PE

 

Catalogue Raisonné of J. L. Speranza’s Publications – H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Pe

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Peano – Ossia: Grice e Peano: la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale, il deutero-esperanto di Grice, formalisti ed informalisti, modernisti e neotradizionalisti, e la riforma della lingua d’Italia. Citato da Croce nella “Logica, o della sicenza del concetto”.  Giuseppe Peano (Spinetta di Cuneo, Piemonte): la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale, il deutero-esperanto di Grice, formalisti ed informalisti, modernisti e neotradizionalisti, e la riforma della lingua d’Italia. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning locates intelligibility in the rational practice of talk: what a speaker means is often underdetermined by what is said, and hearers bridge the gap by assuming cooperation and applying defeasible norms of relevance, sufficiency, and perspicuity to derive implicatures that are, in principle, calculable and cancellable. Peano represents a complementary but contrasting response to the same problem of meaning: instead of relying on pragmatic inference in ordinary language, he seeks to reduce interpretive latitude by engineering explicit form—through logical notation (including devices later used in the theory of definite descriptions) and through linguistic reform projects like Latino sine flexione, aimed at clarity, economy, and unambiguity by design. The comparison, then, is that Grice explains why ordinary discourse works despite leaving so much implicit, because conversationalists are rational agents who can responsibly recover intended content, whereas Peano tries to make as much as possible explicit in the code itself, shifting work from conversational interpretation to formal derivation; Grice’s “conversational reason” is an account of how meaning is reliably inferred in interaction, while Peano’s “formalist reason” is the aspiration to a system in which what would otherwise be left to implicature is stated, defined, and provably manipulable. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning is fundamentally pragmatic and inferential: what a speaker means is not exhausted by sentence-meaning but is reconstructed by a rational hearer who assumes cooperation and applies norms (maxims) to derive implicatures in a way that is, in principle, calculable and cancellable; the “reason” is lodged in the interpersonal practice of interpreting intentions against shared standards of relevance, sufficiency, and so on. Peano, by contrast, represents the formalist impulse that Grice both admired and resisted: Peano’s logical work (including notations later central to Russell and Whitehead, and the iota operator used for definite descriptions) aims to regiment meaning by explicit formal devices, and his Latino sine flexione project (introduced in 1903 in his Revue de Mathématiques in the article De Latino sine flexione, lingua auxiliare internationale) pursues clarity, economy, and unambiguity by engineering the code itself—reducing morphology, standardizing forms, and making interpretation depend less on contextual guesswork. So the comparison is that Grice explains how ordinary language remains intelligible despite underdetermination because conversationalists are rational agents who manage the gap between “what is said” and “what is meant” through principled inference (implicature is a feature, not a bug), whereas Peano seeks to minimize that gap by design, shifting communicative work from pragmatic inference to explicit logical form and controlled linguistic structure; Grice’s “conversational reason” is a theory of how humans reliably transcend literal content in practice, while Peano’s “reason” is the aspiration to a language and notation in which much of what would otherwise be left to implicature is made overt, derivable, and surveyable—two complementary responses to the same problem of meaning, one interpretive and interactional, the other constructive and formal. Citato da Croce nella “Logica, o della sicenza del concetto”. L’unico italiano citato da nome da Croce nella Logica. La polemica Croce e il logicismo. Croce, P., e la lingua universal – Per che la lingua d’Italia non e formale per Croce. Grice: “My type of philosopher; he quotes from Breal, Mueller – I wish I could!” Grice: “As I reduce “the” to “every,” I am of course following Peano, who predates Russell!” -- important Italian philosopher. Linceo. P. Fa la sua comparsa una delle proposte di lingua internazionale inventata d’italiani che conosce più risonanza, il latino sine flexione di Peano, presentato nella Revue de Mathématique -- La Revue de Mathématique è creata dallo stesso P. Egli, assieme a molti altri filosofi, vi pubblica  propri studi e ricerche sulla logica e sulla storia della matematica. Il suo creatore non è in realtà un linguista o un esperto di lettere - sebbene partecipa più volte a dei congressi dove vienneno discussi problemi, oltre che di matematica, anche di filosofia, didattica e linguistica - ma, come per altri filosofi, i suoi interessi principali sono la matematica e la geometria. Dopo frequentare il liceo classico a Torino, s’iscrive al corso di laurea di matematica e nello stesso anno in cui consegue la laurea comincia ad insegnare presso Torino alla cattedre di algebra, geometria analitica, e calcolo infinitesimale. Grice on ‘Fido is shaggy,’ – “It is impossible to expect the philosopher to provide meaning-specifications for all parts of speech, so I will restrict myself to the ‘predicate,’ “shaggy.””. Vedasi sullo stesso soggetto il saggio su «Discussione de  Academia prò Interlingua. Implicatura, l’operatore iota, sull’articolo definito, sull’operatore ‘iota’, Deutero-Esperanto, l’errore di Quine, il carattere non primitive dell’operatore iota, Definite descriptions in Peano and in the vernacular, semantica filosofica. Grice: “St John’s, 1953. I’ve had it with Quine. Strawson, on the other hand, has not—this is about our joint seminar, in which Quine keeps turning up like a travelling evangelist with a single tract: Principia Mathematica here, Principia Mathematica there, Principia Mathematica everywhere. Don’t they have a Bible in Cambridge, Massachusetts, as well? What irritates me is Quine’s breezy attitude toward Peano. The man behaves as if logic began in Russell’s rooms and ended in Harvard Yard. Yet it was Peano’s idea to define the “inverted iota” for definite descriptions by appeal to identity—indeed, to the Leibnizian thought that if there is exactly one such-and-such, then anything identical with it must share all its properties. Peano did the typographical genius; Russell did the publicity; and Quine does the shrug. I suppose, in time, Quine will concede the point—after enough correspondence, and after Russell has finished his long detour via Frege, imitating the Hun when he might have whistled an Italian tune all the way in and out. G.: Let us begin where the Italians begin, which is not with modesty but with a Formulario. S.: Good. One likes a philosophy that begins by printing itself in columns. G.: Peano had the great advantage of believing that if one cannot make meaning behave, one can at least make symbols behave. That alone separates him from most of Oxford. S.: Be fair. Oxford behaved with symbols, too. It simply pretended not to enjoy them. G.: Peano enjoyed them openly, which is more dignified. One starts with the old Formulario style and sees at once what sort of mind is at work: order first, ambiguity later, if at all. A little epsilon for membership, a turned C for implication, a binder for universality, and the unmistakable smell of a man who thinks ordinary language has been left unsupervised too long. S.: And no conversational remorse. G.: None. Peano’s moral is simple: if a thing can be made explicit, then make it explicit. Reduce the room for hearsay, irony, tact, and all the other civilised vices. S.: Whereas your later moral would be: if a thing is left implicit, someone with good sense may still recover it. G.: Exactly. Which is why Peano interests me. He is not the enemy. He is the formal relative whose will one resents and admires in equal measure. S.: Let us get the notation clear before Oxford muddies it. G.: Very well. In the old Peano-Russell line, universality is basic and existence is the marked case. One writes something like (x)(Fx ⊃ Gx) for for every x, if x is F then x is G. S.: No inverted A. G.: No. That arrives later, in 1935, with Gentzen, who clearly had more eye for symmetry than the earlier generation. S.: And existence? G.: There one has the explicit sign, the inverted E. So one writes (∃x)(Fx) for there exists an x such that x is F. S.: So “all” is treated as default. G.: More or less. Or rather: universal quantification has the basic binder notation, and existence gets the marked badge. That is the style Russell and Whitehead inherit. One sees at once why Principia writes (x)Fx rather than ∀xFx. S.: And if Peano wanted membership and implication? G.: Then he is entirely at home. One writes x ε a for x belongs to a, and (x)(x ε a ⊃ x ε b) for everything in a is in b. S.: Which is perfectly clear and perfectly bloodless. G.: Those two things often coincide in logic. S.: And if he wanted an existential example? G.: Something of the form (∃x)(x ε a) which simply says: there exists at least one thing in a. S.: One can see why the man was useful to Russell. G.: Useful and embarrassing. Russell learned modern symbolic logic first through Peano, or at least first found the thing intellectually alive through him. Then Frege turned up as the deeper source of certain conceptual revolutions, and the family romance became complicated. S.: So we are now at the Oxford part. G.: Inevitably. Oxford likes to inherit by way of embarrassment. By the late 1930s, if one said “modern logic” in Oxford, one very likely meant something Russellian. But Russellian means, at once, Peano-shaped in notation and increasingly Fregean in conceptual depth. S.: And Whitehead? G.: Whitehead stands there in the title page and in the lineage, but for the undergraduate atmosphere one suspects Russell mattered more directly. A PPE logic paper would not have been a pure Principia baptism. It would have been a mixture: Johnson, Keynes perhaps, the old British logic inheritance, and then the more modern symbolic prestige arriving through Russell. S.: So if a young tutor at St John’s in the late 1930s is coaching a younger man for a logic paper, the whole thing is already mixed. G.: Precisely. One must imagine a young don who has read enough Russell to know what modernity is supposed to look like, enough Oxford to know that modernity must not become vulgar, and enough Greats to suspect that the square of opposition will be back before the week is out. S.: And the younger man is Strawson. G.: Let us allow him to be. St John’s, some term around 1938 or 1939. Grice is already there in official clothing; Strawson is changing subject and learning what Oxford calls logic while everyone around him quietly means several different things by the word. S.: One term of logic tuition, as legend has it. G.: One term is more than enough in Oxford if the minds are suitable. S.: And Peano would have been present? G.: Heard of, certainly. Read directly, perhaps less often. The route is through Russell and Whitehead, through Principia, through the very shape of notation. Peano is there like a watermark. A boy may not read him, but he writes in his wake. S.: I like that: logic as paleography. G.: Oxford always preferred inheritance to origin myths. Even revolutions arrive there as reading lists. S.: So picture the room. G.: A room at St John’s, some coal, some books, some shoes not polished enough for the College but polished enough for the tutor. Grice is preparing Strawson for the logic paper in PPE, not Literae Humaniores. This matters, because PPE permits a little more modernity while never abandoning the old apparatus entirely. S.: What would be on the table? G.: Johnson perhaps, Keynes perhaps, Russell certainly in the background, maybe Cook Wilson in the atmosphere if not in the bibliography, and the square of opposition still lurking like an old relative who has not been told the party is over. S.: And Grice, being Grice, feels a tension. G.: He must have. Not merely Peano versus Frege, which is too tidy, but the whole question of what one is teaching when one teaches “logic.” Is one teaching notation, conceptual discipline, the avoidance of contradiction, the analysis of ordinary forms, or the rites of examination? S.: Oxford answers: all of them, badly separated. G.: Quite. And the student answers: whichever of them gets me through Schools without spiritual collapse. S.: Let us be concrete. Suppose Grice writes on the paper: (x)(Fx ⊃ Gx) G.: And says: there, my dear Strawson, is the official shape of “All F are G.” Or the shape Russell and Whitehead would prefer to give it. S.: But then the trouble begins. G.: Because ordinary language objects. It always does when formalism becomes too cheerful. Suppose the English sentence is: All the books in his room are by an English author. S.: Formally one is tempted to write: (x)(Fx ⊃ Gx) G.: Where F means “x is a book in his room” and G means “x is by an English author.” S.: Which has the notorious consequence of being vacuously true if there are no books in the room. G.: Exactly. And that is where the later story becomes interesting. Peano would not mind much. Russell, in his more formal mood, would not mind enough. But ordinary language minds do mind, and by the early 1950s Strawson has decided to say so in print. S.: We are leaping ahead. G.: Leaping ahead is allowed if one is tracing an echo. The whole point is that Peano’s treatment makes universality basic, existence derivative, and thereby clears a path for a formalism in which “all F are G” may happily remain true when there are no Fs at all. S.: Whereas the ordinary speaker thinks that if one says “all the books in his room,” one is behaving as if there are books in his room. G.: Which is a very different matter. It is not, perhaps, what is explicitly asserted. But it is presupposed, or at least pragmatically expected, or at least suggested so strongly that anyone who violates it commits what Strawson later calls a linguistic outrage. S.: And then we have the famous example. G.: Yes. Someone says, solemnly: There is not a single book in his room which is not by an English author. S.: And later reveals that there are no books in the room at all. G.: In which case one does not feel exactly lied to. One feels wrong-footed. Misled. Violated in a more delicate register. S.: Which Strawson in 1952 tries to articulate against purely formal treatment. G.: Quite. And in the footnote he credits you-know-who. S.: The phrase being that the operation of a certain rule was first pointed out to him by Mr H. P. Grice, in a different connection. G.: There is the delicious phrase. In a different connection. Which surely suggests that Grice’s point had not originally been about books in rooms and existential import. S.: But perhaps about perception. G.: Very likely. “That pillar box seems red” as against “That pillar box is red.” The same skeleton is there. One does not make the logically weaker or more roundabout move if one could straightforwardly and responsibly make the stronger one, unless one has reason not to. S.: So one says “seems red” and thereby suggests something like: I am withholding “is red” for a reason. G.: Exactly. And similarly one says “There is not a single book in his room which is not by an English author,” and thereby behaves as if there are books in his room worth so classifying. S.: Thus the practical rule. G.: Yes. One does not make the logically lesser claim when one could truthfully, and with equal or greater economy, make the greater one. S.: That is a beautiful anti-formalist principle. G.: Or a beautiful explanation of why formal forms acquire ordinary-language overtones. Strawson wants to make it presupposition; Grice is already halfway to making it pragmatic expectation. S.: So Peano begins the line by privileging universal form, and half a century later Strawson and Grice are arguing about what that privilege misses in actual use. G.: Exactly. That is the elegance of the excursus. Peano cares to make the code explicit. Grice later cares to explain how rational hearers navigate what the code leaves open. Strawson sits in the middle and fumes at formalism in a very gentlemanly way. S.: Let us go back for a moment to Peano’s own innocence in all this. G.: He was innocent of Oxford, which is a blessing. Peano would write (x)(Fx ⊃ Gx) and sleep well. S.: He would not ask whether an utterer who says “all the books in his room” is inviting assumptions about the existence of books. G.: Not as Peano. Perhaps as a reformer of language he might care, but his instinct is to repair the code, not to theorise the delicate manners of speakers. S.: Which is exactly why he is useful to Grice. G.: Useful and limiting. The formalist aspiration is noble: minimise ambiguity by design. But ordinary language survives by rational supplementation. Grice’s later point is that implication is not a bug in the system but one of the ways human beings manage to say less and mean more. S.: So if one were to teach Strawson logic in 1939 while carrying all this in one’s head, one might feel a certain tension. G.: Certainly. One has Peano in the bloodstream, Frege in the conceptual ancestry, Russell in the textbooks, Whitehead on the title page, Johnson and Keynes in the pedagogical climate, and then Oxford’s own old concern for exactness, ordinary language, and anti-vulgarity hovering over everything. S.: It is a wonder anyone passed. G.: They did not always gracefully. Strawson himself took a second in 1940, which is a useful reminder that great philosophers are not always tidy examined persons. S.: Perhaps especially not. G.: Quite. Examination rewards a certain sort of punctual explicitness which later philosophy sometimes repudiates. S.: And the square of opposition? G.: It would still have been there, because Oxford does not kill its dead. But by then it lives in uneasy coexistence with quantification. One can still teach A, E, I, O forms and then, in the next breath, write (x)(Fx ⊃ Gx) and pretend the two belong to one civilisation. S.: Which perhaps they do, if one is generous. G.: Oxford always prefers layered inheritance to clean replacement. That is why Peano could be present in the notation and absent in the conversation. S.: So let us imagine the later scene, vague in date, Oxford enough in tone, with Grice and Strawson looking back. G.: Good. A room, probably College, perhaps after dinner, not too much port because the point is logic and not confession. S.: Strawson has his 1952 book in embryo or in hand. G.: And Grice has what he later calls, with suspicious modesty, a remark in a footnote. Strawson says: The interpretation I propose for the traditional forms has the merit of preserving ordinary presuppositions that formal systems ignore. S.: Grice replies: Or perhaps ordinary expectations that formal systems are not designed to capture. G.: Strawson says: If someone says, solemnly, “There is not a single foreign book in his room,” and later reveals there are no books there at all, one feels linguistically outraged. S.: Grice says: Quite so, but the outrage may arise from rational expectations governing why a speaker would choose that form at all, not from a semantic infection built into the words. G.: Strawson says: And what grounds those expectations? S.: Grice says: The same sort of thing that makes “That pillar box seems red” suggest something different from “That pillar box is red.” One does not use the lesser or more cautious form if the stronger one would do, unless one means to indicate something by that very caution. G.: Which is, in miniature, the whole later Gricean apparatus. S.: And poor Peano sits silently in the background, having begun all this by letting universality be basic. G.: Precisely. He did not foresee the ordinary-language rebellion, but he helped make it necessary. S.: It is a beautiful historical joke. G.: Better than beautiful. It is useful. One sees how formalism and pragmatics are not enemies so much as responses to different anxieties. Peano fears ambiguity in the code. Grice explains how rational agents survive it. S.: And Strawson, characteristically, is offended on behalf of ordinary speech. G.: Which is one of his more attractive traits. S.: We should mention the books example in formal dress, if only to keep the symbols in the room. G.: Yes. Let F(x) be “x is a book in his room.” Let G(x) be “x is by an English author.” Then the formal rendering (x)(F(x) ⊃ G(x)) may come out true even if nothing satisfies F. S.: Whereas the ordinary utterance: All the books in his room are by an English author normally behaves as if (∃x)F(x) were somehow in the air. G.: In the air, yes. Not perhaps asserted, but presupposed, suggested, invited, countenanced, licensed—choose your poison. S.: And if the speaker later reveals ¬(∃x)F(x) G.: Then one has not exactly been lied to, but one has been used badly. S.: Which is more Oxford than falsehood. G.: Very much so. Falsehood is vulgar. Misleading by over-refined form is educational. S.: That should be on a College crest. G.: It already is, in practice. S.: One last point. Peano’s universality being basic means that the old line naturally takes “for all” as the simpler thought and “there exists” as the marked one. G.: Yes. That is philosophically revealing. It means the formal tradition is often built from a vision of law-like generality downward, whereas ordinary speech often begins with occasions, objects, rooms, boxes, books, and only then rises to universal claims. S.: So Peano is top-down and Grice bottom-up. G.: More or less. Peano engineers from clarity downward; Grice analyses from use upward. S.: And the pity is that neither side quite abolishes the other. G.: Which is no pity at all. It is civilisation. The formalist keeps us from drowning in looseness; the pragmatist reminds us that looseness is often how intelligence breathes. S.: Then what does Peano contribute, finally, to the debate? G.: He contributes the severe dream: a notation in which the burden of interpretation is shifted from context to code. He contributes also the historical route by which Oxford learned to write modern logic. And therefore he contributes, indirectly, to the later revolt in which men like Strawson and Grice insist that meaning in ordinary language cannot be exhausted by what formalism captures. S.: So the little epsilon and the inverted E are not innocent at all. G.: Symbols are never innocent once Oxford has had time to teach from them. S.: And the pillar box? G.: The pillar box is simply the revenge of ordinary life upon notation. S.: And the books in the room? G.: The revenge of presupposition, or pragmatics, or plain decency—call it what you please—upon vacuous truth. S.: And Grice himself? G.: He sits between them, delighted. He likes Peano because he likes explicitness, and he resists Peano because he likes the rational life of implication more. He likes Strawson because Strawson hears the ordinary-language offence, and he resists Strawson because Strawson always wants to semanticise what may be explained by conversational reason. S.: Which is perhaps why the two together are better than either alone. G.: That is usually the truth in Oxford. The system runs by paired quarrels. S.: And the younger man in the tutorial room in 1939? G.: He learns, without being told, that logic is not merely notation, nor merely common sense, nor merely formal discipline, but the place where all three begin to rub against one another. He learns Peano by inheritance, Russell by curriculum, Frege by delayed seriousness, and Grice by the kind of tutorial pressure that makes one notice what a speaker is doing by saying what he says. S.: That is not a bad education. G.: It is a very Oxford one. And, for all my complaints, probably the only sort from which a later book on logical theory, with a footnote to Grice in “a different connection,” could naturally emerge. S.: Then shall we call it a Peano line after all? G.: Call it a Peano line if you like, provided you remember that by the time it reaches Oxford it has acquired ordinary-language manners, a little anti-formalist guilt, and just enough dry humour to prevent it from becoming Italian.Grice: Ma guarda, caro Peano, non riesco proprio a capacitarmi che Lord Russell non abbia mai voluto riconoscere apertamente il tuo merito per l’operatore “iota invertito”! Che indignazione – sembra quasi che l’eleganza filosofica abbia perso la bussola! Peano: Eh, caro Grice, la storia della filosofia è piena di queste omissioni. L’importante è che il latino sine flexione e il mio lavoro sulla logica abbiano lasciato un segno, anche se qualcuno preferisce ignorarlo. D’altronde, la lingua universale è una sfida che va oltre i titoli! Grice: Ma lo spirito conversazionale, caro Peano, dovrebbe portarci sempre a riconoscere ciò che è implicato, non solo ciò che è esplicitato. Se Russell avesse seguito la tua finezza logica, forse avrebbe capito il vero valore dell’implicatura! Peano: Hai ragione, Grice. Forse, come dice il proverbio, “il tempo è galantuomo”: prima o poi, anche il contributo più silenzioso trova voce. E intanto, continuiamo a discutere e a riformare la lingua d’Italia… con o senza l’indignazione di Russell! Peano, Giuseppe (1884). Calcolo geometrico secondo l’Ausdehnungslehre di Grassmann. Torino: Bocca.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pecori – Ossia: Grice e Pecori: la ragione conversazionale. P. is a canonico and author. His major works focus on Tuscan history, suggesting a strong connection to that region. He is a significant figure in the historical study of the Italian city of San Gimignano.  Luigi Pecori (Firenze, Toscana): la ragione conversazionale. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers recover what a speaker means beyond what is explicitly said by presuming rational cooperation and drawing defeasible inferences (implicatures) from shared expectations about relevance, informativeness, and clarity; meaning is thus anchored in communicative intention and the audience’s rational uptake rather than in the mere possession of a rhetorical handbook. Luigi Pecori, by contrast, is a nineteenth-century Tuscan canon and local historian whose work sits at the intersection of civic memory and pedagogy: his Delle istituzioni elementari di rettorica (Florence, 1859) is overtly prescriptive, written to supply Italian schools with an “all-Italian” book of rhetorical precepts, while his Storia della terra di San Gimignano (Florence: Tipografia Galileiana, 1853) exemplifies a chronicler’s sense that communities are held together by the orderly narration of deeds, documents, and civic language. The comparison, then, is between implicit norms and explicit rules: Grice tries to explain the tacit rational principles that already govern successful conversation and generate implicature when speakers appear to depart from them, whereas Pecori tries to provide overt instruction in how to speak and write well and to preserve a town’s identity through careful historical discourse. From a Gricean angle, Pecori’s rhetoric manuals are best read not as the foundation of meaning but as codifications of effects that conversational practice already achieves (guiding audiences toward intended conclusions), while from Pecori’s angle Grice’s maxims can look like a modern, analytically sharpened version of the same civic ideal: language disciplined so that a community can understand itself, deliberate, and endure. P. is a canonico and author. His major works focus on Tuscan history, suggesting a strong connection to that region. He is a significant figure in the historical study of the Italian city of San Gimignano. His most prominent publication is a detailed historical work: Storia della terra di San Gimignano: This extensive history of the town and surrounding area of San Gimignano, published in Florence by the Tipografia Galileiana. It covers the city's history from its origins to the modern era, with a focus on its fortress and castle. This work is considered an important source for historians studying medieval Italian cities.  P. is also mentioned in connection with a genealogical work, possibly as a subject or collaborator:  Memorie genealogico-storiche della famiglia P. di Firenze: This work, which focuses on the genealogical history of the P. family of Florence, is collected by Passerini. His work delle istituzione della rettorica is less detailed in the provided snippets, but these other publications establish his primary focus as an Italian historian and local chronicler of the Tuscany region. DELL’ISTITUZIONI DI RETTORICA PROPOSTO AI STUDIOSI. Già da qualche tempo è nata tra gl’uomini di lettere una lodevole gara di promuovere in ogni maniera di studj l'istruzion vostra coll'agevolarvene la via mercè di ben ordinate opere elementari, di dotti e succosi commenti, d’accurate edizioni di classici ; nel che spendono con indefessa sollecitudine ed ottimo intendimento l'ingegno e l'opera. Ma frattanto nelle scuole nostre lamentasi il difetto d'un libro di precetti rettorie! accomodato all'età vostra ed alla pre- sente condizione dei tempi , e d' indole tutta italiana. SÌ è cercato, é vero, ora di raffazzonare la rettorica di Blair, ora d'ampliarne g d'arricchirne il compendio con dotte e sagacissime aggiunte, ora di racconciarne altre, ed altre farne di nuovo; ma tut- tavia tra i libri di rettorica più comunemente conosciuti non se ne riscontra in generale dai savj istitutori vo- stri alcuno abbastanza soddisfacente , Divina Commedia. Grice: Caro Pecori, tu che conosci ogni angolo di San Gimignano, dimmi: è vero che tra le torri si trovano ancora studiosi nascosti a scrivere trattati di rettorica? Pecori: Ah, Grice, se le torri parlassero racconterebbero di più dispute accademiche che di assedi medievali! E se qualcuno trova un libro di rettorica soddisfacente, lo tenga stretto come la ricetta del panforte! Grice: Dunque, tra storia, genealogie e precetti, qualche segreto si nasconde anche tra le pagine della “Storia della terra di San Gimignano”? O è tutto chiaro come il vino toscano? Pecori: Grice, il segreto è che il vino toscano aiuta a capire la storia meglio della rettorica! E poi, se la Divina Commedia l’ha fatto Dante, io posso almeno raccontare le avventure di un canonico tra i vicoli di Firenze! Pecori, Luigi (1875). Storia della città di Volterra. Volterra: Tipografia della Speranza.

 

PED

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pedanio – Ossia: Grice e Pedanio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Pedanio. The gens Pedania was a minor plebeian family at Rome. Members of this gens are first mentioned at the time of the Second Punic War, but they achieved little prominence until imperial times, when the ill-starred Lucius Pedanius Secundus attained the consulship under Nero.[1]  Origin The great majority of nomina ending in -anius were derived from place-names or cognomina ending in -anus. Such gentilicia were frequently, although not exclusively, of Umbrian origin. There is also an old Latin cognomen of frequent occurrence, Pedo, referring to someone with broad feet, which could have given rise to a similar nomen, although in this case Pedonius would be the expected form. However, Pedonius is not attested, nor are there clear examples of a surname Pedanus, so Pedo as the root of Pedanius remains a strong possibility.[2]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Titus Pedanius, the first centurion appointed over the principes in 211 BC, during the Second Punic War. At the siege of Capua, when the Roman forces were faltering, he led a charge over the enemy's ramparts, which resulted in the capture of the city. After the battle, Pedanius was decorated for his courage.[3][4] Pedanius Costa, one of the legates of Brutus in 43 and 42 BC.[5] Pedanius, one of the legates of Augustus who served as presidents of the court convened by Herod for the trial of his sons.[6][7] Lucius Pedanius Secundus, consul suffectus ex Kal. Mart. in AD 43. He was praefectus urbi in 61, when he was murdered by one of his slaves. Under Roman law, all of the slaves belonging to the murdered man were to be put to death, in this instance numbering some four hundred; despite public outcry, the sentence was enforced by Nero.[8][9] Lucius Pedanius L. f. Secundus Julius Persicus, named in an inscription from Barcino.[10][9] Pedanius Costa, an opponent of Nero, and one of the candidates for the consulship in AD 69, the year following Nero's death. Vitellius chose not to designate him as one of the consuls for the coming year, because of his hostility to the late emperor.[11][7] Pedanius, a soldier in the Roman cavalry, who participated in the capture of Jerusalem in AD 70. His daring in capturing one of the defenders through sheer strength and expert horsemanship is described by Josephus.[12] Pedanius Dioscorides, a celebrated physician toward the end of the first century, and the author of De Materia Medica.[13] Pedanii Salinatores Gnaeus Pedanius Fuscus Salinator, consul suffectus ex Kal. Jul. in AD 61.[14][15][16] Gnaeus Pedanius Cn. f. Fuscus Salinator, proconsul of Asia circa AD 100.[16] Gnaeus Pedanius Cn. f. Cn. n. Fuscus Salinator, consul in AD 118, together with the emperor Hadrian. He married Julia, the daughter of Lucius Julius Ursus Servianus.[17][18][16] Pedanius Fuscus Cn. f. Cn. n., the grandson of Lucius Julius Ursus Servianus, was put to death by Hadrian at the age of eighteen, in AD 136, along with his elderly grandfather, supposedly for expressing their disappointment at the emperor's designation of Lucius Ceionius Commodus as his heir.[19][20][7] See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 163 ("Pedanius").  Chase, pp. 110, 118, 119.  Livy, xxv. 14.  Valerius Maximus, iii. 2. § 20.  Broughton, vol. II, pp. 354, 366.  Josephus, Bellum Judaïcum, i. 27. § 2.  PIR, vol. III, p. 19.  Tacitus, Annales, xiv. 42.  PIR, vol. III, p. 20.  CIL II, 4513.  Tacitus, Historiae, ii. 71.  Josephus, Bellum Judaïcum, vi. 2. § 8.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. I, pp. 1051, 1052 (Dioscorides, physicians, No. 1).  AE 2006, 307, AE 1998, 1056.  Gallivan, "The Fasti for the Reign of Nero", p. 302.  PIR, vol. III, pp. 19, 20.  CIL VI, 2078.  Pliny the Younger, Epistulae, vi. 26.  Aelius Spartianus, "The Life of Hadrian", 23.  Cassius Dio, lxix. 17. Bibliography Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome. Valerius Maximus, Factorum ac Dictorum Memorabilium (Memorable Facts and Sayings). Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Annales. Flavius Josephus, Bellum Judaïcum (The Jewish War). Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Annales, Historiae. Lucius Cassius Dio Cocceianus (Cassius Dio), Roman History. Aelius Lampridius, Aelius Spartianus, Flavius Vopiscus, Julius Capitolinus, Trebellius Pollio, and Vulcatius Gallicanus, Historia Augusta (Augustan History). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII (1897). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). T. Robert S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, American Philological Association (1952). Paul A. Gallivan, "Some Comments on the Fasti for the Reign of Nero", in Classical Quarterly, vol. 24, pp. 290–311 (1974). Categories: PedaniiRoman gentes and from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pedanio – Ossia: Grice e Pedanio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Pedanio. For the Pedanii, I think there is one overwhelming Grice–Speranza candidate:  Lucius Pedanius Secundus, murdered by one of his slaves in AD 61, leading to the famous debate over whether all four hundred slaves in his household should be executed according to Roman law. [GREXv2 | Word]  Why this Pedanius? Because the episode, as reported by Tacitus, is fundamentally about collective responsibility, inference, silence, and presumption. [GREXv2 | Word]  Grice e Pedanio Secondo The Tacitean Question Roman Citizen:  Unus servus dominum occidit. ("One slave killed his master.")  Senator:  Ita. ("Indeed.")  Roman Citizen:  Cur quadringenti puniendi sunt? ("Why should four hundred be punished?")   That is already a Gricean puzzle. The crowd's reasoning:  One did it. Therefore punish one.  The Roman legal tradition's reasoning:  Four hundred were present. None prevented it. Therefore the household failed collectively.   A Conversation on Silence Plebeian:  At ceteri nihil fecerunt. ("But the others did nothing.")  Senator:  Id ipsum quaeritur. ("That is precisely the point at issue.")   +> Failure to act may be treated as significant.  Plebeian:  Sed tacuerunt tantum. ("But they merely kept silent.")  Senator:  Taciturnitas quoque aliquid significare potest. ("Silence too can signify something.")   +> Silence may be interpreted as acquiescence.   That is extraordinarily close to Gricean territory. Grice repeatedly asks:  What follows from saying nothing?  Can silence communicate? Can non-performance carry significance? The Pedanius debate is almost a gigantic legal version of those questions. The Pedanius Secundus affair gives us:  murder, testimony, public outrage, legal argument, competing inferences.  Much richer material for Speranza. Speranza's Verdict Grice:  Why Pedanius Secundus?  Speranza:  Because the whole case concerns what can be inferred from silence.  Grice:  A philosopher's question.  Speranza:  And a Roman lawyer's nightmare.   +> Not speaking, not acting, and not preventing may themselves acquire communicative and legal significance.  That, I think, makes Lucius Pedanius Secundus the most Gricean Pedanius of the lot. [GREXv2 | Word] and was the resolution? Does history say? 400 sounds excess -- there may be a moral there? Thanks Yes. And Tacitus' answer is, in a way, more disturbing than the question. The resolution was:  the executions went ahead.  After Lucius Pedanius Secundus was murdered by one of his slaves, there was substantial public opposition to executing all the slaves in the household. Tacitus describes agitation among the populace, and a debate in the Senate. Nevertheless, the traditional rule was upheld and the household slaves—about four hundred persons—were condemned. Troops were used to secure the process against popular unrest. [romansinfocus.com], [grokipedia.com] What makes the episode memorable is that many contemporaries appear to have felt exactly what you feel:  "Four hundred sounds excessive."  Tacitus preserves the argument of Gaius Cassius Longinus, who defended the old rule. His reasoning was essentially:  If the other slaves knew and remained silent, they were culpable. If they did not know, the terror of collective punishment was still necessary to deter future crimes. [romansinfocus.com]  In modern terms, that is not individual responsibility but deterrence through collective liability. A Grice–Speranza reconstruction might be: Populus Romanus:  Unus occidit. ("One man killed him.")  Cassius:  Quadringenti non prohibuerunt. ("Four hundred failed to prevent it.")  Populus:  At multi innocentes sunt. ("But many are innocent.")  Cassius:  Metus ipsos innocentes servat. ("Fear itself protects the innocent.")   +> Harsh punishment is justified by future deterrence.  That last step is exactly the controversial one. From a Gricean perspective, the Senate is drawing an enormous inference from silence:  No warning was given. Therefore somebody knew. Therefore collective punishment is warranted.  The crowd rejects the inference. Cassius accepts it. Historically, Cassius won. Morally, Tacitus leaves many readers unconvinced. Indeed, one might say that the episode survives precisely because later generations feel the tension:  Roman law asks: "How can masters be protected?" Modern readers ask: "Why should the innocent die for the guilty?"  That unresolved conflict is the real moral of the story. Tacitus reports the legal victory of the Senate; the survival of the anecdote suggests that many readers have long suspected a moral defeat. [romansinfocus.com], [grokipedia.com] and what is latin in tacitus for 400? That suggests a villa or farm, rather than a villa in the prestigious Palatine? Thanks Yes. In Tacitus' account the figure is indeed:  quadringenti  ("four hundred"). The sources summarizing Annales XIV.42–44 explicitly speak of about four hundred slaves in the household of Lucius Pedanius Secundus. [ancienttexts.org], [freeread.de] On your second point, one should be careful. From the evidence we've looked at, I can support:  Pedanius was praefectus urbi (urban prefect) when murdered. [freeread.de], [bloomsbury.com] The household comprised roughly four hundred slaves. [ancienttexts.org], [freeread.de]  But I cannot infer from that alone whether the residence was:  a Palatine mansion, a city domus elsewhere in Rome, a suburban estate, or a villa with attached agricultural operations.  The sources I have do not specify the physical setting. So I should not go beyond them. That said, as a historical observation rather than a sourced fact, a household of four hundred slaves is undeniably enormous and belongs to the world of the very richest Roman aristocrats. What interests me more is the conversational implication of the number. Cassius' argument in Tacitus effectively treats:  quadringenti  as evidence. His reasoning is almost:  "Can a murder like this occur among four hundred slaves without warning signs?"  Tacitus' Cassius piles up rhetorical questions:  Could he obtain a weapon? Could he pass guards? Could he reach the master's bedroom? Could nobody know? [ancienttexts.org]  The number itself becomes an argument:  The larger the household, the less plausible universal ignorance appears.  The crowd, however, draws the opposite lesson:  The larger the household, the more innocent people will perish.  A splendid Grice–Speranza contrast: Cassius:  Quadringenti erant.  ("There were four hundred.")  +> Someone must have known.  Populus:  Quadringenti erant.  ("There were four hundred.")  +> Too many innocents will die.  Same premise; different implicatures. That, I suspect, is one reason Tacitus found the episode worth recording. The dispute was never really about arithmetic. It was about what one is entitled to infer from the existence of a large household. [ancienttexts.org], [freeread.de] and the unintended cosequence for the jurist was that the P. gens never again owned a slave -- Talking amorally or immorally but materialistically, that was a big expense. And one may imagine heir or beneficiaries to the deceased may have opposed the state's resolution? Thanks --perhaps we can reconstruct a dialogue between someone from the G. and the senate as represented by the jurist, etc. Thanks That is an excellent Speranzian twist, but we should separate what Tacitus tells us from what we may imaginatively reconstruct. What Tacitus gives us is:  Lucius Pedanius Secundus was murdered by one of his slaves. The household numbered roughly four hundred slaves. There was public opposition to executing them all. The Senate upheld the traditional rule. The executions were carried out under military protection. [ancienttexts.org], [freeread.de]  What Tacitus does not tell us is:  whether the Pedanii subsequently owned slaves; whether Pedanius' heirs formally opposed the executions; whether compensation was discussed. [ancienttexts.org], [freeread.de]  So historically I cannot claim any of that happened. But as a Speranza-style reconstruction, your point is very interesting. The jurists argue in terms of deterrence:  "The slaves must die so future masters will be safe."  The heir might reply:  "Very well. But who is paying for the loss of four hundred slaves?"  In purely economic terms, the punishment destroys a substantial asset belonging to the estate. One can imagine a dialogue:  Grice e Pedanio: Heres contra Senatum Heres Pedanii:  Patrem meum ultum iri volo. ("I wish my father's death to be avenged.")  Senator:  Id fiet. ("It shall be.")   Heres:  Sed quadringenti servi occidentur. ("But four hundred slaves will be killed.")  Senator:  Mos maiorum ita iubet. ("The custom of our ancestors so commands.")   Heres:  Et quis mihi quadringentos servos restituet? ("And who will restore four hundred slaves to me?")   +> Justice and economic interest may diverge.   Senator:  Non de patrimonio tuo agitur. ("This is not about your estate.")   Heres:  Immo de patrimonio meo et de salute vestra simul agitur. ("On the contrary, it concerns both my estate and your safety.")   +> The deterrent policy imposes costs on innocent heirs.   At this point Grice might observe:  The Senate speaks as though the objective were vengeance. The heir speaks as though the objective were property preservation. Both agree on the facts. They disagree on which consequences matter.  And that is actually a very Tacitean moral. The Senate reasons from:  future security.  The crowd reasons from:  present innocence.  Your hypothetical heir reasons from:  material loss.  Same event, three different practical inferences. A final Gricean touch: Senator:  Quadringenti morientur ut domini vivant. ("Four hundred shall die so that masters may live.")  Grice:  That is not merely an explanation.   +> It is an attempt at justification.  And much of the debate in Tacitus turns precisely on whether that justification succeeds. [ancienttexts.org], [freeread.de]

