced Franzius. It was the first time in my life that I had
"embraced" a man French fashion. He and his old violin I took in my
arms, nearly crushing them. Fool! fool! Double fool that I was not to
have seen it before! Her sadness when I was with her, the way she
lighted up when he was near! And I had fancied that she was in love
with me!
There was a grain of cynical bitterness in that recollection, but so
small a grain that it was swallowed up, perished for ever, in the
honest joy that filled my heart.
I had done the right thing, I had prepared to sacrifice myself, and
this was my reward.
Then the recollection of the old man upstairs came to me, and,
bidding Franzius to wait for me, I ran from the room. I saw a servant

on the stairs and called to him to bring wine and cigars to the
gentleman in the library; then, two steps at a time, up I went to the
dressing-room.
I knocked and opened the door without waiting for a reply. Beril was
tying my guardian's cravat. I took him by the shoulders and marched
him out of the room.
"Saved!" cried I to the astonished Vicomte as I stood with my back
to the door and he stood opposite me, his striped satin cravat
hanging loose and his hand half reaching for the bell.
Then I told him all, and he saw that I was not mad.
"Is he downstairs, this Monsieur Franzius?" asked my guardian when
I had finished my tale and he had finished congratulating me.
"Yes."
"I would like to see him. Ask him to déjeûner."
"He's rather—— I mean, you know, he's a Bohemian; does not
bother much about dress and that sort of thing—so you must not
expect to see a Boulevardier."
"My dear sir," said the old man with delightful gaiety, "if one is in a
burning building, does one trouble about the colour of the fire
escape that saves one from destruction, or if it has been new
painted? Ask him to déjeûner though he came dressed as a red
Indian!"
Franzius, when I found him in the library, would not touch the wine
or cigars I had ordered up; he was in a frame of mind far above
such earthly things. I made him sit down, and, taking a seat
opposite to him, listened while he told me the whole affair.
He declared that the idea of love for Eloise had never come to him of
itself; he was far too humble to worship her, except as one worships
the sun. It was his music that said to him: "She loves you, and you

love her. Listen to me: Am I not beautiful? I am the child of your
soul and hers; divine love has brought you together so that you
might create me. I will exist for ever, for I am the child of two
immortal souls."
"Then, my friend," said Franzius, "I knew what love was—it is the
birth of music in the heart, it is the music itself, the little birds try to
tell us this. I had loved her without knowing from the first day; and
when knowledge came to me I was still dumb; dumb as a miser who
speaks not of his gold; till yesterday, when I told her all. She cried
out and ran from me, and hid herself in the house, and I thought
she was offended. I thought she did not love me, I thought the
music had lied to me, and that there was no God, that the flowers
were fiends in disguise, the sun a goblin. I came to Paris, I walked
here and there, I met you, my distress was great. Then I returned to
Etiolles. It was evening, towards sunset, and, coming through the
wood near the Pavilion, I saw her.
"She had taken her seat on the root of an old tree; her basket of
needlework was by her side, and in her lap was an old coat; she had
made me bring it to the Pavilion some days before, saying she would
mend it. I thought she had forgotten it, but now it was in her lap;
her needle was in her hand, and she had just finished mending a
rent in the sleeve. Then she held it up as if to see were there any
more to be done; then—she kissed it."
"So that——"
"Ah, my friend, all is right with me now. I have come home to the
home that has been waiting for me all these weary years. Often
when I have looked back at my wanderings I have said to myself,
Why? It all seemed so useless and leading nowhere—such a zig-zag
road here and there across Europe on foot, poor as ever when the
year was done. But now I see that every footstep of that journey
was a footstep nearer to her, and I praise God."

He ceased, and I bowed my head. The holy spirit of Love seemed
present in that room, and I dared not break the sacred silence with
words.
It was broken by the opening of the door, and the cheery voice of M.
le Vicomte bidding me introduce him to my friend.