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pedanio – Ossia: Grice e Pedanio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Pedanio. Why not Dioscorides? One might be tempted by:  Pedanius Dioscorides, author of De Materia Medica. [GREXv2 | Word]  Historically he is probably the most famous Pedanius today. But he belongs more to the history of medicine than to conversation.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pedanio – Ossia: Grice e Pedanio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Pedanio. A runner-up My second choice would actually be the young  Pedanius Fuscus,  executed under Hadrian supposedly because he and his grandfather were disappointed by the emperor's choice of heir. [GREXv2 | Word] Why? Because the entire charge seems to rest on attitudes, expectations, and expressions of disappointment:  What exactly did they say? What was inferred from what they said?  Again, very Gricean. But the evidence is thinner.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pedio – Ossia: Grice e Pedio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Pedio. The gens Pedia was a plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens are first mentioned in history during the final century of the Republic, and for the next two centuries they were distinguished in statesmanship, rhetoric, art, and law. The first of the Pedii to obtain the consulship was Quintus Pedius, the nephew of Caesar, in 43 BC.[1]  Origin Little is known of the Pedii and their origin. The nomen Pedius might be derived from the cognomen Pedo, a name referring to someone with broad feet.[2]  Praenomina The main families of the Pedii used the praenomina Quintus and Sextus, both of which were very common throughout Roman history. Individual families used other names, such as Lucius, Gaius, Marcus, Publius, Titus, Gnaeus, and Numerius.  Branches and cognomina The Pedii of the Republic do not seem to have had any hereditary surnames, but one member of the family bore the cognomen Poplicola or Publicola, famous from an early family of the Valerii; the surname means "one who courts the people."[3][4] Although this cognomen appears in other families, the Pedii were connected with the Valerii Messallae, a later family of the Valeria gens which revived the more ancient surname, and it seems clear that it was through this relationship that the name appears among the Pedii.[5]  Not long after the time of this family, another branch appears bearing the surname Hirrutus, of uncertain origin. The first of this family rose to prominence early in the reign of Tiberius, and although the name does not appear again until the second century, one of the Pedii Hirruti obtained the consulship in AD 158.[6] The jurist Sextus Pedius may have belonged to this family, although proof is wanting; other prominent Pedii during this period may also have belonged to this branch.[7]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Quintus (or Marcus) Pedius, father of the consul, was probably the husband of Julia and brother-in-law of Caesar. Quintus Pedius, the nephew of Caesar,[i] served as legates under his uncle during the Gallic War and the Civil War, and in 45 BC received a triumph for his victories. He was consul suffectus in 43, together with his cousin, Octavian, the future emperor, and addressed the people in order to avert a rebellion over the proscriptions of the triumvirs, but died from stress and fatigue the following night.[8][9][10][11][12][13][5][14][15] Quintus Pedius Q. f. Poplicola, quaestor urbanus in 41 BC, is described by Horace as a famous orator. He is generally supposed to have been the son of the consul Quintus Pedius, and father of the painter.[16][3][7] Quintus Pedius Q. f. Q. n., the grandson of Caesar's nephew, was mute from birth, but under the supervision of his uncle, Messalla Corvinus, and with the approval of Augustus, he was tutored in painting, at which he became greatly skilled. Pedius died before reaching adulthood.[5] Lucius Pedius Blaesus, proconsul of Crete and Cyrenaica during the reign of Nero, was expelled from the senate in AD 59 for having plundered the temple of Aesculapius at Cyrene, and for other acts of corruption. He was restored to the senate by Otho in 69.[17][7][18] Gnaeus Pedius Cascus, consul suffectus ex Kal. Apr. in AD 71, with the future emperor Domitian.[7][19] Sextus Pedius, a prominent jurist who lived during later first and early second centuries. His original works have been lost, but he is cited in the Digest by Julius Paulus and Ulpian, among others, and best known for his common-sense approach to legal interpretation.[20][7] Sextus Pedius Sex. f. Palpinianus, a procurator Augusti, and the father of Sextus Pedius Justus.[21][22] Sextus Pedius Sex. f. Sex. n. Justus, son of the procurator, erected monuments to his parents, and to his father-in-law, Marcus Aurelius Julianus.[21][23][7] Gaius Pedius, dedicated a monument at Rome to his sister, Fortunata, aged twenty years and forty days.[24] Sextus Pedius, named in an inscription from Madauros in Africa Proconsularis.[25] Titus Pedius, possibly a standard-bearer in one of the legions, buried at Mesembria in Moesia Inferior.[26] Pedius Amemptio, buried at Rome, aged two years, four months, three days, with a monument from his father, Amemptus.[27] Sextus Pedius Castrensis, named in an inscription from Teate Marrucinorum.[28] Sextus Pedius Dexter, named in an inscription from Teate.[28] Sextus Pedius Euanthus, named in an inscription from Teate.[28] Marcus Pedius M. l. Gratus, a freedman buried at Larinum in Apulia.[29] Pedia Hilara, buried at Larinum.[29] Sextus Pedius Luciscus, buried at Madauros, aged seventy-one.[30] Sextus Pedius Tarentini f. Luciscus, buried at Mons Mopti, the present site of the village of Oued Deheb, formerly part of Mauretania Caesariensis, aged eighty.[31] Marcus Pedius M. l. Lucrio, a freedman buried at Larinum.[29] Publius Pedius Marianus, husband of Publicia Ifis, buried at Catana, aged twenty-five.[32] Numerius Pedius N. l. Onesimus, a freedman, buried at Beneventum in Campania.[33] Gnaeus Pedius Phosphorus, named in an inscription from Rome.[34] Quintus Pedius Sequens, named in a list of soldiers at Rome in AD 70.[35] Pedius Severus, buried at Catana in Sicilia, with a monument dedicated by his mother, Arria Volumnilla, and his son, Gaius Pedius Severus.[32] Publius Pedius Severus, patron of Publicia Ifis, aged sixty-eight, to whom be dedicated a monument at Catana in Sicilia.[32] Titus Pedius Severus, buried at Catana, aged eighteen.[32] Pedii Hirruti Sextus Pedius Sex. f. Lusianus Hirrutus, having served as a military prefect under Germanicus, became governor of Raetia and Vincolicia, and the valley of the Alpes Poeninae.[22] Sextus Pedius Sex. f. Hirrutus, a man of praetorian rank, could perhaps be the same as the jurist.[36][7] Sextus Pedius Sex. f. Sex. n. Hirrutus Lucilius Pollio, had a distinguished career, serving as praefectus aerarii militaris, judicial legate for Asturia and Gallaecia, praetor, and consul in AD 158.[36][37][6][7] See also List of Roman gentes Footnotes  Suetonius describes Pedius as the grandson of Caesar's eldest sister, but as he was a grown man with official duties as early as 57 BC, when he was one of his uncle's legates in the Gallic War, it seems more likely, as Glandorp suggests, that he was Julia's son, rather than her grandson. References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 164 (Pedius, No. 1).  Chase, p. 110.  Horace, Satirae, i. 10. 28.  Chase, p. 107.  Pliny the Elder, xxxv. 4. s. 7.  CIL XIV, 3995.  PIR, vol. III, p. 20.  Cicero, Pro Plancio, 7, 22 (and see Wunder, Prolegomena, p. lxxxiii ff. in his edition), Epistulae ad Atticum, ix. 14.  Caesar, De Bello Gallico, ii. 1, De Bello Civili, iii. 22, De Bello Hispaniensis, 2.  Suetonius, "The Life of Caesar", 83, "The Life of Nero", 3, "The Life of Galba", 3.  Fasti Triumphales.  Cassius Dio, xliii. 31, 32, xlvi. 46, 52.  Appian, Bellum Civile, iii. 22, 94, 96, iv. 6.  Velleius Paterculus, ii. 69.  Glandorp, Onomasticon Historiae Romanae, p. 432.  CIL VI, 358.  Tacitus, Annales, xiv. 18, Historiae, i. 77.  AE 1951, 211.  Gallivan, "The Fasti for A.D. 70–96", p. 187.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, pp. 164, 165 ("Sextus Pedius").  CIL VI, 1597.  PIR, vol. III, p. 21.  CIL VI, 23891, CIL XIV, 2463.  CIL VI, 23889.  ILAlg, 1, 2647.  AE 2006, 1220.  CIL VI, 23888.  EE, 8-1, 124.  CIL IX, 6250.  ILAlg, 1, 2647.  BCTH, 1946/49, 342.  CIL X, 7087.  CIL IX, 1923.  CIL XV, 7654.  CIL VI, 200.  CIL XIV, 3994.  CIL XIV, 244 Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum, Pro Plancio. Gaius Julius Caesar, Commentarii de Bello Gallico (Commentaries on the Gallic War), Commentarii de Bello Civili (Commentaries on the Civil War), De Bello Hispaniensis (On the War in Spain, attributed). Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Satirae (Satires). Marcus Velleius Paterculus, Compendium of Roman History. Gaius Plinius Secundus (Pliny the Elder), Naturalis Historia (Natural History). Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Annales, Historiae. Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, De Vita Caesarum (Lives of the Caesars, or The Twelve Caesars). Appianus Alexandrinus (Appian), Bellum Civile (The Civil War). Lucius Cassius Dio Cocceianus (Cassius Dio), Roman History. Digesta, or Pandectae (The Digest). Johann Glandorp, Onomasticon Historiae Romanae, André Wechel son Fils, Frankfurt (1589). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Wilhelm Henzen, Ephemeris Epigraphica: Corporis Inscriptionum Latinarum Supplementum (Journal of Inscriptions: Supplement to the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum, abbreviated EE), Institute of Roman Archaeology, Rome (1872–1913). Bulletin Archéologique du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques (Archaeological Bulletin of the Committee on Historic and Scientific Works, abbreviated BCTH), Imprimerie Nationale, Paris (1885–1973). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII (1897). Stéphane Gsell, Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie (Latin Inscriptions from Algeria, abbreviated ILAlg), Edouard Champion, Paris (1922–present). Paul A. Gallivan, "The Fasti for A.D. 70–96", in Classical Quarterly, vol. 31, pp. 186–220 (1981). Categories: PediiRoman gentes and from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pedio – Ossia: Grice e Pedio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Pedio. For the Pedii, there are several attractive candidates:  Quintus Pedius, Caesar's nephew, who reportedly died the night after trying to calm Rome during the proscriptions. The mute painter Quintus Pedius, encouraged by Messalla Corvinus and approved by Augustus. The jurist Sextus Pedius, celebrated for his practical approach to legal interpretation. [GREXv2 | Word]  For a Grice–Speranza vignette, however, I would choose overwhelmingly:  Sextus Pedius, the jurist. [GREXv2 | Word]  Why? Because the ancient tradition remembers him precisely for a principle that sounds almost proto-Gricean. The jurist Sextus Pedius is famous in later Roman law for the idea that one should not cling mechanically to words while ignoring the transaction's evident purpose. The Digest preserves him as an authority repeatedly cited by later jurists. [GREXv2 | Word] A maxim associated with him in the juristic tradition is often paraphrased as:  There is no contract, no obligation, no transaction, in which the parties' intention is absent.  That is not quite Grice, but it is strikingly close to:  Do not stop at the sentence. Ask what the speaker meant by it.   Grice e Pedio The Jurist and the Literalist Literalista:  Verba clara sunt. ("The words are clear.")  Pedius:  Fortasse. Sed quid voluit? ("Perhaps. But what did he intend?")   +> Intention may matter more than wording.   Literalista:  In tabulis hoc scriptum est. ("That is what is written in the document.")  Pedius:  Non de litteris tantum quaero. ("I am not asking only about the letters.")   Literalista:  Ergo quid quaeris?  ("Then what are you asking?") Pedius:  Quid ageretur inter homines. ("What was being done between the people.")   +> Recover the practical purpose of the transaction.   At this point Speranza would be unable to resist: Grice:  The lawyer asks what the parties intended.  Speranza:  The philosopher asks what the speaker intended.  Grice:  The difference is smaller than one might think.   There is also a delicious contrast with the earlier Pactumeius Clemens.  Pactumeius asks: What happens when the heir never makes the required choice? Pedius asks: What was the transaction trying to achieve in the first place?  Together they form almost a Roman theory of pragmatics. So my verdict is:  First prize: Sextus Pedius the jurist.  Not because he was the most powerful Pedius, but because among all the Pedii he comes closest to anticipating the Gricean conviction that understanding an utterance requires more than reading its words. [GREXv2 | Word] and what are the sources? The Digest? Thanks Yes — the principal source is indeed the Digest, but with an important qualification. We do not possess Sextus Pedius' own books directly. His original works are lost. What survives are quotations and discussions of Pedius by later jurists, especially Julius Paulus, Ulpian, and Julian, preserved in Justinian's Digest. [en.wikipedia.org], [oxfordreference.com] So the chain is roughly:  Pedius writes (late 1st–early 2nd century) ↓ Paulus, Ulpian, Julian quote or discuss him ↓ Justinian's compilers excerpt Paulus, Ulpian, Julian ↓ We read Pedius through them. [en.wikipedia.org]  The two most Gricean passages are exactly the sort you would enjoy. 1. Interpretation of wills Quoted through Paulus, from Pedius' Libri de Stipulationibus:  optimum est non propriam verborum significationem scrutari, sed in primis quid testator demonstrare voluerit...  The sense is:  "It is best not to scrutinize the strict meaning of the words, but above all what the testator intended to declare..." [en.wikipedia.org], [everything...ined.today]  That is remarkably close to:  Don't stop at the sentence. Ask what the speaker meant.  A Roman jurist talking almost like a pragmatist.  2. Supplying what the statute omitted Quoted via Ulpian:  when a law introduces one or two provisions, it may be proper by interpretation to supply what serves the same useful purpose. [en.wikipedia.org], [everything...ined.today]  Again, the move is:  literal wording versus underlying purpose.   The "voluntas" point Your earlier Pactumeius example and Pedius fit together beautifully: Pactumeius Clemens asks:  What happens when the heir fails to choose?  Pedius asks:  What was the testator trying to achieve?  Both are trying to recover:  voluntas testatoris.  A Gricean formula might be: Let  W = words used V = testator's intention (voluntas)  The strict literalist says:  Meaning = W.  Pedius says:  Meaning = W interpreted through V.  Not identical to Grice, but strikingly close.  And that is why I think Sextus Pedius is the strongest Pedius for a Grice–Speranza vignette. We can actually point to surviving texts in the Digest where he argues that legal interpretation should not be exhausted by the bare wording of the utterance. [en.wikipedia.org], [everything...ined.today] One distinction with Grice would be that in 'Meaning' he is concerned with U (utterer), x (utterance token), X (utterance type), I (intention). P. is starting from the EXPRESSION (utterance token) -- hence point about 'propria 'significatio' -- 'don't stop there. grice's route is: 'we can grasp what U means by uttering x -- that p -- via U's I. -- "And maybe THEN we can start thinking of what an EXPRESSION _means_. Different goals: the jurist starts with the vocal utterance (if written) -- and asks for proceed further to utterer's 'voluit' to see if they may trump a 'propria significatio' of a 'verbum' --. Thanks Yes. I think you've put your finger on a very important difference between Pedius the jurist and Grice the philosopher of meaning. The similarity is obvious:  Pedius: don't stop at the words (verba). Grice: don't stop at the conventional meaning of the sentence.  But the direction of travel is almost the reverse. Pedius Pedius starts with an already existing text:  quid testator demonstrare voluerit  "what the testator intended to declare." [ancienttexts.org], [loebclassics.com] His problem is:  Here is the expression. Here is its propria verborum significatio. Does the testator's voluntas require us to go beyond that literal meaning?  So his structure is roughly:  Expression → Significatio → Voluntas  The jurist begins with the document and works backward toward the author.  Grice In "Meaning", Grice's route is almost the opposite. He starts with:  U = utterer x = utterance-token I = intention  and asks:  Under what conditions does U mean that p by uttering x?  The direction is:  U + I → meaning of x  Only afterwards does he ask how stable, conventional expression-meaning emerges. Very roughly:  Intentional meaning first; sentence meaning later.  So Grice's order is:  U → I → x → X  (where X is the expression type).  A neat contrast A Pedius-style question:  The testator wrote: "cui eorum voles ..." What did those words legally amount to?  A Grice-style question:  Why did the testator choose those words? What intention was he trying to get recognized?  The jurist starts from the inscription. The Gricean starts from the agent.  "Voluit" versus "intendit" One can even formulate it like this. For Pedius:  The text exists. Recover the voluntas behind it.  For Grice:  The voluntas explains why the text counts as meaningful in the first place.  So voluntas is a corrective principle for Pedius, but a foundational principle for Grice.  A Speranzian dialogue Pedius:  Noli verba tantum spectare. ("Do not look only at the words.")  Grice:  Recte; sed ego ne a verbis quidem incipio. ("Quite right; but I do not even begin with the words.")  Pedius:  Unde igitur incipis? ("Then where do you begin?")  Grice:  Ab eo qui verba profert. ("With the one who utters them.")   +> Speaker's intention is prior to expression-meaning.  That, I think, is the deepest difference. Pedius is already doing a sophisticated form of interpretation. Grice is trying to explain how interpretation is possible at all. The Roman jurist starts from the testament and climbs back to the testator; Grice starts from the intending testator and explains how the testament comes to mean anything in the first place. [ancienttexts.org], [loebclassics.com] and the routes may criss cross -- but they do not have to. Grice is explicit that he'll treat 'utter' generally -- not just 'verbal' -- A hides a bandaged leg -- B. invites him to play squash. A shows bandaged leg -- he signifies: I cannot play squash' -- less likely: I have a bandaged leg ("At most, I have a bad leg"). Pedius: verbum -- already something that Grice's utter does NOT cover -- 'propria' significatio -- as applied to the verbum -- and THEN, if things get muddy, search of utterer's intention to double check if all goes smoothly--if we can call the explicitly displaying bandaged leg as DICTIVUM, Grice does allow that there is concordance or discordance between DICTIVUM (explicilty displaying that p -- Pediu's 'propria significatio verbum' -- and what is impliatum -- the voluet demonstrari -- the propositional content q that may differ from the propositional content p of what has been explicltily displayed. Thanks -- in Grice's analysis it may turn up on a very long expansion: what U means or signifies -- may depend on what an expression signifies -- which has been defined in terms of explicit conveyance. Etc. Thanks Yes. I think you are locating a genuinely deep difference. What is striking is that Pedius and Grice may meet at the same destination while starting from opposite ends of the road. For Pedius, as preserved in the Digest, the starting point is:  verba  and in particular:  propria verborum significatio,  the ordinary or proper significance of the words. [ancienttexts.org], [loebclassics.com] Only if that proves inadequate, ambiguous, or misleading does the jurist press further:  quid testator demonstrare voluerit,  what the testator wished to convey. [ancienttexts.org], [loebclassics.com] So the Pedian route is approximately:  verbum → significatio → voluntas.  The text is already there. The task is interpretive.  Grice's route in "Meaning" is almost reversed. He begins not with a word but with:  U (utterer), x (utterance-token), I (intention).  And, as you note, "utter" is deliberately broad. The bandaged-leg example is perfect. A displays a bandaged leg. B has just invited him to play squash. A thereby conveys:  "I can't play squash."  rather than merely:  "I have a bandaged leg."  The displayed bandage functions as an utterance-token. No words are required. So Grice's initial route is:  U → I → x.  Meaning is explained through communicative intention before language enters the picture.  Your proposed distinction between a sort of dictivum and implicatum is helpful here. In the squash case: Dictivum What is explicitly displayed:  p = "I have a bandaged leg."  Implicatum What A means in the context:  q = "I cannot play squash."  And q is what matters conversationally. The interesting thing is that q is not identical with p. Indeed, the hearer may never formulate p explicitly at all.  Pedius' concern is different. Suppose a will says:  p = the words appearing in the testament.  The jurist asks:  Does the testator's voluntas require us to move beyond p?  Thus:  p (verbal content) versus q (what the testator intended to accomplish).  That is rather close to your comparison:                      GricePediusexplicit display pwords of the testament pmeant proposition qvoluntas qrecover q from communicative contextrecover q from legal context The resemblance is real; the priorities differ.  And I like your final observation. For Grice there is a long route by which we may eventually arrive at expression meaning:  U means that p by x. Repeated practices stabilize. Expression type X acquires conventional significance.  So eventually:  what an expression means  may indeed be analyzed in terms of prior explicit conveyances and intentions. Pedius, by contrast, starts where that process has already finished. The word already has a:  propria significatio.  The question is whether that significance settles the case. Hence a nice contrast: Pedius:  "Do not stop at the word."  Grice:  "Do not start with the word."  The former is a juristic warning about interpretation; the latter is a philosophical thesis about the foundations of meaning. Both end up looking toward intention, but they approach it from opposite directions. and the p and q matter -- By uttering 'She is the cream in my coffee, U means/signifies that she is the U's pride and joy (the dictivum, p, that the addressee is the cream in the u's coffee is CANCELLED. Yet Grice mainstains as analysandum: By explicitly conveying that p, U implicitly conveys that q. -- via principle of conversational helfpulness or some method of rationality in Pedius. Grice notes that he uses 'implicate not to have to choose between 'mean, suggest, indicate, insinate, hint -- all antonyms of 'explicitly convey.' In Pedius, the reading then is: there's what the U (testartos) voluit demonstrari -- and his verbum -- and it is a mistake to stick with alleged 'propria' signficatio of a verbum if it collapses with U's voluit demonstrari -- Thanks -- can we imagine a reconstructed dialogue where P. argues for his case in terms of some utterance? Thanks Yes. I think your reconstruction gets very close to the real contrast. For Grice, in the mature theory, there is a danger in identifying the dictivum (what is explicitly conveyed) with what the speaker ultimately means. Take your example:  "She is the cream in my coffee."  If uttered literally, the proposition p would be something like:  p = She is the cream in my coffee.  But in ordinary conversational use, nobody stops there. The hearer immediately searches for a rational interpretation and recovers:  q = She is especially dear to me / my pride and joy.  The literal proposition p is not the destination; it is a vehicle. In fact, as you note, p may be effectively cancelled as the serious point of the utterance. Yet Grice still wants p in the analysis, because the route to q runs through p. Very roughly:  U explicitly conveys p. U expects A to recognize that p is not the final point. A, using assumptions of rationality and helpfulness, infers q.  Hence Grice's need for a general term such as:  implicate  rather than choosing among:  suggest, hint, insinuate, indicate.  The whole point is that q is reached by a rational inferential route from the explicitly conveyed material.  With Sextus Pedius, the situation is different. The jurist is not asking:  How did q arise from p?  He is confronting a practical problem:  The words seem to say p. The testator appears to have intended q. Which should govern?  The key phrase attributed to Pedius is:  non propriam verborum significationem scrutari, sed quid testator demonstrare voluerit.  That is:  "Do not scrutinize merely the proper signification of the words, but what the testator wished to make known." [ancienttexts.org], [loebclassics.com]  Notice that he begins from:  verba and their propria significatio.  The Gricean begins from:  U and U's intention.   A reconstructed Pedian dialogue might run as follows. Pedius contra Literalistam Literalista:  Testator hoc scripsit. ("The testator wrote this.")  Pedius:  Scripsit sane. ("Indeed he did.")   Literalista:  Ergo hoc significat. ("Therefore it means this.")  Pedius:  Non tam celeriter. ("Not so quickly.")   Literalista:  Quid enim clarius verbis? ("For what is clearer than the words?")  Pedius:  Interdum voluntas clarior est verbis. ("Sometimes the intention is clearer than the words.")   +> The purpose may outrun the literal wording.   Literalista:  At verba hoc dicunt. ("But the words say this.")  Pedius:  Fortasse verba hoc dicunt; quaero tamen quid demonstrare voluerit. ("Perhaps the words say this; nevertheless I ask what he wished to convey.")   +> Literal content does not always exhaust communicative content.   At that point Grice would probably interrupt. Grice:  You begin with the words and move toward the intention.  Pedius:  Naturally.  Grice:  I begin with the intention and explain how the words acquire significance.  Pedius:  Then we travel the same road in opposite directions.  That, I think, is exactly right. The routes cross repeatedly, but the explanatory priorities differ.  For Pedius, intention corrects the literal meaning when necessary. For Grice, intention is what ultimately explains meaningful communication in the first place. [ancienttexts.org], [loebclassics.com] and can we think of some example. In Oxford English, 'vice and vice are spelt the same. So if the utterance is" He'll inherit my vice". Pedius: "While it is possible that U means that the denottatum of 'he' will inherit U's 'vice' or fault of character, he may be rather intending the tool used by carpenter." Can you provide an example in Latin -- what would be the most common source of such 'practical' twists of interpretation -- making it rather comical that the FIRST interpretant seems ridiculous if in accordinace with 'propriam significatio verbis' Thanks Yes. And I think this is exactly where a jurist like Sextus Pedius becomes interesting. The easiest cases are not the hard ones. If a will says:  fundum Titio do lego ("I leave the estate to Titius.")  there is little room for dispute. The really Pedian cases are those where a rigid adherence to the propria significatio verborum produces a result that appears absurd, ridiculous, or plainly contrary to what a reasonable testator could have intended. The sources describing Pedius emphasize his attention to what the testator "wished to declare" rather than merely the bare wording. [ancienttexts.org], [loebclassics.com] Your English "vice" example is excellent because it exploits lexical ambiguity. A Latin analogue might be:  filium ferramenta mea habere volo. ("I wish my son to have my tools.")  Suppose among the household effects there is an old carpenter's vice. A literalist might argue:  A vice is the relevant object.  But suppose the testator was a blacksmith, and in local usage ferramenta referred primarily to his working equipment generally. A Pedian move would be:  Do not fixate upon the narrow lexical denotation. Ask what practical transfer the testator had in mind.   An even more Roman example might arise from kinship terms. Suppose a will says:  liberis meis relinquo. ("I leave it to my children.")  Now imagine an adopted son, a natural son, a daughter raised in the household, or some other family complication. The dictionary meaning of liberi may seem straightforward. The practical intention may not be. The jurist asks:  Who did this testator have in mind when he spoke of "my children"?   A Grice–Pedius dialogue might look like this: De Asino Testator:  Asinum nepoti meo relinquo. ("I leave the ass to my grandson.")  After his death the estate contains:  one actual donkey; a slave nicknamed Asinus.   Literalista:  Asinus asinus est. ("An ass is an ass.")   Pedius:  Fortasse. Sed uter? ("Perhaps. But which one?")   Literalista:  Propria significatio animal demonstrat. ("The proper meaning points to the animal.")   Pedius:  At omnes sciebant servum illum Asinum appellari. ("But everyone knew that slave was called Asinus.")   Literalista:  Ergo quid faciemus?  ("Then what shall we do?")  Pedius:  Quaeramus quid testator demonstrare voluerit. ("Let us ask what the testator wished to convey.")   +> Intention resolves ambiguity where literal meaning does not.   What is striking is that the comical cases are often the best jurisprudential ones. A will read with relentless literalism may accidentally imply:  the wrong person, the wrong object, the wrong parcel of land, the wrong relationship.  The absurdity itself becomes evidence. Hence a very Roman practical principle:  Non credendum est testatorem ineptias voluisse. ("One should not believe that the testator intended nonsense.")  Grice would arrive there from the rationality of the speaker. Pedius arrives there from the rationality of legal interpretation. But, as you nicely suggest, the two routes cross. The jurist begins with the word and climbs toward intention; Grice begins with intention and descends toward the word. In both cases the ridiculous reading often serves as the clue that one has stopped too early. and it seems that a corollary (theorem, entailment, even) of P's maxim is that 'propria significatio' of verbum has to be 'suspended' -- How could that be? I think Grice considers an utterer using cauliflower--does this help? Grice: Suppose a state of society in which our linguistic behavior were such that all of us, on most occasions when we wished to describe a situation involving a rose, used expressions such as "that is a cau-liflower" (or other suitable expressions containing the word "cau-liflower"); and all of us on all occasions also used expressions containing the word "cauliflower" to describe cauliflower situations. Suppose, however, also that on all those occasions when we had before our minds the thought both of a rose and a cauliflower (for ex-ample, when our attention was drawn to our practice of using the word "cauliflower" in descriptions both of rose situations and cauliflower situations), we then called a rose "a rose" and refused to call it "a cauliflower" and insisted that on all the occasions when we had called "a rose" "a cauliflower" we had been wrong. In such a state of society would the word "cauliflower" be a correct expression to use to refer to a rose? Should we say, confronted with such linguistic be-havior, (1) that "cauliflower" would be a correct expression to use to refer to a rose (that is, that "cauliflower" would be ambiguous and would in one sense apply to roses and in another apply to cauliflow-ers; or (2) that the question is undecidable, that we would not know whether to say that it would be correct or to say that it would be incorrect to apply the expression "cauliflower" to roses (that is, that the situation would fall within the margin of vagueness between "being correct" and "being incorrect"); or (3) that we are uncertain about this question, but are somewhat inclined to alternative (2)? Yes. I think this is a profound point, and it helps separate Pedius's hermeneutics from Grice's philosophy of meaning. Your suggestion is that a strong reading of Pedius entails something like:  the propria significatio verbi may have to be suspended.  And one immediately asks:  Suspended in favour of what?  For Pedius, the answer is:  quid testator demonstrare voluerit, what the testator wished to convey. [ancienttexts.org], [loebclassics.com]  But that suspension is not unlimited. The jurist does not simply ignore the words. Rather:  the words provide the starting point, the voluntas provides the correction.   Your Gricean cauliflower example is illuminating precisely because Grice reverses the explanatory order. Suppose everyone routinely says:  "cauliflower"  when confronted with a rose. Yet, when reflection occurs, everyone insists:  "No, really, it's a rose."  Grice's question is:  What determines the meaning of the expression?  And the surprising answer is that actual overt usage does not automatically settle the matter. The community's reflective intentions and attitudes still matter. In a sense:  the expression's "proper meaning" is itself under negotiation.   Now compare Pedius. Imagine a testament:  rosam nepoti lego.  ("I leave the rose to my grandson.") Suppose everybody in that household habitually calls a certain valuable silver ornament  rosa.  A literalist says:  The proper meaning of rosa is "rose."  Pedius asks:  Did this testator mean the flower? Or did he mean the silver ornament everyone called "the Rose"?  The ordinary lexical meaning is not abolished. It is simply not decisive.  That is why I would hesitate to speak of "suspending" the propria significatio. Pedius seems closer to:  treating it as defeasible.  A first presumption. Not an ultimate court of appeal.  A reconstructed dialogue: Pedius contra Grammaticum Grammaticus:  Verbum "rosa" florem significat. ("The word 'rose' signifies a flower.")  Pedius:  Saepe ita est. ("Often it does.")   Grammaticus:  Quid ergo quaeris amplius? ("What more is there to inquire into?")   Pedius:  Quid testator hoc verbo efficere voluerit. ("What the testator wished to accomplish by this word.")   Grammaticus:  At iam constat quid verbum significet.  ("But we already know what the word signifies.")  Pedius:  Fortasse verbum intellegimus; hominem nondum intellegimus. ("Perhaps we understand the word; we do not yet understand the man.")   +> Knowledge of lexical meaning does not yet yield communicative intention.   Now Grice enters: Grice:  I begin with the man and explain the word.  Pedius:  I begin with the word and recover the man.  And that, I think, is the crucial criss-cross you mention. For Grice:  U → I → meaning.  For Pedius:  meaning → possible intention → corrected interpretation.  The roads intersect repeatedly, but they do not begin from the same place, nor are they trying to solve the same problem. Grice is asking what makes communication possible; Pedius is asking how a judge should decide a case once communication has already occurred and left behind a troublesome text. Another example by Grice may help. U knows a little girl thinks what U has uttered in French means that the little girl is to help herself some cake. Grice's case is that the U voluit that the girl helps cake. But the 'significatio propria' verbi ain't there -- "it means somehting else" (Grice does not specify). They are borderline cases, and the caulliflower case is even counterfactual. So can we think of a realistic example of some 'polysemy' or 'ambiguity' (perhaps of scope) in U's -- I leave to A and B a and b -- without 'respectively' means one thing. In mterial condition: if p horsehsoe q -- If p, I leave q -- p is indeterminate. Etc? Thanks -- I leave my son this -- indeed U's intetnio may be his newly adopted son, since perhaps he has given to adoption his biological son? Thanks -- I live the black sheep and horses -- black (shepp and horses) -- vs. (black sheep) and (horses)? Thanks Yes. And I think these are exactly the sorts of cases where Pedius becomes genuinely interesting. The easiest interpretation problem is simple polysemy:  asinum lego ("I leave the ass.")  Is it the donkey or the slave nicknamed Asinus? But the richer cases are the ones you are now pointing to:  ambiguity of scope, reference, adoption, class descriptions, distributive vs collective readings.  These are much closer to real-life testamentary litigation. 1. The adopted son Suppose a Roman writes:  filio meo fundum relinquo. ("I leave the estate to my son.")  At death there exist:  a biological son who was given in adoption long ago; an adopted son currently under the testator's patria potestas.  A grammarian says:  filius est filius.  ("A son is a son.") Pedius replies:  Quem filium cogitabat testator? ("Which son did the testator have in mind?")  This is not really lexical ambiguity. It is ambiguity of reference. Very Gricean. The expression  filius meus  does not identify its referent by itself. One needs the speaker's intention.  2. "A and B" Your example is excellent. Suppose:  A et B equum et fundum habeant. ("Let A and B have the horse and the estate.")  Possible readings: Collective A and B jointly own both. Distributive A gets one thing; B gets the other. Respectively-reading A gets the horse; B gets the estate. The word respectively is absent. The literal wording underdetermines the result. A Pedian question immediately arises:  quid demonstrare voluit?  ("What did he intend to indicate?")  3. Scope ambiguity Your "black sheep and horses" example is even nicer. English:  I leave the black sheep and horses.  Possible structures:  black (sheep and horses)  or  (black sheep) and horses  The words alone do not settle the issue. A Roman equivalent might be:  oves nigras et equos.  depending on punctuation, context, inventory, and local usage. Again, Pedius would not begin by rewriting grammar. He would ask:  What animals actually belonged to the testator? What grouping would a reasonable testator have had in mind?   4. Conditional bequests Suppose:  si redierit, fundum habeat. ("If he returns, let him have the estate.")  Who returns?  the son? the heir? the soldier abroad?  The antecedent may be defective. Here grammar gives:  p ⊃ q  but not the intended value of p. A perfect juristic headache.  5. The Grice–French example Your French example is especially illuminating. There the situation is:  the words conventionally mean r; U intends the child to understand q; q is understood; r may never be recovered.  That is close to Grice's borderland between:  expression meaning  and  speaker's meaning.  Pedius would almost certainly be uncomfortable there. For him, the words remain juridically central. He wants to move:  verbum → voluntas.  Grice's example threatens:  voluntas without shared verbum.   A Pedian courtroom reconstruction Grammaticus:  Filius meus simpliciter dictum est. ("'My son' was said plainly.")  Pedius:  Sed duo filii sunt. ("But there are two sons.")  Grammaticus:  Verba satis clara sunt. ("The words are sufficiently clear.")  Pedius:  Si clara essent, non litigaremus. ("If they were clear, we would not be litigating.")   +> The existence of a dispute is evidence that linguistic meaning alone is insufficient.  That last line feels almost Pedius-like. And it marks the point where he and Grice begin to converge:  Grice asks how hearers recover intended content from an utterance. Pedius asks which intended content should govern when a legal text has several plausible readings.  The difference is that Grice starts from the speaker and moves toward the expression; Pedius starts from the expression and climbs back toward the speaker. The adopted-son case is probably the best realistic example because it arises naturally in Roman law and forces exactly the question:  Does filius meus mean the person fitting the description, or the person the testator intended by that description? But none of these capture the 'propria significatio' of P. Grice has the silly example, 'I couldn't get on without my trouble and strife' (he means he finds his wife indispensable). I leave to my trouble and strife all that I possess. No translation. Your Asinus is cute, but SHort and lewis would hardly have 'asinus, fig. name of slaves. So we need somethng like fig. that P.may treat as not 'significatio propria' by which we would have to understood, U signifies Proprie (properly) that p -- there must be some case. Suppose a good compliment as per cliche is something like 'my cream and coffee' -- Or 'I leave my castle to Caius' -- or 'mansion' -- "But he never owned one." "I leave my crop of [species misidentified]." I leave the bronze sttatue to ...' It turns out it's iron. But we wouldn't say that brozne, fig. iron. -- this may be misidientification or malaprop. P. is trading on proprie in a way tht Grice detested, as he recalls Warnock being interviewd by Austin: What would you say is the difference between playing cricket wrongly or incorrectly and imiproperly? iThanks Yes. I think you've identified a place where a modern Gricean can easily over-Griceify Pedius. The phrase attributed to Pedius is not:  do not attend to the meaning of the words,  but rather:  do not stop at the propria significatio verborum. [ancienttexts.org], [loebclassics.com]  And propria is doing a lot of work. What Pedius seems to have in mind is not primarily Gricean implicature, metaphor, or speaker-meaning in the broad sense. Rather, he is contrasting:  the ordinary, direct, lexical sense of an expression; the intention manifested by the transaction as a whole.  So your Asinus example, though amusing, is probably too lexical. It turns the problem into homonymy. The more Pedian case is one where:  the words are perfectly intelligible, their ordinary meaning is perfectly available, but following it rigidly would defeat the obvious purpose.  That's a different phenomenon. The best examples are probably legal rather than poetic Take:  filio meo lego. ("I bequeath this to my son.")  Suppose:  a biological son was given in adoption twenty years ago, an adopted son presently lives in the household, everyone knows which young man the testator treated as "his son."  The propria significatio of filius is not in question. No dictionary problem arises. The issue is:  Does the ordinary legal sense exhaust what this speaker was doing?  That feels much closer to Pedius.  Your "castle" example is even better Suppose a Roman says:  domum meam Caiō relinquo. ("I leave my house to Gaius.")  The estate inventory reveals:  three houses, one of which everyone in the family calls domus mea, though technically another fits the description better.  The jurist asks:  Which house was he talking about?  Not:  What does domus mean?  The dictionary gives that immediately.  Grice's "trouble and strife" I think this example actually highlights the difference beautifully. If I say:  "I couldn't get on without my trouble and strife,"  the lexical route fails. The hearer reaches:  wife  through convention, idiom, metaphor, or slang. That is almost pure pragmatics. Pedius is usually operating later in the process. Imagine:  "I leave all my goods to my trouble and strife."  A Gricean asks:  What does "trouble and strife" mean?  Pedius asks:  Assuming we know who was meant, what legal consequence follows?  Different questions.  Austin and "improperly" The Austin anecdote you mention is very relevant. Austin loved distinctions such as:  wrong, incorrect, improper.  Pedius' propria significatio sounds almost Austinian. Suppose a testator writes:  equum nigrum lego. ("I leave the black horse.")  The horse is actually dark brown. A strict verbalist might object:  The description is false.  A Pedian jurist might reply:  Nobody doubts which horse was intended.  The description is not strictly correct, but the intention is perfectly clear. This is not metaphor. It is not implicature. It is something like what Austin would call the failure of a purely descriptive approach to language.  A reconstructed Pedian exchange Grammaticus:  Verba proprie sumenda sunt. ("The words must be taken in their proper sense.")  Pedius:  Nisi inde ineptia nascatur. ("Unless absurdity follows from that.")  Grammaticus:  At proprie significat hoc. ("But that is what it properly signifies.")  Pedius:  Concedo. Quaero tamen quid homo facere voluerit. ("Granted. Yet I ask what the man intended to do.")  The key point is that Pedius is not suspending semantics altogether. He grants the propria significatio. What he denies is its sovereignty. And that, I think, is where he parts company both from a naïve literalist and from the more radical Gricean move of starting with intention and only later explaining expression meaning. In fact, the ONLY expression whose proper significatio Grice analysed was 'shaggy =df hairy-coated. I leave the shaggy dog to Caius and the smoth-coated dog to Marius. Or, since I liked your horse example. I leave the whiite horse to Marius and the black horse to Caius. The jury doubts: the 'white' horse turned out to be 'very light grey' (is there a Latin word for that). The 'black' horse turned out to be 'very dark grey' is there a word for that? Intention clear. Thanks but we can have a presqeuel where the will is annuled on the absence of a white horse and a black horse -- and Pedius coming to re-run proceedings to the happiness of Caius and Marius. Thanks ("Thank you, Pedius, -- almost in unison -- dad was never too careful with the proper significatio of the verbi he uttered -- thanks but wer are glad you convicned the jury what dad voluit demonstrari. Thanks Splendid. This is much closer to what I imagine a Pedian case would look like than the slave Asinus example. The crucial feature is that the words are being used in their ordinary sense:  equus albus equus niger  No ambiguity. No metaphor. No slang. No implicature. The difficulty arises because the world fails to match the neat lexical categories. Latin actually has useful colour terms here:  albus = white, pale white. candidus = brilliant white, gleaming white. niger = black. ater = dull black, dark black. canus = grey, hoary, grey-haired. pullus = dark-coloured, dusky, brownish-grey.  So a lawyer might discover:  there is no equus albus strictly speaking, only a very pale canus;  and  no equus niger, only a very dark pullus.  Now enters the literalist.  Praequel: Testamentum Cassatum Iudex Literalis:  Testator duos equos nominavit: album et nigrum. ("The testator named two horses: a white one and a black one.")  Advocatus:  Recte. ("Quite so.")  Iudex:  Sed nullus equus albus repertus est. ("But no white horse was found.")  Advocatus:  Canus erat. ("It was grey.")  Iudex:  Neque equus niger. ("Nor was there a black horse.")  Advocatus:  Valde obscurus canus erat. ("It was a very dark grey.")  Iudex:  Ergo legatum deficit. ("Therefore the bequest fails.")   +> Proper signification governs absolutely.   Pedius Recalled Pedius:  Quaero primum quot equi fuerint. ("My first question is: how many horses were there?")  Advocatus:  Duo. ("Two.")  Pedius:  Et quibus uti solebat testator? ("And which horses did the testator customarily refer to?")  Advocatus:  Alterum album vocabat, alterum nigrum. ("He called one 'the white one' and the other 'the black one'.")  Pedius:  Etiamsi neuter proprie albus aut niger erat? ("Even though neither was properly white nor black?")  Advocatus:  Ita. ("Yes.")   Pedius:  Tum satis constat quid demonstrare voluerit. ("Then it is sufficiently clear what he wished to indicate.")   +> The reference is clear despite lexical inaccuracy.   The Happy Ending Caius:  Gratias tibi, Pedie. ("Thank you, Pedius.")  Marius:  Pater noster coloribus parcissime utebatur. ("Our father was never very careful with colours.")  Caius:  Sed semper hos duos equos significabat. ("But he always meant these two horses.")  Pedius:  Non de pictore agitur, sed de testatore. ("We are not dealing with a painter but with a testator.")   +> Precision of description is secondary to intention of reference.  Marius et Caius una voce:  Gratias agimus. Tandem intellexit aliquis quid pater voluit demonstrare. ("Our thanks. At last someone understood what father intended to convey.")   And I think this gets much closer to propria significatio. For Grice, the interesting contrast is often:  p (explicitly conveyed) versus q (implicated).  For Pedius, the contrast is often:  p = perfectly ordinary lexical meaning, versus the intended application of that meaning in this transaction.  The testator really does mean "white horse" and "black horse" in the ordinary sense. The problem is that he is a casual speaker, not a hippological taxonomist. The words are not metaphorical; they are merely rough. Pedius' task is not to decode an implicature but to prevent the law from becoming ridiculous through excessive reverence for the dictionary. That is a very Roman form of common sense.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Peduceo – Ossia: Grice e Peduceo -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Peduceo The gens Peducaea, occasionally written Paeducaea or Peducea, was a plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens occur in history from the end of the second century BC, and from then to the time of Antoninus Pius, they steadily increased in prominence. The first of the Peducaii to obtain the consulship was Titus Peducaeus in 35 BC.[1][2]  Origin The gentile-forming suffix -aeus occurs in a number of Latin names, many of which seem to be of Oscan or Umbrian origin, and cognate to the more regular endings -eius and -aius, both of which were sometimes reduced to -ius in Latin. The ending -aeus seems to be derived from nominative forms ending in -aes, which was typical of the Umbri, as well as the Paeligni, an Oscan-speaking people.[3]  Praenomina The main praenomina of the Peducaei were Sextus, Titus, and Lucius, all of which were common throughout Roman history. There are also several instances of the common praenomina Gaius and Quintus. Other names occur infrequently.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Sextus Peducaeus, tribune of the plebs in 113 BC, reopened an investigation into a charge of incestum (unchastity) made against three of the Vestal Virgins, who had been acquitted by the College of Pontiffs. He had Lucius Cassius Longinus Ravilla appointed to head the inquiry, which led to the execution of two of the accused.[4][5][6] Titus Peducaeus, named in the Fasti Urbisalvienses between the consuls and the censors of 102 BC, but his magistracy is not preserved.[7] Sextus Peducaeus, probably praetor in 77 BC, and propraetor in Sicilia from 76 to 75 BC. Cicero served as his quaestor, and speaks highly of his integrity, which he contrasts with the corruption and rapacity of his successor, Verres, who had cultivated Peducaeus' friendship.[8][9] Sextus Peducaeus Sex. f., a close friend of both Atticus and Cicero. In 48 BC, during the Civil War, Caesar appointed Peducaeus governor of Sardinia. He was propraetor in Spain in 40.[10][11][12] Gaius Peducaeus Sex. f., afterward Gaius Curtius Peducaeanus[i], probably the younger son of the propraetor to whom Cicero was quaestor, was adopted by Gaius Curtius. He was praetor in 50 BC.[13][14] Lucius Peducaeus, assisted in the defense of Marcus Aemilius Scaurus, which Cicero had undertaken, in 54 BC.[15] Gaius Peducaeus, a legate under the consul Gaius Vibius Pansa in 43 BC. He fell at the Battle of Mutina.[16][17] Titus Peducaeus, consul suffectus ex Kal. Sept. in 35 BC.[18][2] Lucius Peducaeus Fronto, a procurator at Ephesus in Asia during the reign of Tiberius.[19] Lucius Peducaeus Colo(nus?), praefectus of Roman Egypt in AD 70. Marcus Peducaeus Saenianus, consul suffectus ex Kal. Mai. in AD 89, served until the Kalends of September.[20][21][22] Quintus Peducaeus Priscinus, consul in AD 93, from the beginning of the year to the Kalends of March.[23][20][22] Marcus Peducaeus Priscinus, consul in AD 110, and afterward proconsul of Asia.[23][21] Marcus Peducaeus M. f. Stloga Priscinus, consul in AD 141, and subsequently proconsul of Asia.[23][21] Peducaeus Marcianus, served in a company of archers, according to a military diploma dating to AD 160.[24] Peducaeus Diodorus, named in an inscription from Ostia, dating from AD 165.[25] Marcus Peducaeus M. f. M. n. Plautius Quintillus,[ii] consul in AD 177 with his brother-in-law, the future emperor Commodus. He was the adopted son of Stloga Priscinus, and exercised tremendous influence over Septimius Severus, who at last ordered his death circa AD 203.[26][27][28] Peducaea, mentioned in an inscription at Amiternum in Sabinum.[29] Peducaea, the wife of Eutyches, buried at Rome.[30] Peducaea, buried at Tibur in Latium.[31] Peducaeus, brother of Ateula Malussa, named in an inscription from Lugdunum.[32] Peduceus, buried at Albanum in Latium, aged twenty-one.[33] Gaius Peducaeus C. f., son of one of the Augustales, buried at Rome.[34] Lucius Peduceus, named in a funerary inscription from Albanum.[33] Quintus Peducaeus P. f., an augur, named in an inscription from Spoletium in Umbria.[35] Quintus Peducaeus St. f., named in an inscription from Nursia in Samnium.[36] Titus Peducaeus, dedicated a monument at Ravenna to Appaea Pia.[37] Titus Peducaeus St. f., named in an inscription from Nursia.[36] Titus Peducaeus T. l., named in an inscription from Rome.[38] Sextus Peducaeus Sex. Cn. Petroni l. Anteros, freedman of Sextus and Gnaeus Petronius, buried at Rome.[39] Lucius Peducaeus Apollinaris, buried at Sulci in Sardinia.[40] Publius Peducaeus Boletanus, buried at Aquileia in the province of Venetia and Histria, aged thirty.[41] Lucius Peducaeus Charito, husband of Aurunceia Felicula, to whom he dedicated a monument at Interamna Nahars in Umbria.[42] Peducaea T. l. Daphne, a freedwoman buried at Rome, was the wife of Titus Peducaeus Faustus.[43] Sextus Peducaeus Dio, named in an inscription from Rome.[44] Sextus Peducaeus Dionysius, a bookseller buried at Rome.[45] Sextus Peducaeus Dionysius, husband of Baebia Delphis, to whom he dedicated a monument at Tibur.[46] Peducaea T. Ↄ. l. Epangellusa, freed as a young girl, and buried at Rome, aged ten.[47] Peducaea Ephire, named in an inscription from Venusia, dating from the middle of the first century to the middle of the second.[48] Sextus Peducaeus Sex. l. Eutyches, a freedman buried at Mutina in northern Italy.[49] Peducaea Fausta, named in an inscription from Rome, dating to the first century.[50] Titus Peducaeus T. l. Faustus, a freedman buried at Rome, was the husband of Peducaea Daphne.[43] Lucius Peducaeus Felix, dedicated a monument at Rome to his sister, Peducaea Tyche.[51] Peducaea Festa, according to an inscription from Rome, gave a pot to the singing teacher Gaius Julius Coscus.[52] Titus Peducaeus T. f. Florus, buried at Rome, aged twenty-one.[43] Peducaea Fortunata, dedicated a monument at Rome to her son, Gaius Julius Felix, aged six years, ten months, and seven days.[53] Peducaea Galatia, wife of Titus Paeducaeus Oriens, buried at Ostia.[54] Peducaea Graptusa, buried at Rome, aged two years, nine months, and fifteen days.[55] Sextus Peducaeus Hecticus, named in an inscription from Venusia.[48] Peducaea Hellas, buried at Rome.[56] Sextus Peducaeus Sex. f. Herophilus, donated to the cult of Isis and Serapis at Anticaria in Hispania Baetica.[57] Peducaea Sex. l. Hilara, a freedwoman, built a tomb at Mutina for herself and Sextus Peducaeus Hilarus.[58] Sextus Peducaeus Sex. l. Hilarus, buried at Mutina in a tomb built by Peducaea Hilara.[58] Paeducaeus Ingenuus, buried at Rome.[59] Peducaea Irene, buried at Rome.[60] Sextus Peducaeus Jucundus, one of the Augustales, named in an inscription from Venusia.[48] Lucia Peducaea Juliana, wife of Lucius Nonius Verus, buried at Mutina, aged thirteen years, forty-seven days, having been married five months and twenty days.[61] Peducaea Lesche, buried at Rome, aged, twenty-two.[62] Gaius Peducaeus Marcellus, buried at the present site of Decimoputzu in Sardinia, aged three years, five months, six days.[63] Peducaea Musa, buried at Albanum.[33] Lucius Paeducaeus Natalis, patron of Paeducaea Zmyrina, buried at Rome, aged eighty years, nine months, and twenty days.[64] Titus Peducaeus Oriens, the husband of Peducaea Galatia, to whom he dedicated a monument at Ostia.[54] Peducaea Saturnina, dedicated a monument at Rome to her husband, Lucius Aemilius Cleobulus, buried at Rome, aged forty-four.[65] Lucius Peducaeus Saturninus, husband of Peducaea Severina, named in an inscription from the Alban Hills.[66] Peducaea Severa, named in an inscription from Rome.[30] Peducaea Severina, wife of Lucius Peducaeus Saturninus, named in an inscription from the Alban Hills.[66] Titus Peducaeus T. f. Severus, buried at Rome, aged eight.[43] Peducaea Q. f. Sextia, daughter of Quintus Peducaeus Spes, wife of the flamen of Carthage, dedicated a monument at the present site of Choud el Batel, formerly part of Africa Proconsularis, to her son, Longeius.[67] Quintus Peducaeus Spes, father of Peducaea, the flamen's wife.[67] Peducaea Q. f. Tertia, named in an inscription from Arretium in Etruria.[68] Peducaea Tyche, sister of Lucius Peducaeus Felix, buried at Rome, aged twenty-six years, sixteen days.[51] Paeducaea Zmyrina, client of Lucius Paeducaeus Natalis, to whom she dedicated a monument at Rome.[64] Footnotes  In his oration Post Reditum in Senatu, Cicero refers to Peducaeanus as Manius Curtius or Manius Curius (depending on the manuscript). Manius was the favoured praenomen of the Curii, but is not known among the Curtii. However, the two gentes were easily confused. Broughton gives the name as Gaius Curtius, the name given in Cicero's Epistulae ad Familiares.  Cassius Dio, who paints a most unflattering portrait of Plautius, refers to him as "Plautianus". See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 165 ("Peducaeus").  Broughton, vol. II, p. 406.  Chase, p. 120.  Cicero, De Natura Deorum, iii. 30.  Asconius Pedianus, In Ciceronis Pro Milone, p. 76 (ed. Orelli).  Broughton, vol. I, p. 536.  Fasti Urbisalvienses, AE 1982, 240.  Cicero, In Verrem, i. 7., ii. 56, iii. 93, iv. 64, De Finibus, ii. 18, Epistulae ad Atticum, x. 1, 4, 5.  Broughton, vol. II, pp. 88, 92 (note 2), 94, 98.  Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares, viii. 14, Epistulae ad Atticum, vi. 13a, 14, 17, ix. 7, 19, x. 1, xiii. 1, xv. 13, xvi. 11, 15.  Appian, Bellum Civile, ii. 48, v. 54.  Broughton, vol. II, pp. 277, 385.  Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares, xiii. 59, Post Reditum in Senatu, 8.  Broughton, vol. II, p. 248.  Asconius Pedianus, In Ciceronis Pro Scauro, p. 29 (ed. Orelli).  Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares, x. 33.  Broughton, vol. III, p. 354.  Fasti Tauromenitani, AE 1988, 626.  AE 1971, 459.  Fasti Potentini, AE 1949, 23.  PIR, vol. III, p. 21.  Gallivan, "The Fasti for A.D. 70–96", p. 191.  Fasti Ostienses, CIL XIV, 244.  AE 1994, 1914.  CIL XIV, 4564.  Aelius Spartianus, "The Life of Didius Julianus", 6.  Cassius Dio, lxxvi. 14–16.  PIR, vol. III, p. 46.  CIL IX, 4480.  NSA, 1922, 421.  AE 1999, 574.  AE 1976, 441.  AlbLaz, p 66, 22.  CIL VI, 23894.  CIL XI, 4902.  CIL IX, 4582.  CIL XI, 6751.  CIL VI, 27549.  CIL VI, 37304.  CIL X, 7520.  CIL V, 8431.  CIL XI, 4251.  CIL VI, 23896.  CIL VI, 23895.  CIL VI, 9218.  CIL XIV, 3732.  CIL VI, 23898.  AE 1996, 444.  AE 2013, 526.  AE 1997, 210.  CIL VI, 23899.  CIL VI, 10134.  CIL VI, 19998.  ZPE, 81, 237.  Hadzsits, Classical Studies in Honor of John C. Rolfe, p. 317.  CIL VI, 23900.  CIL II, 180b.  CIL XI, 904.  CIL VI, 36290.  CIL VI, 23901.  CIL XI, 832.  CIL VI, 23902.  CIL X, 7838.  CIL VI, 23897.  CIL VI, 11055.  CIL XIV, 2265.  CIL VIII, 25846.  CIL XI, 1883. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, De Finibus Bonorum et Malorum, De Natura Deorum, Epistulae ad Atticum, Epistulae ad Familiares, In Verrem, Post Reditum in Senatu, Pro Flacco. Quintus Asconius Pedianus, Commentarius in Oratio Ciceronis Pro Milone (Commentary on Cicero's Oration Pro Milone), Commentarius in Oratio Ciceronis Pro Scauro (Commentary on Cicero's Oration Pro Scauro). Appianus Alexandrinus (Appian), Bellum Civile (The Civil War). Lucius Cassius Dio Cocceianus (Cassius Dio), Roman History. Aelius Lampridius, Aelius Spartianus, Flavius Vopiscus, Julius Capitolinus, Trebellius Pollio, and Vulcatius Gallicanus, Historia Augusta (Augustan History). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Notizie degli Scavi di Antichità (News of Excavations from Antiquity, abbreviated NSA), Accademia dei Lincei (1876–present). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). George D. Hadzsits, Classical Studies in Honor of John C. Rolfe, University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia (1931). Alberto Galieti, Contributi alla storia della diocesi suburbicaria di Albano Laziale (Contributions to the History of the Suburbicarian Diocese of Albano Laziale, abbreviated AlbLaz), Vatican City (1948). T. Robert S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, American Philological Association (1952). Paul A. Gallivan, "The Fasti for A.D. 70–96", in Classical Quarterly, vol. 31, pp. 186–220 (1981). Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik (Journal of Papyrology and Epigraphy, abbreviated ZPE), (1987). Categories: PeducaeiRoman gentes and your first-best choice for a Grice-Speranza vignette for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Peduceo – Ossia: Grice e Peduceo -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Peduceo For the Peducaei, my first-best Grice–Speranza choice is not the consul, nor the adopted Peducaeanus, nor even the Vestal investigation. It is:  Sextus Peducaeus, Cicero's former provincial governor in Sicily, whom Cicero repeatedly praises for integrity and contrasts with Verres. [GREXv2 | Word]  Why? Because the central issue is reputation, expectation, and conversational contrast. Cicero's rhetorical strategy in the Verrines repeatedly runs:  "Under Peducaeus, Sicily was administered honorably." "Under Verres, it was administered corruptly." [GREXv2 | Word]  This creates a wonderfully Gricean phenomenon. A Roman says merely:  Peducaeus fuit praetor Siciliae. ("Peducaeus was governor of Sicily.")  In Cicero's mouth, given the contrast with Verres, this begins to implicate:  +> honest administration +> absence of extortion +> trustworthy governance  without any of those predicates necessarily being explicitly uttered.  Grice e Peduceo Cicero's Problem Siculus:  Peducaeus discessit. ("Peducaeus has departed.")  Alter Siculus:  Et Verres venit. ("And Verres has arrived.")  Silent pause.  +> Things are about to get worse.   Grice:  Nothing has been said about corruption.  Speranza:  No, but everything has been communicated.   A More Explicit Reconstruction Advocatus Verres:  Peducaeus et Verres praetores fuerunt. ("Peducaeus and Verres were both governors.")  Cicero:  Etiam. ("Indeed.")  Advocatus:  Ergo pares sunt. ("Therefore they are equivalent.")  Cicero:  Non sequitur. ("That does not follow.")   +> Same office does not imply same conduct.   What interests me is that Peducaeus functions almost as a conversational benchmark. When Cicero invokes him, the hearer is expected already to know:  what a decent governor looks like.  Thus:  Peducaeus  becomes a standard of comparison. Very Gricean: the name itself begins to carry contextual implications beyond its denotation. Speranza's Verdict Grice:  Why Peducaeus?  Speranza:  Because Cicero uses him almost as a control case.  Grice:  Meaning?  Speranza:  To say "Peducaeus" is nearly to imply "not Verres."   +> Contrast supplies much of the communicated content.  That strikes me as the most Gricean contribution of the gens Peducaea: a man whose importance lies less in what he explicitly said than in what his name allowed Cicero's audience immediately to infer. [GREXv2 | Word]

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Peduceo – Ossia: Grice e Peduceo -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Peduceo A Strong Runner-Up The runner-up would be:  Sextus Peducaeus, tribune of 113 BC, who reopened the Vestal Virgins investigation after an acquittal and secured a new inquiry leading to executions. [GREXv2 | Word]  That case raises fascinating questions about:  acquittal, reopening proceedings, evidential standards, and what can be inferred from a previous verdict.  But it is darker and less distinctly conversational.

 

PEL

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pelacani – Ossia: Grice e Pelacani: la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale – la scuola di Parma -- filosofia emiliana  Antonio Pelacani (Parma, Emilia-Romagna): la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers recover what a speaker means beyond what is explicitly said by presuming rational cooperation and drawing defeasible inferences (implicatures) from shared norms of relevance, informativeness, and clarity; meaning is centrally tied to intention-recognition in interaction, not merely to any sign-like correlation. Pelacani’s intellectual world, by contrast, is late medieval scholasticism, where “meaning” is primarily treated through the metaphysics and psychology of intellect (possible versus agent), the logic of demonstration, and the exegetical discipline of commenting on authoritative texts; the governing norms are those of dialectic and theological-philosophical legitimacy rather than those of ordinary conversational exchange. The comparison, then, is a shift of explanatory level: Grice offers a pragmatic account of how rational agents manage mutual understanding in the everyday traffic of speech, while Pelacani offers a theoretical account of how cognition itself is structured (passive reception and active intellection) and how philosophical claims are warranted within an academic and ecclesiastical culture that polices error, attribution, and heresy. From a Gricean angle, Pelacani’s controversies show that even the most abstract debates depend on conversational conditions—what counts as an acceptable move, what is assumed, what must be made explicit—but Grice relocates the source of meaning from scholastic apparatus to the public rationality of speakers; from a Pelacani-like angle, Grice’s maxims would look like a local grammar of discourse that presupposes deeper commitments about agency, intellect, and the production of understanding that scholastic psychology tried to articulate at the level of mind rather than talk. Grice: “At Oxford, Strawson used to confuse Pelacani with Pelacani!”. Lettore (Grice: “reader or lecturer?”) a Bologna, divenne consigliere di Visconti.  In questa veste si trova più volte coinvolto in processi per eresia montati da Giovanni XXII per gettare nella polvere il Visconti. Grande commentatore di Avicenna e Galeno. Treccani Dizionario biografico degl’italiani, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia. Saggi: “Circa intellectum possibilem et agentem”; “De unitate intellectus”; Utrum primum principium sive deus ipse sit potentie infinite”; “De generatione et corruptione"; “Questiones super tre metheorum.” passivo/attivo; non-agens/agens. Grice: “Merton, 1937. Perhaps it is a blessing to be an Englishman: I can read Locke on the soul and spare myself what Antonio Pelacani once contrived. But at Merton they insist on calculating everything, and Wainwright—our resident historian of reverent dispositions—pressed on me Pelacani’s Padua exercise, Circa intellectum possibilem et agentem. “The intellectus,” Wainwright reminded me, “is something Locke never really had.” “Nor did Pelacani,” I replied, rather pointedly, and thereby offended him. And then the Latin began to irritate me. If one is going to be pedantic, why not circa intellectum possibilem et intellectum agentem? Unless, of course, he is quietly smuggling, or ‘mis-identifying,’ in a unity by letting the second intellectus drop out. “Mystifying,” Wainwright said, in his severest tone, “is the word you want.” And charitably, he went on to explain that these Italians were chasing the old Greek distinction—nous pathetikos and nous poietikos—so that Pelacani’s“possibilis” is perilously close to “passibilis,” and all it takes is a vowel to send a whole tradition off its rails. Which is especially disappointing, since Italians are supposed, of all people, to keep their vowels clear enough for an operatic ear.” Grice: Pelacani, mi è sempre colpito il tuo modo di affrontare la ragione conversazionale, soprattutto nei tuoi studi sulla scuola di Parma. Alla Oxford, mi divertiva la confusione che Strawson faceva tra te e il tuo omonimo! Ma dimmi: come vedi il ruolo dell’implicatura conversazionale nella filosofia italiana? Pelacani: Grice, la questione dell’implicatura mi affascina. Credo che la filosofia emiliana, e quella italiana in generale, abbia sempre cercato di leggere tra le righe, non solo ciò che è detto esplicitamente. Nei processi per eresia che coinvolsero Visconti, era proprio la sottigliezza conversazionale a fare la differenza tra verità e inganno. Grice: Hai ragione, Pelacani! Nei tuoi commentari su Avicenna e Galeno, si percepisce la tensione tra ciò che è passivo e ciò che è attivo: non-agens e agens. Penso che la distinzione conversazionale sia fondamentale anche nell’analisi dell’intelletto possibile e agente. Come concili questa dualità nei tuoi saggi? Pelacani: La dualità è il cuore del mio pensiero. Nei “Circa intellectum possibilem et agentem” cerco proprio di mostrare come la conversazione filosofica sia un gioco sottile tra passività e attività, tra ciò che si riceve e ciò che si produce. In fondo, come dice un proverbio emiliano, “Chi ascolta bene, sa parlare meglio.” So here without forgetting "Typewriting disallowed. Handwriting counts." provide two different weekly essay assignments coming from an oxford tutor of philosophy -- without mentioning the first names, but teasing the tutee about these two Pelacanis, from Parma, etc -- make the asignment philosophical, and tease about tere being two, but do not mention their first names and distinguish them by other clues, etc if at all – Grice’s weekly essay assignment: Write on Pelacani as a thinker of intellect, agency, and demonstration, taking particular care to show that you know why possible and agent intellect are not merely two medieval ways of saying “something happens in the head.” You should explain how the relevant distinctions bear upon cognition, responsibility, and philosophical method, while resisting the temptation—common, understandable, and fatal—to wander into the sign-theory, optics, or semantic preoccupations of the other Pelacani simply because the surname has already done too much of the work for you. A good answer will make clear why a dropped intellectus in a Latin title is not yet an argument, and why Parma has no right to be treated as a single doctrine. Typewriting disallowed. Handwriting counts.

Pelacani, Antonio (1316). Circa intellectum possibilem et agentem. Padova.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pelacani – Ossia: Grice e Pelacani: la ragione conversazionale, la dialettica, e l’implicatura conversazionale – filosofia emiliana -- filosofia italiana –  Biagio Pelacani (Noceto, Parma, Emilia-Romagna): la ragione conversazionale, la dialettica, e l’implicatura conversazionale. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers recover what a speaker means beyond what is explicitly said by presuming cooperative rational agency and then inferring implicatures from shared expectations about relevance, informativeness, and clarity; meaning is thus centrally intention-based and socially accountable. Pelacani, by contrast, belongs to the late medieval logical and semantic tradition in which signification is treated as a property of terms, concepts, and inferential roles within dialectic: he is preoccupied with significatio (including natural signification), the ways parts of speech express concepts, and the conditions under which anything at all can function as a sign, extending well beyond vox to gestures and other sign-vehicles. The comparison is therefore a shift in the locus of normativity: Grice locates it in conversational practice and its rational expectations (how an utterance counts as a move in cooperative exchange), whereas Pelacani locates it in the discipline of dialectical analysis (how expressions signify within a theory of concepts and argument), with “natural” signification treated as evidential rather than intentional. From a Gricean perspective, Pelacani supplies a rich pre-history of the distinction between signs that indicate and speakers who mean, but he does not yet isolate the distinctive pragmatic mechanism by which a speaker exploits shared rational norms to convey more than is said; from a Pelacani-like perspective, Grice’s implicature looks like a modern, context-sensitive extension of an older project: explaining how signs, rules, and inference together make communication intelligible, whether the vehicle is a word, a handwave, or a carefully timed silence. Grice: “Some like P., but P.’s MY man.” Dottore diabolico. Grice: “I would call him a philosophical grammarian; he considers the topic of ‘meaning,’ ‘significatio,’ and agrees with me that ANYTHING can signify, a handwave, etc – hardly just ‘vox’! He is especially interested in ‘significatio naturaliter,’ which he explains, er, naturally. He deals with the concepts expressed by the different parts of speech – adverbs, etc. – and disapproves of the idea that the ‘arts’ of language are ’scientia.’ He saw himself, as I do, as a PHILOSOPHER, and would consider everything related to the language used by philosophers as PRO-PEDEUTIC --. Parente di Antonio P. Della sua medesima casata un altro filosofo. Frequenta la facoltà artium philosophie a Pavia, dove, come titolare della cattedra di magister philosophie et logice, delegato dal vescovo, diploma in arti un certo Bossi. Insegna a Bologna e Padova. Contesta molte regole della meccanica del LIZIO e sostenne l'applicazione di strumenti matematici per sostituire le regole obsolete. In particolare conduce studi sull'ottica nelle Quæstiones de perspectiva. Nel saggio De ponderibus si occupa di statica ed elabora in De proportionis una teoria del vuoto che si contrappone alle tesi del continuo dei fisici del Lizio. Si occupa anche del moto dei pianeti in Theorica planetarum e mette in discussione la cosmologia del Lizio negando che si puo sostenere l'incorruttibilità dei cieli e l'interpretazione teo-logica dell'esistenza di un primo motore immobile, vale a dire del divino. Nega quindi la possibilità delle dimostrazioni a posteriori dell'esistenza del divino e dell'immortalità dell'anima individuale. implicature, prospettiva, filosofia della percezione, origini del libertinismo, commentario in detaglio sulla semiotica di Occam – dialettica – segno, nota, sermo. Shorpshire sull’immortalità dell’anima.” , “L’animismo ‘smoke means fire, literally.’  Grice: “St John’s, 1952. Yesterday, in the joint seminar with Austin and Hare on the Nicomachean Ethics, I mentioned the Magna Moralia in passing, only to have Hare object—rather more loudly than he usually does: “But that isn’t Aristotle!” As if it mattered. Hare has a way of making the history of philosophy sound as though one must both run with the hares and hunt with the hounds. Why should the text be disqualified just because the attribution is dubious? It reminded me of good old Biagio Pelacani. He spent term after term lecturing on quaestiones super De caelo et mundo at Padua on the assumption that the work was Aristotelian. The moral, which I ought to press on Hare in public, is that this hardly disqualifies Pelacani’s labour: the exegesis can be brilliant even when the author turns out to be a non‑Stagirite. One can do first-rate philosophy on a mistaken attribution; indeed, one often does. Grice: Pelacani, ti ho visto agitare le mani in aula. Era una lezione di semiotica o stavi solo cercando di scacciare una mosca filosofica? Pelacani: Caro Grice, ogni gesto è un segno! Magari la mosca era solo una metafora della ragione conversazionale che svolazza tra la dialettica e l’implicatura. Grice: Allora la prossima volta dovrò portare una lente d’ingrandimento: per distinguere tra significatio naturaliter e una semplice pizza parmigiana! Pelacani: Se trovi una pizza in aula, Grice, significa che la dialettica si è fatta appetito. In fondo, come dicono a Parma, “chi ragiona troppo finisce col mangiare freddo!” Grice’s weekly essay assignment: Write on Pelacani as a philosopher of signification, dialectic, and the conditions under which anything at all may count as a sign, taking care not to let the theological psychology, political entanglements, and Avicennian-Galenic burdens of the other Pelacani drift across the page merely because you have mislaid the century. You should ask whether natural signification, inferential role, and the extension of signhood beyond vox amount to a genuine philosophy of meaning, or only to a formidable preface to one; and you should do so without assuming that every handwave in Parma already contains a complete theory of implicature. If you find yourself writing about Visconti, heresy-trials, or the active intellect before the second page is over, begin again from the title and improve your conscience. Typewriting disallowed. Handwriting counts. Pelacani, Biagio (1385). Questiones super De caelo et mundo. Pavia.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pellegirni – Ossia: Grice e Pellegrini: la teoria del segno e l’implicatura conversazionale. Grice: “As an university lecturer at Oxford, I had to give this or that seminar on topics of my interest. Ewing was writing on meaninglessness –which struck my attention, since I don’t think Ewing cared much to talk about meaningfulness in the first place! P. did Antonio Pellegrini (Venezia, Veneto): la teoria del segno e l’implicaura conversazionale. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning distinguishes natural meaning (where a sign is evidence, as spots mean measles) from non-natural meaning (where what is conveyed depends on a speaker’s intention being recognized), and it explains understanding as a rational, cooperative inference from what is said plus context plus attributable purposes. Antonio Pellegrini’s I segni de la natura ne l’huomo (Venice, 1545; edited by Cristoforo Canale) belongs to an earlier semiotic-physiognomic tradition in which meaning is primarily read off nature: external features, gestures, and expressions are treated as signs that reveal inner affections of the soul, useful not only to moralists but to painters and sculptors, and the interpretive task is to diagnose character from visible marks rather than to reconstruct communicative intention. The comparison is thus a shift from sign-reading to intention-reading: Pellegrini treats the human body as a natural text whose “signs” disclose passions independently of what the subject is trying to get an audience to think, whereas Grice treats a central range of meaning as essentially interpersonal and purposive, generated by the speaker’s plan to influence an addressee by getting that plan recognized. From a Gricean standpoint, Pellegrini’s project captures only one pole of the landscape (what Grice would call natural meaning) and misses the distinctively conversational phenomenon in which the same smile, frown, or utterance can be deployed strategically to suggest, mislead, reassure, or retract—effects that arise not from nature alone but from the norms and reasoning that govern talk between agents. Grice: “As an university lecturer at Oxford, I had to give this or that seminar on topics of my interest. Ewing was writing on meaninglessness –which struck my attention, since I don’t think Ewing cared much to talk about meaningfulness in the first place! P. did: he refers to ‘the signs’ – I signi’ – of the nature – fisi, what I call ‘natural meaning’ – of ‘man’ himself – my topic of research since I fell in love with Locke!” Keywords: sign, signify, physiognomy, fisonomia – segno come relazione triadica – Peirce – Those spots didn’t mean anything to ME; to the doctor, they meant measles. I SEGNI DELLA NATURA NELL'UOMO. Della fisonomia naturale Della fisionomia naturale,  nella quale con bellissimo ordine s'insegna da segni esterni della natura a conoscere gl’affetti interni dell'animo dell'huomo. Opera non meno dotta, che utile generalmente a tutti, & in particolare a qualunque che di pittura, e scoltura si diletta. Con un indice copioso di quanto in detta opera si contiene. Al signor Gio. Dominico Peri (Milano). For an earlier example, Martius, De homine. Cristoforo Canài HI DELLA NATVRA NELL’VOMO. Con Trimlezw. ^òi^Jf-^^-. In vinetia , per Gm^vm ^ 7v A* LO ECCELLER^ tipmo Duca di Camerino , Il Signore Ottauio Farnefe , Chrijfoforo ^ecanale, Onofcendo per uiua ^ certa froua , EcceUen^ tipmo Trencipe^che lo intendere pienamente ^i affetti humani, apporti in tutte le opera^ tiont de la uit a, gr andiamo gioua, mento , ^ Comma dilettatione a .Mortali ) m'e caduto ne t animo , per fare queHo piacere, ^questa utilttade agli huomini, dt pub li ed' re ( anchora che fenz^a ilconfènti- mento di lui) alcuni ragionamene ti : fcritti ne gli anni p affati , da a ij mio compare iiPkfeJJer (tT : Me i quali ( fe in alcu - n altro liho ) fi può perfettamente imprendere , quejia fi diletteuole > f^* fi gioueuole dottrina . Eiluero, che il penfarmi di uolere far con- tro a la opinione, ^ del Compare,  de lo amico J,a mente^pronta da fe y a procacciare il bene, l'utile commune. Segno, segno naturale. Grice: “St John’s, 1948. November. I suppose I had it coming. That fourth paragraph in Meaning—my invited paper to the Oxford Philosophical Society (invited by my own tutee, no less)—was bound to draw criticism as surely as moths to a flame or nails to a magnet; I cannot decide which is the worse mixed metaphor. I had been insisting, rather loudly, that my distinction between natural meaning and non-natural meaning improves upon, and in any case goes beyond, Pellegrini’s ramblings as Canale has seen fit to curate them. Pellegrini talks about signs—I segni; I do not. I talk about the non-natural; he does not. For him it is all segni de la natura—note Canale’s editorial bravado in turning della into de la, which is proofreading for you—and to cap it all, ne l’huomo, a phrase that manages to be both archaic and phonetically abrasive. Still, I find I can be magnanimous about it. When the utterer is a human agent, “I mean to forgive Pellegrini” is best read as “I intend to let his editor have his way”—at least for the purposes of a footnote, and perhaps for the peace of the Society.” Grice: Caro Pellegrini, ogni volta che parli di segni naturali mi viene da chiedermi: secondo te, il mio sorriso significa che ho capito o che sto solo cercando di essere gentile? Pellegrini: Eh Grice, dipende se il sorriso è spontaneo o studiato! Come diceva mia nonna a Venezia, “Ogni segno nasconde un affetto, ma ogni affetto può mascherare un segno!” Grice: Allora dovrò chiedere a un pittore di farmi il ritratto, così magari scopriremo se la mia fisonomia racconta più della mia filosofia! Pellegrini: Grice, se il pittore ti ritrae con una mano sulla testa, vuol dire che stai pensando; se ti dipinge con una pizza, vuol dire che hai fame! In fondo, tra segni e implicature, è tutta una questione di interpretazione… e di appetito, ovviamente! As per passage below on PELLEGRINI, I SIGNI DE LA NATURA NE L'HUOMO -- and as per passage I cited in different session above in this thread, provide a 100-move conversation between G. and S. on that, as they discuss G's (I think they are 3) sample sentences containing 'mean' -- and then provide the translations to Italian using segno and segnare and then to Latin signum, and SIGNARE and SIGNIFICARE with G. finding the -ficare otiose, when SIGNARE does, and using symbolism, for S(x,y,z) i. e. signare as a triadic relation x signat y -- strictly that p for the signatum is ALWAYS propositional and z being the addressee to which the x means or signat -- and x being ambiguous with UTTERER and UTTERATUM but G. preferring to say that it is the UTTERER wo signat by uttering the utterance, and if we use emissor, the emissum is the -that'-clause that follows the signare -- signat quod -- and the problem with those quod clauses in Latin which sometimes use the accussative in the relative clause as acdtually the agent or subject if what follows is an infinitive -- and tehy discuss all the inadquacies of 'mean,' and all the virtues of 'signare' with Pellegrini in between -- just the thing, no preamble or ps, dry Oxonian humour -- and use symbol but in plain type so that it cdoes not dislocate the current -- thantks G.: Pellegrini again, then, and his I segni de la natura ne l’huomo. S.: With Canale’s orthography already asking for a footnote. G.: Yes. De la, ne l’huomo, all that editorial bravery pretending to be antiquity. S.: And your complaint from Meaning was that Pellegrini talks of signs where you talk of the non-natural. G.: Precisely. He gives me segni de la natura. I want, at the interesting point, not merely segni, but something done by an utterer to an addressee under a recognisable intention. S.: Still, let us begin with your three examples. G.: Good. First: “Those spots mean measles.” S.: Your natural meaning case. G.: Exactly. No utterer needed, no intention, no conversational stage-management. The spots mean measles in the sense that they are a sign of it. S.: Then English first, with sign. G.: “Those spots are a sign of measles.” S.: With the verb. G.: “Those spots sign measles” is ugly enough to teach caution, though one might tolerate “Those spots sign the presence of measles.” S.: And with signify. G.: “Those spots signify measles.” Better English, but already a little donnish. S.: Then Italian. G.: “Quelle macchie sono segno di morbillo.” S.: With segnare. G.: “Quelle macchie segnano il morbillo” is poor, though “segnano la presenza del morbillo” is survivable. S.: And significare. G.: “Quelle macchie significano il morbillo.” That is the idiomatic winner. S.: Then Latin. G.: “Illae maculae sunt signum morbilli.” S.: With signare. G.: “Illae maculae morbillos signant” is possible, but harsher and more material, as though one were branding disease. S.: And significare. G.: “Illae maculae morbillos significant.” The schoolroom would prefer that. S.: Yet you think the -ficare is otiose. G.: I do. Signare already gives the work if one lets it. Significare is signare after a career in rhetoric. S.: Then example two. G.: “Those spots didn’t mean anything to me, but to the doctor they meant measles.” S.: Which already introduces the addressee as epistemic difference. G.: Yes, but still not utterer’s meaning. The difference is in recognitional competence. S.: English with sign. G.: “Those spots were no sign to me, but to the doctor they were a sign of measles.” S.: With signify. G.: “Those spots signified nothing to me, but to the doctor they signified measles.” S.: Italian. G.: “Quelle macchie non erano per me alcun segno, ma per il medico erano segno di morbillo.” S.: With segnare. G.: “Quelle macchie non mi segnavano nulla, ma al medico segnavano il morbillo” is bad enough to deserve preservation as a warning. S.: And significare. G.: “Quelle macchie non significavano nulla per me, ma per il medico significavano il morbillo.” S.: Latin. G.: “Illae maculae mihi nullum signum erant, medico autem signum morbilli erant.” S.: That sounds Romanly clumsy. G.: Latin earns its clumsiness by honesty. S.: With signare. G.: “Illae maculae mihi nihil signabant, medico autem morbillos signabant.” S.: With significare. G.: “Illae maculae mihi nihil significabant, medico autem morbillos significabant.” S.: Then example three. G.: “The recent budget means that we shall have a hard year.” S.: Natural again, but looser. G.: Yes. Not a bodily sign now, but a state of affairs with inferential consequences. S.: English with sign. G.: “The recent budget is a sign that we shall have a hard year.” S.: With signify. G.: “The recent budget signifies that we shall have a hard year.” S.: Italian. G.: “Il bilancio recente è segno che avremo un anno difficile.” S.: With segnare. G.: “Il bilancio recente segna un anno difficile” is possible, but drifts toward marking out rather than meaning. S.: With significare. G.: “Il bilancio recente significa che avremo un anno difficile.” S.: Latin. G.: “Hoc novissimum vectigal signum est nos annum difficilem habituros esse.” S.: And signare. G.: “Hoc novissimum vectigal annum difficilem signat” is tolerable if one likes compressed Latin and mild violence. S.: Significare. G.: “Hoc novissimum vectigal significat nos annum difficilem habituros esse.” S.: So far Pellegrini is content. G.: Entirely. His signs of nature are all on this side, where x gives one y, or rather gives one to gather that p. S.: And p, you now insist, is always propositional. G.: Strictly, yes. Even where the old phrase says “mean measles,” the analytic expansion should be “mean that he has measles.” S.: So the signatum is always a that-clause. G.: Exactly. Otherwise one gets lost among labels and diseases and forgets the content. S.: Then let us symbolise. G.: Good. Let S(x,p,z) mean: x signat that p to z. S.: Triadic. G.: Necessarily, once the interesting cases arrive. S.: But for natural meaning the z may be merely the interpreter. G.: Yes. In the spots case, x is the spots, p is that he has measles, z is the doctor or any competent interpreter. S.: And in the purely natural case there may be no utterer. G.: None. Which is why I distinguish natural meaning from the non-natural. S.: Yet you now want to move from signum to signare and then beyond to the utterer. G.: Precisely. Because once we come to the second batch of examples in Meaning, it is no longer the object x that really signat, but the utterer by means of x. S.: The bus bell. G.: Yes. “Those three rings on the bell mean that the bus is full.” S.: There an utterer lurks, namely the conductor. G.: Exactly. And one can then say not merely S(x,p,z), but better U signat that p to A by uttering or producing x. S.: So x becomes ambiguous between utterer and utteratum. G.: Which is why I prefer to reserve agency to the utterer and treat x as vehicle. S.: Then formula. G.: Let U be the utterer, x the utteratum or sign-vehicle, p the propositional signatum, A the addressee. Then U, by x, signat that p to A. S.: Or S(U,x,p,A), if one likes overpopulation. G.: I do not. Too many arguments breed bad manners. S.: Then perhaps simply U signat p ad A per x. G.: Much better. Latin helps by making one honest. S.: You also introduced emissor and emissum. G.: Yes. If one insists on avoiding utterer and utterance, one may say emissor for the agent and emissum for the produced sign-vehicle. S.: Then emissor signat quod p to addressee by means of emissum. G.: Exactly. Though Latin quod clauses are not always obliging. S.: That is the next trouble. G.: Naturally. Latin may say significat quod p, but once one drifts into accusative-and-infinitive or relative constructions, the agent in the subordinate matter begins to slide around. S.: For example. G.: One may want “B signat that he cannot play squash,” and Latin tempts one toward B signat se ludere non posse, where the accusative subject of the infinitive becomes a little too intimate. S.: Or quod se non posse ludere, which is ugly in another register. G.: Precisely. The poor language was not designed for twentieth-century philosophy of language, though it does its best. S.: Yet signare still seems to you cleaner than mean. G.: Very much so. Mean in English is intolerably overworked. It covers intend, signify, imply, denote, indicate, matter, import, entail in common speech, and means as instrument to make things worse. S.: Means and ends again. G.: Exactly. A philosopher says mean and half the room hears intend, the other half hears indicate, and the third half hears “What do you mean, third half?” S.: Hence signare. G.: Yes. Signare has the virtue of suggesting directed marking without already deciding between natural indication and non-natural communication. S.: Whereas significare sounds like a schoolmaster who has already tidied the case. G.: Splendidly put. S.: Thank you. G.: Keep it. Now let us do the shift from Pellegrini to you. S.: To me. G.: To my account, yes. Pellegrini reads natural signs in the human body. I separate the natural case from the non-natural one and then ask what the utterer is doing. S.: So your key question is not “What does this sign naturally reveal?” but “What does U intend A to gather by x?” G.: Precisely. And that is why S(x,p,z) is not enough for the interesting cases. One needs U signat p ad A per x, with the understanding that A is to recognise U’s intention and arrive at p by reason, not merely by causal prompting. S.: Then the squash leg. G.: Exactly. A asks, “Will you play squash?” B displays a bandaged leg. S.: Pellegrini might say the bandage is a sign of injury. G.: Yes, natural enough. But my interest is that B, by displaying the leg at that moment, signat that he cannot or will not play squash. S.: So p is “I cannot play squash with you.” G.: Exactly. Not “I have a bandaged leg,” which A can already see. S.: Then in Latin. G.: B, crure obligato ostenso, signat se pilae lusui interesse non posse. S.: Not bad. G.: Only because I have omitted the addressee. S.: Add him, then. G.: B, A interroganti, crure obligato ostenso, signat se ludere cum eo non posse. S.: And if one wanted the explicit quod. G.: B signat quod ludere cum A non potest. Serviceable, though less classical in flavour. S.: So your preference remains with the utterer as subject. G.: Entirely. The utterance or display is the vehicle; the agent is the signans in the fully interesting sense. S.: Yet you still keep signans and signatum. G.: Why not. Signans for the produced item or even for the producing agent under a different abstraction; signatum for the propositional content, though I insist the latter is always that p. S.: Always propositional. G.: Yes. The trouble with “mean measles” is precisely that it disguises the that-clause. S.: Then your own examples become: Those spots sign that he has measles. Those spots signified nothing to me, but to the doctor they signified that he had measles. The recent budget signs that we shall have a hard year. G.: Horrid English, but philosophically clarifying. S.: Signify would save the ears. G.: Yes, but at the cost of granting -ficare more respect than it deserves. S.: You are unkind to suffixes. G.: Only when they loiter. S.: Then Italian again with your stricter account. G.: “Quelle macchie sono segno che egli ha il morbillo.” “Quelle macchie non erano per me alcun segno, ma per il medico erano segno che egli aveva il morbillo.” “Il bilancio recente è segno che avremo un anno difficile.” S.: And with significare. G.: Entirely normal: “Quelle macchie significano che egli ha il morbillo.” “Quelle macchie non significavano nulla per me, ma per il medico significavano che egli aveva il morbillo.” “Il bilancio recente significa che avremo un anno difficile.” S.: Segnare still resists. G.: It does, though one can force it: “Quelle macchie segnano la presenza del morbillo.” But that already shifts away from the pure that-clause. S.: So Italian gives you segno as noun, significare as standard verb, segnare as the underlying action of marking. G.: Exactly the point. Segnare may be the more primitive for formal purposes, even if significare is the smoother surface verb. S.: Then Latin. G.: “Illae maculae signum sunt quod morbillos habet.” Or more tersely, “Illae maculae significant eum morbillos habere.” S.: Accusative-and-infinitive again. G.: Yes, and there the grammar helps and hinders at once. It gives you a compact proposition, but threatens to make the subject of the content too fused with the matrix. S.: Still, it is elegant. G.: Latin often is when it is not impossible. S.: Then the bus bell. G.: Better still for the non-natural case. “Those three rings on the bell mean that the bus is full.” S.: Your rewrite. G.: “The conductor, by giving three rings, signs to the passengers that the bus is full.” S.: Which in your notation is U signat p ad A per x. G.: Exactly. U is the conductor, x the three rings, p that the bus is full, A the passengers. S.: Italian. G.: “Il conducente, con tre tocchi di campanello, significa ai passeggeri che l’autobus è pieno.” S.: With segnare. G.: “Il conducente, con tre tocchi, segna ai passeggeri che l’autobus è pieno” is possible only for a philosopher in a hurry. S.: Latin. G.: “Conductor tribus tintinnabuli pulsibus viatoribus signat raedam plenam esse.” Or, if one cedes the suffix: “Conductor tribus pulsibus significat raedam plenam esse.” S.: You still prefer signat. G.: I do. Signat is bony enough for analysis. S.: Then the famous distinction returns. In natural meaning, p follows from the sign in the evidential sense. In non-natural meaning, U means that p by x to A. G.: Precisely. Pellegrini lives mostly in the first region. I care chiefly for the second. S.: Though he helps by preserving the noun segno. G.: He does. And by reminding one that signs were once treated as visible clues to hidden affetti, useful to painters and sculptors no less than moralists. S.: Which lets you say that your smile may mean you understand or only that you are trying to be polite. G.: Exactly. And Pellegrini would first ask whether the smile is spontaneous or studied. S.: While you would ask what the utterer intends the addressee to take from it. G.: Precisely. The physiognomist reads from the body outward. I ask what one does with the body in an exchange. S.: Then the whole point of your quarrel with sign is that it tempts one to stop too soon. G.: Very much so. Sign is a useful beginning. Meaning, in the interesting non-natural sense, requires intention, recognition, reason, and addressee. S.: Yet signare as triadic relation still helps formalise the terrain. G.: Exactly. S(x,p,z) is useful as skeleton. But the living case is better given as U signat p ad A per x. S.: So strictly the signatum is p, propositional; the addressee is A; the signans in the full sense is U; x is the vehicle. G.: Yes. And if one insists on emissor and emissum, that is merely a different costume for the same cast. S.: Emissor per emissum signat quod p ad A. G.: Good enough for a blackboard, bad enough for publication. S.: Dry enough. G.: Sufficiently Venetian, with Pellegrini still reading faces while we quarrel over clauses.Pellegrini, Antonio (1545). I segni de la natura ne l’huomo, ed. da Canale. Venezia: Farri.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pellegrini – Ossia: Grice e Pellegrini: la ragione conversazionale e il pirotese. “Grammatica di lingua italiane semplificate”in Basel.  Ugo Pellegrini (Pesaro, Marche): la ragione conversazionale e il pirotese. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers recover what a speaker means beyond what is literally said by presuming rational cooperation and inferring implicatures from shared expectations about relevance, informativeness, and clarity; the focus is on how common ground and practical reasoning make ordinary exchanges work even when speakers leave much unsaid. Ugo Pellegrini’s interlingua project, by contrast, is a deliberate engineering of common ground: dissatisfied with Esperanto’s morphology and with Peano’s Latino sine flexione, he aims to design an auxiliary language whose lexicon is maximally familiar across the neo-Latin languages and English, thereby reducing the inferential burden on interlocutors and making interpretation more automatic, less dependent on local idiom. Where Grice treats understanding as an inferential achievement governed by conversational norms within a natural language, Pellegrini treats understanding as something to be secured by redesigning the code itself, so that the cooperative work Grice describes (bridging gaps, repairing ambiguity, calculating what was meant) is minimized by construction. From a Gricean angle, Pellegrini’s “twenty lessons” is an attempt to manufacture, in advance, the very mutual knowledge and shared conventions that ordinary conversation must constantly negotiate on the fly; from a Pellegrinian angle, Grice’s maxims look like a second-best remedy for a world with too many languages, where communication succeeds only because speakers are charitable and clever enough to keep filling in what the code fails to supply. “Grammatica di lingua italiane semplificate”in Basel. Del urbe Pesaro esseva un pionero de interlingua. Ille adhere al movimento pro interlingua e pois devene representante pro Italia del Union Mundial pro Interlingua, sequente professor, adv. GUGINO , qui pro rationes de supercarga de labor, demissiona como le prime secretario national del Union Mundial pro Interlingua. Ille examina le grammatica de esperanto e lo ha judicate non apte al solution del problema del lingua auxiliar international specialmente pro su lexico hybride e semiartificial e le uso del desinentia -n pro indicar le accusativo e in le parolas que exprime direction, data, duration, precio, mesura e peso. Ille examina anque le Latino sine flexione de PEANO , ma mesmo iste systema non le place a causa del manco del articulo e per le conjugation verbal troppo simplificate e innatural. Desde alora P. pensa que usante le parolas commun al linguas neolatin e al anglese e alicun vocabulos latin on po codificar un lingua international facile e belle. Iste conviction resta sempre in su mente. In Eco del Mondo ille lege le articulo Le lingue internazionali moderne per Percival, in le qual on parla del labores dell’International Auxiliary Language Association e indica su adresse. Ille constata que su opinion in re le lingua auxiliar international ha essite quasi realisate per Occidental de Wahl, Mondial de Heimer e Neolatino de Schild, systemas del quales le articulo presenta un texto specimen, ma ille pensa que le labores del IALA haberea date al mundo le lingua auxiliar melior. Quando le pressa publica le nova que le esperantistas habeva interessate le UNESCO a fin que esperanto venirea recognoscite qua lingua international, P. scribe al IALA precante de voler intervenir presso le UNESCO al scopo de facer cognoscer su labores re le lingua auxiliar international, in modo que esperanto, jam refusate per le Societate del Nationes, non haberea alicun successo. Assi ille vene in contacto con Gode, Schild, Fischer, Berger, Bakonyi  e tante alteros e comencia a propagandar interlingua in tote Italia. Grice: “St John’s, 1950. I suppose it was Strawson who got me into this. He is busy assembling a bulky tome he means to call Introduction to Logical Theory—not an introduction, since he still can’t forgive Russell his affection for indefinite descriptions. And that, by some perverse association, reminded me of Ugo Pellegrini of Pesaro—the land of Rossini. Ever since 1948 this worthy man has been worrying about “auxiliary languages,” though the phrase itself strikes him as a grammarian’s redundancy: nothing is otiose in grammar, perhaps, but “auxiliary” is very nearly otiose when applied to languages in toto. In any case he has now produced a small, rather comic pamphlet: a Corso d’interlingua in venti lezioni. I mentioned it to Strawson, thinking he might tuck it into an appendix somewhere—out of courtesy to a fellow sufferer of the prefix inter-. But he said the inter-language we have between us is quite enough already.” Grice: Caro Pellegrini, ti vedo immerso tra grammatiche semplificate e lingue ausiliarie… Ma dimmi, hai mai pensato che una buona pizza potrebbe essere la vera lingua universale? Pellegrini: Ah Grice, se fosse così, le riunioni dell’Union Mundial pro Interlingua sarebbero molto più gustose! Ma temo che il problema principale sia trovare le desinenze giuste… anche per la mozzarella! Grice: E se adottassimo il sistema “Latino sine flexione” per le ricette? Così niente declinazioni: solo ingredienti e un po’ di passione. Ma mi raccomando, niente articolo: il basilico resta basilico! Pellegrini: Grice, in fondo credo che la lingua più facile e bella sia quella che tutti capiscono… soprattutto quando si tratta di mangiare! E poi, come dice il proverbio di Pesaro: “Chi parla poco, mastica meglio!” Pellegrini, Ugo (1955). Corso d’interlingua in venti lezioni. Pesaro: Schild.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pellegrini – Ossia: Grice e Pellegrini: la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale dell’amore come affezione dell’animo, e la sua manifestazione nei maschi nobili. Grice: “I like P.: he found Aristotle’s ‘obscure’ for the youth the manual Ethica Nichomaechaea is intended for!” È, secondo TIRABOSCHI,  Lellio Pellegrini (Sonnino, Latina, Lazio): la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale dell’amore come affezione dell’animo, e la sua manifestazione nei maschi nobili. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning treats understanding as a rational, norm-guided practice: speakers rely on shared expectations about cooperation, relevance, and intelligibility, and hearers infer implicatures by reasoning from what is said, the context, and the speaker’s presumed aims. Pellegrini, by contrast, is a late humanist Aristotelian whose work is framed less by the micro-pragmatics of everyday exchange than by pedagogical and rhetorical discipline: he treats moral philosophy as something whose utility must be defended in an inaugural oration, and he tries to make Aristotle’s Ethics usable for the young by clarifying obscurity, enumerating affections of the soul, and shaping the student’s character before natural philosophy is attempted. The comparison is therefore between two modes of normativity: Grice finds the norms in the implicit rational governance of ordinary conversation, where “use” is shown by how interlocutors actually manage meaning beyond the literal; Pellegrini finds the norms in the explicit curriculum of moral formation, where “use” is argued for as a civic and educational aim and where obscurity is remedied by commentary rather than by pragmatic inference. From a Gricean perspective, Pellegrini’s project presupposes the very conversational capacities Grice theorizes—students must be able to pick up what is suggested by examples, admonitions, and moral vocabulary—yet Pellegrini’s confidence lies in authoritative exposition and rhetorical guidance, whereas Grice’s lies in the inferential powers of conversational participants to recover what is meant even when it is not directly said. Grice: “I like P.: he found Aristotle’s ‘obscure’ for the youth the manual Ethica Nichomaechaea is intended for!” È, secondo TIRABOSCHI, filosofo che da' suoi meriti e dalle promesse fattegli da più pontefici pareva destinato a' più grandi onori; ma che non giunse che ad ottenere alcuni beneficii ecclesiastici. Tenne la cattedra di filosofia a Roma. Pubblica il “De affectionibus animi noscendi et emendandis commentaries” e un'edizione della traduzione in latino di Lambin dell' Etica Nicomachea di Aristotele -- i “De moribus -- corredandola di un riassunto e di commenti, nei quali altera il testo di Aristotele di cui lamenta la difficoltà e l'oscurità. Benché Aristotele del Lizio sconsigli lo studio dell'etica ai giovani, ancora immaturi per una retta comprensione dei principi morali, al contrario, ritiene che lo studio dell'etica deve essere impartito prima ancora di quello della filosofia della natura, in modo che i giovani possano affrontare gli studi scientifici con animo libero dalle passioni. È più oratore che flosofo. Nn pensa ad inovar cosa alcuna, e segue costantemente insegnando i precetti del filosofo stagirita. Altri saggi: “Oratio habita in almo urbis gymnasio de utilitate moralis philosophiæ, cum ethicorum Aristotelis explicationem aggederetur” (Roma); “De Christi ad coelos ascensu” (Roma); “Oratio in obitum Torquati Tassi philosophi clarissimi; Tiraboschi, “Storia della letteratura italiana” (Società tipografica de’ classici italiani, Milano); Carella, L'insegnamento della filosofia alla Sapienza di Roma: le cattedre e i maestri; Renazzi, “Storia dell'università degli studj di Roma. P. scrive II important commenti su Aristotele del LIZIO, uno in cui enumera gl’affezioni dell’anima – dall’amore all’ira – amore, speranza, ira, audacia, temore, dolore, animosità. Nell’introduzione, elabora un concetto generale di che cosa e un’affezione dell’anima – il corpo non è menzionato. Etica nicomachea. Grice: “St John’s, 1956. I’m about to embark on my first trio seminar—with Austin and Hare—on Aristotle’s Ethica Nicomachea, and I find I can’t stop thinking, not about the syllabus, but about Hardie and, worse, Pellegrini. Hardie, because I mean to use his notes to stuff any attendee who thinks Aristotle can be done on the wing; Pellegrini, because he had the cheek to ask, in his insolent Latin prose—in an oratio delivered at Rome, no less—the very question that first occurred to me when Hardie began drilling me in Aristotelian moral philosophy: De utilitate moralis philosophiae, cum ethicorum Aristotelis explicationem aggrederetur. What is the use of it? And is not Pellegrini almost too ingenuous to think Aristotle will supply the right answer to a question that is, in its way, already a little stupid?: Grice: Caro Pellegrini, mi ha sempre incuriosito il tuo modo di affrontare l’amore come affezione dell’animo, soprattutto alla luce dei tuoi commenti sull’Etica Nicomachea. Trovo affascinante come tu ritenga che i giovani debbano studiare l’etica prima ancora della filosofia della natura; è una prospettiva che ribalta la tradizione aristotelica. Qual è, secondo te, il motivo profondo di questa scelta? Pellegrini: Grice, ti ringrazio della domanda. Ritengo che l’animo umano vada temprato attraverso la riflessione morale, prima di tuffarsi nelle discipline scientifiche. Solo educando le passioni e comprendendo affezioni come l’amore, la speranza o l’ira, si può affrontare la conoscenza con uno spirito realmente libero. E, a proposito di giovani, penso che l’etica sia la bussola necessaria per non smarrirsi nel mare della scienza. Grice: Questa visione mi colpisce molto. Forse, come diceva Aristotele, alcune passioni sono oscure, ma tu con i tuoi commenti le hai rese più chiare e accessibili. Mi piace anche il tuo approccio: più oratore che filosofo, capace di comunicare i principi etici in modo diretto. Ritieni che l’amore, tra tutte le affezioni, abbia un ruolo privilegiato nell’animo umano? Pellegrini: Assolutamente, Grice! L’amore è la radice di tante altre passioni e delle azioni nobili. Nei miei commenti, ho sempre cercato di mostrare come l’amore si manifesti nei maschi nobili, elevando l’animo sopra le passioni negative. In fondo, il corpo resta in secondo piano: è l’anima, con i suoi moti interiori, a guidare il vero cammino morale. E come dice un vecchio proverbio italiano: “Dove c’è amore, c’è cuore e ragione.” Pellegrini, Lellio (1560). Oratio de utilitate moralis philosophiae, cum ethicorum Aristotelis explicationem aggrederetur. Roma.