CHAPTER XXIX
IN THE SUNK GARDEN
I shall never forget that déjeûner, and the kindness of my guardian
to poor Franzius. The tall footmen who served us may have
wondered at this very unaccustomed guest; but had the Emperor
been sitting in Franzius' place M. le Vicomte could not have laid
himself out more to please. And from no hidden motive. Franzius
was his guest, he had invited him to déjeûner, he saw the Bohemian
was ill at ease in his strange surroundings, and with exquisite
delicacy only attainable by a man of good birth, trained in all the
subtleties of life, he set himself the task of setting his guest at ease.
When the meal was over we went into the smoking-room; and then,
and only then, did M. le Vicomte refer to the question of Eloise in a
few well-chosen words.
Then he dismissed us as though we were schoolboys; and I took the
musician off to see my apartments.
Now, I am Irish, or at least three parts Irish, and I suppose that
accounts for some eccentricities in my conduct of affairs. I am sure
that it accounts for the fact that my joy up to this had carried me
along so irresistibly and so pleasantly that I had not once looked
back.
It was when I opened the door of my sitting-room that memory, or
perhaps conscience, woke up to deal my happiness a blow.
The man beside me knew nothing of Eloise's past. Or did he?
Never, I thought, as I looked at him. His happiness is new-born, it
has been stained by no cloud. She has told him nothing.

I sat down and watched him as he roamed about the room,
examining the works of art, the pictures, and the hundred-and-one
things, pretty or quaint; costly toys for the grown-up.
I sat and watched him.
An overmastering impulse came upon me to go at once to Etiolles,
see Eloise, and speak to her alone, if possible.
"Come," I said, "let us go down to the Pavilion. I want a breath of
country air. Paris is smothering me. Shall we start?"
He went to the library to fetch his violin, and we left the house.
We took the train. It was a glorious September day; they were
carting the corn at Evry; and the country, warm and mellow from the
long, hot summer, was covered by the faintest haze, a gauze of heat
that paled the horizon, making a diaphanous film from which the sky
rose in a dome of perfect blue.
The little gardens by the way were filled with autumn flowers—
stocks and hollyhocks and Michaelmas daisies—simple and old-
fashioned flowers, great bouquets with which God fills the hands of
the poor, more beautiful than all the treasures of Parma and
Bordighera.
A child of six, a son of one of the railway porters, bound also for
Etiolles on a message, tramped with us. Franzius carried him on his
shoulder part of the way, and bought him sweets at the village shop.
Eloise was not at the Pavilion. Madame Ancelot said she had taken
her sewing and was in the sun-garden of the Château, and there we
sought for her. This garden, small and protected from the east wind
by a palisaded screen, was the prettiest place imaginable. It was at
the back of the Château, and steps from it led up to the rose-
garden. It had in its centre a square marble pond from which a
Triton blew thin jets of water for ever at the sky.

Eloise was seated on a small grassy bank; her workbasket was
beside her; and she was engaged in some needlework which she
held in her lap.
She made a pretty picture against the hollyhocks which lined the
bank; and prettier still she looked when, hearing our footsteps, she
cast her work aside and ran to meet us.
With a swift glance at Franzius, she ran straight to me and took both
my hands in hers.
"He has told you?" said she, looking up full and straight into my
face, full and straight with perfect candour and firm eyes more liquid
and beautiful than the blue of heaven washed by the early dawn.
"He has told me," I replied, holding her hands in mine.
All the sadness and pain that my past relationship with her had
caused me was now banished, for I could read in her eyes, or, blind
that I was, I thought I could read in her eyes, that the past was for
her not in the new world in which she found herself.
We sat down on the little grassy bank, and talked things over, the
three of us. Three people who had found a treasure could not have
been more happily jubilant as we talked of the future.
"And you know," said I, "you will never want money. Franzius will be
rich with his music; and even should he never care to write again, I
have a large sum of money in trust for you. Oh, don't ask who gave
it in trust for you both! It is there."
We talked till the dusk fell and star after star came out.
So dark was it when I left that a tiny point of light in Eloise's hair
made me hold her head close to look. It was a glow-worm that had
fallen from the bending hollyhocks.
It seemed to me like a little star that God had placed there as a
portent of fortune and happiness.