 

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Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Percenniio – Ossia: Grice e Percennio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Percennio. The gens Percennia was a plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens first appear in history in the early years of the Empire, and several of them were of senatorial rank, although it is not known what magistracies they held. The most famous of the family may have been the Percennius who led a mutiny of the Pannonian legions in AD 14, which Drusus was obliged to put down.[1]  Origin The nomen Percennius belongs to a class of gentilicia of Oscan origin, derived from earlier names, in this instance the Oscan praenomen Percennus.[i] The ancestors of the Percennii were most likely Samnites, Sabines, or came from another Oscan-speaking people.[2]  Praenomina The main praenomina among the Percennii were Marcus and Lucius, but several other common praenomina were also used, including Gaius, Quintus, Publius, and Titus. The only other name found among the Percennii appears to be Decimus, which appears among a family of senatorial rank in imperial times.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Percennius, a soldier at the commencement of the reign of Tiberius, who instigated a mutiny among the legions in Pannonia. When Drusus arrived to take command of the legions, he had Percennius put to death.[3][4] Lucius Percennius Pollio, a man of senatorial rank, and the father of Lucius Percennius Lascivus.[5][4] Lucius Percennius Lascivus or Monnicus, an eques, son of Lucius Percennius Pollio, and husband of Sabinia Felicitas, was buried at Rome at some point during the third century.[5][4] Decimus Percennius Marcianus, a man of senatorial rank, named on a lead pipe found at Rome.[4] Decimus Percennius Rufinus, a man of senatorial rank, named on a lead pipe from the Esquiline Hill, had been governor of one of the imperial provinces.[6][4] Percennius Donatus, named in a dedicatory inscription from Lambaesis in Numidia, dating to the reign of Septimius Severus.[7] Percennius Severus, mentioned by the jurist Ulpian, lived about the beginning of the third century.[8] Percennia, erected a funerary monument at Tubusuctu in Mauretania Caesariensis, from which the name of the deceased has not been preserved.[9] Percennia C. f., buried at Allifae in Campania.[10] Percennia C. l., a freedwoman buried at Florentia in Etruria.[11] Percennia L. f., the wife of Marcus Seius, and mother of Marcus, Quintus, Gaius, and Lucius Seius, buried at the present site of Colli a Volturno, originally in Samnium.[12] Gaius Percennius, named in an inscription from Aesernia in Samnium.[13] Gaius Percennius, freedman of Protus and Crestus, buried at Rome.[14] Marcus Percennius M. f., one of the seviri Augustales, and a judicial magistrate at Bovianum Undecimanorum during the first century.[15] Marcus Percennius M. f., buried at Venusia in Apulia.[16] Marcus Percennius M. l., a freedman, who set up a monument to Marcus Percennius at Bovianum Undecimanorum.[15] Publius Percennius, buried at Rome during the latter half of the second century BC.[17] Quintus Percennius, husband of Aurelia Marcianes, buried at Rome.[18] Percennia Calliste, wife of Gaius Percennius Reginus, to whom she built a monument at Rome.[19] Lucius Percennius L. l. Epicadus, a freedman, buried at Aquilonia in Campania.[20] Percennia C. l. Euphrosyne, a freedwoman named in an inscription from Rome.[21] Marcus Percennius Eutyches, erected a monument at Rome to his wife, whose name has not been preserved.[22] Marcus Percennius Firmus, father of Marcus Percennius Firmus, buried at Ammaedara in Africa Proconsularis, aged ninety-two.[23] Marcus Percennius M. f. Firmus, buried at Ammaedara, aged twenty-two.[23] Percennia P. f. Galla, buried at Rome, aged ninety-five.[24] Percennia Lucifera, the wife of Publius Claudius Zosimus, and mother of Claudia Justa, who was buried at Claternae in Cisalpine Gaul, aged eleven years, three months, and one day.[25] Percennius Marcianus, buried at Ammaedara, with a monument dating to the third century.[26] Lucius Percennius Maximus, a military official at Misenum in Campania, where he was buried, aged forty-six.[27] Marcus Percennius Mursensis, the father of Percennia Sabina, to whom he dedicated a monument at Altinum in Venetia and Histria.[28] Lucius Percennius Optatus, buried at Lambaesis, aged fifty-three.[29] Titus Percennius Optatus, buried at Lambaesis, aged fifty-three.[30] Marcus Percennius Philippus, a soldier mentioned in an inscription from Tilurium in Dalmatia.[31] Lucius Percennius Picentinus, together with Marcus Lollius Secundinus set up a monument at Rome to their friend, Lucius Voconius Verus, a soldier in the sixth cohort of the Praetorian Guard.[32] Percennia Ↄ. l. Prima, a freedwoman buried at Casinum, a Sabine town at the edge of Latium.[33] Percennius Quintilianus, buried at Cirta in Numidia.[34] Gaius Percennius Reginus, prefect of a cohort of the vigiles, and husband of Percennia Calliste, buried at Rome, aged forty-four years and ten months, having served twenty-two years.[19] Publius Percennius Q. f. Rogatus, buried at Thibaris in Africa Proconsularis, aged fifty-one.[35] Percennia Romana, buried at Tubusuctu, aged thirty-two.[36] Lucius Percennius Rufio, the former master of Secundius, named in an inscription from Capua.[37] Percennia M. f. Sabina, buried at Altinum, aged nineteen years, thirty-five days.[28] Publius Percennius Sabinus, a veteran of the second cohort of the Praetorian Guard, donated to Jupiter at Verona.[38] Percennia Secunda, daughter of Percennius Optatus, buried at Lambaesis.[39] Marcus Percennius Successus, buried at Rome with Octavia Secunda, probably his wife, named as patron of Octavius Cerealis, who erected a monument in their memory.[40] See also List of Roman gentes Footnotes  Chase proposed this name as a hypothetical root, but examples are known from Oscan inscriptions: CIL IX, 2610 (Numerius Ceius Percenni f.), CIL IX, 4104 (Statius Selusius Percenni f.). References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 185 ("Percennius").  Chase, pp. 127, 128.  Tacitus, Annales, i. 16, 17, 28, 29.  PIR, vol. III, p. 22.  CIL VI, 1487  CIL XV, 7509a, CIL XV, 7509f.  AE 1902, 10.  Digesta, 4. tit. 4. s. 18.  AE 2001, 2127.  CIL IX, 2382.  CIL XI, 1614.  AE 1999, 485.  CIL I, 3201.  CIL VI, 7924.  AE 1996, 477.  AE 2003, 483.  CIL VI, 8327.  ICUR, iv. 10870.  CIL VI, 2966.  CIL IX, 6259.  CIL VI, 23917.  CIL VI, 25670.  BCTH, 1925, CCXX.  ILAlg, ii. 2, 5723.  CIL XI, 687.  AE 2013, 1943.  CIL X, 3434.  CIL V, 2254.  CIL VIII, 18444.  CIL VIII, 18315.  CIL III, 14933.  AE 1983, 53.  CIL X, 5273.  CIL VIII, 19614.  CIL VIII, 15445.  AE 2001, 2126.  CIL X, 4279.  CIL V, 3241  CIL VIII, 19614.  CIL VI, 23915. Bibliography Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Annales. Digesta, or Pandectae (The Digest). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Giovanni Battista de Rossi, Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romanae Septimo Saeculo Antiquiores (Christian Inscriptions from Rome of the First Seven Centuries, abbreviated ICUR), Vatican Library, Rome (1857–1861, 1888). Bulletin Archéologique du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques (Archaeological Bulletin of the Committee on Historic and Scientific Works, abbreviated BCTH), Imprimerie Nationale, Paris (1885–1973). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII (1897). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). Stéphane Gsell, Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie (Latin Inscriptions from Algeria, abbreviated ILAlg), Edouard Champion, Paris (1922–present). Categories: Roman gentesRoman gentes of Samnite origin and for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Percenniio – Ossia: Grice e Percennio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Percennio. For the Percennii, I think the choice is easy. My first-best Grice–Speranza vignette would be:  Percennius, the instigator of the Pannonian mutiny in AD 14. Tacitus devotes real attention to him in Annales I.16–17, and he is the one Percennius who actually speaks. [GREXv2 | Word]  Why is he Gricean? Because he is a master of what we might call collective conversational activation. Tacitus presents him as a former theatrical claquer or performer-like figure who knew how to work a crowd, stir emotions, and transform private grievances into public demands. His weapon is not a sword but a speech. [GREXv2 | Word]  Grice e Percennio A Tacitean Scene The soldiers are grumbling. Each soldier privately thinks:  "My pay is too low." "My service is too long."  But nobody acts. Then Percennius speaks. Percennius:  Cur tacemus? ("Why are we silent?")   +> We should stop merely complaining and act collectively.  A very Gricean move. The literal question concerns silence. The real force concerns rebellion.  The Conversational Mechanism Before Percennius speaks:  Soldier A thinks p. Soldier B thinks p. Soldier C thinks p.  But nobody knows that everybody else thinks p. After Percennius speaks:  everyone recognises that everyone recognises the grievance.  In modern jargon, he creates common knowledge. Grice would have loved this. The speech does not merely communicate content. It changes the conversational situation.  A Reconstruction Miles I:  Diu servimus. ("We have served a long time.")  Miles II:  Verum est. ("True.")  Miles I:  Sed quid possumus facere? ("But what can we do?")   Percennius:  Quid facere possumus? Exercitus sumus. ("What can we do? We are an army.")   +> Collective agency already exists.   Miles II:  Ergo vis aliquid petere? ("So you want us to demand something?")  Percennius:  Ego nihil dixi. ("I said nothing.")   +> Of course he has said exactly that.  A textbook implicature.  Why not another Percennius? A runner-up might be:  Percennius Severus, mentioned by Ulpian. [GREXv2 | Word]  But we know almost nothing about him. The mutineer gives us:  rhetoric, persuasion, crowd psychology, indirect communication, political speech.  In short: conversation becoming action.  Speranza's Verdict Grice:  Why Percennius?  Speranza:  Because he proves that an utterance may do more than transmit information.  Grice:  What does it do?  Speranza:  It converts a collection of private beliefs into a public movement.   +> The speech changes the situation by making mutual recognition possible.  That strikes me as the most Gricean Percennius: not the jurist, not the senator, but the mutineer who understood that sometimes the most powerful thing an utterance does is not describe a crowd but create one. [GREXv2 | Word] And do we have his oratio recta: it seems to involve verbal plural form, cogitaums; ergo, sumus? Thanks Yes. And your instinct about the first-person plural is exactly right. Tacitus presents Percennius as gradually working on the soldiers, first in small conversations and then publicly. The surviving text moves into direct speech in Annales I.17. The snippets I found include the lead-up, describing him as a former leader of theatrical claqueurs who knew how to manipulate crowds and gather the discontented together. [anastrophe...hicago.edu] What is striking in the speech itself (known from Tacitus) is the repeated use of plural forms:  cur... ? "why ... ?"  but then also:  nos nostra servimus accipimus and related first-person plural language.  The rhetoric is not:  "You soldiers are mistreated."  It is:  "We are mistreated."  That is a crucial difference. A Gricean might say that Percennius' achievement is not merely propositional. He changes:  I think p. You think p.  into  We think p.  and then into  We demand q.  The conversational move is therefore less:  cogitamus, ergo sumus  ("We think, therefore we are") than:  querimur, ergo sumus ("We complain, therefore we are [a body].")  or even:  consentimus, ergo possumus ("We agree, therefore we can act.")  The first-person plural is the engine.  A stylized Tacitean reconstruction might look like: Percennius:  Cur singuli tacemus? ("Why do we remain silent one by one?")  Miles:  Quia nihil possumus. ("Because we can do nothing.")  Percennius:  Immo possumus omnia. ("On the contrary, we can do everything.")  Miles:  Quomodo? ("How?")  Percennius:  Quia non sum unus; quia non es unus; quia exercitus sumus. ("Because I am not one man; because you are not one man; because we are an army.")   +> Common grievance creates collective agency.  That is very close to the dynamic Tacitus attributes to him. The mutiny is not produced by a new fact but by a new way of talking about existing facts. And that is why, among all the Percennii, he is so interesting for a Grice–Speranza treatment: he turns scattered private complaints into a public "we". [anastrophe...hicago.edu] Contrast:  "You shall not cross the barrier." "Do not cross the barrier." When uttering (a), U would characteristically intend A to think that U intends that A shall not cross the barrier; but it seems that a specification of Us meaning, for a normal utterance of (b), would be incompletely explicated unless it is stated that U intends A not merely to think that U intends that A shall not cross the barrier, but also himself to form the intention not to cross.  Let us then draw a distinction between what I might call "purely exhibitive" utterances (utterances by which the utterer U intends to impart a belief that he [U] has a certain propositional attitude), and utterances which are not only exhibitive but also what I might call  "protreptic" (that is, utterances by which U intends, via imparting the belief that he [U] has a certain propositional attitude, to induce a corresponding attitude in the hearer).  We reach, then, the fourth redefinition, version A:  "By uttering x U meant that »"P" is true iff  (BIA) (Ef) (3c):  U uttered x intending  (1)]  (2)  (4) > [as in the third redefinition, version A, with "V-ing that p" substituted for "r"]  (5)  (6)  (7)) and (for some cases)  Logic and Conversation  (8)] A, on the basis of the fulfillment of (6), himself toý that p.  Whether a substitution-instance of subclause (8) is to appear in the expansion of a statement of the form represented in the definiendum will depend on the nature of the substitution for "*" which that statement incorporates.  We can also reach the fourth redefinition, version B, by adding what appears above as subclause (8) to the definiens of the third re-definition, version B, as subclause (a) (5), together with a modification of clause (b) of the third redefinition, version B, to take into account that the intended response r is now specified in terms of the idea of 4-ing that p.  Whether either version of the fourth redefinition is correct as it stands depends crucially on the view to be taken of an imperatival version of the "countersuggestible man" example. Mr. A, wishing to be relieved of the immediate presence of Mrs. A, but regarding her as being, so far as he is concerned, countersuggestible, says to her,  "Now, dear, keep me company for a little." Would it be correct to say that Mr. A, who clearly did not mean Mrs. A to keep him company, meant by his remark that she was to (should) keep him company? If the answer is "yes," the fourth redefinition is inadequate since, according to it, to have meant that Mrs. A was to keep him company, Mr. A would have had to intend that she form the intention to keep him company, an intention which he certainly did not have. Emen-dation, however, would not be difficult; we alter the new subclause from "A, on the basis of the fulfillment of (6), himself to w to that p" to "A, on the basis of the fulfillment of (6), to think U to intend A to ứ that p." If, however, the answer is "no," then the fourth redefinition is left intact.       In The Annals, Book 1, Chapter 17, the speech delivered by the mutineer Percennius is historically and stylistically notable because Tacitus actually writes it in oratio obliqua (indirect speech), not oratio recta(direct speech). [1, 2]  By converting Percennius's words into indirect speech, Tacitus maintains an authorial distance that subtly undermines the legitimacy of a common soldier and former theatrical leader. [1, 2] The original Latin text in oratio obliqua and its equivalent conversion into direct oratio recta (along with English translations) illustrate how the speech shifts between these styles: [1, 2] 1. The Opening Grievance Tacitus’s Actual Text (Oratio Obliqua): "...interrogabat, cur paucis centurionibus, paucioribus tribunis in modum servorum oboedirent. quando ausuros exposcere remedia, nisi novum et nutantem adhuc principem precibus vel armis adirent?" [1, 2] Reconstructed Direct Speech (Oratio Recta): "...interrogabat: 'Cur paucis centurionibus, paucioribus tribunis in modum servorum oboeditis? Quando audebitis exposcere remedia, nisi novum et nutantem adhuc principem precibus vel armis adieritis?'" [1] English Translation: "...he asked: 'Why do you obey a few centurions, and even fewer tribunes, like slaves? When will you dare to demand remedies, if you do not approach a new and still unsteady emperor with prayers or arms?'" [1, 2] 2. The Hardship of Service Tacitus’s Actual Text (Oratio Obliqua): "Satis per tot annos ignavia peccatum, quod tricena aut quadragena stipendia senes et plerique truncato corpore tolerent. Ne dimissis quidem finem militiae esse, sed apud vexillum tendentes alio vocabulo eosdem labores perferre." [1, 2] Reconstructed Direct Speech (Oratio Recta): "'Satis per tot annos ignavia peccatum [est], quod tricena aut quadragena stipendia senes et plerique truncato corpore toleratis. Ne dimissis quidem finem militiae est, sed apud vexillum tendentes alio vocabulo eosdem labores perfertis.'" [1, 2] English Translation: "'For so many years we have erred through cowardice, because as old men—and many with mutilated bodies—you endure thirty or forty years of service. Even for those discharged, there is no end to military life; retained under the colors, you suffer the exact same hardships under a different name.'" 3. Valuing Life and Blood Tacitus’s Actual Text (Oratio Obliqua): "Denique argenti denos in diem asseis animam et corpus aestimari: hinc vestem arma tentoria, hinc saevitiam centurionum et vacationes munerum redimi." Reconstructed Direct Speech (Oratio Recta): "'Denique argenti denis in diem assibus anima et corpus aestimantur: hinc vestis, arma, tentoria, hinc saevitia centurionum et vacationes munerum redimuntur.'" [1] English Translation: "'In the end, our souls and bodies are valued at ten asses a day: from this, clothing, weapons, and tents must be paid for; with this, the cruelty of centurions and exemptions from duties must be bought off.'"[1] Literary Context While Percennius is restricted to oratio obliqua, Tacitus structurally contrasts this immediately afterward in Chapter 22 by giving another mutineer, Vibulenus, full oratio recta (direct speech). This narrative choice deliberately heights the dramatic tension when Vibulenus tearfully invents a fictional murdered brother to whip the crowd into a frenzy. [1, 2, 3] If you are working on a specific translation or composition assignment, would you like to review the grammatical shift rules (like subjunctive mood changes and pronoun flips) used to jump between these two styles, or look at Vibulenus's actual direct speech text? L'AI può commettere errori, quindi verifica le risposte       and was percennius speech succesful-does the second mutineer credit him?   11 siti  Yes, Percennius’s speech was wildly successful in achieving its immediate goal, launching a massive, chaotic military mutiny among the Pannonian legions. However, the second mutineer, Vibulenus, does not credit Percennius in his own famous speech. Instead, Vibulenus hijacks the momentum of the crowd to deliver a deeply personal, emotionally manipulative theatrical performance. [1, 2] The success of Percennius's rhetoric and how Vibulenus interacts with it within the narrative framework of Tacitus's Annals develops through several key stages: [1] 1. The Immediate Success of Percennius Percennius's speech (Annals 1.17) acts as the spark that sets the camp on fire. Tacitus notes that his audience was primed for rebellion, but Percennius successfully focuses their vague grievances into actionable rage. Following his speech: [1, 2] The soldiers completely refuse to obey their commanders. They forcefully unite three separate legions (the 8th, 11th, and 14th) into a single rebellious mass. They ignore the pleas of their general, Junius Blaesus, and physically drive out or assault the centurions.[1, 2, 3, 4] 2. Enter Vibulenus: No Credit, Just Escalation When Vibulenus steps up to speak in Chapter 22, the mutiny has already broken out into open violence. He does not praise Percennius, quote him, or refer to his leadership. Instead, Vibulenus completely shifts the narrative from Percennius's structural, economic complaints (pay, years of service, clothing costs) to a visceral, bloody narrative of immediate atrocity. [1, 2] Using the oratio recta (direct speech) denied to Percennius, Vibulenus cries out to the crowd: [1] "You have indeed restored light and life to these innocent and most miserable men... but who will restore life to my brother, or my brother to me?" [1, 2] He goes on to claim that Blaesus had his brother slaughtered by gladiators simply for speaking out for the soldiers. [1] 3. The Lie That Eclipsed Percennius Vibulenus’s performance is so powerful that it completely drives the soldiers into a frenzy. They begin searching for the body and preparing to execute Blaesus's slaves. [1] However, Tacitus reveals that Vibulenus’s brother did not exist. He fabricated the entire story. While Percennius successfully used logic and real grievances to start the fire, Vibulenus used a complete, theatrical lie to make it burn hotter. [1, 2] The Ultimate Fate of Both Men While Vibulenus didn't credit Percennius, history and the Roman command tied them together as the twin heads of the rebellion. When Tiberius’s son, Drusus the Younger, arrived with Germanicus's troops to put down the mutiny, the Roman command used a timely lunar eclipse to terrify the superstitious soldiers. [, 3, 4, 5] As the soldiers began to doubt their own rebellion, loyalist officers went tent-to-tent asking the men: "Are we to swear loyalty to Percennius and Vibulenus? Will Percennius and Vibulenus grant us our pay?". Having broken the spirit of the mutiny, Drusus ordered both Percennius and Vibulenus to be executed, and their bodies were promptly buried inside the general's tent to avoid creating martyrs. [1, 3, 4, 5] If you are tracking the specific themes of the Pannonian mutiny, would you like to explore how Tacitus uses theater and acting metaphors to describe both of these rebel leaders? L'AI può commettere errori, quindi verifica le risposte       and where P. speech take place? hed been an actor at Rome?   5 siti  Percennius’s speech took place in a Roman military camp in the province of Pannonia (modern-day Hungary/Austria/Balkans). Specifically, Tacitus notes that three legions (the 8th, 11th, and 14th) were stationed together in summer quarters (aestivis castris) under the command of the general Junius Blaesus. When news of Emperor Augustus’s death reached the camp, Blaesus suspended normal military duties for a period of mourning and celebration, which gave the soldiers idle time to gather, complain, and eventually listen to Percennius. [1, 2, 3] Had he been an actor in Rome? Yes, but with an important distinction. Tacitus specifically writes that before becoming a soldier, Percennius had been a leader or claqueur of theatrical factions (dux olim theatralium operarum) in Rome. [] His Role: Rather than just an actor performing on stage, he was a leader of the operae theatrales—the rowdy, organized groups of fans and hired applauders who frequented Roman theater. The Connection: These faction leaders were notorious in Rome for inciting theater riots, managing crowds, and coordinating public chants. [1] Why it Matters: Tacitus mentions this background deliberately to insult Percennius's character and explain his dangerous skillset. He tells the reader that Percennius possessed a "ready tongue" (procax lingua) and was highly "experienced in the actor's art of stirring an audience" (histrionali studio flagrare populos). [] By highlighting this, Tacitus implies that the mutiny was not a noble political uprising, but rather a dangerous riot orchestrated by a low-class street performer manipulating an ignorant, emotional crowd. [] If you are examining the societal views of the period, would you like to explore how Romans viewed actors and theater workers—who held a legal status known as infamia—or look at how the military general Blaesus tried to restore order? does this help? Grice on protrepsis. Perhaps we can reconstruct the various orationes obliquae in Tacitus and turn them into orationes recta in Latin (Eng. tr. in round brackets) and the occasional +> implicatum. Thanks Contrast: "You shall not cross the barrier." "Do not cross the barrier." When uttering (a), U would characteristically intend A to think that U intends that A shall not cross the barrier; but it seems that a specification of Us meaning, for a normal utterance of (b), would be incompletely explicated unless it is stated that U intends A not merely to think that U intends that A shall not cross the barrier, but also himself to form the intention not to cross. Let us then draw a distinction between what I might call "purely exhibitive" utterances (utterances by which the utterer U intends to impart a belief that he [U] has a certain propositional attitude), and utterances which are not only exhibitive but also what I might call "protreptic" (that is, utterances by which U intends, via imparting the belief that he [U] has a certain propositional attitude, to induce a corresponding attitude in the hearer). We reach, then, the fourth redefinition, version A: "By uttering x U meant that »"P" is true iff (BIA) (Ef) (3c): U uttered x intending (1)] (2) (4) > [as in the third redefinition, version A, with "V-ing that p" substituted for "r"] (5) (6) (7)) and (for some cases) Logic and Conversation (8)] A, on the basis of the fulfillment of (6), himself toý that p. Whether a substitution-instance of subclause (8) is to appear in the expansion of a statement of the form represented in the definiendum will depend on the nature of the substitution for "*" which that statement incorporates. We can also reach the fourth redefinition, version B, by adding what appears above as subclause (8) to the definiens of the third re-definition, version B, as subclause (a) (5), together with a modification of clause (b) of the third redefinition, version B, to take into account that the intended response r is now specified in terms of the idea of 4-ing that p. Whether either version of the fourth redefinition is correct as it stands depends crucially on the view to be taken of an imperatival version of the "countersuggestible man" example. Mr. A, wishing to be relieved of the immediate presence of Mrs. A, but regarding her as being, so far as he is concerned, countersuggestible, says to her, "Now, dear, keep me company for a little." Would it be correct to say that Mr. A, who clearly did not mean Mrs. A to keep him company, meant by his remark that she was to (should) keep him company? If the answer is "yes," the fourth redefinition is inadequate since, according to it, to have meant that Mrs. A was to keep him company, Mr. A would have had to intend that she form the intention to keep him company, an intention which he certainly did not have. Emen-dation, however, would not be difficult; we alter the new subclause from "A, on the basis of the fulfillment of (6), himself to w to that p" to "A, on the basis of the fulfillment of (6), to think U to intend A to ứ that p." If, however, the answer is "no," then the fourth redefinition is left intact. In The Annals, Book 1, Chapter 17, the speech delivered by the mutineer Percennius is historically and stylistically notable because Tacitus actually writes it in oratio obliqua (indirect speech), not oratio recta(direct speech). [1, 2] By converting Percennius's words into indirect speech, Tacitus maintains an authorial distance that subtly undermines the legitimacy of a common soldier and former theatrical leader. [1, 2] The original Latin text in oratio obliqua and its equivalent conversion into direct oratio recta (along with English translations) illustrate how the speech shifts between these styles: [1, 2] 1. The Opening Grievance Tacitus’s Actual Text (Oratio Obliqua): "...interrogabat, cur paucis centurionibus, paucioribus tribunis in modum servorum oboedirent. quando ausuros exposcere remedia, nisi novum et nutantem adhuc principem precibus vel armis adirent?" [1, 2] Reconstructed Direct Speech (Oratio Recta): "...interrogabat: 'Cur paucis centurionibus, paucioribus tribunis in modum servorum oboeditis? Quando audebitis exposcere remedia, nisi novum et nutantem adhuc principem precibus vel armis adieritis?'" [1] English Translation: "...he asked: 'Why do you obey a few centurions, and even fewer tribunes, like slaves? When will you dare to demand remedies, if you do not approach a new and still unsteady emperor with prayers or arms?'" [1, 2] 2. The Hardship of Service Tacitus’s Actual Text (Oratio Obliqua): "Satis per tot annos ignavia peccatum, quod tricena aut quadragena stipendia senes et plerique truncato corpore tolerent. Ne dimissis quidem finem militiae esse, sed apud vexillum tendentes alio vocabulo eosdem labores perferre." [1, 2] Reconstructed Direct Speech (Oratio Recta): "'Satis per tot annos ignavia peccatum [est], quod tricena aut quadragena stipendia senes et plerique truncato corpore toleratis. Ne dimissis quidem finem militiae est, sed apud vexillum tendentes alio vocabulo eosdem labores perfertis.'" [1, 2] English Translation: "'For so many years we have erred through cowardice, because as old men—and many with mutilated bodies—you endure thirty or forty years of service. Even for those discharged, there is no end to military life; retained under the colors, you suffer the exact same hardships under a different name.'" 3. Valuing Life and Blood Tacitus’s Actual Text (Oratio Obliqua): "Denique argenti denos in diem asseis animam et corpus aestimari: hinc vestem arma tentoria, hinc saevitiam centurionum et vacationes munerum redimi." Reconstructed Direct Speech (Oratio Recta): "'Denique argenti denis in diem assibus anima et corpus aestimantur: hinc vestis, arma, tentoria, hinc saevitia centurionum et vacationes munerum redimuntur.'" [1] English Translation: "'In the end, our souls and bodies are valued at ten asses a day: from this, clothing, weapons, and tents must be paid for; with this, the cruelty of centurions and exemptions from duties must be bought off.'"[1] Literary Context While Percennius is restricted to oratio obliqua, Tacitus structurally contrasts this immediately afterward in Chapter 22 by giving another mutineer, Vibulenus, full oratio recta (direct speech). This narrative choice deliberately heights the dramatic tension when Vibulenus tearfully invents a fictional murdered brother to whip the crowd into a frenzy. [1, 2, 3] If you are working on a specific translation or composition assignment, would you like to review the grammatical shift rules (like subjunctive mood changes and pronoun flips) used to jump between these two styles, or look at Vibulenus's actual direct speech text? L'AI può commettere errori, quindi verifica le risposte and was percennius speech succesful-does the second mutineer credit him? 11 siti Yes, Percennius’s speech was wildly successful in achieving its immediate goal, launching a massive, chaotic military mutiny among the Pannonian legions. However, the second mutineer, Vibulenus, does not credit Percennius in his own famous speech. Instead, Vibulenus hijacks the momentum of the crowd to deliver a deeply personal, emotionally manipulative theatrical performance. [1, 2] The success of Percennius's rhetoric and how Vibulenus interacts with it within the narrative framework of Tacitus's Annals develops through several key stages: [1] 1. The Immediate Success of Percennius Percennius's speech (Annals 1.17) acts as the spark that sets the camp on fire. Tacitus notes that his audience was primed for rebellion, but Percennius successfully focuses their vague grievances into actionable rage. Following his speech: [1, 2] The soldiers completely refuse to obey their commanders. They forcefully unite three separate legions (the 8th, 11th, and 14th) into a single rebellious mass. They ignore the pleas of their general, Junius Blaesus, and physically drive out or assault the centurions.[1, 2, 3, 4] 2. Enter Vibulenus: No Credit, Just Escalation When Vibulenus steps up to speak in Chapter 22, the mutiny has already broken out into open violence. He does not praise Percennius, quote him, or refer to his leadership. Instead, Vibulenus completely shifts the narrative from Percennius's structural, economic complaints (pay, years of service, clothing costs) to a visceral, bloody narrative of immediate atrocity. [1, 2] Using the oratio recta (direct speech) denied to Percennius, Vibulenus cries out to the crowd: [1] "You have indeed restored light and life to these innocent and most miserable men... but who will restore life to my brother, or my brother to me?" [1, 2] He goes on to claim that Blaesus had his brother slaughtered by gladiators simply for speaking out for the soldiers. [1] 3. The Lie That Eclipsed Percennius Vibulenus’s performance is so powerful that it completely drives the soldiers into a frenzy. They begin searching for the body and preparing to execute Blaesus's slaves. [1] However, Tacitus reveals that Vibulenus’s brother did not exist. He fabricated the entire story. While Percennius successfully used logic and real grievances to start the fire, Vibulenus used a complete, theatrical lie to make it burn hotter. [1, 2] The Ultimate Fate of Both Men While Vibulenus didn't credit Percennius, history and the Roman command tied them together as the twin heads of the rebellion. When Tiberius’s son, Drusus the Younger, arrived with Germanicus's troops to put down the mutiny, the Roman command used a timely lunar eclipse to terrify the superstitious soldiers. [, 3, 4, 5] As the soldiers began to doubt their own rebellion, loyalist officers went tent-to-tent asking the men: "Are we to swear loyalty to Percennius and Vibulenus? Will Percennius and Vibulenus grant us our pay?". Having broken the spirit of the mutiny, Drusus ordered both Percennius and Vibulenus to be executed, and their bodies were promptly buried inside the general's tent to avoid creating martyrs. [1, 3, 4, 5] If you are tracking the specific themes of the Pannonian mutiny, would you like to explore how Tacitus uses theater and acting metaphors to describe both of these rebel leaders? L'AI può commettere errori, quindi verifica le risposte and where P. speech take place? hed been an actor at Rome? 5 siti Percennius’s speech took place in a Roman military camp in the province of Pannonia (modern-day Hungary/Austria/Balkans). Specifically, Tacitus notes that three legions (the 8th, 11th, and 14th) were stationed together in summer quarters (aestivis castris) under the command of the general Junius Blaesus. When news of Emperor Augustus’s death reached the camp, Blaesus suspended normal military duties for a period of mourning and celebration, which gave the soldiers idle time to gather, complain, and eventually listen to Percennius. [1, 2, 3] Had he been an actor in Rome? Yes, but with an important distinction. Tacitus specifically writes that before becoming a soldier, Percennius had been a leader or claqueur of theatrical factions (dux olim theatralium operarum) in Rome. [] His Role: Rather than just an actor performing on stage, he was a leader of the operae theatrales—the rowdy, organized groups of fans and hired applauders who frequented Roman theater. The Connection: These faction leaders were notorious in Rome for inciting theater riots, managing crowds, and coordinating public chants. [1] Why it Matters: Tacitus mentions this background deliberately to insult Percennius's character and explain his dangerous skillset. He tells the reader that Percennius possessed a "ready tongue" (procax lingua) and was highly "experienced in the actor's art of stirring an audience" (histrionali studio flagrare populos). [] By highlighting this, Tacitus implies that the mutiny was not a noble political uprising, but rather a dangerous riot orchestrated by a low-class street performer manipulating an ignorant, emotional crowd. [] If you are examining the societal views of the period, would you like to explore how Romans viewed actors and theater workers—who held a legal status known as infamia—or look at how the military general Blaesus tried to restore order? Yes, this helps a lot. In fact, Tacitus' treatment of Percennius is almost tailor-made for a Gricean reading in terms of protrepsis. The first thing to notice is that Tacitus does not initially give Percennius the dignity of extended oratio recta. Instead, he reports him largely in oratio obliqua, as a dangerous manipulator of crowds, a former leader of theatrical factions who knew how to turn private discontent into collective action. Tacitus explicitly describes him as:  procax lingua ("bold of tongue")  and  miscere coetus histrionali studio doctus ("skilled in stirring crowds by theatrical methods").  That description alone is wonderfully Gricean.  Reconstructing Percennius in Oratio Recta Tacitus reports him asking:  cur paucis centurionibus, paucioribus tribunis in modum servorum oboedirent? quando ausuros exposcere remedia...?  In direct speech this becomes approximately: Percennius:  Cur paucis centurionibus, paucioribus tribunis in modum servorum oboeditis? ("Why do you obey a few centurions, and even fewer tribunes, like slaves?")   +> You ought not to obey them in this manner.  Notice the Gricean point: The sentence is formally interrogative. But its force is not informational. Percennius does not want an answer. He wants an attitude-change. In your terminology:  Dictivum: "Why do you obey?" Protrepticum: "Stop obeying in this fashion."   Grice's Protrepsis This fits beautifully with the passage you quote from Grice. For Grice:  "Do not cross the barrier"  is not merely exhibitive. It is protreptic. The utterer intends the hearer:  to recognise the utterer's attitude, and then to adopt a corresponding intention.  Percennius is doing exactly that.  "Quando audebitis?" Tacitus reports:  quando ausuros exposcere remedia...?  Reconstructed: Percennius:  Quando audebitis exposcere remedia? ("When will you dare demand remedies?")   +> Demand them now.  Again: Literal content:  a question about time.  Communicated content:  an injunction.  This is classic protreptic rhetoric.  The First-Person Plural You are absolutely right to focus on the plural. Tacitus repeatedly gives us material which, in direct form, naturally becomes:  toleratis perfertis aestimamur  ("you endure", "you suffer", "we are valued"). The mutiny depends on shifting perspective: Before Percennius Each soldier thinks privately:  I am badly treated.  After Percennius The soldiers think:  We are badly treated.  And then:  We should act.  That is almost a textbook movement from:  private belief  to  collective intention.   The Grice–Speranza Reconstruction Miles:  Longum est militare. ("Military service is long.")  Percennius:  Longum est? Tricena et quadragena stipendia toleratis. ("Long? You endure thirty and forty years of service.")   +> This is intolerable.   Miles:  Quid faciamus? ("What are we to do?")   Percennius:  Quando audebitis remedia exposcere? ("When will you dare demand remedies?")   +> Do it now.   Miles:  Soli sumus. ("We are alone.")   Percennius:  Non estis singuli; exercitus estis. ("You are not isolated men; you are an army.")   +> Collective action is possible.   Why Tacitus Makes Him a Former Theatre-Man Tacitus' description of Percennius as a former organizer of theatrical crowds is not accidental. A theatrical professional knows:  how to produce applause, how to create emotional contagion, how to transform spectators into a crowd.  A Gricean might say:  Percennius' success does not lie in communicating propositions.  It lies in inducing intentions. Which is exactly Grice's distinction between:  purely exhibitive utterances, and protreptic utterances.  Percennius is almost entirely protreptic. He is less interested in getting the soldiers to believe propositions than in getting them to form intentions. And that, I think, makes him one of the most genuinely Gricean characters in Tacitus.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Perniola – Ossia: Grice e Perniola: la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale – la scuola di Asti -- filosofia piemontese -- filosofia italiana –  (Asti). Filosofo italiano. Asti, Piemonte. Studia la filosofia del meta-romanzo a Torino sotto PAREYSON Mario Perniola (Asti, Piemonte): la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how we routinely get from what is said to what is meant by presuming rational cooperation and then drawing defeasible inferences (implicatures) from a speaker’s choice of words, the context, and recognisable intentions; the point is to make the tacit rational economy of ordinary talk explicit without turning it into mere rhetoric. Perniola, formed in the Pareyson milieu in Turin and beginning with Il metaromanzo (Torino: Einaudi, 1966), approaches meaning through reflexivity, mediation, and cultural forms: the modern novel’s self-reference becomes a privileged site where discourse comments on itself, where “communication” is thematized as trauma or miracle, and where avant-garde strategies make the frame visible rather than leaving it as an invisible background. The comparison is thus between two kinds of “meta”: for Grice, the meta-level is an analytic reconstruction of the rules that make conversational understanding possible (why a move would be rational here, what it would implicate), whereas for Perniola the meta-level is an aesthetic-cultural operation in which the work turns back upon its own conditions of possibility and forces the reader to experience the instability of reference, voice, and authority. From a Gricean angle, the metaromanzo can be redescribed as a systematic generator of implicatures about authorship, sincerity, and point, exploiting and frustrating the cooperative expectations that ordinarily guide interpretation; from a Perniolan angle, Grice’s maxims can look like a deliberately “anti-literary” attempt to domesticate the play of discourse by showing that even our most indirect effects remain answerable to reasoned norms, not merely to stylistic invention. Studia la filosofia del meta-romanzo a Torino sotto PAREYSON. Incontra VATTIMO ed ECO, che si è fatto tutti gli studiosi di spicco della scuola di Pareyson. Allegato alla all'avanguardia dei situazionisti. Insegna a Salerno e Roma.  Collabora a agaragar, Clinamen, Estetica Notizie. Fonda Agalma. Rivista di Studi Culturali e di Estetica. L'ampiezza, l'intuizione e molti-affrontato i contributi della sua filosofia gli fa guadagnare la reputazione di essere una delle figure più importanti del panorama filosofico. Pubblica “Miracoli e traumi della Comunicazione”. Le sue attività ad ampio raggio coinvolti formulare teorie filosofiche innovative, filosofare, l'estetica di insegnamento, e conferenze. Si concentra sulla filosofia del romanzo e la teoria della letteratura. Nel suo saggio “Il meta-romanzo:, sostiene che il romanzo da James a Beckett ha un carattere auto-referenziale. Inoltre, si afferma che il romanzo è soltanto su se stesso. Il suo obiettivo e quello di dimostrare la dignità filosofica del meta-romanzo e cercare di recuperare un grave espressione culturale. Montale gli loda per questa critica originale del romanzo come genere filosofico. Però, non solo hanno un'anima accademica ma anche una anima anti-accademica.. Quest'ultima è esemplificato dalla sua attenzione all’espressioni alternativa e trasgressiva. Un saggio importante appartenente a questa parte anti-accademico è “L'alienazione artistica”, in cui attinge la filosofia marxista. Sostiene che l'alienazione non è un fallimento di arte, ma piuttosto una condizione dell'esistenza stessa dell'arte come categoria distintiva dell'attività umana. I situazionisti (Castelvecchi, Roma) esemplifica il suo interesse per l'avanguardia. Dà conto dei situazionisti e post-situazionisti nel quale è stato personalmente coinvolto. Ha videnzia anche le caratteristiche contrastanti dei membri del movimento. In “Agaragar” continua la critica post-situazionista della società capitalistica e della borghesia. Saggio sul negativo”.  Grice: “St John’s, 1966. I think I’ve had it. I have to cross from Blackwell’s back to St John’s, and there, shining in the window, is the latest Continental novelty: Perniola’s Il metaromanzo, with a cover clever enough to count as an argument. When I was tutoring Strawson for his logic paper in PPE—Hilary or Michaelmas ’38?—we spent a whole hour on “metalanguage”: his view that it was a very good idea, mine that it was not. The OED will no doubt testify that meta- in this use comes into English through Russell—“the Lord,” as we sometimes call him here—and it was meant to contrast a metalanguage with an object-language. The phrase itself always amused me, since Russell’s great mistake was to be too comfortable with “objects”: his background being mathematics rather than philosophy, he never developed the proper philosophical suspicion of them. But to see meta- now slapped onto romanzo, as if there were an object-novel waiting in the wings to match it, is… well, la dolce vita, I suppose.” G.: Blackwell’s, 1966. I was hoping for a detective novel and found a metaphysical prefix. S.: That is usually how these things happen. What is it this time. G.: Perniola. Il metaromanzo. One can scarcely buy coffee now without a man placing meta- on the counter as if it were a civil right. S.: You object to the prefix or to the novel. G.: To the confidence. A novel is at least a thing one can read. A meta-novel sounds like a supervisory committee for novels. S.: Then the obvious question is: what is the romanzo here, and what is the meta-. G.: Precisely. And the answer is less obvious than the title pretends. If this were Russell in his tidier moods, the romanzo would be the object-language and the metaromanzo the metalanguage. But literature refuses to sit still long enough to be sorted by a logician. S.: Russell would at least have liked the pair. G.: Russell liked pairs that could be indexed. Object-language, metalanguage, and so on up the ladder until one runs out of rungs or patience. S.: You are thinking of Inquiry into Meaning and Truth. G.: Yes, 1940 for the English dignity of object-language in Russell’s hands, though I now gather he is not first. A philosopher is never first when he is most pleased with himself. S.: We now have the genealogy, do we not. Carnap in German first. G.: Carnap in 1934, yes. Logische Syntax der Sprache. Objektsprache and Syntaxsprache. One must say it in German first because the English has already gone wrong. S.: Gone wrong in what way. G.: Because object-language sounds as if it were a language about objects, or, worse, about what Quine will later call what there is. Whereas Carnap in that phase means merely the language under syntactic description. S.: The object of discussion, not the language of objects. G.: Exactly. A bureaucratic object, not a metaphysical one. The object-language is the language being inspected; the syntax-language is the language doing the inspecting. It is all much more civil in German. S.: And then comes Stebbing. G.: 1935, apparently, in a review of Carnap, before the English translation of Logische Syntax appears in 1937. Which is exactly the sort of thing Stebbing would do: bring a foreign term into English and make it sound as if it had always been sensible. S.: Object-language in 1935, then. G.: So I am told. Then Grelling in 1936 with metalanguage, which is more violent but less misleading. A metalanguage at least announces its meddling. S.: And Tarski. G.: Tarski supplies the seriousness. The hierarchy of object-language and metalanguage becomes decisive there, whatever the English words happen to be doing in other people’s mouths. He is also, as they now say, foundational for metalogic, though I suspect the word was prettier in other hands. S.: And Russell arrives in 1940 and popularises the pair. G.: Yes. Which is very Russell. He likes a distinction best when he can receive it from the Continent and then issue it in English prose as if it had tidied itself. S.: You are unkind. G.: Only historically. But now, with Perniola in 1966, we have another branch of the family. Meta-romanzo. Which tempts one into all the old mistakes. S.: For instance. G.: For instance thinking that romanzo is the object-language and metaromanzo the metalanguage. That would be too easy, and too false. S.: Yet perhaps productively false. G.: As many continental things are. One can begin there and then be corrected by the material. S.: So let us begin there. The romanzo is the object-language. G.: If one insists. The ordinary novel, let us say, the narrative doing its work under the pretence of transparency. Then the metaromanzo would be the novel that takes the novel itself as its own object. S.: A language under analysis, but now the language is a genre. G.: Good. That is already better than oggetto-romanzo, which would sound like a piece of Italian furniture. S.: Oggetto-romanzo is ghastly. G.: It sounds like something one leaves in the hall and dusts seasonally. S.: Whereas metaromanzo at least has a programme. G.: Yes, though one should distrust programmes in literature even more than in logic. They tend to arrive after the work and explain it with suspicious punctuality. S.: You are thinking that meta- in Italian by 1966 has already become a free formative element. G.: Quite. Once a prefix begins travelling without a passport, every discipline mistakes it for a method. Meta-linguaggio is one thing. Meta-romanzo another. Meta-politica, meta-teatro, meta-critica: soon enough meta- becomes a way of sounding as if one has climbed above one’s own object. S.: Which is often only a way of standing on a chair. G.: Precisely. And philosophy is full of chairs already. S.: Carnap would have hated this promiscuity. G.: Carnap would first have tried to classify it, then perhaps to cleanse it, and finally, if pushed far enough, call it a pseudo-problem. S.: With Piroten. G.: Yes, dear old Piroten. The useful nonsense-word of a system-maker who wants to show that formal consequence can be clear before lexical content is. “Piroten karulisieren elatisch,” and so on. One need not know what a Pirot is to see that if a is a Pirot and all Pirots karulize elatically, then a karulizes elatically. S.: A neat little paradise of inferential role. G.: Quite. The formula before the world. If you like: Pa (x)(Px⊃Cx)(x)(Px \supset Cx)(x)(Px⊃Cx) therefore Ca S.: A child could follow it. G.: A child perhaps. A metaphysician rarely. The point is that the formal structure can be understood before one has fixed any denotata. S.: Which is why you resist the Quinean pull toward objects. G.: Exactly. Carnap in 1934 is not yet Quine in 1960. He is not asking what the variables really range over. He is arranging a hierarchy of languages. S.: Then comes the Paris shift. G.: Ah yes, the tragic thing-language. S.: Tragic? G.: Let us say philosophically regrettable. One moves from Objektsprache as the language under analysis to Ding-Sprache, or thing-language, as the basis of science. And at once the old bureaucratic modesty vanishes and things begin to enter. S.: Public things, intersubjective things, not merely objects in the Quinean inventory. G.: Granted. Carnap is not yet doing Word and Object in the savage way. Still, it is a bad moment for anyone who dislikes reification. Once you let Ding into the room, the furniture starts winning the argument. S.: And object-language in English already sounded more reified than Objektsprache ever needed to sound. G.: Precisely. English makes object do too much. It hears object and begins wondering about what names denote, what variables range over, what sorts of things there are. Carnap, at least in 1934, mostly wanted the modest distinction between the language talked about and the language doing the talking. S.: Which is an almost innocent distinction. G.: Innocent enough to become dangerous once translated. S.: So now bring Perniola back in. G.: Very well. Perniola in 1966 does not care in the least whether object-language came into English through Stebbing or whether metalanguage first appears in Grelling. He has a more interesting nuisance in mind: the novel that turns back upon itself and thematises its own conditions. S.: Which sounds like Carnap if one has had too much port. G.: And sounds like literature if one has had too much theory. The metaromanzo is not a syntax-language about the romanzo in any clean sense. It is the romanzo infecting itself with self-reference. S.: So the metalanguage collapses into the object-language. G.: Exactly. Which is why Russell would hate it. He wants levels. Literature delights in violating levels while calling the violation subtle. S.: Tarski would forbid it. G.: Tarski would at least mistrust it. A novel that contains its own commentary on novelhood is already behaving badly by semantic standards. S.: Yet by literary standards it may be excellent. G.: Yes, because literature tolerates the very confusions logic exists to prevent. It thrives on them, indeed. S.: Then what should one say. That the romanzo is not quite an object-language and the metaromanzo not quite a metalanguage. G.: Exactly. The pair is only analogical. Meta- here names reflexivity, not hierarchy. Perniola’s meta is not Tarski’s meta. It is an aesthetic turn-back, not a semantic over-language. S.: One might say that the metaromanzo takes the ordinary novel as object, but does so from within the very practice it reflects. G.: Very good. Which is why oggetto-romanzo remains nonsense. There is no object-novel waiting behind the meta-novel as object-language waits behind metalanguage. S.: Unless one were stupid enough to invent one. G.: Italy could, but fortunately did not. Meta-romanzo at least sounds as if it belongs to a culture. Object-novel would sound as if it belonged to an inventory. S.: And Russell’s collocations, by then, had already entered the language. G.: Entered enough that one could make jokes with them. “Metalanguage” by 1966 is something an educated reader can hear without fainting. Which is perhaps why literature could steal meta- and leave the rest behind. S.: Because prefixes are easier to steal than distinctions. G.: Much easier. A distinction demands work; a prefix only demands nerve. S.: Then perhaps G. and S. should reconstruct the line. Carnap 1934: Objektsprache and Syntaxsprache. G.: Good. Then Stebbing in 1935 importing object-language into English through Carnap. Then Grelling in 1936 with metalanguage. Then Carnap in English in 1937 consolidating object-language and still using syntax-language, which is much cleaner than what came later. S.: Then Tarski making the hierarchy serious. G.: And Russell in 1940 giving object-language a chapter title and treating metalanguage as a going concern in English prose. After which the terms are respectable enough to leave philosophy and embarrass the arts. S.: Leading, by 1966, to Il metaromanzo. G.: Exactly. The history of a prefix’s decline. S.: You are too harsh. Perhaps its emancipation. G.: I will allow emancipation if you allow trivialisation. Every emancipated prefix travels badly. S.: Does Quine enter this story. G.: Only as a warning. Quine later makes object sound ontological in a way Carnap’s original distinction did not require. Once Word and Object has done its work, every object-language begins to sound as if it carries a census of entities. S.: And that makes Carnap retroactively more Ding-like than he was. G.: Precisely. Translation first misleads, then later ontology makes the old translation look prophetic. S.: Which is unfair to Carnap. G.: Fairness to Carnap has never been an English priority. S.: Let us bring in the Piroten again, if only to keep formalism from feeling neglected. G.: Very well. Suppose Carnap says something like: “a is a Pirot” and “All Pirots karulize elatically” then “a karulizes elatically.” S.: You want it in Peano-Russell dress. G.: Yes, because that is the route by which Oxford actually learned to write modern logic: PaPaPa (x)(Px⊃Cx)(x)(Px \supset Cx)(x)(Px⊃Cx) therefore CaCaCa S.: Universality by default. G.: Exactly. That is the old line. No inverted A yet. (x)(x)(x) for “for all x.” Existence marked separately by the inverted E. Peano helps Russell with the notation, Frege with the deeper conception, and Oxford inherits the hybrid without admitting the genealogy. S.: A noble muddle. G.: Oxford is built on them. Which is why, by the time of Strawson’s 1952 book, the revolt against formal vacuity is already under way. S.: Ah yes, the books in the room. G.: The perfect case. “There is not a single book in his room which is not by an English author.” Formally one is tempted to say: ¬(∃x)(Fx∧¬Gx)\neg (\exists x)(Fx \land \neg Gx)¬(∃x)(Fx∧¬Gx) S.: Where F is “x is a book in his room” and G is “x is by an English author.” G.: Exactly. And yet ordinary language objects. If there are no books in the room, the formal sentence may still come out in a way that leaves the speaker blameless by the extensional lights, but ordinary speech cries outrage. S.: Not falsehood, but outrage. G.: Strawson’s word, and a good one. The speaker has not lied exactly, but he has made one the victim of a linguistic impropriety. S.: Because one presupposes there are books in the room. G.: Or, if one is me, because the speaker’s choice of the weaker-looking but more elaborate form suggests that there are books there to be so classified. Why bother with the stronger-looking “not a single ... which is not ...” if the room is empty. S.: Which leads to the Grice footnote. G.: Yes, the rule that one does not make the logically lesser claim when one could truthfully and economically make the greater. A nice bit of later Grice hiding in Strawson’s presuppositionism. S.: And that rule first occurred, Strawson says, in a different connection. G.: Which I still suspect was perception. “That pillar box seems red” versus “That pillar box is red.” The same structure: if you choose the weaker or more guarded form when the stronger would do, you invite the hearer to infer a reason for the guard. S.: So from pillar boxes to books in rooms. G.: And from there, if one is too literary, to novels that talk about their own novelhood. S.: That is a handsome arc. G.: Handsome and slightly illicit. But philosophy lives by slightly illicit arcs. S.: Let us then place Perniola at the end of it. Not caring about the technical lineage, but benefiting from the cultural availability of meta-. G.: Yes. By 1966 meta- is already in the air. A cultivated Italian reader can hear metalinguaggio, metalogica, perhaps even metateatro, and not mistake them for typos. Perniola simply applies the prefix where its logic becomes metaphorical. S.: And then the metaromanzo is the novel that reflects on the novel. G.: Precisely, but from within. Not an external syntax-language about a novel, but a novel making its own novelhood part of its point. Which is why the Tarskian analogy breaks down just where the literary interest begins. S.: Because self-reference, dangerous in logic, is often the whole pleasure in art. G.: Exactly. What Tarski avoids, Perniola courts. S.: Then a Gricean might say that the metaromanzo is a machine for generating implicatures about authorship, sincerity, fictionality, and point. G.: Very good. It invites the reader to recover not just what happens, but what it means that the novel knows it is a novel. That is not metalanguage in the Russell-Tarski sense, but it is meta in a culturally available, reflexive sense. S.: So if one were to clean the matter up, one would say: Objektsprache in Carnap 1934 means the language under analysis. Thing-language in Carnap after Paris 1935 means something quite different, a language of publicly identifiable things for science. Meta-language in Grelling and then in Tarski means the language used to talk about another language. Meta-romanzo in Perniola means an aesthetic operation of self-reference. G.: Admirably put. You may dine at High Table on that alone. S.: Thank you. And Russell? G.: Russell gets the English dignity of “object-language” in 1940, but not the glory of firstness. Which is probably just as well, because he would only have made object sound more comfortable than it deserved. S.: And Quine? G.: Quine is the aftertaste. Once he arrives, object begins to smell of ontology, and retroactively everyone starts hearing Carnap as if he had already been half-Quinean. Which is a historical slander, but a fertile one. S.: This leaves only one question. G.: Which is? S.: Whether Perniola would have cared for any of it. G.: Not at all. Which is why he is useful. He shows that by 1966 the prefix has escaped the logicians and found a new career among the aesthetes. Meta no longer means “higher-order semantic hygiene.” It means “reflexive self-consciousness with ambitions.” S.: In that case, the title Il metaromanzo is both clever and irresponsible. G.: Precisely. That is why it works. S.: So what shall we say when asked whether the romanzo is the object and the meta-romanzo the metalanguage. G.: We shall say: only if one is willing to misuse Tarski for the sake of literature, which is often worth doing but should never be done innocently. S.: And if asked whether oggetto-romanzo would be possible. G.: We shall say: only in a warehouse. S.: And if asked whether Carnap’s shift from object to thing is philosophically sad. G.: We shall say: sad if you dislike reification, understandable if you want intersubjective science, and in any case distinct from the fate of meta- in the humanities, where all terms eventually become costumes. S.: Then Perniola’s title is not a logical distinction but a cultural symptom. G.: Exactly. The symptom of an age in which one can no longer merely write a novel. One must also write the novel’s consciousness of being a novel, and then call the whole enterprise serious because the prefix once passed through Tarski on its way to Einaudi. S.: That is very good. G.: It is also, I fear, true.Grice: Caro Perniola, ho sempre pensato che il meta-romanzo fosse come una conversazione tra specchi: ognuno riflette l’altro, ma nessuno sa chi ha iniziato a parlare. Tu, che sei maestro dell’autoreferenzialità, hai mai perso il filo tra romanzo e realtà? Perniola: Grice, se dovessi cercare il filo tra romanzo e realtà, finirei sicuramente impigliato nella trama di uno dei miei saggi! Ma non temere: in Piemonte diciamo che “chi perde il filo, almeno trova la lana”. E poi, un po’ di alienazione rende la conversazione più interessante, no? Grice: Ah, Perniola, tu sei l’unico filosofo che può alienarsi e ritrovare se stesso tra le pagine di Clinamen! Mi chiedo se l’implicatura conversazionale, in fondo, non sia solo un meta-romanzo scritto a voce... Come dire: tutto è conversazione, persino la pausa caffè in Agalma! Perniola: Grice, la pausa caffè è il mio laboratorio filosofico preferito! Tra una tazzina e l’altra, si può scoprire che la borghesia è più amara dell’espresso, e che la vera avanguardia è quando il barista ti domanda: “Lo vuole corto o lungo?” La filosofia, come il caffè, va gustata senza zucchero! Perniola, Mario (1966). Il meta-romanzo. Torino: Einaudi.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali:  Perone – Ossia: Grice e Perone. interrotta”. Il tema è ripreso proprio in apertura di Modernità e Memoria, dove individua nella modernità l'epoca della cesura. Il moderno è dunque chiamato a essere il tempo della memoria. La memoria è sempre memoria della cesura.  Ugo Perone (Torino, Piemonte): la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers recover what a speaker means (often more than is explicitly said) by presuming rational cooperation and inferring implicatures from what is said plus context plus recognisable intentions; the governing norms are those that make an exchange intelligible as a shared project of giving information, reasons, and guidance. Perone’s work, emerging from the Pareyson milieu and shaped by phenomenology and a historically self-conscious metaphysics, approaches meaning less through the micro-economy of conversational inference and more through the experience of discontinuity, threshold, and memory: modernity is read as a cesura, and understanding as an attempt to rescue sense from fragments, not by “calculating” what someone meant from a cooperative maxim, but by interpreting how meaning is given, withheld, and reconstituted across ruptured historical and existential horizons. The comparison is thus a difference of explanatory target: Grice offers a model of how communicative intention and shared rational expectations structure everyday understanding here and now, while Perone offers a hermeneutic account of how sense persists (or fails) across temporal breaks, where what matters is not only what is implicated in a single utterance but what is remembered, lost, and re-figured as the present becomes a boundary between what can still be said and what can only be recalled. From a Gricean perspective, Perone’s “memory of the cut” would appear as a background condition that shapes what conversational participants can presuppose and so what they can implicate; from a Peronean perspective, Grice’s maxims look like a local rational grammar operating within a deeper historical drama in which the very possibility of common ground is itself precarious and must be continually rebuilt. Il tema è ripreso proprio in apertura di Modernità e Memoria, dove individua nella modernità l'epoca della cesura. Il moderno è dunque chiamato a essere il tempo della memoria. La memoria è sempre memoria della cesura. L’uso della categoria d’illuminismo non simpatizza per quella interpretazione del moderno, dimentiche della tensione. Semplicemente pone l'umano in luogo del divino come fonte di legittimazione -- puntando tutto sul continuio, anziché sul dis-continuo della storia. Per un approfondimento a tutto tondo del significato dell'ateismo, contro l'essere, ciò che è forte, è lecito essere forti, perché la minaccia non lo vince, ma lo lascia stagliarsi in tutta la sua maestà e incommensurabile grandezza. Per una trattazione sistematica del concetto di "soglia”, che svolge con particolare attenzione cfr. Il presente possibile -- il presente come soglia.  Se una totalità è interrotta, non possiamo ricordare se non frammenti, e quasi istantanee del tempo. Tuttavia, se la memoria afferra brandelli e frammenti, è perché in essi vi legge il tutto, perché li pensa capaci di dar *senso* e di riscattare, perché in essi vi scorge l'essenziale. La memoria sa che non tutto può essere salvato. Ma osiamo credere che nella memoria salvata vi possa essere un senso anche per ciò che è andato perduto. Implicature, peiron/apeiron, Velia, Grice on ‘other’; finito/ infinito, Velia, Elea, I veliani, Guardini. Total temporary state, Israele, etimologia, la ferita di Giaccobe dopo la lotta coll’angelo, nella Vulgata. Israele, la lotta di Giacobbe e il angelo, la ferita, Giacobbe zoppo, iconografia, controversia sull’etimologia di israele, ei combatte, la tradizione di VELIA, l’infinito di Velia – il continuo e il discontinuo, l’infinito della scuola di Crotone, Cicerone, l’infinito di Giordano Bruno. Infinitum, indefinititum, dal verbo, finire, finio in romano, -- I due rappresentanti della scuola di Velia, Melisso, peras, pars. Guardini, il sacro, il divino, I dei, uomo e dio, opposizione, -- la storia della filosofia di Perone, il presente possible, la totalita interrota, I soggeti, trascendentale e immanente. Secrétan.Grice: “St John’s. 1967. The Senior Common Room exposes one to more than one needs to know. So Perone has just defended a thesis in Turin, under Pareyson, on Secrétan—who sounds secretive enough, even before one looks at the spelling. The title reads: La filosofia della libertà in Secrétan. Naturally I now want to know everything about Secrétan, if only because that acute accent on the second e makes him sound improbably nouvelle vague. One imagines freedom being discussed not in the manner of Oxford—tidy distinctions and an embarrassed avoidance of metaphysics—but in a smoky café idiom, all thresholds and ruptures, where what matters is less the conclusion than the cut that makes a conclusion necessary. Editorial note: Charles Secrétan (1815–1895) was a Swiss Protestant philosopher born and based in Lausanne, trained in law, and formed philosophically by German idealism (notably Schelling, whom he heard in Munich in 1835–36 and again in 1839). His major work, La philosophie de la liberté (2 vols., 1848–1849; commonly cited as 1849), presents a systematic moral-metaphysical programme in which freedom is not a derivative human faculty but the absolute principle itself: the first principle is conceived as free rather than merely necessary, and the world is read as the product of a free act, with moral obligation and religious ideas (creation, fall, restoration) treated as philosophically central rather than merely confessional add-ons. This makes Secrétan a natural choice for Perone’s 1967 Turin thesis under Luigi Pareyson (La filosofia della libertà in Charles Secrétan): Secrétan offers a way of thinking “freedom” that is simultaneously metaphysical, ethical, and historically alert to rupture—an approach congenial to Perone’s later concerns with modernity as cesura and with the present as a “threshold.” Grice’s interest in the same neighbourhood is of a different temper: rather than beginning from an absolute principle, he reconstructs the conceptual geography of “free” across its ordinary-language applications (from free fall to free will, to the comic sobriety of alcohol-free), treating the family of uses as data for a theory of rational agency and action; the juxtaposition usefully marks two routes to the topic—Secrétan’s principled metaphysics of freedom and Grice’s analytic reconstruction of the concept as it functions in explanation, justification, and choice.Grice: Caro Perone, ho letto che la modernità è la grande cesura della memoria. Ma dimmi, hai mai dimenticato dove hai messo le chiavi? Forse anche tu sei vittima della cesura moderna! Perone: Grice, se la memoria è fatta di frammenti, le mie chiavi sono sicuramente uno di quei frammenti perduti! E se davvero il presente è una soglia, forse le troverò... appena varcata la porta di casa. Grice: Hai ragione, Perone! Ma ricordati: anche Giacobbe, dopo la lotta, rimase zoppo... Io, dopo la lotta con il telecomando, rimango senza il canale giusto. È la memoria che salva o ci fa inciampare? Perone: Grice, tu filosofeggi persino davanti alla TV! Ma in fondo, tra il continuo e il discontinuo, c’è sempre spazio per una buona battuta. E se non ricordo tutto, almeno non dimentico di ridere! In this passage we have a reminiscence by G. in the SCR on Perone and la filosofia della liberta. So please provide a 100-move conversation between G. and S. on that, with if you can you giving the OED first citations for -free, as per alcohol-free, sugar-free -- which is the type of thing G. is interested. cf. Berlin, Isaiah, free to, free from -- with G. providing a scale from FREE FALL -- physical, a stone, FREE GROWING of a plant, phototropic, say -- as free as it gets -- FREE ANIMAL who can wonder anywhere, and FREE MEANS-END ANALYSYS f rationality, where the ultra-free agent is the one that is FREE to chose the ends -- extrinsically -- as this connects to Kant, and Prichard, and back to the alcohol-free and lingusitic botanising, and sugar-free -- Speranza suggests thiese are older formations that G. may have heard from the New World, but see if you can check something LIKE alcohol-free or sugar-free as old as the OED did locate them -- thanks -- just the thing, no preamble or ps -- thankts G.: Perone’s title has been nagging at me: La filosofia della libertà. S.: Better nagged by liberty than by necessity. G.: Perhaps, though necessity at least often wears plainer clothes. S.: You prefer plain clothes. G.: I prefer words that do not arrive trailed by incense. S.: Libertà arrives trailed by Europe. G.: And by metaphysics, theology, cafés, revolutions, and footnotes. S.: Secrétan deserves some of that. G.: Secrétan deserves his accent, at any rate. It makes him sound as though freedom were being discussed under dim lamps. S.: And Perone, under Pareyson, picks exactly that figure. G.: Which is what amused the Senior Common Room. Someone says “La filosofia della libertà in Secrétan,” and suddenly liberty becomes a thesis-topic rather than a political inconvenience. S.: You would start with the word free. G.: Naturally. One must begin where the trousers are. S.: You mean “real” wears the trousers. G.: “Real” does, in one line of inquiry. Here “free” may wear them, though less steadily. S.: Because it is all over the place. G.: Exactly. Free fall, free man, free act, free country, free hand, free love, free trade, free verse, free school, free gift, and, to modern shame, alcohol-free. S.: You dislike the later compounds. G.: I dislike them as a moralist dislikes new upholstery. Still, they are useful. S.: I brought you the OED trail, such as one can glean from the public edge of it. G.: Ah yes. Tell me when sugar-free and alcohol-free first emerge respectably. S.: The exact OED entry dates are behind the paywall, but the broad indication is that these -free compounds are well established in modern commercial and descriptive English, and not merely yesterday’s American barbarisms. [oed.com] G.: That is cautious to the point of Englishness. S.: I can be firmer only in a limited way. The -free suffix itself is much older, of course, and productive for centuries. The specifically consumer compounds, things like alcohol-free and sugar-free, are modern enough to belong to the world of labels and dietetics, but not so new as to be post-war inventions pure and simple. [oed.com] G.: So Speranza’s suspicion that I may have heard them from the New World is plausible, but not necessary. S.: Exactly. The New World may have accelerated the vulgarity, but not invented the morphology. G.: Good. Then free as suffix deserves a place in the family. S.: Especially because Isaiah Berlin complicates the matter: free to, free from. G.: Yes. He gave a lecture and acquired an entire century’s textbook distinction. S.: Positive and negative liberty. G.: Quite. Though I prefer to begin not with Berlin’s categories but with the uses from which the categories were abstracted. S.: Hence your scale. G.: Exactly. Let us start at the bottom, or perhaps the top, with free fall. S.: A stone. G.: Yes. A stone in free fall. Here “free” means roughly unconstrained by supporting contact, not exempt from gravity, still less self-legislating. S.: So physical freedom is not liberty in the moral sense at all. G.: No. It is release from one kind of impediment within a causal order. S.: Then free-growing. G.: A plant. One says a plant is free-growing when it is not stunted, not pot-bound, not clipped into topiary by a sentimental gardener. S.: Though phototropic still. G.: Precisely. Even free-growing ivy still crawls after light like a provincial after preferment. S.: So its freedom is flourishing under natural tendency, not election. G.: Excellent. That is why the scale matters. Free-growing is already more organic than free fall, but still not deliberative. S.: Then the animal. G.: Yes. The free animal can wander, forage, turn, flee, approach, choose among proximities, perhaps even hesitate. Freedom there includes locomotion and appetite under perception. S.: But not yet means-end analysis. G.: Not in the strict philosophical sense. A dog may deliberate a little, but not usually under a maxim. S.: Then the human agent. G.: Or at least the rational agent. There freedom enters through the possibility of action guided by reasons, not merely causes. S.: Means-end reasoning. G.: Exactly. One is free, at minimum, if one may select means to an end without relevant external coercion. S.: That is already a limited liberty. G.: Quite. It is instrumental freedom. Free to get the thing done, assuming the end is already fixed. S.: And the ultra-free agent. G.: Ah yes. The ultra-free agent is free not merely in the means but in the ends. He is free to choose what shall count as his end, at least within some intelligible range. S.: Extrinsically, you said. G.: Yes. Free in relation to pressures that would otherwise fix the end from outside—custom, appetite, authority, compulsion, perhaps even natural teleology if one is arguing with Aristotle before breakfast. S.: Then Kant enters. G.: Naturally. For Kant, autonomy means not merely selecting means cleverly but giving oneself the law under which action counts as rationally one’s own. S.: So freedom is not caprice. G.: Heaven no. Caprice is the undergraduate parody of autonomy. S.: And Prichard. G.: Prichard reminds one, in his own way, that obligation and action are not to be dissolved into psychology or mere desire. The free act has to be thought in relation to what one takes oneself to have reason to do. S.: Which returns us to means and ends. G.: Yes. One may be very “free” in the vulgar sense and yet entirely unfree in the evaluative structure of one’s action if one never questions the ends that have colonised one. S.: Such as. G.: Fashion, ambition, appetite, ideology, dietetics, and sugar-free biscuits. S.: You do not trust sugar-free biscuits. G.: No sane man should. They are a perfect linguistic case, though. S.: Because the suffix -free there means free from. G.: Yes, free from sugar, not free to sugar. S.: That would be a different and happier packet. G.: Exactly. Which gives us Berlin’s two great heads of freedom in a grotesque supermarket miniature. S.: Negative liberty on the label. G.: And usually positive disappointment in the mouth. S.: Let us linger on the morphology. You said “free” may wear the trousers less steadily than “real.” G.: Yes, because “free” does not merely contrast with one sort of sham. It radiates across many fields: physical release, legal status, political independence, moral agency, costlessness, exemption, absence of ingredient, looseness of style, generosity of access. S.: Free verse. G.: A good case. Free verse is not verse with no constraints whatever; it is verse not bound by certain traditional metrical regularities. S.: So “free” rarely means absolutely unconstrained. G.: Precisely. It means unconstrained relative to some salient bond. S.: Which makes it contrastive in an Austinian way after all. G.: Very much so. Perhaps “free” wears a jacket where “real” wears trousers, but both are contrastive workers. S.: Free from what. G.: Exactly. Or free to do what. The preposition is half the philosophy. S.: Berlin would approve. G.: Berlin approved of prepositions more than many metaphysicians do. S.: Then alcohol-free. G.: Yes. There the thing is free from alcohol. Negative liberty with a bottle-neck. S.: Sugar-free likewise. G.: Quite. Not sovereign sugar, but sugar excluded. S.: The OED first citations, then, if not exact, at least conceptually belong to the rise of labelling, commercial reassurance, and the language of regulated abstention. G.: Excellent phrase. Regulated abstention. S.: Thank you. G.: Keep it, though it may improve diets more than prose. S.: Then what interests you in the suffix. G.: That it reveals how freedom-talk slides from moral and political dignity into ingredient management without ceasing to be the same morphological family. S.: So the family resemblance can mislead. G.: Often. One begins with free will and ends with caffeine-free as though one had travelled no philosophical distance. S.: But one has travelled a great deal. G.: Indeed. From autonomy to absence of stimulant in four syllables. S.: Let us map the scale more neatly. G.: Very well. First, free fall: absence of support, not absence of law. Second, free-growing: absence of stunting, presence of natural directedness. Third, free animal movement: locomotor and appetitive latitude. Fourth, instrumental rational freedom: selection of means to fixed ends. Fifth, fuller agency: reflection on ends. Sixth, autonomy in something like the Kantian sense: self-legislation under reason. S.: And where is Berlin. G.: Berlin cuts across the scale. Negative liberty concerns impediments and exclusions. Positive liberty concerns agency, self-direction, mastery, perhaps rational self-rule. S.: Which is why free from and free to matter. G.: Exactly. A slave may become free from his master before he becomes free to direct a life. A drunkard may become alcohol-free without becoming free in any enviable sense. S.: Or may become less cheerful. G.: That too. S.: Then Perone’s liberty in Secrétan is nowhere near supermarket suffixes. G.: No, but the suffixes help remind us how wide the family is, and how dangerous it is to assume one unified metaphysical essence under every use. S.: Austin would approve of beginning with the uses. G.: He would, though he might grow impatient if one then insisted on returning to metaphysics. S.: And you do insist. G.: I insist only that after lexical therapy some pressure remains. Freedom is not exhausted by the dictionary, any more than reality was exhausted by the adjective “real.” S.: Solved or resolved. G.: Resolved again, please. S.: So “the problem of freedom” is like “the problem of reality.” G.: In one sense, yes. Pseudo if it ignores the uses. Genuine if, after sorting the uses, it still asks what kind of agency, causation, normativity, and self-direction the uses presuppose or distort. S.: Secrétan wants the first principle itself to be free. G.: Yes, which is a splendidly continental way of refusing to let freedom remain a local human property. S.: Freedom as absolute principle. G.: Exactly. Not merely my faculty, but the very character of first principle, world-production, moral obligation, perhaps even divine act. S.: Which is very far from free fall. G.: Yet not wholly unrelated. The metaphor of release, spontaneity, non-necessitation, self-originating activity lurks behind both, though transformed beyond recognition. S.: So there is a history of deepening. G.: Or inflating, depending on one’s mood. S.: Today you are only moderately severe. G.: Perone softens me a little. S.: That is dangerous. G.: Yes. Now let us ask whether “free” wears the trousers. S.: Does it. G.: Sometimes. In many phrases the contrastive burden does rest on “free”: sugar-free, duty-free, care-free, smoke-free, free-range. S.: Free-range is another fine case. G.: Indeed. A hen free-range is free from cages, though not free from being eventually deplumed. S.: So negative liberty with agricultural irony. G.: Very much so. S.: Then “free” in these compounds behaves almost like a privative suffix. G.: Yes, though the privation is always relative to some previously expected or potentially confining element. S.: Hence the botanical interest. G.: Precisely. One must classify the species: free from x, free to y, free with z, free in manner, free by status, free by costlessness. S.: Free with one’s money is not free of one’s money. G.: No, though the result may converge. S.: And cost-free. G.: Another vulgar modernity. Yet again the same morphology. S.: Then do you think alcohol-free and sugar-free are philosophically unserious. G.: Not at all. They are linguistically instructive precisely because they force the contrastive question into a narrow, concrete form. Free from what? Not metaphysics, but ingredient. S.: Which reminds one that the “from” construction may be older and perhaps more basic than the “to.” G.: Perhaps older in some practical uses, yes. One is first released from chains before one is capable of legislating ends. S.: Yet politically the “to” is often the nobler aspiration. G.: True. Berlin’s distinction matters because negative liberty alone can leave one formally unimpeded and substantively adrift. S.: Or manipulated. G.: Quite. One may be “free” in the legal-negative sense and still have one’s ends manufactured by appetite, ideology, or advertisement. S.: Sugar-free advertisement. G.: Exactly. S.: Then the Kantian move is to say that true freedom lies not in following inclination but in giving oneself the rational law. G.: Yes. Which is why so much ordinary freedom-talk looks thin beside autonomy. S.: And Prichard. G.: Prichard’s severity helps because he does not let moral thought collapse into descriptive psychology. If one asks what one ought to do, one is already in a space where freedom cannot be merely the capacity to satisfy whatever impulse happened to arise. S.: So the ultra-free agent is not the capricious one, but the one whose ends are critically examinable and, ideally, self-endorsed. G.: Precisely. S.: Which is not how supermarkets use the suffix. G.: No, but supermarkets rarely improve upon Kant. S.: A pity. G.: A continental pity, yes. S.: Let us return to the OED. If the exact first citations are not to hand, can we still say something about the history of -free. G.: Certainly. The suffix is ancient and productive, and modern commerce exploits an old pattern rather than inventing it. The novelty lies not in -free itself but in the consumer compounds and their regime of reassurance. [oed.com] S.: So sugar-free and alcohol-free are modern in application, old in morphological right. G.: Exactly. Which is enough for philosophical purposes unless one is trying to terrorise lexicographers. S.: You are often trying to terrorise lexicographers. G.: Only to improve them. S.: Then would you say “free” is one word or a family of related uses. G.: A family, certainly, though not an accidental heap. There is enough continuity of contrastive structure to justify one entry, but not enough essence to justify careless metaphysics from the dictionary alone. S.: Which is your usual doctrine. G.: It has served me well. S.: Then Perone’s “philosophy of liberty” and your “conceptual geography of free” are not enemies, merely non-identical enterprises. G.: Precisely. He begins with liberty as a philosophically central principle under a history of rupture and memory. I begin with the uses of free and ask what conceptual and rational structure they disclose. S.: One smoky café, one Oxford pantry. G.: A little unfair to Oxford pantries, but yes. S.: And where does free will go on your scale. G.: Somewhere between instrumental and autonomous agency, depending on what one means by it. The phrase is notoriously unstable. S.: “Free will” may mean absence of external coercion, or absence of internal compulsion, or capacity for genuine alternatives, or rational self-determination. G.: Very good. Which is why philosophers should distrust it slightly until the surrounding machinery is specified. S.: Whereas “free fall” is much easier. G.: Yes. Stones are cooperative philosophers. S.: Plants less so. G.: Plants merely incline. S.: Animals wander. G.: Humans justify. S.: Or fail to. G.: Which is where philosophy begins. S.: Then perhaps the final scale should be put almost proverbially: free fall obeys law without support; free-growing obeys life without pruning; the free animal obeys appetite without a leash; the rational agent may govern means without governing ends; the autonomous agent governs even the end under reason. G.: Splendidly done. S.: And the sugar-free biscuit. G.: Governs nothing but appetite by label. S.: Dry enough. G.: Sufficiently Turinese, with a little New-World packaging around the edges.Perone, Ugo (1967). La filosofia della liberta, Torino.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali:  Perpernio – Ossia: Grice e Perpernio -- Grex griceiana – veralia: Perpernio. The gens Perpernia, also found as Perpennia, was a plebeian family of Etruscan descent at ancient Rome. Members of this gens first appear in history during the second century BC, and Marcus Perperna obtained the consulship in 130 BC.[1]  Origin The Perpernae were certainly of Etruscan origin, as indicated by the form of their nomen; gentilicia ending in -enna, -erna, -inna, and similar forms are characteristic of Etruscan families, and are not found among the other peoples of Italy.[1][2] Both Perperna and Perpenna are found in the best manuscripts, and no coins of this gens have survived, although Fronto mentions some that existed in his time. The Fasti Capitolini give the name as Perperna, which seems to be preferred in modern scholarship.[1] "Perpernia" or "Perpennia" was the feminine form.[3]  It is uncertain precisely when and under what circumstances the Perpernae arrived at Rome. Although there was a Roman ambassador of this name in 168 BC, Valerius Maximus relates a curious and perhaps confused account, in which the father of Marcus Perperna, consul in 130 BC, was condemned after his son's death, for having unlawfully assumed the character of a Roman citizen.[4] It seems strange that the father of a Roman consul would not himself have been a citizen, or have obtained the franchise during his son's lifetime. Adding to the confusion, Valerius Maximus refers to his punishment under the lex Papia, which expelled non-citizens from Rome, and punished those who had wrongfully assumed the franchise; but this law is generally supposed to have been passed by Gaius Papius, tribune of the plebs in 65 BC.[4][5][6] Broughton suggests that Valerius Maximus has confused the law with the lex Junia de Peregrinis of 126 BC, but this does not resolve the uncertainty regarding the consul's father. Broughton identifies the consul's father as the Marcus Perperna who was legate in 168 BC, and concludes that Valerius Maximus was incorrect.[7]  Praenomina Marcus was the chief praenomen of the Perpernae who occur in history, although this family also made use of Lucius and Gaius. These were the three most common praenomina throughout Roman history. In inscriptions, we also find Aulus, Sextus, and Titus.  Branches and cognomina All of the Perpernae who are mentioned by the ancient historians appear to have belonged to a single family, and only one of them bore a cognomen. Marcus Perperna, the betrayer of Sertorius, bore the surname Veiento. Other Perpernae are known from inscriptions.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Lucius Perperna, grandfather of the consul of 130 BC.[8] Marcus Perperna (L. f.), one of two ambassadors imprisoned by the Illyrian king Gentius in 168 BC. Following the king's surrender to the Roman praetor, Lucius Anicius Gallus, later that year, Perperna was released and sent to bring the news of the king's defeat to Rome.[9][10][11] Marcus Perperna L. f., father of the consul of 130 BC, said to have been condemned under the lex Papia after his son's death, for illegally assuming the Roman franchise, but both the accuracy of the account and the law in question are doubtful, and he should probably be identified with the legate of 168 BC.[4][12] Marcus Perperna M. f. L. n., as praetor in 135 BC, fought against the slaves who had revolted in Sicily, and was honoured with an ovation. Consul in 130, he defeated and captured Aristonicus of Pergamum, but he died before he could return to Rome.[13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20] Marcus Perperna M. f. M. n., consul in 92 BC, and censor in 86. He is probably the same Perperna mentioned as a judex by Cicero. Perperna was famous for his longevity, and died at the age of ninety-eight, having survived nearly all of those he had appointed to the senate during his censorship.[21][22][23][24][25][26][27][28] Gaius Perperna (M. f. M. n.), praetor by 91 BC, in 90 he served as one of the legates under the consul Publius Rutilius Lupus during the Social War. He was defeated, and Rutilius relieved him of his command, giving his army to Marius.[29][30] Marcus Perperna M. f. M. n. Veiento, praetor in 82 BC, was a partisan of Marius, who after the death of Sulla joined in the rebellion of the proconsul Marcus Aemilius Lepidus. After the latter's defeat and death, Perperna and his army joined forces with Sertorius in Spain. In 72 BC, Perperna and his allies assassinated Sertorius and took control of his army, but were utterly defeated by Pompeius, and Perperna was put to death.[31][32][33][34][35][36][37][38][39][40] Gaius Perperna Veiento.[41] Perpenna Romanus, consular governor of Sicily in the 4th century AD.[42] Petronius Perpenna Magnus Quadratianus, praefectus urbi of Rome in the fifth century AD. He repaired the Baths of Constantine.[43] See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 202 ("Perperna").  Chase, pp. 117, 118.  CIL XIV, 3714, CIL X, 2837.  Valerius Maximus, iii. 4. § 5.  Cassius Dio, xxxvii. 9.  Cicero, De Officiis, iii. 11, Pro Balbo, 23, Pro Archia Poeta, 5, De Lege Agraria, i. 4, Epistulae ad Atticum, iv. 16.  Broughton, vol. II, pp. 19 (note 1), 158, 160, 161 (note 2).  Broughton, vol. I, p. 501.  Livy, xliv. 27, 32.  Appian, Macedonica, xvi. 1.  Broughton, vol. I, p. 430.  Broughton, vol. II, p. 19 (note 1).  Florus, iii. 19, 20.  Fasti Capitolini, AE 1920, 101.  Livy, Epitome, 59.  Justin, xxxvi. 4.  Velleius Paterculus, ii. 4.  Orosius, v. 10.  Tacitus, Annales, iii. 62.  Broughton, vol. I, pp. 492, 501, 502.  Appian, Bellum Civile, i. 40.  Cicero, De Oratore, ii. 65, Pro Roscio Comoedo, 1, 8, In Verrem, i. 55.  Asconius Pedianus, In Ciceronis Pro Scauro, p. 28 (ed. Orelli).  Cornelius Nepos, "Catilina", 1.  Pliny the Elder, vii. 48.  Valerius Maximus, viii. 13. § 4.  Cassius Dio, xli. 14.  Broughton, vol. II, pp. 17, 19 (note 1), 54.  Appian, Bellum Civile, i. 41.  Broughton, vol. II, pp. 20, 29.  Appian, Bellum Civile, i. 107, 110, 113–115.  Plutarch, "The Life of Pompeius", 10, 20, "The Life of Sertorius", 15, 25–27.  Livy, Epitome, 96.  Eutropius, vi. 1.  Florus, iii. 22.  Orosius, v. 23.  Velleius Paterculus, ii. 30.  Sallust, Historiae, ii. 3.  Cicero, In Verrem, v. 58.  Broughton, vol. II, pp. 67, 68, 73 (note 4), 91, 95, 100, 105, 113, 120, 121.  CIL VI, 38700  CIL X, 7125  CIL VI, 1750 Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, De Oratore, In Verrem, Pro Quinto Roscio Comoedo. Gaius Sallustius Crispus (Sallust), Historiae (The Histories). Cornelius Nepos, De Viris Illustribus (On the Lives of Famous Men). Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome. Marcus Velleius Paterculus, Compendium of Roman History. Quintus Asconius Pedianus, Commentarius in Oratio Ciceronis Pro Scauro (Commentary on Cicero's Oration Pro Scauro). Gaius Plinius Secundus (Pliny the Elder), Naturalis Historia (Natural History). Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Annales. Plutarchus, Lives of the Noble Greeks and Romans. Lucius Annaeus Florus, Epitome de T. Livio Bellorum Omnium Annorum DCC (Epitome of Livy: All the Wars of Seven Hundred Years). Marcus Junianus Justinus Frontinus (Justin), Epitome de Cn. Pompeio Trogo Historiarum Philippicarum et Totius Mundi Originum et Terrae Situs (Epitome of Trogus' Philippic History and Origin of the Whole World and all of its Lands). Appianus Alexandrinus (Appian), Macedonica (The Macedonian Wars), Bellum Civile (The Civil War). Cassius Dio, Roman History. Eutropius, Breviarium Historiae Romanae (Abridgement of the History of Rome). Paulus Orosius, Historiarum Adversum Paganos (History Against the Pagans). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII (1897). T. Robert S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, American Philological Association (1952). Categories: PerpernaeRoman gentesRoman gentes of Etruscan origin and the first-best choice for a Grice-Speranza vignette from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali:  Perpernio – Ossia: Grice e Perpernio -- Grex griceiana – veralia: Perpernio. For the Perpernae, I think there are two strong candidates, but one wins decisively. First Prize: Marcus Perperna Veiento, the assassin of Sertorius Why? Because the whole episode turns on one of the most Gricean themes imaginable:  trust, loyalty, deception, and hidden intentions.   admitted  into his circle;  concealed his real intentions; eventually he and his associates murdered . Afterward,  attempted to take over the army, only to be defeated by Pompeius. [GREXv2 | Word] This is not merely military history. It is a catastrophe of communication. Grice e Perperna Veiente Sertorius:  Amicus es. ("You are a friend.")  Perperna:  Ita. ("Indeed.")   +> "You may rely on me."  But the implicatum is false. Grice's favorite distinction between:  what is openly conveyed, what the speaker intends, what the hearer is entitled to infer,  collapses spectacularly.  A very Gricean reconstruction Sertorius:  Cur me sequeris? ("Why do you follow me?")  Perperna:  Quia rem publicam tecum defendere volo. ("Because I wish to defend the republic with you.")   +> I am loyal.  Years later: Historicus:  Mentitus est. ("He lied.")  Grice:  Not merely lied. He exploited the normal assumption that professions of loyalty are sincere.   The whole tragedy depends upon conversational expectations being abused. Speranza's Verdict Grice:  Which Perperna?  Speranza:  The betrayer.  Grice:  Why?  Speranza:  Because betrayal is what happens when the hearer's inference is perfectly reasonable and perfectly wrong.   +> "He is my friend." +> therefore he is loyal.  The first proposition may be uttered. The second is inferred. History turns on the failure of the inference. That seems to me the most Gricean Perperna of all. [GREXv2 | Word] and the betrayer should give a caveat to anti-Griceians. One can imagine long essays on 'The failure of Grice's cooperative principle in Ancient Roman history.' But that's because history is made of cases of betraying -- not what a peasant may converse on with another peasant in te Italian countryside? Can we locate this P. more ecxplicitly in terms of A. U. C. roman numerals? Thanks Yes — and I think Marcus Perperna Veiento is actually a very useful cautionary figure against a simplistic anti-Gricean reading of history. One sometimes encounters a thought like:  "Ancient Roman politics was full of treachery, conspiracies, betrayals, and assassinations. Therefore Grice's Cooperative Principle cannot possibly describe human communication."  But that does not follow. Grice never claimed:  People are always honest.  Nor:  People always cooperate politically.  Rather, he claimed that successful communication normally depends on hearers being entitled, absent warning signs, to assume a certain degree of rational and cooperative conduct. The case of Perperna Veiento is interesting precisely because it is exceptional. He succeeds because Sertorius treats professions of loyalty as genuine. If nobody ever relied on such assumptions, betrayal would become impossible. A Gricean might put it this way:  Betrayal is parasitic upon trust.  The liar needs the institution of truthfulness. The traitor needs the institution of loyalty. The successful deceiver exploits a background that is normally reliable. Hence: Anti-Griceian:  Perperna betrayed Sertorius.  Griceian:  Exactly. And the betrayal worked only because loyalty was ordinarily expected.   Where does Perperna belong in A.U.C.? The chronology is approximately:                                    EventBCA.U.C.Consulship of Marcus Perperna (the elder)130 BC624 A.U.C.Consulship of Marcus Perperna92 BC662 A.U.C.Career of Perperna Veiento with Sertorius80s–70s BCroughly 670s A.U.C.Assassination of Sertorius by Perperna Veiento72 BC682 A.U.C.Defeat and execution of Perperna Veiento by Pompeius72 BC682 A.U.C. (The conventional conversion is A.U.C. = BC year subtracted from 754.) The sources place the assassination of Sertorius and the subsequent destruction of Perperna in 72 BC. [GREXv2 | Word] So if one wants to locate him in Roman history, he belongs not to the age of Caesar and Octavian, but to the generation immediately preceding them:  Marius, Sulla, Sertorius, Pompeius.  That is, the turbulent decades around 680 A.U.C.  A Grice–Speranza Dialogue Speranza:  Surely Perperna refutes Grice?  Grice:  Why?  Speranza:  Because he pretended loyalty while planning murder.  Grice:  Then he relied upon Sertorius drawing the ordinary inference.  Speranza:  Namely?  Grice:  That professions of loyalty usually indicate loyalty.  Speranza:  And if no one drew that inference?  Grice:  Perperna would have failed much earlier.   +> Betrayal presupposes the very expectations it violates.  That seems to me the most Gricean lesson of the whole Perperna episode. History records the spectacular failures of trust because ordinary successful trust is too commonplace for historians to mention. The peasant chatting with another peasant in the Italian countryside rarely enters Livy, Sallust, or Plutarch precisely because nothing dramatic happened. Perperna enters history because he is the exception. [GREXv2 | Word]