When I got back to Paris my guardian was out.
I went to my rooms to think things over. My thoughts had received a
new orientation. I remembered my delight that morning on finding
myself free—free of all that heaven!
Ah, if I could only have loved her as Franzius did!
What, then, was this thing called Love, which I had never known,
the thing which I had never guessed till to-day, till this evening,
there in the sunk garden of Saluce, in the dusk so filled with the
sound of unseen wings and the music of an unknown tongue?
Some drawing things were on the table.
I have always been a fair artist, and sketching has been one of my
few amusements.
Almost mechanically I took a pencil, and tried to sketch the face of
Eloise Feliciani.
But it was not the face of Eloise Feliciani that appeared on the paper.
I gazed on it, when it was finished, in troubled amazement. It was
the face of a woman—yet it was also the portrait of a child. Ah, yes;
beyond any doubt of memory it was the face of Margaret von
Lichtenberg, the old portrait in the gallery of Schloss Lichtenberg!
Yet it was the face, also, of little Carl!

CHAPTER XXX
THE MARRIAGE OF ELOISE
"We will give them a good send-off," said my guardian, as, some
days later, we discussed the matter of Eloise's wedding. "Let them
be married at Etiolles; have the village en fête. I will settle for it all."
The proposition seemed good; nowhere could one find a more
suitable spot for such a wedding than the little church of Etiolles; yet
it met with opposition.
Franzius was not a man to forget his friends. He had many in the
Latin Quarter, and he was a peasant born, with a peasant's instincts.
Birth, marriage, and death, those three supreme events in the life of
man, are more insistent in their ceremonial amidst the poor than the
rich. To Franzius it would have been a strange thing to marry
without inviting to the ceremony the people who were his friends;
and the journey to Etiolles would be too far for some of these.
Then, it was impossible for the marriage to be solemnised in a
church, for the simple reason that he was a Lutheran and Eloise had
been born a Catholic. So it was arranged to take place on the 1st of
October at the Mairie of the quarter which includes the Rue Dijon.
It was to be quite a simple affair, a wedding such as takes place
every day amongst the bourgeoisie, with the additional lustre that
the presence of the Vicomte Armand de Chatellan would lend to the
proceedings.
It was a lovely day. It had rained during the night, but the morning
broke nearly cloudless, and there was that feeling of spring in the
air, that freshness which comes sometimes in autumn like the
reminiscence of May.

Franzius had slept the night at the Place Vendôme; and I must say,
dressed in a brand-new suit of clothes and with a flower in his
buttonhole, he never looked worse in his life. Dressed in his old
clothes, with his violin under his arm, he was picturesque, but now
he looked like a tailor out for a holiday, and I told him so, to keep up
his spirits, as we breakfasted hurriedly and without appetite, but
with a good deal of gaiety.
Eloise was to come from Saluce in one of the Vicomte's carriages,
and he was to accompany her to the Mairie, where we were to wait
for them. Noon was the hour of the ceremony; and when we arrived
at the Mairie the place was crowded: four other couples, it seemed,
were to be united that day, and we were third on the list.
The people whom Franzius had invited were there already: not
many, scarcely a dozen, and mostly men, musicians with long hair
and German accents; his landlady of the Rue Dijon and her
daughter, a cripple dressed for the occasion in a newly starched
white frock and blue sash; and a young lady of the sempstress type,
pale-faced and modest, and seeming dazed with the grandeur of the
officials in their chains and all the paraphernalia of the law.
For a moment a pang went to my heart to think that a daughter of
the Felicianis was to be married here amidst these folks like one of
them. But it soon passed. The Archbishop of Paris, the choir of Notre
Dame, the congregated aristocracy of France, could not have added
one whit to the beauty of the marriage or to its sanctity.
I had dreaded that in the fulness of his heart and his simplicity
Franzius might have invited undesirable guests. The vision of
Changarnier appearing like an evil beast had horrified me. But my
fears were set at rest. Leave the simple-hearted alone, and they
rarely make mistakes. Franzius' guests, humble though they might
be, were of the aristocracy of the poor, good, kind-hearted, and
honest people.