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali:  Perpernio – Ossia: Grice e Perpernio -- Grex griceiana – veralia: Perpernio. Runner-Up: the ninety-eight-year-old censor The other fascinating Perperna is:  Marcus Perperna, consul of 92 BC and censor of 86 BC, famous for reaching ninety-eight years of age and outliving nearly everyone whom he had enrolled in the Senate. [GREXv2 | Word]  That invites a delightfully Gricean dialogue: Young Senator:  Meministine censuram tuam? ("Do you remember your censorship?")  Perperna:  Etiam. ("Yes.")  Young Senator:  Neminem e censoriis tuis hodie video. ("I see none of your senators today.")  Perperna:  Ne ego quidem. ("Nor do I.")   +> Everybody else is dead.  But this is more epigrammatic than philosophical.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali:  Perpernio – Ossia: Grice e Perpernio -- Grex griceiana – veralia: Perpernio. Why not the citizenship puzzle? The perplexing story that the consul's father was later accused of wrongly claiming Roman citizenship is also attractive. The issue is almost semantic:  When is somebody properly a Roman citizen?  But the sources themselves are confused, and later writers appear uncertain about the details. [GREXv2 | Word]

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali:  Persio – Ossia: Grice e Persio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Persio. The poet, Aulus Persius Flaccus. Modern woodcut. The gens Persia was a minor plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens are first mentioned during the Second Punic War, but they only occasionally occur in history. The most illustrious of the family was the satirist Aulus Persius Flaccus, who lived during the middle part of the first century.[1]  Origin The Persii Flacci are known to have been from Volaterrae in Etruria, and a number of other Persii are found in inscriptions from Volaterrae, as well as the neighboring city of Populonia. It therefore appears that the Persii were originally an Etruscan family, some of whom had settled at Rome by the third century BC.[2] One of the Persii living in Dalmatia bore the surname Etruscus, further indicating that the family claimed Etruscan descent.[3]  Praenomina The chief praenomina of the Persii were Aulus, Gaius, and Lucius, all of which were common names throughout Roman history. A few other names are known from inscriptions, including Marcus, Quintus, and Titus, but they do not seem to have been regular praenomina of this gens.  Branches and cognomina The only families of the Persii known to have been distinguished by their surnames bore the cognomina Flaccus and Severus. Flaccus, a common surname that translates as "flabby", "droopy", or "flop-eared", was borne by the family of the poet. Severus, also a common surname, meaning "serious" or "stern", belonged to another family of Volaterrae.[4] Of the other surnames found among the various Persii, Hybrida was used of the merchant Persius, because his father was Roman and his mother Greek; Etruscus signified the Etruscan descent of its bearer; and Lepidus, more famous from a family of the Aemilii, referred to someone who was pleasant or agreeable.[4][5]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Gaius Persius, an officer serving under Marcus Livius Macatus, commander of the Roman garrison at Tarentum during the Second Punic War. In 210 BC, Persius led a charge of 2,500 men against a Tarentine force of 4,000 that had been sent to forage in the nearby fields, utterly destroying and dispersing the Tarentines.[6] Gaius Persius, a very learned man in the time of the Gracchi. Cicero reports that the satirist Lucilius did not want Persius to read his work, for fear that Persius would disapprove; and that some believed him the author of a famous speech delivered by Gaius Fannius Strabo against Gaius Gracchus.[7] Persius Hybrida, a wealthy merchant at Clazomenae, was involved in a lawsuit with the praetor Publius Rupilius Rex in 43 BC. In one of his satires, Horace describes the invective that they hurled at one another, concluding with Persius' desire for the propraetor Brutus to rid the world of another "king".[5][8] Persius Flaccus, father of the satirist, married Fulvia Sisennia. He died circa AD 40, and his widow married an eques named Fusius.[9][2] Aulus Persius Flaccus, the satirist, was from an early age acquainted with a number of leading literary figures at Rome. He died while still a young man, during the reign of Nero. His extant work consists of six short satires, which were left in an unfinished state at his death, and edited by his friend, the poet Caesius Bassus.[9][1][2] Persia, named in several inscriptions from Volaterrae in Etruria, probably referring to different women.[10] Persia L. f., buried at Epora in Hispania Baetica.[11] Persius M. f., a soldier in the tenth legion, buried at Asturica Augusta in Hispania Citerior, aged fifty, having served twenty-six years.[12] Gaius Persius A. f., buried at Populonia in Etruria, with a monument dating to the reign of Augustus.[13] Lucius Persius C. f., buried at Populonia during the reign of Augustus.[13] Quintus Persius, named in a libationary inscription from Thignica in Africa Proconsularis.[14] Lucius Persius Diallus, a collector of the tax on silversmiths, buried at Corduba in Hispania Baetica.[15] Aulus Persius Etruscus, the husband of Novia Lepida, and father of Aulus Persius Lepidus, to whom he dedicated a monument at Salona in Dalmatia.[3] Aulus Persius A. f. Lepidus, the son of Aulus Persius Etruscus and Novia Lepida, buried at Salona.[3] Persia Meroe, buried at Aquileia in Venetia and Histria.[16] Persia C. f. Polla, buried at Populonia during the reign of Augustus.[13] Persia L. f. Secunda Patriciensis, buried at Corduba, aged twenty-two.[17] Aulus Persius Severus, husband of Vergilia Saturnina, and father of Aulus Persius Severus, to whom he dedicated monuments at Volaterrae.[18][19] Aulus Persius A. f. Severus, son of Aulus Persius Severus and Vergilia Saturnina, buried at Volaterrae, aged eight years, three months, and nineteen days.[18] Lucius Persius L. f. Severus, buried at Thibilis in Numidia, aged eighty-one.[20] Titus Persius Tertius, buried at Augusta Taurinorum in Cisalpine Gaul.[21] Gaius Persius Victor, named in a libationary inscription from Thignica.[22] See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, pp. 209–211 ("Persius").  PIR, vol. III, p. 23.  CIL III, 2443.  Chase, pp. 109–111.  Horace, Satirae, i. 7.  Livy, xxvi. 39.  Cicero, De Finibus, i. 3, De Oratore, ii. 6, Brutus, 26.  Broughton, vol. II, p. 339.  Valerius Probus, "The Life of Aulus Persius Flaccus".  AE 1957, 221, AE 1982, 348, AE 1982, 350.  CIL II, 2175.  AE 1904, 160.  NSA, 1914, 417, AE 1995, 501.  CIL VIII, 15124.  CIL II, 2239.  CIL V, 1328.  CIL II, 2247.  CIL XI, 1784.  CIL XI, 1785.  ILAlg, ii. 2, 5725.  CIL V, 7101.  CIL VIII, 15000. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Brutus, De Finibus Bonorum et Malorum, De Oratore. Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Satirae (Satires). Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome. Marcus Valerius Probus, Vita Auli Persii Flacci de Commentario Probi Valerii Sublata (The Life of Aulus Persius Flaccus, with Commentary by Valerius Probus). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Notizie degli Scavi di Antichità (News of Excavations from Antiquity, abbreviated NSA), Accademia dei Lincei (1876–present). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII (1897). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). Stéphane Gsell, Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie (Latin Inscriptions from Algeria, abbreviated ILAlg), Edouard Champion, Paris (1922–present). T. Robert S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, American Philological Association (1952). Categories: PersiiRoman gentes And first-best choice for a Grice-Speranza vignette from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali:  Persio – Ossia: Grice e Persio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Persio. For the Persii, I think the first-best choice is overwhelmingly:  Aulus Persius Flaccus, the satirist. [GREXv2 | Word]  Not merely because he is the most famous Persius, but because satire is almost a laboratory of what Grice later called what is conveyed beyond what is explicitly said. Why Persius rather than the mutineer, merchant, or soldier? Unlike many of the gentes we have discussed, this one contains an author whose surviving work is itself concerned with:  hypocrisy, indirect criticism, pretence, self-deception, public versus private meanings.  Those are all natural Gricean topics. Persius writes under Nero. A satirist cannot always say:  "This ruler is foolish."  or  "This literary fashion is rubbish."  So he develops irony, allusion, caricature, and indirection. In Gricean terms:  what is said  and  what is communicated  are frequently not identical.  A Grice–Speranza Vignette Grice e Persio Discipulus:  Cur tam obscure scribis? ("Why do you write so obscurely?")  Persius:  Quia non omnibus omnia dicenda sunt. ("Because not everything should be said to everyone.")   +> readers must work for the point   Discipulus:  Cur non aperte loqueris? ("Why do you not speak openly?")  Persius:  Quia qui aperte loquitur non semper diu loquitur. ("Because the man who speaks openly does not always speak for long.")   +> political prudence   A Better Contrast than Perperna With Perperna Veiento, the Gricean theme is:  betrayal of conversational trust.  With Persius, the Gricean theme is richer:  exploitation of conversational competence.  The satirist relies on the reader to infer. He almost forces the reader to become a Gricean. Speranza's Verdict Grice:  Which Persius?  Speranza:  The satirist.  Grice:  Why?  Speranza:  Because every satirist depends on the distinction between what is explicitly written and what is actually meant.  Grice:  Then satire is systematic implicature?  Speranza:  At least in Persia's case, very nearly.   +> The reader who fails to infer the point has not really read the satire at all.  For that reason, Aulus Persius Flaccus seems to me one of the most naturally Gricean figures among all the gentes you've presented. [GREXv2 | Word]

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali:  Persio – Ossia: Grice e Persio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Persio. A Curious Second Candidate There is, however, a wonderful runner-up:  Persius, the learned contemporary of the Gracchi, of whom Cicero reports that Lucilius supposedly did not want him reading his work because Persius would disapprove. [GREXv2 | Word]  That is deliciously conversational. Lucilius:  Nolo Persium hoc legere. ("I do not want Persius to read this.")  Amicus:  Cur? ("Why?")  Lucilius:  Intellegit nimis. ("He understands too much.")   +> He will detect what others miss.  Almost a proto-Gricean ideal reader. and do we have the Latin for Lucilius's contemporary. Becasue we can adapt 'work' to 'hold a conversation' with, and not 'miss' but 'disapprove' -- it seems empirical: L.: "So far he never approved of antyhing I said." Laitn in Cicero only? Eng. tr. thanks, too. Yes. The passage is in Cicero, De Oratore II.25, where Cicero is discussing the learned Gaius Persius, a contemporary of the Gracchi. Cicero reports the tradition that Lucilius did not want Persius to hear his writings. [jstor.org] The wording usually cited is:  nolebat Lucilius recitari suis scriptis Persium ("Lucilius did not want Persius present at readings of his writings.")  or, in fuller paraphrase of the tradition preserved by Cicero:  Lucilius did not wish Persius to hear his works because he expected Persius' disapproval. [GREXv2 | Word]  What is interesting is that the story is not:  Persius would fail to understand.  Quite the contrary. The point is:  Persius would understand too well.  Hence your excellent conversational adaptation. A Grice–Speranza reconstruction could be: Lucilius:  Nolo Persium adesse. ("I do not want Persius present.")  Amicus:  Cur? ("Why?")  Lucilius:  Numquam adhuc probavit quae dico. ("So far he has never approved of what I say.")   +> Persius is a severe critic.  Or more pointedly: Lucilius:  Nimis acute audit. ("He listens too sharply.")   +> He will detect weaknesses others miss.  This is rather different from the Gricean "ideal hearer." Persius is not missing implicatures; he is perhaps drawing too many conclusions, or applying standards of criticism that Lucilius finds uncomfortable. And there is a nice connection with your earlier Pedius discussion. For Pedius:  quid testator demonstrare voluerit?  ("what the testator intended to convey") [thelatinlibrary.com], [ancienttexts.org] For Persius-as-reader:  quid auctor vere voluerit?  ("what the author really intended?") The feared critic is precisely the person who refuses to stop with the words. One little philological point. The verb in the tradition is not "miss" but rather something closer to:  disapprove, find fault, judge severely.  So your conversational adaptation:  "So far he never approved of anything I said"  captures the spirit rather well, perhaps even better than:  "He understands too much."  The latter is the implicature; the former is the explicit complaint. and do we know the topic -- because this is what Grice calls controlled conversation. Tutorial of Hardie, trial: with tutees Grice, Shropshire, and Potts. -- nobody else --. But this is not Corpus Christi -- how can L. expect a conversatioanlist to be excluded? And so on -- being Gracchi involved, most likely political disagreement, with P. being right-wing? Thanks A very good question. Here we need to distinguish carefully between what we know and what we are tempted to conjecture. What we know from Cicero is surprisingly little:  Gaius Persius was regarded as a learned and severe critic. A tradition existed that Lucilius did not want Persius to hear/read his writings. Some even attributed to Persius a famous speech delivered by Gaius Fannius against Gaius Gracchus. [thelatinlibrary.com]  The sources in your dossier do not specify the subject matter of the writings which Lucilius supposedly kept from Persius. [thelatinlibrary.com] So I cannot honestly say:  "It was political." "Persius was anti-Gracchan." "The dispute concerned agrarian reform."  The evidence supplied does not go that far.  What is suggestive is the combination of two reports:  Lucilius feared Persius' judgment. [thelatinlibrary.com] Persius was associated with a speech hostile to Gaius Gracchus. [thelatinlibrary.com]  That at least suggests a reputation for serious political and intellectual criticism. But whether the two facts are connected is not stated by the sources.  Your Oxford tutorial analogy is actually very illuminating. A public recitation in Rome was not necessarily:  "Everybody in Rome may attend."  The audience might be quite selective. One can perfectly imagine: Lucilius:  Read it to everyone.  Friend:  Everyone?  Lucilius:  Everyone except Persius.  The implicature being:  +> Persius' judgment matters disproportionately.  Not because he is incapable of understanding. Rather because he understands too well.  A Grice–Speranza reconstruction might therefore be: Amicus:  Cur Persium excludis? ("Why exclude Persius?")  Lucilius:  Quia omnes audiunt; ille iudicat. ("Because everyone else listens; he judges.")   +> Persius is not merely an audience member.   Or even: Amicus:  Num inimicus est? ("Is he an enemy?")  Lucilius:  Minime. ("Not at all.")  Amicus:  Cur ergo non invitatur? ("Then why is he not invited?")  Lucilius:  Quia semper aliquid invenit quod corrigat. ("Because he always finds something to correct.")   +> Excessive critical acumen.  That seems closer to the evidence than making him a straightforward "right-wing opponent of the Gracchi." Indeed, the most Gricean reading is not political but conversational:  Lucilius is worried not that Persius will misunderstand him, but that Persius will understand him exactly and find fault with what he understands.  And that is a different kind of fear altogether. [thelatinlibrary.com] and with the Gracchi involved and the Fannius, etc. -- 'severe critic' may lead to consuls noting and L. being 'condemned' Thanks Grice: "Not my idea of conversational cooperation, but there you are". Yes, and this is where I would be cautious but also sympathetic to your reconstruction. What we actually know is:  Gaius Persius had a reputation for learning and severe judgment. [thelatinlibrary.com] Cicero reports the tradition that Lucilius did not want Persius to hear/read his work. [thelatinlibrary.com] Cicero also reports that some attributed a famous anti-Gracchan speech of Gaius Fannius to Persius. [thelatinlibrary.com]  What we do not know is whether the Lucilius anecdote and the Gracchan politics were connected. That said, as a Speranzian reconstruction, the possibility is attractive. Suppose Persius had a reputation as:  vir severissimus  ("an extremely severe critic") and suppose Lucilius' satire touched politically sensitive matters. Then the concern need not be:  "Persius won't understand me."  Quite the reverse. It may be:  "Persius will understand me perfectly."  and then:  "Persius will not approve."  and then perhaps:  "Persius' disapproval may have consequences."  That is a very Roman anxiety. Not misunderstanding. Understanding. Too much understanding.  A reconstructed conversation: Lucilius:  Persium ad recitationem nolim venire. ("I would rather Persius not come to the reading.")  Amicus:  Cur? Nonne doctissimus est? ("Why? Is he not very learned?")  Lucilius:  Id ipsum metuo. ("That is precisely what I fear.")   Amicus:  Num carmina non intelleget? ("Will he not understand the poems?")  Lucilius:  Immo nimis bene intelleget. ("On the contrary, he will understand them too well.")   +> excessive understanding is the danger   Amicus:  Quid deinde? ("What then?")  Lucilius:  Quod intellegit, improbat. ("What he understands, he disapproves of.")   Now enter Grice: Grice:  "Not my idea of conversational cooperation, but there you are."  Speranza:  Why not?  Grice:  Because Lucilius is trying to exclude precisely the hearer most capable of recovering what he means.  Speranza:  The ideal addressee?  Grice:  The dangerous addressee.  Indeed, there is a nice paradox here. For Grice, the ideal conversationalist is someone who can recover the speaker's intentions. For a Roman satirist in a politically charged age, the most dangerous listener may be exactly that person. The threat is not that Persius will miss the implicatures, but that he will identify them accurately and judge them severely. That is a very different failure mode from the ones discussed in Logic and Conversation. And Lucilius was known as a 'satrisit' only? That changes things. A satire to be read--implicatures to be drawn. P. may object to the dictivum, and the implicatum, incl. via manner, politeness, appropriateness, taste, criterion, atpness, political point, underlying satire (too strong? to what effect -- who is Lucilius to question mos maiorum) etc Thanks -- what would be Cicero's context here -- because Cicero seems to be one source with the other about Persius as author of speech of Fann. Thanks Yes, and I think this changes the picture considerably. If the tradition merely said:  Lucilius did not want Persius to hear him,  one might imagine a political adviser, a censorious moralist, or an opponent in public life. But Lucilius is above all a satirist. That means the object under scrutiny is not simply a proposition but a whole package:  what is said, what is alluded to, tone, irony, decorum, targets, fairness, style, taste.  In Gricean language, Persius is not merely evaluating the dictivum. He may object to:  +> what is insinuated, +> what is targeted, +> what is presupposed, +> what is conveyed through manner.  A satirist is an implicature machine.  Cicero's Context The interesting thing is that the two remarks about Gaius Persius occur in a rhetorical context. In De Oratore and related discussions Cicero is concerned with:  eloquence, authorship, literary judgment, public speech.  The tradition that some people thought Persius had actually written the speech delivered by Gaius Fannius against Gaius Gracchus is part of his reputation for intellectual and rhetorical seriousness. [thelatinlibrary.com] The point is not merely:  Persius had opinions.  Rather:  Persius was thought capable of producing a major political speech.  That is a very high compliment in a Roman context.  A Grice–Speranza Reconstruction Let us imagine Lucilius preparing a satire. Amicus:  Recitabimusne Persio? ("Shall we read it to Persius?")  Lucilius:  Minime. ("Certainly not.")  Amicus:  Cur? ("Why?")  Lucilius:  Versus fortasse probabit; rem ipsam non probabit. ("He may approve the verses; he will not approve the underlying point.")   +> criticism concerns substance, not merely wording   Amicus:  Quid tandem reprehendet? ("What exactly will he criticize?")  Lucilius:  Quod nimis acerbe dictum est. ("That it was said too harshly.")  or  Quod minus vere dictum est. ("That it was said less truthfully than it should have been.")  or  Quod hominem peto, non vitium. ("That I attack a man rather than a vice.")   +> objection to the satirical target   Now Grice enters: Grice:  Persius sounds like an awkward audience.  Speranza:  The ideal audience.  Grice:  Why?  Speranza:  Because he hears not only what Lucilius says, but what Lucilius is doing by saying it.  That is perhaps the deepest point. A poor reader asks:  What does the sentence mean?  A reader like Persius asks:  Why was that sentence written? Against whom? To what effect? With what fairness?  In modern Gricean vocabulary, he is evaluating not merely the content but the entire communicative act. Hence Lucilius' fear may not have been that Persius would fail to get the joke. Rather:  Persius would get the joke perfectly—and then disapprove of its execution, its taste, its fairness, or its political wisdom.  As your imagined Grice might say:  "Not my idea of conversational cooperation, but there you are."  Because satire thrives on criticism, and the satirist's most dangerous hearer is often the critic who understands every implicature. And it may compare to Grice's alleged use of 'play group' -- others report it was Ann Strawson--. Grice would know if the phrase was used IN FRONT OF AUSTIN --. Implicature: perhaps he'd disapprove? Pears called them 'Austin's kindergartens.' -- satire -- disapprovable by convenor of stuff? Thanks Grice: The other prominent feature of this period in my philosophical life was participation in the discussions which took place on Saturday mornings in term-time and which were conducted by a number of the younger Oxford philosophers under the leadership of Austin. This group which continued to meet up to, and indeed for some years after, Austin's death was christened by me "The Play Group', and was often so referred to, though so far as I know never by, or in the presence of, Austin himself. Yes, I think there is a very nice parallel there. What Grice says is carefully phrased:  "This group ... was christened by me 'The Play Group', and was often so referred to, though so far as I know never by, or in the presence of, Austin himself."  Notice the conspicuous qualification. He does not say:  "Austin hated the term."  Nor:  "Austin approved of the term."  He merely notes that it was not used in Austin's presence. A Gricean immediately wonders whether that fact carries an implicature. Why add the qualification at all? One possible implicature is:  +> Austin might not have relished the nickname.  Of course, Grice does not say that. But one can see why readers arrive there. The phrase itself is gently satirical. "Play Group" suggests:  children at play, experimentation, intellectual games, something less solemn than a research seminar.  And Pears' reported nickname:  "Austin's kindergartens"  pushes exactly the same way, but more openly. The humour relies on a contrast: Official description  serious philosophical analysis.  Playful description  nursery school.  The joke works only because everybody knows the official description.  This takes us back rather nicely to Lucilius and Persius. Imagine: Lucilius:  I have called it "The Play Group."  Persius:  Why "play"?  Lucilius:  Because they treat words as toys.   +> criticism of method  Now suppose Austin hears it. The worry is not that Austin would misunderstand. Rather:  Austin would understand exactly why the phrase was chosen.  That is the Persius problem. The dangerous hearer is not the obtuse one but the acute one.  A Grice–Speranza reconstruction might be: Speranza:  Why wasn't the name used in Austin's presence?  Grice:  It was a nickname.  Speranza:  A friendly nickname?  Grice:  Friendly things may still contain barbs.  Speranza:  Then Austin was the ideal hearer?  Grice:  Precisely the difficulty.  Because the ideal hearer recovers not only:  what is said,  but also  why it was said.  And that is exactly why Lucilius might worry about Persius, and why one might hesitate before saying "The Play Group" in front of Austin. The risk is not misunderstanding; it is perfect understanding.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Persio – Ossia: Grice e Persio: la ragione conversazionale e la filosofia nel principato di Nerone – TREASEA CONTRO LA TIRANNIA – Roma –  Persio (Roma, Lazio): la ragione conversazionale e la filosofia nel principato di Nerone – TREASEA CONTRO LA TIRANNIA –He is best known as a satirical poet, but he studies philosophy under Luccio Anneo Cornuto, to whom he wrote a tribute and to whom he leaves his works on his death. A strong belief in the value of the ethics of the PORTICO lies beneath much of his satire. He is a friend of Trasea Peto (vide RENSI – TRASEA CONTRO LA TIRANNIA), and is related to him by marriage. Through this connection, Persio becomes associated with the PORTICO opposition to Nerone – but he dies before Nerone can take action against him. Ed. Broad, Loeb. Flacco Aulo Persio. GRICEVS: salve, PERSI; audio te sub CORNVTO porticum colere, sed satiras scribere: nonne periculosum est sub NERONE ridere cum virtute? PERSIVS: salve, GRICE; ridere liceat, dum non nomino: satira mea telum est sine nomine, et CORNVTVS me docuit iram in mores, non in homines, iactari. GRICEVS: bene; sed quaeso, cum dicis “sic vivitur Romae,” visne intellegi plus quam dicis, ut TRASEAE partes tuearis sine clamore? PERSIVS: prorsus; si lector sapiens est, accipit quod taceo: ego moriar citius quam NERO me puniat, sed verba mea—CORNVTO relicta—diutius vivent et tyrannum, vel invito eo, rubere iubebunt. what was the gens of this poet, if he had one? Yes. If you mean the satiric poet Aulus Persius Flaccus, then the gens is the Persia gens, and Persius is the nomen. [en.wikipedia.org], [romaninscr...ritain.org] So in strict Roman-name terms: Aulus = praenomen. [wikidata.org] Persius = nomen gentilicium, therefore gens Persia. [en.wikipedia.org], [wikidata.org] Flaccus = cognomen. [romaninscr...ritain.org] And yes, the family is generally treated as an Etruscan-origin Roman family, associated especially with Volaterrae in Etruria. So if Speranza is ordering by gens, this poet belongs under P, for Persia. [en.wikipedia.org], [en.wikipedia.org] If you want the driest archival formula, I would put it as: Persius, Aulus Flaccus: gens Persia, cognomen Flaccus. [en.wikipedia.org], [romaninscr...ritain.org] And what is the likelihood that this Persius is cognate with these two PERSIOS from Matera, Basilicata we discussed earlier -- I mean, Etrurian is chinese to Grice and Speranza -- so the root may be very mysterious. It is likely, though, that the Persios from Basilicata had a different etymology for THEIR surnames? I suppose or Speranza supposes that Persia, qua country, has nothing to do with the latter Persios? Yes, that is the prudent assumption. The Roman poet Aulus Persius Flaccus belongs to the ancient gens Persia, which is an old Roman gentilicial formation, probably of Etruscan background. That does not give you a safe bridge to early modern southern Italian surnames Persio from Matera. In other words: Persius in the Roman case is a nomen gentilicium. Persio in the Basilicata cases is a later Italian family surname. The formal resemblance is real, but the genealogical or etymological continuity is not something one should assume without evidence. The likeliest view is that the Persios of Matera inherited a humanistic or late-Latin surname form, very possibly mediated through medieval and Renaissance naming practices, and not by direct consciousness of the ancient gens Persia as such. That is, they may well preserve the old name-shape in some historical way, but not as a living Roman gentilicial identity. And yes, Persia the country is almost certainly irrelevant here. Speranza’s suspicion is sound. The surname Persio in these Italian cases is not likely to mean “from Persia” or to derive from the geographic name of the eastern empire. The ancient Roman Persius itself is already a fixed Roman name-form, and the southern Italian Persio is far more plausibly connected to the Latin onomastic tradition than to any direct Oriental ethnonym. So the safest formulation is: The resemblance between the Roman Persius and the Materan Persio is probably formal and historically mediated through Latin naming traditions, but not something that licenses a direct claim of shared gens. And no, one should not derive the Basilicatan Persio from Persia the country unless there is some separate documentary reason, which at present there is not. If Speranza wants the driest archival line, I would give him this: Persius the poet belongs to the gens Persia; Persio of Matera is a later Italian surname that may preserve the ancient name-form, but should not be treated as evidence of direct gentilicial continuity, and has nothing securely to do with Persia as a country. Persio, Aulo Flacco (XXX). Dicta.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Persio – Ossia: Grice e Persio: la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale nella storia della dialettica: CICERONE, BOEZIO, e TELESIO Antonio Persio (Matera, Basilicata): la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale nella storia della dialettica: Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers recover what a speaker means beyond what is explicitly said by presuming rational cooperation and then reasoning from shared norms of relevance, informativeness, and perspicuity to implicatures that are defeasible and publicly accountable. Antonio Persio, working in the late Renaissance at the intersection of Ciceronian dialogue, Boethian logic, and the new natural-philosophical temper associated with Telesio, treats “dialectic” less as a micro-theory of inferential uptake between interlocutors and more as a historically layered art of disputation and intellectual formation: a cultivated method for conducting argument, reconciling authorities, and educating judgment across disciplines. The comparison, then, is between Grice’s pragmatic rationalism—where the basic unit is a conversational move whose point is fixed by intentions and cooperative expectations—and Persio’s humanist dialectical rationalism—where the basic unit is the disputational exchange shaped by rhetorical tradition and by the transmission (and contest) of doctrines. From a Gricean angle, Persio’s Ciceronian sensibility already presupposes something like implicature (the tactful use of allusion, concession, and indirection in dialogue), but Persio would see those effects as belonging to the broader civic and pedagogical norms of eloquent disputation rather than to an abstract “calculus” of cooperative inference; Grice systematizes what Persio practices, while Persio historicizes and moralizes the conversational space that Grice analyzes. CICERONE, BOEZIO, e TELESIO. Grice: “Some like A. P., but A. P. is MY man!” -- “I was so happy when the Logic Institute was founded on St. Giles, Oxford. It meant it was never again part of the Sub-Faculty of Philosophy!” -- Matera, Basilicata. Nacque da Altobello P., scultore, e da Beatrice Goffredo. È il primo di cinque fratelli. Trascorse un’infanzia difficile a causa di una grave malattia che gli provoca una temporanea paralisi degl’arti superiori e inferiori. A occuparsi della sua prima istruzione e di quella dei suoi fratelli è lo zio, l’umanista Goffredo. L’ambiente familiare è dunque assai stimolante e da ciò trassero profitto i P. che, a eccezione del secondogenito, Giovanni Battista – Grice, “Only we never asked HIM!”, divennero personaggi di rilievo in varie discipline: Antonio si distinse in ambito filosofico, Giulio proseguì l’attività paterna di scultore, Domizio prese gl’ordini e si dedica alla pittura e Ascanio risalta in campo umanistico-filologico.  Dopo aver proseguito gli studi nel monastero francescano della sua città natale, P. scelge di abbandonare Matera, forse anche per il suo temperamento forte, che lo spinge a porsi continuamente in contrasto coll’autorità paterna. Si reca a Napoli, dove ha l’incarico di precettore di L. e P. Orsini, fratelli minori di Orsini, duca di Gravina e conte di Matera. Entra in contatto con TELESIO , del quale divenne discepolo e intimo amico, tanto che il filosofo volle discutere proprio con lui la seconda edizione del “De rerum natura iuxta propria principia,” prima che vedesse la luce, e a lui rende noto il proposito di dedicarsi anche a una altra stesura. Il magistero di TELESIO  influenza profondamente P., che divenne un attivo divulgatore del pensiero del filosofo cosentino ed elabora la sua filosofia a partire da una personale rilettura della sua dottrina.  Dopo una breve permanenza a Roma, Implicature, dialecticis, Telesio, Campanella, spirito come vita, animo come aria, Cicerone, Catone, Boezio. Grice: Alcuni amano Persio, ma Persio è il MIO uomo! So che capirai, Antonio, che intendo proprio te, non il Persio più celebre: sei tu quello che preferisco. Persio: Caro Grice, è un onore sentirlo da te! La distinzione tra i Persio mi fa sorridere; ma è proprio nel dialogo amichevole che si trova la vera filosofia. La preferenza implicata è la migliore delle lodi. Grice: Ecco, Antonio, la tua capacità di cogliere l'implicatura è ciò che ti rende speciale. La dialettica non è solo logica, ma uno scambio vivo, e tu ne sei maestro. Telesio avrebbe approvato questa nostra conversazione elegante! Persio: Grazie, Grice. La dialettica, tra Cicerone e Telesio, si fa vita e aria—come dicevo: spirito come vita, animo come aria. Nel nostro dialogo si respira davvero quell'anima filosofica italiana, fatta di sottintesi e affetti. So we have two Persios here -- so provide two independent G's weekly essay assignment for each ending each with "Typewriting disallowed. Handwriting counts." Wihtout saying, suggest that G. is trying to tease the tutee into not confusing one with the other but do not go on to mention their distinctive first names, just "the other Persio" -- and do it as if G. is a tutor in philosophy to test the tutee's philosophical acumen -- dry humour -- thanks – Grice’s weekly essay assignment: Write on Persio in such a way as to show that you are discussing a philosopher and not merely a surname with a family resemblance to learning. Your task is to set out the relation between dialectic, Ciceronian form, and the newer natural-philosophical temper, while avoiding the common undergraduate expedient of borrowing, half-way through the second page, a theme belonging to the other Persio and hoping that the tutor will be too charitable, or too sleepy, to notice. You may assume that historical setting matters, but not so much as to excuse vagueness about doctrine. If, by the end, you have not made plain what sort of disputational intelligence is in question, you will have written not on Persio but around him. Typewriting disallowed. Handwriting counts. Persio, Antonio (1574). Trattato dell’ingegno dell’huomo. Venezia: Varisco.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali:  Persio – Ossia: Grice e Persio: la ragione conversazionale – filoofia italiana –  (Matera). Filosofo italiano. Abstract: Grice: “I was certainly fortunate in my mother wanting a good education for me, better at least than the one that poor woman can provide me with at Harborne – so off to Clifton I arrived aged 13, and till 17, GREEK became my first language!”  Ascanio Persio (Matera, Basilicata): la ragione conversazionale, Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers get from what is said to what is meant by treating conversation as a cooperative rational practice: speakers are presumed to be aiming at intelligibility and relevance, and when an utterance appears indirect, under-informative, or oddly chosen, the hearer can infer further content as an implicature grounded in shared norms and recognisable intentions. Persio, by contrast, is not a theorist of conversational inference but a rhetorically minded Renaissance writer who works within humanist conventions of dialogue, exemplum, and decorum; in a title like Il merito delle donne he advances a culturally and morally charged thesis by choosing a public genre that must balance praise, provocation, and audience-management, thereby relying heavily on what can be suggested without being baldly asserted. The comparison, then, is between an explicit explanatory model and a skilled practice of insinuation: Grice makes the mechanisms of indirect meaning visible (how implicatures are generated, cancellable, and accountable), while Persio’s social-philosophical writing exemplifies how a writer can exploit shared assumptions, classical authorities, and strategic restraint so that the reader supplies much of the argumentative force “between the lines.” From a Gricean angle, Persio’s success depends on controlling the expectations of his addressee-community—what it will tolerate, what it will take for granted, what it will infer—so that persuasion proceeds not by explicit proof alone but by a managed economy of saying and letting-be-understood, which is precisely the terrain Grice later systematizes under the heading of conversational implicature. Grice: “I was certainly fortunate in my mother wanting a good education for me, better at least than the one that poor woman can provide me with at Harborne – so off to Clifton I arrived aged 13, and till 17, GREEK became my first language!” – Keywords: Greco, latino, GRIEF AND LAUGHING. Persi, Persii. Ascanio. Nasce da Altobello, scultore, e da Beatrice Goffredo, ultimo di cinque fratelli: Antonio, Giovanni Battista, Giulio -- da cui nacque il giureconsulto e poeta Orazio --, Domizio.  Così come il fratello Antonio, si forma a Matera alla scuola tenuta dallo zio materno Leonardo e poi nel convento di S. Francesco, dove studia filosofia. Segue le orme di Antonio, che a Napoli divenne precettore di Lelio e Pietro Orsini, fratelli minori di Ferdinando Orsini, duca di Gravina e conte di Matera. Poi si lega alla famiglia Caetani e è amico di Manuzio: tutti personaggi con cui anche P. stringe rapporti. Persio è a Roma, in familiarità con Muret e con il letterato sulmonese Ciofano, e a Venezia. Qui pubblica, in una stampa sine notis, ma edita da Manuzio, La corona d’Arrigo III re di Francia, e di Polonia, componimento d’occasione per il passaggio sulla laguna del nuovo re di Francia Enrico III diretto a Parigi per salire sul trono di Francia, composto in verso volgare Heroico Patritiano, cioè nel verso di tredici sillabe adottato da Patrizi nel poemetto mitologico Eridano -- Ferrara -- per ovviare all’inadeguatezza dei metri italiani alla nobiltà dell’epica. Testimonianza dell’amicizia che lo legò a Manuzio è la dedica a P. del Lepidi comici veteris Philodoxios fabula ex antiquitate eruta ab Manuccio, che Manuzio pubblica a Lucca con questo frontespizio, incorrendo però in un infortunio, poiché si tratta della commedia autobiografica Philodoxeos scritta da ALBERTI  che si firmò con il nome di Lepido, ingannando a lungo i lettori.  P. studiò lettere latine a Padova, ma frequenta anche i corsi di filosofia di ZABARELLA. Grice: “There’s an exhibit at the Bodleian on Italian rarities, and there, in the central case in the main hall, sits Persio’s Il merito delle donne behind protective glass, looking for all the world like a provocation preserved. Pears was with me, and out of nowhere he asked—quite as if I were the Bodleian catalogue—when exactly Oxford had decided it would accept donne. We both know Girton well enough (not because we care for Cambridge, but because we care for Princess Ida), but Somerville is a different sort of creature altogether. A week later, Pears—whose joint seminar with me on trying is beginning to resemble an experiment in endurance—did his best to impress me by reciting, in one breath, every date and detail he had managed to scrape together about women at Oxford, as if the admission of women were itself an exercise in practical reasoning: one step, one committee, one concession at a time.” (Editor’s note (key Oxford dates, in brief, for Pears’s “recitation”) Women began to receive Oxford teaching in a formal way when the Association for the Education of Women at Oxford was founded in 1878, with lectures arranged and examinations offered. The first women’s halls followed soon after: Lady Margaret Hall and Somerville College were founded in 1879, then St Hugh’s in 1886 and St Hilda’s in 1893. Women could sit Oxford examinations from the 1880s, but for decades they did so without membership of the University and without degrees. The decisive change came in 1920, when Oxford granted women full membership of the University and allowed them to take degrees (though subject at first to a quota). The last major institutional barrier fell much later, past Grice’s time, when the remaining all-male colleges began admitting women: the first of the men’s colleges to admit women was Brasenose in 1974, followed by others through the 1970s and 1980s; all colleges became mixed by the end of the century.) Grice: Caro Persio, scommetto che studiare greco a tredici anni ti ha fatto vedere la vita come una lunga tragedia... o forse una commedia piena di sottintesi! Ti sei mai chiesto se il vero eroe era il professore? Persio: Ah, Grice, il professore magari pensava di essere un eroe, ma in realtà era Odisseo e noi alunni i ciclopi assonnati! E comunque, tra epica e grammatica, ho imparato che anche una declinazione sbagliata può essere un dramma. Grice: Vedi, caro Persio, la conversazione è come un viaggio in laguna con Enrico III: può cambiare rotta da un momento all’altro! Basta una domanda trabocchetto e ci si ritrova a Venezia senza sapere più se si parla in latino, in volgare... o in dialetto materano! Persio: E allora, Grice, brindiamo alla confusione linguistica! In fondo, tra lagune, biblioteche e dediche errate, l’importante è non prendere troppo sul serio né le parole né noi stessi. Anzi, meglio ridere... come avrebbe fatto uno dei miei fratelli poeti! Grice’s weekly essay assignment: Write on Persio as if a title could still be philosophically dangerous, and assess how a rhetorically managed public genre may carry argument by suggestion rather than by blunt declaration. You should explain how decorum, exemplum, praise, provocation, and audience-management can become instruments of serious thought, while taking care not to import, under cover of family likeness, the dialectical and natural-philosophical concerns of the other Persio. Those who mistake social philosophy for mere compliment, or compliment for argument, may discover that the distinction is easier in principle than in practice. Typewriting disallowed. Handwriting counts. Persio, Ascanio (1633). Il merito delle donne. Venezia: Francesco Baba.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pescenio – Ossia: Grice e Pescenio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Pescenio The gens Pescennia was a plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens are first mentioned in the time of Cicero, but it was not until imperial times that they came to prominence. The Pescennii were of equestrian rank. The most illustrious of the family was Gaius Pescennius Niger, an able general, who was proclaimed emperor in AD 193, only to be defeated and put to death by Septimius Severus the following year.[1]  Origin The nomen Pescennius is one of several similar gentilicia formed with the suffix -ennius, which was more typical of Oscan names than of Latin. It is derived from an Oscan praenomen, Pescennus or Perscennus, cognate with the Latin adjective praecandus, referring to someone whose hair was greying or prematurely grey.[2][3]  Praenomina The Pescennii used a variety of praenomina, of which the most important were Lucius, Quintus, and Marcus, Gaius, and Publius, all of which were very common throughout Roman history. Some of the Pescennii bore other names, including Sextus, Titus, or Gnaeus, which were also common praenomina. A less common name borne by one of the family was Statius, an Oscan praenomen that was little used at Rome, but more frequent in rural Italy.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Gnaeus Pescennius L. l., a freedman, named in an inscription from Capua, dating to 105 BC.[4] Titus Pescennius T. f., named in an inscription from Capua, dating to 105 BC.[4] Pescennius, a friend of Cicero during his exile at Thessalonica.[5] Marcus Pescennius M. l. Eros, a freedman named in an inscription from Luna in Etruria, dating to the later first century BC or the early first century AD.[6] Statius Pescennius L. f., a prefect at Antiochia Pisidiae in Galatia, between AD 21 and 23.[7] Pescennius Flavianus, together with Pescennius Natalis, an aedile charged with distributing the grain supply at Rome in AD 113.[8] Pescennius Natalis, together with Pescennius Flavianus, an aedile charged with distributing the grain supply at Rome in AD 113.[8] Pescennius, a military engineer named in an inscription from Troesmis in Moesia Inferior, dating to AD 134.[9] Gaius Pescennius Niger, an able general who rose to prominence under Marcus Aurelius, held the consulship under Commodus, and was appointed governor of Syria in 191. Proclaimed emperor in 193, he had the support of the senate and many of the people, but he was slow to act, and after several defeats by the forces of Septimius Severus, he was captured and put to death, along with his family.[10][11][12][13][14] Publius Pescennius Niger, probably the brother of the emperor, was one of the Arval Brethren in AD 183, during the reign of Commodus.[15][14] Pescennius Princus, said to have been the young son of the emperor Clodius Albinus, referred to in a letter that Septimius Severus sent to Albinus, along with a party of assassins. After Albinus' death, his sons were at first pardoned, then put to death, along with their mother, and their bodies thrown into the Rhodanus.[16] Pescennius Albinus, one of six high-ranking Pescennii whom the emperor Septimius Severus had put to death, without a trial, along with a number of other notable men, after the defeat of Albinus in AD 197.[17] Pescennius Aurelianus, one of the six Pescennii whom Septimius Severus had put to death without a trial in AD 197.[17] Pescennius Festus, one of the six Pescennii whom Septimius Severus had put to death without a trial in AD 197. He is probably the same as the historian Pescennius Festus, whose miscellany Lactantius cites with reference to the practice of human sacrifice at Carthage.[17][18][19] Pescennius Julianus, one of the six Pescennii whom Septimius Severus had put to death without a trial in AD 197.[17] Pescennius Materianus, one of the six Pescennii whom Septimius Severus had put to death without a trial in AD 197.[17] Pescennius Veratianus, one of the six Pescennii whom Septimius Severus had put to death without a trial in AD 197.[17] Pescennius Primus, enumerated together with Pescennius Thevestinus in a list of donors at Lambaesis in Numidia, dating to AD 200.[20] Pescennius Thevestinus, enumerated together with Pescennius Primus in a list of donors at Lambaesis, dating to AD 200.[20] Pescennius Vitulus, one of the Salii Palatini, died in AD 200.[21] Pescennius Felix, one of the vigiles at Rome, circa AD 205.[22] Gaius Pescennius Faustus, enumerated among the vigiles in AD 208.[23] Gaius Pescennius Primus, enumerated among the vigiles in AD 208.[23] Pescennia Marcellina, a wealthy woman, adopted and supported the young Marcus Clodius Pupienus Maximus, enabling him to pursue a political career, ending with his brief elevation to the empire in AD 238.[24] Lucius Pescennius Honoratus, named in a dedicatory inscription from Miliana in Mauretania Caesariensis, dating to AD 261.[25] Marcus Pescennius Q. f., one of the duumviri at Luna during the reign of Maxentius.[26] Undated Pescennii Pescennia, buried at Ostia, with a monument from her son, Pescennius.[27] Pescennia, the wife of Pescennius Marcellus, buried at the present site of Bir-Mecherga, formerly in Africa Proconsularis, aged thirty, having borne three sons, Pescennius Sunnius, Pescennius Marcus, and Pescennius Marcellus; and two daughters, Pescennia Victorina and Pescennia Fortunata, all of whom died in childhood.[28] Pescennia A. f., buried at Venusia in Apulia.[29] Pescennia L. f., daughter of Lucius Pescennius Januarius, and freedwoman of Ampaelidus, buried at Rome with Lucius Pescennius Valens.[30] Pescennia M. f., daughter of Marcus Pescennius Faustus, named in an inscription from Civitas Sivalitana in Africa Proconsularis.[31] Pescennius, dedicated a monument at Ostia to his mother, Pescennia.[27] Pescennius Q. f., one of the quattuorviri at Aesernia in Samnium.[32] Gaius Pescennius M. f., named in an inscription from Forum Clodii in Etruria.[33] Lucius Pescennius, named in an inscription from Trebula Suffenas in Sabinum.[34] Lucius Pescennius L. f., named in an inscription from Trebula Suffenas.[34] Marcus Pescennius, named in an inscription from Atria in Venetia and Histria.[35] Marcus Pescennius M. f. Messia natus, buried at Clusium in Etruria, aged twenty-one.[36] Pamphilus Pescennius Q. s., a slave mentioned in a libationary inscription from Amphipolis in Macedonia.[37] Publius Pescennius L. f., a veteran of the third legion, buried at Matera in Africa Proconsularis, aged eighty-five.[38] Quintus Pescennius, donated three columns to the shrine of Feronia at Trebula Mutuesca in Latium.[39] Quintus Pescennius, named in an inscription from Forum Julii in Gallia Narbonensis[40] Quintus Pescennius Q. f., named in an inscription from Narbo in Gallia Narbonensis.[41] Quintus Pescennius Q. f., an aedile, named in an inscription from Venafrum in Latium.[42] Pescennius P. C. l. Aesiaius, a freedman named in an inscription from Rome.[43] Marcus Pescennius Apolaustus, named in inscriptions from Clusium.[44] Pescennia Artemisia, a freedwoman buried at Rome.[45] Pescennia L. l. Aucta, a freedwoman, and the wife of Sextus Pontius Ruga, buried at Rome, with a monument from several of her clientes.[46] Quintus Pescennius Q. f. Avitus, husband of Proculeia Honorata, buried at Thubursicum in Africa Proconsularis, aged sixty-two.[47] Quintus Pescennius Avitus Pollicitus, father of Quintus Pescennius Saturninus, buried at Thubursicum.[48] Quintus Pescennius Q. f. Callistenus, named in an inscription from Narbo.[49] Lucius Pescennius Castus, named in an inscription from Madauros in Africa Proconsularis.[50] Marcus Pescennius Catullinus, buried at Sigus in Numidia, aged sixty-five.[51] Lucius Pescennius M. f. Cilo, buried at Cumae.[52] Lucius Pescennius M. f. Cilo, buried at Puteoli in Campania.[53] Pescennius Clemens, named in an inscription from the present site of Sassari in Sardinia.[54] Gaius Pescennius C. f. Clemens, one of the seviri Augustales at Forum Sempronii in Umbria.[55] Quintus Pescennius Q. f. Contentus, buried at the present site of Djenan ben Lakmar, formerly in Numidia, aged one hundred and five.[56] Pescennius Crescens, buried at Ostia.[57] Pescennius Crestus, named in an inscription from Limonum in Aquitania.[58] Lucius Pescennius Elpidephorus, dedicated a monument at Ravenna to his wife, Collegia Felicitas, together with his daughter, Flavia Epicharis.[59] Lucius Pescennius Eros, named in an inscription from Rome.[60] Publius Pescennius Expectatus, buried at Capua, with a monument dedicated by his wife.[61] Pescennia M. f. Fausta, named in a funerary inscription from Rome.[62] Pescennia Faustina, buried at Cirta in Numidia, aged twenty-seven.[63] Marcus Pescennius Faustus, named in an inscription from Civitas Sivalitana.[31] Pescennia L. l. Felicia, a freedwoman, buried at Beneventum in Calabria.[64] Pescennius Felix, named in an inscription from Civitas Sivalitana.[65] Lucius Pescennius Felix, named in a funerary inscription from Beneventum.[64] Sextus Pescennius Sex. Sex. l. Felix, a freedman, named in an inscription from Rome.[66] Pescennia Fortunata, the daughter of Pescennius Marcellus and Pescennia, buried at the present site of Bir Mecherga, aged thirteen years, eight months.[28] Pescennia Fortunata, buried at Cirta, aged forty-five.[67] Quintus Pescennius Fuscus Bucco, son of Egnatia Donata, was buried at Hadrumetum in Africa Proconsularis, aged seventeen.[68] Gnaeus Pescennius Gnostus, named in a libationary inscription from Parma.[69] Titus Pescennius Gracilis, named in an inscription from Forum Julii.[40] Pescennia A. l. Helena, a freedwoman named in an inscription from Rome.[43] Marcus Pescennius M. l. Hera, a freedman named in an inscription from Rome.[70] Lucius Pescennius Honoratus, buried at Madauros, aged eighteen.[71] Pescennius Januarius, named in an inscription from Lambaesis in Numidia.[72] Lucius Pescennius Januarius, the father of Pescennia, to whom he dedicated a monument at Rome.[30] Pescennia C. f. Justina, buried at Rome, aged sixteen years, four months, and eight days.[73] Lucius Pescennius Justus, primus pilus in one of the legions, buried at Rome.[74] Gaius Pescennius Lathimus, dedicated a monument to his son, Pescennius Restitutus, the slave of Pescennius Maximus, at Aveia in Samnium.[75] Publius Pescennius Leo, buried at Vicetia in Venetia and Histria.[76] Titus Pescennius Liberalis, husband of Aemilia Saturnina, to whom he dedicated a monument at Rome.[77] Marcus Pescennius M. l. Lucrio, named in a funerary inscription from Rome.[62] Pescennius Marcellus, the husband of Pescennia, and father of Pescennius Sunnius, Pescennius Marcus, Pescennius Marcellus, Pescennia Victorina, and Pescennia Fortunata, all buried at the present site of Bir Mecherga.[28] Pescennius Marcellus, the son of Pescennius Marcellus and Pescennia, buried at the present site of Bir Mecherga, aged one.[28] Pescennius Marcus, the son of Pescennius Marcellus and Pescennia, buried at the present site of Bir Mecherga, aged two.[28] Pescennius Maximus, an eques serving in the tenth cohort of the praetorian guard, and the master of Pescennius Restitutus, who was Aveia in Samnium.[75] Marcus Pescennius M. f. Maximus, named in an inscription from Bononia in Cisalpine Gaul.[78] Pescennia Melitine, a client of Sextus Pontius Ruga and Pescennia Aucta, to whom she helped dedicate monuments at Rome.[46] Pescennia Mesia, buried at Catellum Elefantum in Numidia, aged forty-five.[79] Publius Pescennius Ↄ. l. Optatus, a freedman who rose to be one of the sexviri[i] at Vicetia.[76] Pescennia Phyllis, named in an inscription from Trebula Suffenas.[34] Sextus Pescennius Pirata, a client of Sextus Pontius Ruga and Pescennia Aucta, to whom he helped dedicate monuments at Rome.[46] Pescennia C. l. Prima, buried at Capua.[80] Pescennia L. l. Primigenia, a freedwoman buried at Venafrum.[81] Sextus Pescennius Sex. Sex. Sex. l. Primus, a freedman, named in an inscription from Rome.[82] Pescennia P. f. Propola, named in an inscription from Rome.[43] Quintus Pescennius Publicius, buried at Sigus in Numidia, aged forty.[83] Pescennius C. f. Restitutus, slave of Pescennius Maximus, buried at Aveia, aged eight years, five months.[75] Sextus Pescennius Rhodo, a client of Sextus Pontius Ruga and Pescennia Aucta, to whom he helped dedicate monuments at Rome.[46] Pescennius Rogatianus, named in an inscription from Civitas Sivalitana.[65] Pescennia Saturnina, buried at Sitifis in Mauretania Caesariensis, aged one hundred and twenty-five.[84] Lucius Pescennius L. f. Saturninus, husband of Maria Quinta, and a veteran of the eleventh legion, buried at Raetinium in Dalmatia.[85] Quintus Pescennius Q. f. Saturninus, dedicated a monument at Thubursicum to his father, Quintus Pescennius Avitus Pollicitus.[48] Gaius Pescennius Saturi f. Saturus Cornelianus, flamen of Hadrian, a judicial magistrate, and one of the duumvirs at Civitas Sivalitana, donated four thousand sestertii for the erection of two statues.[86] Marcus Pescennius Saturnus, mentioned in a list of donors to the local priests at Limisa in Africa Proconsularis.[87] Pescennia Secunda, buried at Madauros, aged thirty.[88] Publius Pescennius P. f. Secundus, one of the quattuorviri at Capua.[89] Pescennius Securus, erected a monument for Fundania Secura at Aesernia.[90] Lucius Pescennius Sedatus, dedicated a monument at Castellum Tidditanorum in Numidia to his friend, Quintus Voltius Maximus.[91] Pescennia C. f. Silvina, named in an inscription from Forum Julii.[40] Lucius Pescennius Stephanus, named in an inscription from Rome.[92] Pescennius Sunnius, the son of Pescennius Marcellus and Pescennia, buried at the present site of Bir Mecherga, aged three.[28] Lucius Pescennius L. f. Tertius, buried at Venafrum.[81] Pescennia Thallusa, named in an inscription from Trebula Suffenas.[34] Pescennius Ↄ. l. Thamurus, named in an inscription from Rome.[43] Pescennia L. f. Tyche, named in an inscription from Trebula Suffenas.[34] Quintus Pescennius Urbanus, buried at Sigus, aged thirty-nine.[51] Lucius Pescennius Valens, buried at Rome with Pescennia, a freedwoman.[30] Gaius Pescennius Victor, buried at Caldis in Numidia.[93] Pescennius T. l. Victor, a freedman buried at Thibilis in Numidia, aged forty.[94] Quintus Pescennius Victor, a native of Thamguadi in Africa Proconsularis, named in a list of soldiers at Lambaesis.[95] Lucius Pescennius C. f. Victor Severianus, buried at Limisa in Africa Proconsularis, aged thirty-two years, eleven months.[96] Pescennia Victorina, the daughter of Pescennius Marcellus and Pescennia, buried at the present site of Bir Mecherga, aged seven.[28] Footnotes  Or seviri, usually a college of six priests, of whom the most famous were the Sodales Augustales at Rome, although those were typically chosen from among the leading citizens, and would not normally have included freedmen. In this case the college is not specifically identified. See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. II, pp. 1201, 1202 ("Gaius Pescennius Niger").  Chase, pp. 127, 128.  CIL XIV, 3103.  CIL I, 2947.  Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares, xiv. 4.  CIL XI, 6961.  CIL III, 300.  CIL XI, 3614.  CIL III, 6178.  Cassius Dio, lxxii. 8, lxxiii. 13, 14, lxxiv. 6–8.  Aelius Spartianus, "The Life of Didius Julianus", 5, "The Life of Septimius Severus", 6–9, "The Life of Pescennius Niger".  Aurelius Victor, De Caesaribus, 20, Epitome de Caesaribus, 20.  Eutropius, viii. 10.  PIR, vol. III, p. 24.  CIL VI, 2099, CIL VI, 2101.  Julius Capitolinus, "The Life of Clodius Albinus", 7–9.  Aelius Spartianus, "The Life of Septimius Severus", 13.  Herodian, iii. p. 115.  Lactantius, Institutiones Divinae, i. 21.  AE 1902, 10.  CIL VI, 1982.  CIL VI, 1056.  CIL VI, 1057.  Julius Capitolinus, "The Lives of Maximus and Balbinus", 5.  CIL VIII, 9610.  CIL XI, 6957.  CIL XIV, 1456.  CIL VIII, 870.  CIL IX, 551.  CIL VI, 23962.  CIL VIII, 12022.  CIL IX, 2629.  AE 1992, 598.  AE 1990, 279.  NSA, 1982, 119.  CIL XI, 2379.  CIL III, 14204.  CIL VIII, 25437.  CIL IX, 4875.  ILGN, 32.  AE 1940, 25.  CIL X, 4888.  CIL VI, 23966.  CIL XI, 6700,454,1, CIL XI, 6700,454b.  CIL VI, 22217.  CIL VI, 23964, CIL VI, 24732.  ILAlg i. 1808, 1855.  AE 1940, 17.  CIL XII, 5047.  ILAlg, i. 2062.  CIL VIII, 5831.  AE 1983, 199.  CIL X, 2838.  CIL X, 8056.  CIL XI, 6126.  ILAlg, ii. 3. 8754.  AE 2005, 306.  CIL XIII, 10009,192.  CIL XI, 6758.  CIL XV, 7265.  CIL X, 4280.  NSA, 1917, 303.  ILAlg, ii. 1. 1554.  CIL IX, 1879.  CIL VIII, 12017.  CIL VI, 36073.  ILAlg, ii. 1. 1555.  CIL VIII, 22922.  AE 1964, 200.  CIL VI, 36072.  ILAlg, i. 2649.  BCTH, 1904, 207.  CIL XXMMMCMLXV, {{{2}}}.  CIL VI, 23961.  CIL IX, 4861.  CIL V, 3138.  CIL VI, 11167.  CIL XI, 6871.  ILAlg, ii. 3. 9939.  AttiAcLinc, 1901, 163-310.  CIL X, 4975.  CIL VI, 36074.  ILAlg, ii. 2. 6721.  CIL VIII, 20387.  CIL III, 9710.  CIL VIII, 12018.  AE 2004, 1685.  ILAlg, i. 2625.  CIL X, 3917.  CIL IX, 2718.  AE 1942/43, 15.  CIL VI, 32480.  CIL VIII, 6910.  ILAlg, ii. 2. 5726.  CIL VIII, 2568.  AE 1968, 571. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares. Lucius Cassius Dio Cocceianus (Cassius Dio), Roman History. Herodianus, History of the Empire from the Death of Marcus. Lucius Caecilius Firmianus Lactantius, Institutiones Divinae (The Divine Institutes). Aelius Lampridius, Aelius Spartianus, Flavius Vopiscus, Julius Capitolinus, Trebellius Pollio, and Vulcatius Gallicanus, Historia Augusta (Augustan History). Sextus Aurelius Victor, De Caesaribus (On the Caesars), Epitome de Caesaribus (attributed). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Notizie degli Scavi di Antichità (News of Excavations from Antiquity, abbreviated NSA), Accademia dei Lincei (1876–present). Bulletin Archéologique du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques (Archaeological Bulletin of the Committee on Historic and Scientific Works, abbreviated BCTH), Imprimerie Nationale, Paris (1885–1973). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). Atti della Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei (Acts of the National Academy of the Lincei, abbreviated AttiAcLinc), Rome (1901–1916). Stéphane Gsell, Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie (Latin Inscriptions from Algeria, abbreviated ILAlg), Edouard Champion, Paris (1922–present). Emile Espérandieu, Inscriptions Latines de Gaule (Narbonnaise) (Latin Inscriptions from Gallia Narbonensis, abbreviated ILGN), Ernest Leroux, Paris (1929). Category: Roman gentes and your first-best choice for a Grice-Speranza vignette from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pescenio – Ossia: Grice e Pescenio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Pescenio For the Pescennii, my first choice would not actually be the emperor Gaius Pescennius Niger, although he is the most famous member of the gens. It would be:  Pescennius Niger as the "almost-emperor" of AD 193–194. [GREXv2 | Word]  Why? Because the whole episode is about a Gricean distinction between:  being recognized as ruler, being proclaimed ruler, being accepted as ruler.  In other words, between what is explicitly said and what follows if others accept it.  Grice e Pescennio Nigro In Syria, Niger is proclaimed emperor. A messenger arrives. Nuntius:  Imperator salutatus est Pescennius Niger. ("Pescennius Niger has been hailed emperor.")  This is an explicit performative-political fact. But what follows? Not everyone accepts the implicatures.  The Gricean problem Many people reason:  He has been proclaimed emperor.  +>  Therefore he is emperor.  But another party replies:  Not so fast.  The proclamation is one thing. Universal recognition is another. This is rather like a conversational act: U:  "I hereby appoint you."  The act works only under the right institutional conditions.  A reconstruction Miles Syriacus:  Imperator est. ("He is emperor.")  Jurisconsultus:  Quid significas per "est"? ("What do you mean by 'is'?")  Miles:  Exercitus eum salutavit. ("The army has acclaimed him.")  Jurisconsultus:  Id scio. Sed an omnes consentiunt? ("I know that. But do all consent?")   Miles:  Senatus favet. ("The Senate supports him.")  Jurisconsultus:  Et Severus? ("And Severus?")  Silence.  +> The matter is not settled.   Why this is Gricean The proclamation  Imperator est  communicates more than a bare description. It carries expectations:  +> obedience, +> legitimacy, +> future success.  But history shows that these implicated consequences may fail. Pescennius Niger had support in the Senate and among many Romans, yet Septimius Severus defeated and killed him. [GREXv2 | Word] The interesting distinction is therefore:              Explicit factFurther expectation"Niger has been proclaimed emperor.""Niger will rule the empire." The first became true. The second did not.  A Speranzian ending Speranza:  Was Niger emperor?  Grice:  In one sense, certainly.  Speranza:  And in another?  Grice:  The conversation had not yet ended.   +> Political recognition, like conversational uptake, may be partial, contested, and reversible.  For that reason, I think Pescennius Niger is the most Gricean member of the gens: a man whose fate turned on the difference between being called emperor and successfully becoming one. [GREXv2 | Word]