At ten minutes to noon the Vicomte arrived, with Eloise on his arm.
How charming she looked, in that simple, old-fashioned wedding-
gown which she had made for herself! And how charming the
Vicomte was, insisting on being introduced to everyone, chatting,
laughing, immeasurably above everyone else, yet suffusing the
wedding-party with his own grace and greatness so that everyone
felt elevated instead of dwarfed!
And I never have been able to determine in my mind whether it was
natural goodness, or just gentility polished to its keenest edge, that
made this old libertine so lovable.
After the ceremony carriages conveyed the wedding-party to the
Café Royale in the Boulevard St. Michel.
The Vicomte had, through Beril, made all arrangements; and in a
room flower-decked, and filled with the sunlight and sounds of the
boulevard, we sat down to déjeûner.
Scarcely had we begun than the waiters announced two gentlemen,
at the same time handing the Vicomte de Chatellan two cards.
"Show them up," said my guardian, "and lay two more covers."
It was the great Carvalho, who, hearing indirectly from my guardian
of the marriage, had come, bringing with him the director of the
Opera.
You may be sure we made room for them. And what a good omen it
seemed—better than a flight of white doves—these two well-fed,
prosperous, commonplace individuals, who held the music of France
in their hands, and the laurel-wreaths!
They did not stay long, just long enough to pay their compliments
and drink success to the bride and bridegroom.
Just before departing, Carvalho whispered to me: "His opera is
accepted. He will hear officially to-morrow. It will be produced in
April, or, at latest, May."

PART III

CHAPTER XXXI
THE BALL
"By the way," said my guardian, "how are you off for money?"
We were driving back from the station, having seen the newly
married couple off on their honeymoon.
"Oh, pretty well," I replied. "Why do you ask?"
He did not seem to hear my reply, but sat gazing out of the carriage-
window at the streets we were passing through, and the people,
gazing at them contemplatively and from Olympian heights, after the
fashion of a god gazing upon beetles.
When we reached the Place Vendôme, he drew me into the library.
"I have been on the point of speaking to you several times lately
about money," said he. "Not about personal expenses, but about the
bulk of your fortune. It is invested in French securities. Clement, our
lawyer, has the number and names of them. They are all good
securities, paying good dividends; they are the securities in which I
myself have invested my money. Well, I am selling out——"
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Selling out—realising. I am collecting my money, marshalling my
francs, and marching them out of France into England. I propose to
do the same with yours."
"But," said I, "is that safe, to have all our money in a foreign
country? Suppose that there should be war?"
The Vicomte laughed.

"You have said the words. Suppose there should be war? France
would be smashed like a ball of glass—ouf. Do you think I am blind?
At the Tuileries, at the Quai d'Orsay, they speak of M. le Vicomte de
Chatellan as a very nice man, perhaps, but out of date—out of date;
at the War Minister's it is the same—out of date. Meanwhile, I know
the machine. I have counted the batteries of artillery and the
regiments of the line on paper, and I have counted them in the field,
and contrasted the difference. Not that I care a halfpenny for the
things in themselves, but they are the protectors of my money; and
as such I look after them. I have reviewed the personality of the
people at the Tuileries—not that I care a halfpenny for their
psychological details, but they are the stewards of my money; and I
examine their physiognomies and their lives to see if they are worthy
of trust. I look at society—not that I care a halfpenny for the morals
of society, but because the health of society is essential to the health
of the State. Now, what do I see? I speak not from any moral
standpoint, but just as a man speaks who is anxious about the
safety of his money. What do I see? Widespread corruption;
peculators hiding peculators—from the man who hides the rotten
army contract at the Ministry of War to the man who hides the
rottenness of the fodder in the barrack-stable. Widespread
corruption; Ministers the servants of vice, each duller than Jocrisse;
marshals as wooden and as useless as their bâtons; skeleton
regiments, batteries without cannon, cannon without horses; no
esprit; an army of gamins with cigarette-stained fingers and guns in
their hands."
The old gentleman, who for seventeen years or so had been in a
state of chronic irritation with the Second Empire and its makers,
paused in his peregrinations up and down the room, and snapped
his fingers. I sat listening in astonishment, for to me, who only saw
the varnish and the glitter, France seemed triumphant amongst the
nations as the Athena of the Parthenon amongst statues; and the
French Army, from the Cent Gardes at the Tuileries to the drummer-
boy of the last line regiment, the ne plus ultra of efficacy, splendour,
and strength.

He went on:
"Tell me: when you see a house in disorder, bills unpaid, the
servants liars and rogues, inefficient and useless, dust swept under
the beds, and nothing clean about the place except perhaps the
windows and the door-handle: whom do you accuse but the master
and the mistress? A nation is a house, and France is a nation. I say
no more. I have been a guest at the Tuileries; and it is not for me,
who have partaken of their hospitality, to speak against the rulers of
France. But I will not allow them to play ducks and drakes with my
money. In short, my friend, in my opinion my money is no longer
safe in France, and I am going to move it to a place of safety. I have
been uneasy for some time, but of late I am not uneasy—I am
frightened. I smell disaster."
He did.
Now, in October, 1869, from evidence in my possession, the fate of
France was already definitely fixed. Bismarck had decided on war. He
had not the slightest enmity toward France, nothing but contempt
for her and for the wretched marionettes playing at Royalty in the
Tuileries. He was assisting at the birth of the great German Empire,
that giant who in a short twelve months was to leap living and
armed from the womb of Time. The destruction of France was the
surgical operation necessary for the birth—that was all. In October,
1869, the last rivets of the giant's armour were being welded.
My guardian knew nothing of this; yet that extraordinary man had
already scented the coming ruin, guessing from the corruption
around him the birds of prey beyond the frontier.
"Thank you!" said he, when I had given him permission to deal with
my fortunes as his judgment dictated. "And now you have just time
to dress for dinner. Remember, you are to accompany me to-night to
the ball at the Marquis d'Harmonville's."
I went off to my own rooms not overjoyed. Society functions never
appealed to me, and balls were my detestation, for then my

lameness was brought into evidence. Condemned not to dance, it
was bitter to see other young people enjoying themselves, and to
have to stand by and watch them, pretending to oneself not to care.
My lameness, though I have dwelt little upon it, was the bane of my
life. I fancied that everyone noticed it, and either pitied me or
ridiculed me. It was a bitter thing, tainting all my early manhood; it
made me avoid young people, and people of the opposite sex. I
have seen girls looking at me, and have put their regard down to
ridicule or pity—fool that I was!
Joubert put out my evening clothes. Joubert of late had grown more
testy than ever, and more domineering. He spent his life in incessant
warfare with Beril, the factotum of my guardian; and the extra
acidity that he could not vent on Beril he served up to me. But it was
the business of Eloise and Franzius (that lot, as he called them)
which he had now, to use a vulgar expression, in his nose.
"Not those boots," said I, as he took a pair of patent-leather boots
from their resting-place. "Dancing shoes!"
"Dancing shoes!" said Joubert, putting the boots back. "Ah, yes; I
forgot that monsieur was a dancer."
"You forgot no such thing, for you know very well I do not dance,
but one does not go to a ball in patent-leather boots. You like to
fling my lameness in my face. You are turning into vinegar these
times. I will pension you, and send you off to the country to live, if
M. le Vicomte does not do what he has threatened to do."
"And what may that be?" asked the old fellow, with the impudent air
of a naughty child.
"He says he'll put you and Beril in a sack and drop you in the Seine,
if he has any more trouble with the pair of you—always fighting like
a couple of old cats."
"Old, indeed!" replied Joubert. "Ma foi! it well becomes a young man
like the Vicomte to think of age! And did I make you lame? More

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Forms And Concepts Concept Formation In The Platonic Tradition Christoph Helmig

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