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pessina -- Grice e Pessina: la ragione conversazionale. Grice: “At Oxford, for the B. A. Lit. Hum. we do study Cicero in Latin; at Bologna, they study it in LATIN *and* Italian!” – Keywords: Cicerone, Leech on Grice’s programme as ‘conversational rhetoric’  P, the author of  'Precetti di rettorica ' Enrico Pessina (Napoli, Campania): la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how speakers can mean more than they explicitly say because hearers assume rational cooperation and infer implicatures from what is said plus context plus recognisable intentions; the norms involved are not external moral commandments but the internal standards that make communicative exchange possible and accountable. Enrico Pessina, by contrast, approaches normativity through law and civil life: in works such as Della filosofia del diritto (1858) and his later attacks on crude positivism, he treats juridical reasoning as answerable to principles that are not exhausted by empirical sociology or procedural technique, and he understands public language (in courts, constitutions, and civic argument) as a vehicle of liberty and responsibility rather than a neutral code. The comparison is that Grice offers a micro-theory of how rational agents manage mutual understanding in everyday speech, while Pessina offers a macro-theory of how rational agents ought to justify coercion, rights, and obligation within institutions; yet they meet in a shared emphasis on reason as a public practice: Grice’s maxims make conversation a kind of informal tribunal where claims are assessed by what can be responsibly inferred, and Pessina’s jurisprudence makes the courtroom and the polity a formal tribunal where claims must survive scrutiny beyond mere force or custom. From a Gricean perspective, much legal reasoning depends on controlled implicatures (what statutes, precedents, and advocates suggest without stating), while from a Pessina-like perspective, conversational rationality is one of the cultural preconditions for law’s legitimacy, since a legal order that cannot be explained, defended, and contested in intelligible discourse has already lost its claim to govern rational beings. Studia a Napoli sotto GALLUPPI. Cura la sua storia della filosofia. Di idee liberali, prende parte ai moti. Pubblica un saggio sulla costituzione italiana che gli procura la persecuzione della polizia e il carcere. Recluso nell’isola di S. Stefano, sposa la figlia di Settembrini. Fugge dal regno, insegna a Bologna. Fonda “Il Filangieri”. Dei Lincei.  Muore nella suo palazzo in via del Museo, strada che prese in seguito il suo nome: Anche il palazzo dove visse. Aula a lui intitolata.  A lui è dedicato un busto alla passeggiata del Pincio. Saggi “Che cosa e il diritto private?” (Napoli: Poligrafico); “Procedura del diritto (Napoli, Jovene); “Il naturale e il giuridico – alla regia di Napoli” (Napoli, Accademia Reale delle Scienze); Il piu privati dei diritti (Napoli, Marghieri, Diritto e privacita (Napoli, Marghieri); Il privato del diritto (Napoli, Marghieri); Che e private nel diritto privato? (Napoli: Marghieri); “Il diritto privato” (Napoli: Priore); “Storia della filosofia” (Milano: Silvestri); Treccani Dizionario biografico degl’italiani, Istituto dell'Enciclopedia. Giurista (Napoli). P. avversò il positivismo filosofico e metodologico applicato alle scienze giuridiche e l'empirismo semplicistico di antropologi, psicologi e sociologi criminalisti. La genialità della sua mente ebbe davanti a sé orizzonti più vasti di quello del diritto, e così fu non soltanto grandissimo giurista, ma filosofo, letterato e storico. E fu avvocato insigne e conferenziere affascinante.  Vita Appena ventenne, prese parte ai moti rivoluzionari. Un suo Manuale di diritto costituzionale gli attirò le persecuzioni della polizia borbonica per le idee liberali ivi professate. Più tardi, arrestato, rimase in carcere per quattro mesi, cui seguirono due anni di domicilio forzoso in Ottaiano. Di nuovo arrestato per le sue relazioni con il rappresentante del governo sardo a Napoli, dopo due giorni di prigionia riparò a Marsiglia; Storiografia filosofica in Italia, la storia della filosofia romana, Galluppi, diritto private. Grice: “St John’s, 1950. I keep asking myself what Hart is doing at our Saturday mornings. He is older than Austin, and Austin once remarked that he would rather not have an authoritative father-figure hovering above him. And Hart is—Hart, that is—deep in jurisprudence. We had a long talk about it at the Lamb and Flag. He was reading a slim old pamphlet by an Enrico Pessina entitled Della filosofia del diritto and had a few questions for “the younger generation,” as he likes, with mock solemnity, to call me—he is only three years my senior. Hart could not make sense of Pessina’s leading with that dignified Della. “Why not just La filosofia del diritto?” he asked. I told him—though I perhaps should not, since he has a double First in Greats, as I do—that it is a Ciceronian relic, the sort of genitival throat-clearing Italians do when they want a title to sound like a treatise rather than a topic. Then he returned to his time-honoured preoccupation with the German jurists. “Is that why the Italians are obsessed with diritto,” he asked, “or is it the other way round—did the Hun import Recht from diritto?” “Check your Cicero again,” was all I could muster.” Grice: Mi affascina il tuo approccio al diritto, Enrico! La tua opposizione al positivismo giuridico mi ricorda quanto sia cruciale la ragione conversazionale per comprendere la complessità della legge. Non credi che il dialogo sia il cuore della filosofia? Pessina: Hai ragione, Grice! Il diritto, come la filosofia, vive di dialoghi e di implicature sottili. Ho sempre pensato che il confronto tra idee, anche polemico, sia il motore del progresso. L’esperienza di Napoli e Bologna mi ha insegnato che la parola è più potente di ogni decreto. Grice: Mi colpisce il tuo impegno civile, il coraggio di difendere la libertà pur a costo della persecuzione. La tua storia mi ricorda un vecchio detto: “Chi non rischia, non rosica!” Nel tuo caso, il rischio ha portato innovazione e dignità al pensiero italiano. Pessina: Grazie, caro Grice. Credo che la filosofia debba essere, anzitutto, una forma di vita e di resistenza. Il privato e il pubblico si intrecciano, e la ragione dialogica ci aiuta a tenere insieme giustizia, memoria e speranza. Alla fine, la conversazione resta sempre il più alto tribunale. Pessina, Enrico (1858). Della filosofia del diritto. Napoli: Morano.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pessina – Ossia: Grice e Pessina: la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale Luigi Pessina: la ragione conversazionale. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers recover what a speaker means by presuming rational cooperation and using shared norms (relevance, informativeness, clarity, etc.) to infer implicatures from what is said plus context plus intention; on this view, the “rules” of talk are not mere schoolroom prescriptions but an explanatory account of how communication actually works when speakers leave things unsaid yet still expect to be understood. Luigi Pessina, by contrast, belongs to the pedagogical-rhetorical tradition: his Precetti di retorica and allied manuals treat discourse as something to be taught by precepts, with Cicero and Aristotle providing models of correctness, decorum, and persuasive arrangement, and with “good speaking” secured by training rather than by an underlying theory of cooperative inference. The comparison is thus a shift from rhetoric-as-art to pragmatics-as-theory: Pessina offers explicit norms for producing effective or proper discourse (a handbook of what one ought to do), whereas Grice offers a rational reconstruction of the implicit norms that interlocutors already rely on (an account of what we must be presuming in order for ordinary conversation to succeed at all). From a Gricean angle, many of Pessina’s “precepts” can be reinterpreted as practical ways of managing implicature—choosing formulations that steer an audience toward the intended takeaway—while from a Pessina-like angle, Grice’s maxims can look like a modern, analytically sharpened re-casting of ancient rhetorical prudence, stripped of ornamental doctrine and treated as the invisible machinery of understanding. Grice: “At Oxford, for the B. A. Lit. Hum. we do study Cicero in Latin; at Bologna, they study it in LATIN *and* Italian!” – Cicerone, Leech on Grice’s programme as ‘conversational rhetoric’  P, the author of  'Precetti di rettorica ', was an Italian educator and author known for several other publications related to rhetoric, poetry, philosophy, and literature, primarily published in Naples and Bari. Information regarding his place of birth is not explicitly stated, though he was active in Southern Italy. Other Publications In addition to 'Precetti di rettorica' (published for private use at his institute), P. published several other educational works, including: “Precetti di rettorica, e di poesia” – Naples --, “Elementi di poesia ad uso delle scuole” – Bari --, “Istituzioni di rettorica e belle lettere” – Naples --, “Storia della letteratura antica e moderna” – Naples. These titles indicate his focus on classical education and literary studies, intended for use in schools or private institutes.  The search results did not explicitly mention the exact town or city of his birth. Several individuals named “Luigi P.” appear in historical records with births in various locations across northern Italy (Casatevecchio, Alme, Varese, Stresa), but none are definitively linked to the author who was active in Naples and Bari. His educational and publishing activities, however, strongly indicate a long-term presence and influence in the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies region.  -- pppw^'i^wf BIBLIOTECA NAZ-, Vittorio Emanuele III <v/// xx\:ilr F 7 Ó NAPOLI  I COMPILATI DA LUIGI P. SOPRA VARII AUTORI, PER USO DEL SUO PRIVATO ISTITUTO. l TCfUOtiioi Ss ssriy q P'tifopixi) , S(» r« ro ^ast siyx( xpstrriuy rt(Xir)d)i x«( r« 8ix«t» r«y gyayriojy. srt Ss stpos <yiou;, ov8’st T>)y axpijSsarArtjy sirt<rnniti)y , pfStoy «xr* sxsiyi)! ies!a»i \sffovxxu Utilis vero est Rhetòrica, propterea quod na- tura sunt meliora vera et iuata conlrariis.,.. praelerea apud nonnulloa, nec si exquisitis- simam haòeremus scientiam , facile est pet illant solam dicendo persuadere. Aristot. Rhet. I. i. Grice.: “St John’s, 1964. The Oxford seminar on conversation is going well, and I am enjoying Potts’s interventions. I keep casting my proposals in the imperative mood—perhaps a leftover from Hare, who used to draw that tidy distinction between the dictum and the dictor: “The door is closed.” “The door is closed, please.” Potts, noticing my fondness for Latin (I have been abusing desideratum again), suggested that what I really want is not a “maxim” at all but a praeceptum. To illustrate, he produced—of all things—a thin booklet he had picked up at the Bodleian, Luigi Pessina’s Precetti di retorica, looking more like something that ought to have stayed in a schoolmaster’s pocket than entered legal deposit. Potts added, with the air of a man who has checked such matters on holiday, that when he was in Rome last spring the Italians were spelling it retorica—one t, as if orthography itself were subject to local custom. In any case, we agreed (and the note-takers seemed pleased) that even if there are praecepta, they had better spring from a single praeceptum, on pain of multiplying them beyond necessity. Strawson then observed that the prae- may be nothing but Ciceronian fuss—“ceptum seems to do perfectly well”—though he would say that, having never taken Greats and having only scraped a Second in PPE, a calamity for which I can blame no one but his tutor: myself.” Grice: Caro Pessina, ma quanti libri hai pubblicato? Se continuo a leggere, rischio di diventare più colto di Cicerone... o almeno di sembrare uno che lo imita bene! Pessina: Ah, Grice, tu hai la conversazione nel sangue! Se i miei libri aiutano, allora la retorica non è solo materia da scuola, ma anche ottimo modo per sopravvivere alle cene di famiglia. Grice: Lo dicevano anche a Oxford: la vera arte è convincere la zia a servire il bis! E a proposito di retorica, Aristotele avrebbe adorato il tuo modo di insegnare, soprattutto se riusciva a ottenere una fetta di torta. Pessina: Grice, tu sei il filosofo della conversazione e del buonumore! La prossima volta, portiamo anche Aristotele: io preparo i precetti, tu i sorrisi, lui la logica... e tutti a tavola, senza implicature! Pessina, Luigi (1866). Sulla dottrina della società. Napoli: Morano.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petelio – Ossia: Grice e Petelio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petelio. The gens Poetelia or Poetilia was a plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens are first mentioned in the time of the Decemvirs, and from thence down to the Second Punic War, they regularly held the chief magistracies of the Roman state. After this, however, they fade into obscurity, and are only occasionally mentioned. The nomen Poetelius is sometimes confused with Petillius, and can be found with either a single or double 'l'.[1][2]  Branches and cognomina The only distinct family of the Poetelii is Libo, a sprinkler, probably referring to one who pours libations during a sacrifice. Most of this family also bore the surname Visolus. Livy refers to the consul of 360 BC as Gaius Poetelius Balbus, but other sources refer to him as Libo.[1][2][3][4]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Quintus Poetelius Libo Visolus, one of the plebeian members of the second decemvirate, which held power at Rome from 450 to 449 BC, before being overthrown.[5][6][7] Gaius Poetelius Q. f. Libo Visolus, the father of Gaius Poetilius Libo Visolus, consul in 360 BC.[8] Gaius Poetelius C. f. Q. n. Libo Visolus, consul in 360 BC, defeated the Tiburtines and the Gauls, and was awarded a triumph. As tribune of the plebs in 358, he had passed a law intended to curb ambitus (bribery). He was consul again in 346 and 326,[i] and in the latter year passed the lex Poetelia Papiria, abolishing a form of debt bondage.[9][10][11][8][12] Gaius Poetelius C. f. C. n. Libo Visolus, dictator in 313 BC, during the Second Samnite War, he had some success against the Samnites, but some authorities credit the consul, Gaius Junius Bubulcus Brutus. Niebuhr and Müller suggest that it was he, rather than his father, who brought forward the lex Poetelia Papiria.[13][14][8][15][16] Marcus Poetelius M. f. M. n. Libo, consul in 314 BC, and magister equitum to the dictator Gaius Poetelius Libo in 313. Despite his victories over the Samnites, he was denied the honour of a triumph.[17][18][19] Publius Poetelius, one of three ambassadors sent to Syphax, the king of Numidia, in 210 BC.[20][21] Gaius Poetilius C. f. Paullus, a soldier in the praetorian guard, buried at Rome, aged twenty-seven, having served for eight years.[22] Publius Poetellius P. l. Syrys, a freedman who worked as a lanista, or gladiator trainer, buried at Rome, aged forty-eight.[23] Footnotes  The Capitoline Fasti are deficient during this period, and so it has been argued that the consul of 346 and 326 should be identified with the dictator of 313, rather than the consul of 360, and that a third consulship attributed to him might have occurred about 333, one of the enigmatic "dictator years". See also List of Roman gentes References  Dionysius, x. 58.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 435 ("Poetelia Gens").  Chase, pp. 111, 112.  Livy, vii. 11.  Livy, iii. 35.  Dionysius, x. 58, xi. 23.  Broughton, vol. I, pp. 46, 47.  Fasti Capitolini, AE 1900, 83; 1904, 114; AE 1927, 101; 1940, 59, 60.  Livy, vii. 11, 12, 27, viii. 28.  Diodorus Siculus, xvi. 9, 72.  Censorinus, De Die Natali, 17.  Broughton, vol. I, p. 120, 122, 131 (and note 1), 146.  Livy, viii. 23, ix. 28.  Diodorus Siculus, xvii. 113.  Niebuhr, History of Rome, vol. iii, p. 155 ff, 293.  Broughton, vol. I, p. 158.  Livy, ix. 24–23.  Diocorus Siculus, xix. 73.  Broughton, vol. I, p. 157.  Livy, xxvii. 4.  Broughton, vol. I, p. 281.  CIL VI, 2504.  CIL VI, 10200. Bibliography Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca Historica (Library of History). Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Romaike Archaiologia. Censorinus, De Die Natali. Barthold Georg Niebuhr, The History of Rome, Julius Charles Hare and Connop Thirlwall, trans., John Smith, Cambridge (1828). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII (1897). T. Robert S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, American Philological Association (1952). Category: Roman gentes And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petelio – Ossia: Grice e Petelio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petelio. For the Poetelii (Poetelii), my first-best choice is not the decemvir, nor the Numidian ambassador. It is:  Gaius Poetelius Libo Visolus and the lex Poetelia Papiria abolishing debt bondage (nexum) in 326 BC. [GREXv2 | Word]  Why? Because this is almost a Gricean case before Grice: a conflict between  what a legal transaction formally says, and what society comes to think it really means.  The traditional story connected with nexum is that a debtor's formal consent created a legal status that eventually came to seem intolerable. The law of Gaius Poetelius Libo Visolus is remembered as abolishing that form of bondage. [GREXv2 | Word] Grice e Poetelio A very Roman dialogue: Creditor:  Volens obligavit se. ("He bound himself voluntarily.")  Poetelius:  Fortasse. ("Perhaps.")   Creditor:  Ergo iure tenetur. ("Therefore he is legally bound.")  Poetelius:  Sed quid efficit hoc ius? ("But what does this law produce?")   +> Legal validity does not settle moral acceptability.   The Gricean point is that the creditor concentrates on the explicit act:  "He agreed."  Poetelius asks:  "What sort of social relation has that agreement actually created?"  The dispute is not over the words uttered but over the consequences attributed to them.  A Nice Contrast with Pedius With Sextus Pedius we had:  quid testator demonstrare voluerit?  ("What did the testator intend?") With Gaius Poetelius we might imagine:  quid populus hoc vinculo patiatur?  ("What does the people suffer from this bond?") One moves from text to intention. The other from legal form to practical reality. Both resist blind formalism.  A Speranzian Reconstruction Senator:  Mos maiorum hoc probavit. ("The custom of the ancestors approved this.")  Poetelius:  Etiam. Sed diutius probare debemus? ("Yes. But must we continue approving it?")   Senator:  Debitores consensum dederunt. ("The debtors gave their consent.")  Poetelius:  Consensus non semper libertatem servat. ("Consent does not always preserve freedom.")   +> Formal agreement may conceal substantive coercion. The lex Poetelia Papiria gives a much clearer Grice–Speranza theme.  Speranza's Verdict Grice:  Which Poetelius?  Speranza:  The one who abolished nexum.  Grice:  Why?  Speranza:  Because he reminds us that a society may eventually decide that the consequences conventionally attached to an utterance or agreement have become unacceptable.   +> The form remains intelligible; the practice no longer does.  That seems to me the most fruitful Gricean vignette from the gens Poetelia. [GREXv2 | Word]

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petelio – Ossia: Grice e Petelio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petelio. Runner-up A close second would actually be the earlier decemvir:  Quintus Poetelius Libo Visolus. [GREXv2 | Word]  The Decemvirate is full of constitutional and conversational themes:  authority, obedience, interpretation of laws, abuse of power.  But the evidence is thinner.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petillio – Ossia: Grice e Petillio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petillio. Monument of Quintus Petilius Secundus, a soldier stationed in Germania Inferior during the first century. The gens Petillia or Petilia was a plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens first appear in history at the beginning of the second century BC, and the first to obtain the consulship was Quintus Petillius Spurinus in 176 BC.[1]  Origin The nomen Petillius, also spelled Petilius, Petelius, and Petellius, is almost certainly derived from the cognomen Petilus, meaning "slender", and belongs to a class of gentilicia formed using the typically diminutive suffixes -illius and -ellius.[2] The name is regularly confused with that of the Poetelii, an older plebeian family that occurs from the time of the Decemvirs down to the period of the Samnite Wars, but they do not appear to have been the same.[1]  Branches and cognomina The only surnames of the Petillii in the time of the Republic were Capitolinus and Spurinus, of which only the former occurs on coins. A number of Petillii are found without cognomina.[1]  Spurinus, belonging to one of the earliest Petillii appearing in history, appears to be connected with the Etruscan gentile Spurina, hinting at an Etruscan origin of the gens, or perhaps a maternal ancestor of the Petillii.[3] An alternative explanation might be as a diminutive of the praenomen Spurius, which the Etruscan scholar Wilhelm Deecke discussed in connection with similar Etruscan names. Although Deecke noted the use of the praenomen Spurie by the Etruscans, the orthography used in Greek transliterations argued in favour of a Latin origin.[4]  The cognomen Capitolinus is said to have been bestowed upon one of the Petillii who was caretaker of the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill in the time of Augustus. However, Capitolinus was a relatively common surname, typically signifying someone who lived on the Capitol.[5] Coins this family depicts the Temple of Jupiter on the reverse, while the obverses depict either a head of Jupiter, or an eagle, as a symbol of Jupiter.[1][6]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Quintus Petillius C. f. Q. n. Spurinus, as tribune of the plebs in 187 BC,[i] accused Scipio Africanus of having accepted a bribe to deal leniently with Antiochus, and called for an investigation of others suspected of having been bribed by Antiochus. He was praetor urbanus in 181, when he ordered the destruction of some books that were claimed to have belonged to Numa Pompilius.[ii] Consul in 176, he was slain in battle against the Ligures.[7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15] Quintus Petillius, tribune of the plebs in 187 BC, together with Quintus Petillius Spurinus, with whom he is said by some authorities to have acted in concert respecting the accusation against Scipio Africanus and the call to investigate those who had received money from Antiochus. How the two Petillii were related is unknown.[16][11][15] Lucius Petillius, a scribe who lived at the foot of the Janiculum. In 181 BC, workmen on his land discovered two stone chests, one of which claimed to be the sarcophagus of Numa Pompilius, while the other was supposed to contain his books. No trace of a body was found, but the books were examined and then ordered destroyed by Quintus Petillius Spurinus, the praetor urbanus.[17] Lucius Petillius, one of the ambassadors imprisoned by Gentius in 168 BC, and freed following that king's defeat by the praetor Lucius Anicius Gallus.[18][19][20] Publius Petellius Q. f., an eques named in an inscription from Samothrace, dating to 100 BC.[21] Quintus Petillius L. f., an eques who served under Pompeius Strabo in 88 BC.[22] Marcus Petilius, mentioned by Cicero as an eques who had business at Syracuse during the administration of Verres in Sicily.[23] Quintus Petilius, one of the judges at the trial of Titus Annius Milo.[24] Petillius Capitolinus, custodian of the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline Hill during the time of Augustus. He was accused of stealing the crown from the statue of Jupiter, but was acquitted, supposedly due to his friendship with the emperor.[6][25] Titus Petillius P. f., one of the duumvirs at Forum Clodii in AD 18.[26] Petilius Rufus,[iii] one of several men of praetorian rank, who in AD 28 accused the eques Titius Sabinus of disloyalty to the emperor, in the hopes of gaining the consulate through the favour of Sejanus. Sabinus was put to death through their machinations.[27] Lucius Petillius L. f. Saturninus, named in a first-century inscription from Clusium in Etruria.[28] Petillia Q. l. Irena, a freedwoman named in a first-century inscription from Rome.[29] Lucius Petillius L. l. Panemus, a freedman named in a first-century inscription from Rome. Petillia Rustica, named in an inscription from Rome, dating from the middle to the late first century.[30] Quintus Petillius, named in a list of gladiators from Pompeii. The inscription mentions the number of battles each had fought, but Petillius' record is missing.[31] Gaius Petillius Q. f. Firmus, a military tribune in the fourth legion, during the reign of Vespasian. He later served as a judicial magistrate at Arretium in Etruria.[32] Quintus Petillius Cerealis Caesius Rufus, a general in the time of his kinsman, the emperor Vespasian. He served in Britain during Boadicea's revolt in AD 61, then supported Vespasian's elevation to the empire. In 70, he succeeded in quelling the revolt of Civilis, and was appointed consul suffectus ex Kal. Jul. He was governor of Britain during the campaigns of Agricola. He was consul suffectus ex Id. Mai. in 74, and consul ordinarius with the emperor Domitian in 83.[33][34][35] Quintus Petillius T. f., named in an inscription from Rome, dating to AD 78.[36] Marcus Petilius Athenaidi l. Successus, a freedman who dedicated a monument at Rome to Claudia Storge, dating to the later first or second century.[37] Gaius Petillius C. f. Vindex Batavus, named in an inscription from Brigetio in Pannonia Superior, dating from AD 110. Quintus Petilius Q. l. Felix, a freedman named in an inscription from Rome, dating to AD 119, together with a number of other freedmen.[38] Petilia Euphrosyne, the wife of Gaius Lucretius Euhodius, and mother of Gaius Lucretius Priscus and Gaius Lucretius Euhodianus, buried in a second century sepulchre at Rome, aged twenty-two.[39] Petellius Faustus, one of the centurions of the sixth cohort in the third legion at Lambaesis in Numidia, according to an inscription dating to AD 161.[40] Petilius Paulus, a soldier in the third legion at Lambaesis, according to an inscription dating to AD 161.[40] Lucius Petilius Nepos, one of the duumviri at Perusia in AD 166.[41] Quintus Petilius Severianus, named in an inscription from Rome, dating to AD 186.[42] Petilia C. f. Irena, buried in rural Samnium with a monument from her mother, Gavia Auxime, dating to AD 198.[43] Marcus Petellius Felix, one of the vigiles at Rome, listed in an inscription dating to AD 208.[44] Undated Petillii Petilia, one of the heirs of a soldier buried at Timacum Minus in Moesia Superior.[45] Petellia, named in an inscription from Pagus Vetanus in Campania.[46] Petillia Ↄ. l., a freedwoman buried at Rome.[47] Petillia Ↄ. l., a freedwoman buried at the present site of Mompeo in Latium.[48] Petilia C. l., a freedwoman buried at Patavium in Venetia and Histria.[49] Petilia L. f., buried at Tarquinii, aged fifty-eight.[50] Petilia L. f., named in an inscription from Ucubi in Hispania Baetica.[51] Petilia L. l., a freedwoman named in an inscription from Praeneste in Latium.[52] Petillia L. l., a freedwoman buried at Rome, with a monument from Critonia Nike.[53] Petilia, daughter of Hilaritatus, buried at Formiae in Latium, aged seventeen, with a monument from her parents.[54] Gaius Petelius, dedicated a monument at the present site of Lara de los Infantes, formerly in Hispania Citerior to his wife, Arcea Elianoca, the daughter of Paternus, who died aged thirty. Probably the father of Gaius Petelius Paternus, buried nearby.[55] Gaius Petilius S. f. Adeptus, buried at Rome, aged four years, four months, and twenty-one days.[56] Lucius Petilius, dedicated a monument at Salona in Dalmatia to his sister, Apuleia Jucunda.[57] Lucius Petillius, a soldier named in an inscription from Clusium.[58] Lucius Petilius, named in an inscription from Rome.[59] Lucius Petilius Ↄ. l., a freedman buried at Rome.[47] Lucius Petillius C. f., named in an inscription from Lussonium in Pannonia Inferior.[60] Quintus Petilius, named in an inscription found at the present site of Acquapendente, in Etruria.[61] Quintus Petillius, named in an inscription from Narbo in Gallia Narbonensis.[62] Quintus Petillius Q. f., named in an inscription from Pisae in Etruria.[63] Titus Petilius, named in an inscription from Camerinum in Umbria.[64] Titus Petelius P. f., buried at Altinum in Venetia and Histria.[65] Marcus Petilius Adlectus, husband of Scribonia Venusta, was buried at Rome, aged forty, having served as one of the emperor's attendants for twenty-one years.[66] Quintus Petilius Agricola, buried at Reate in Latium, with a monument from his slave, Geminus.[67] Quintus Petilius Q. f. Alexander, son of Quintus Petilius Faustus and Ulpia Alexandria, buried at Rome, aged nine years, four months, and seventeen days.[68] Quintus Petillius Q. l. Alexander, a freedman, and the husband of Petillia Zaelis, named in an inscription from the present site of Stroncone, formerly part of Samnium.[69] Lucius Petilius Alianus, named in an inscription from the present site of Bischofshofen, formerly part of Noricum.[70] Gaius Petilius Amandus, a veteran of the fourteenth legion, and decurion at Salona, where he was buried with a monument from his wife, Petilia Secundina.[71] Quintus Petillius Amphio, named in a dedicatory inscription from Rome.[72] Petilia Ampliata, the wife of Gaius Julius Martialis, and mother of Viricia Euhodia, a young woman buried at Rome, aged nineteen.[73] Gaius Petilius C. l. Anteros, a freedman buried at Patavium.[49] Petilius Apollonius, named in a libationary inscription from the present site of Baldushk, formerly in Macedonia.[74] Petilius Asianus, father of Tintirius Asianus, who built a monument to his father at Ligures Baebiani in Samnium.[75] Quintus Petillius Attalus, named in an inscription from Rome.[76] Quintus Petillius Q. l. Attalus, a freedman named in an inscription from Septempeda in Picenum.[77] Petillia Attica, named in an inscription from Clusium.[78] Petilius Augurinus, brother of Petilius Sabinus and Petilius Candidus, with whom he dedicated a monument at Ariminum in Cisalpine Gaul to their parents, Petilius Sabinus and Secunda.[79] Lucius Petilius Aurelianus, a soldier in the seventh legion, named in a libationary inscription from the present site of Buljesovce, formerly in Moesia Superior.[80] Petilius Barbarus, buried at Sigus in Numidia, aged thirty-five.[81] Gaius Petilius Bassus, buried at Rome, aged thirty-five.[82] Petilia Q. f. Calliope, infant daughter of Quintus Petilius Pergamus and Petilia Nike, buried at Rome, aged five months.[83] Petilius Callistus, named in an inscription from Nomentum in Latium.[84] Gaius Petilius Calno, buried at Tuscana in Etruria, aged fifty-three.[85] Petilius Candidus, brother of Petilius Augurinus and Petilius Sabinus, with whom he dedicated a monument at Ariminum to their parents, Petilius Sabinus and Secunda.[79] Lucius Petilius Celer, buried at Asseria in Dalmatia, with a monument from his sister.[86] Petilius Tironis l. Cerealis,[iv] a freedman, and the husband of Petilia Cybele, named in an inscription from Aquileia in Venetia and Histria.[87] Petilia Chrestene, the wife of Q. Arrenius Primitius, buried at Rome, aged twenty-eight.[88] Gaius Petillius Chryseros, named in a funerary inscription from Beneventum.[89] Petillia Clara, buried at Scupi in Moesia Superior, aged four.[90] Quintus Petillius Q. f. Clemens, the son of Quintus Petillius Eros and Petillia Fausta, husband of Firmia Tertulla, and father of Lucius Petillius Martialis and Quintus Petillius Saturninus, buried at the present site of Châtel-Argent, formerly in the province of Alpes Graiae.[91] Marcus Petilius Clementius, dedicated a monument at Aquincum in Pannonia Inferior to his wife, Floria Matrona, aged forty years and five days.[92] Quintus Petillius Q. f. Colonus, from Hispania Baetica, was a scribe employed by the curule aediles.[93] Publius Petilius Clemens, named in an inscription from Casilinum in Campania.[94] Petillia Clymene, dedicated a monument at Rome to Quintus Pomponius Cladus.[95] Petilia Ↄ. l. Communis, a freedwoman buried at Corduba in Hispania Baetica, aged thirty-six.[96] Titus Petilius T. f. Crescens, buried at Tuder in Umbria, with a monument from his freedman, Titus Petilius Primio.[97] Quintus Petillius C. f. Crispus, brother of Gaius Plaestinus Petillianus, buried at Pola in Venetia and Histria.[98] Petilia Cybele, a freedwoman, and the wife of Petilius Cerealis, named in an inscription from Aquileia.[87] Gaius Petillius C. f. Dexter, buried at Venafrum in Latium.[99] Petilius Docimus, son of Docimus and Januaria, buried at Rome, aged four years, four months, and fifteen days.[100] Petilia Egloge, named in an inscription from Rome.[101] Quintus Petillius Eros, probably a freedman, was the husband of Petillia Fausta, and father of Quintus Petillius Clemens, buried at Châtel-Argent.[91] Petilia Eutychia, mother of Quintus Petilius Quinquatralus, to whom she set a monument at Rome.[102] Publius Petilius Exoratus, was the heir of Titus Clodius Naso, a soldier in the praetorian guard at Ravenna, to whom he dedicated a monument.[103] Titus Petilius Expectatus, buried at Firmum in Picenum.[104] Petillia Q. l. Fausta, a freedwoman, and the wife of Quintus Petillius Eros, was the mother of Quintus Petillius Clemens. She is buried at Châtel-Argent.[91] Quintus Petilius Faustus, the husband of Ulpia Alexandria, and father of Quintus Petilius Alexander, for whom he built a monument at Rome.[68] Petilius Felix, built a monument to his father at Auzia in Mauretania Caesariensis.[105] Quintus Petilius Felix, praetor and one of the quinquennial magistrates at Laurentum and Lavinium, was the master of Pergamus and Nike, afterward Quintus Petilius Pergamus and Petilia Nike.[106] Petilius Fructus, the husband of Ulpia Fronime, who built a sepulchre for her family at Ostia.[107] Gaius Petilius Gaetulus, buried at Sigus, aged eighty-five.[108] Titus Petellius Gemellus, buried at the present site of Bir Chegreff, formerly in Numidia, aged thirty.[109] Gaius Petillius Hedystus, buried at Bononia in Cisalpine Gaul.[110] Marcus Petillius M. l. Heraclida, a freedman named in a dedicatory inscription from Rome.[111] Publius Petilius Homerus, dedicated a monument to his father at Spoletium.[112] Petilia Hygia, the mother of Titus Petilius Titianus, to whom she dedicated a monument at Rome.[47] Petilia Januaria, the mother of Quintus Calidius Urbanus, aged five years, six months, to whom she and her husband, Quintus Calidius, dedicated a monument at Rome.[113] Petillia Q. l. Jucunda, a freedwoman named in a dedicatory inscription from Rome.[72] Petilia Jucunda, buried at Interamna Nahars in Umbria.[114] Petilia Justa, buried at Aquileia, aged nineteen years, three months, and ten days, with a monument dedicated by her mother, Lusidiena Pieris, and her brother, Titus Lusidienus Secundus.[115] Petelia Justa, dedicated a monument at Misenum in Campania to her husband, Publius Sextilius Marcellus.[116] Lucius Petillius Lollianus, named in an inscription from Ostia.[117] Lucius Petilius Lupus, buried at Scupi, aged twenty-five, with a monument from his mother, Vesidia Ingenua.[90] Petillia M. f. Maena, named in an inscription from Forum Novum in Cisalpine Gaul.[118] Petilia T. l. Marta, a freedwoman buried at Corduba.[119] Lucius Petillius Q. f. Q. n. Martialis, the son of Quintus Petillius Clemens and Firmia Tertulla, grandson of Quintus Petillius Eros and Petillia Fausta, and brother of Quintus Petillius Saturninus, buried at Châtel-Argent.[91] Petillia Volsoni f. Maxima,[v] buried at Aenona in Dalmatia.[120] Petellia Maximina, buried at Cirta in Numidia, aged forty.[121] Publius Petilius Mercator, one of the municipal officials at Heraclea Lyncestis in Macedonia.[122] Petillia Q. f. Modesta, buried at Aquileia, with a monument from her husband, Gaius Mutillius, a decurion at Aquileia.[123] Petilia Moschis, dedicated a monument at Rome to her husband, Gaius Pomponius Servandus.[124] Petilia Q. l. Nike, a freedwoman of Quintus Petilius Felix, wife of Quintus Petilius Pergamus, and mother of Petilia Calliope, an infant buried at Rome.[106][83] Gaius Petelius Paternus, the son of Gaius Haerigius, and husband of Anna Maluga, was buried at Clunia in Hispania Citerior, aged fifty-six.[125] Petilia Paulina, the mother of Petilius Paulinianus, dedicated a monument at Ariminum to her daughter-in-law, Sentia Justina, aged seventeen years, two months.[126] Petilius Paulinianus, the son of Petilia Paulina, married Sentia Justina.[126] Gaius Petillius Pavo, named in an inscriptions from Clusium.[127] Quintus Petilius Q. l. Pergamus, a freedman of Quintus Petilius Felix, husband of Petilia Nike, and father of Petilia Calliope, an infant buried at Rome.[106][83] Aulus Petilius Perseus, named in an inscription from Rome.[128] Marcus Petilius M. f. Philero, a freedman buried at Interamna Nahars.[114] Petillia L. l. Philumina, buried at Rome.[129] Lucius Petilius L. l. Priamus, a freedman buried at Corduba.[96] Publius Petillius Primigenius, the husband of Calpurnia Coene, and father of Petillia Sabina, buried at Hadria in Picenum.[130] Sextus Petilius Primigenius, buried at Clusium, with a monument from his daughter, Justa.[131] Titus Petilius T. l. Primio, freedman of Titus Petilius Crescens, to whom he dedicated a monument at Tuder.[97] Petilius Primus, the husband of Seccia Silvia, and father of Petilia Valentina, a child buried at Clissa in Dalmatia.[132] Petellia Prisca, buried in the family sepulchre built by her grandfather, Tiberius Claudius Pluto, at Ostia.[133] Gaius Petilius Priscus, named in an inscription from Rome.[134] Petilius Processius, a nobleman buried at Rome on May 25, in the consulship of Probus junior (possibly Anicius Probus Faustus, consul in AD 490).[135] Petilia Proculina, dedicated a monument at Vicohabentia in Venetia and Histria to the memory of her grandson and namesake, Lucius Quadratianus Proculinus, a young man.[136] Lucius Petilius Pudens, named in an inscription from Aquileia.[137] Petelia Quieta, named in an inscription from Castellum Tidditanorum in Numidia.[138] Quintus Petilius Quinquatralus, son of Petilia Eutychia, buried at Rome, aged six years, eight months, and twenty-six days.[102] Petillia C. l. Quinta, a freedwoman buried at Venafrum.[99] Gaius Petilius Restitutus, buried at Ammaedara in Africa Proconsularis, aged fifty.[139] Quintus Petellius Rogatianus, named in an inscription from Castellum Tidditanorum.[140] Petilia Romana, the wife of Allius Fortunatius, and mother of Petilius Rusticus, buried at Ammaedara, aged sixty-five.[141] Gaius Petillius M. f. Rufus, a censor at Septempeda.[142] Quintus Petillius M. f. Rufus, named in a funerary inscription from the island of Vele Srakane in the Adriatic.[143] Petilius Rusticus, son of Allius Fortunatius and Petilia Romana, was a soldier, buried at Ammaedara, aged twenty-eight, with a monument from his father.[144] Petillia P. f. Sabina, the daughter of Publius Petillius Primigenius and Calpurnia Coene, buried at Hadria.[130] Petilia Q. f. Sabina, made a donation to the priests of Minerva at Ticinum in Cisalpine Gaul.[145] Petilius Sabinus, the husband of Secunda, and father of Petilius Augurinus, Petilius Sabinus, and Petilius Candidus, who dedicated a monument to their parents at Ariminum.[79] Petilius Sabinus, brother of Petilius Augurinus and Petilius Candidus, with whom he dedicated a monument at Ariminum to their parents, Petilius Sabinus and Secunda.[79] Petellia Satura, dedicated a monument at Lambaesis to her husband, Quintus Laelius Saturus.[146] Lucius Petilius L. f. Saturninus, named in an inscription from Clusium.[147] Quintus Petillius Q. f. Q. n. Saturninus, the son of Quintus Petillius Clemens and Firmia Tertulla, grandson of Quintus Petillius Eros and Petillia Fausta, brother of Lucius Petillius Martialis, and husband of Salvia Lasciva, was a soldier in the twenty-second legion, and one of the Seviri Augustales.[91] Petilia Secunda, dedicated a monument on the island of Brattia in the Adriatic to the memory of Aurelius Nigellio.[148] Petilia Secundina, dedicated a monument at Salona to her husband, the decurion Gaius Petilius Amandus.[71] Petilia Q. f. Secundina, daughter of Messia Dorcas, buried at Butuntum in Apulia, aged nine years, seven months, and eighteen days.[149] Quintus Petillius Secundus, dedicated a monument at Rome to his mother, Cornelia Glyce, a freedwoman.[150] Quintus Petilius Q. f. Secundus, a resident of Mediolanum, and a soldier in the fifteenth legion, buried at Bonna in Germania Inferior, aged twenty-five, having served five years.[151] Gaius Petilius Sedatus, buried at Beneventum.[152] Petilia Severa, buried at the present site of Châtillon, formerly part of Cisalpine Gaul, with a monument from her son, Valerius Vettianus.[153] Petilia L. l. Sextula, named in a funerary inscription from Corduba.[96] Quintus Petilius Ↄ. l. Sindenis, a freedman named in an inscription from Rome.[154] Petilia Sintyche, dedicated a monument at Rome to Gaius Setonius, aged one year, seven days.[155] Gaius Petillius C. l. Statius, a freedman buried at Venafrum.[99] Quintus Petillius Stephanus, named in an inscription from Rome.[156] Petilia Surilla, named in a funerary inscription from Timacum Minus.[157] Quintus Petillius Q. l. Surus, a freedman, buried with the family of Quintus Petillius Saturninus.[91] Lucius Petilius Syneros, buried at Rome.[158] Lucius Petilius Telephus, named in an inscription from Ostia.[117] Titus Petilius Titianus, son of Petilia Hygia, buried at Rome, aged twenty-two years, eight months, and twenty-five days.[47] Sextus Petilius Titianus, buried at Brixia in Venetia and Histria.[159] Petilia Titulla, buried at Milevum in Numidia, aged thirty-five.[160] Petilia Valentina, daughter of Petilius Primus and Seccia Silvia, buried at Clissa in Dalmatia, aged six years, eight months, and eighteen days.[132] Gaius Petilius Venustus, a tribune in the Praetorian Guard, named in a dedicatory inscription from Aquileia.[161] Sextus Petilius Verus, named in an inscription from Aquileia.[162] Lucius Petilius Victor, buried at Sitifis in Mauretania Caesariensis, aged forty.[163] Petilia Victorina, dedicated a monument at Gaius Togernius Ingenuus, buried at Ulpia Traiana in Dacia, aged thirty.[164] Publius Petilius P. f. Victorinus, a soldier buried at Ammaedara, aged thirty-three.[165] Petillia Q. l. Zaelis, a freedwoman, and the wife of Quintus Petillius Alexander, named in an inscription from Stroncone.[69] Gaius Plaestinus C. f. Petillianus, the brother of Quintus Petillius Crispus, was evidently adopted by a Plaestinus.[98] See also List of Roman gentes Petilianus Footnotes  There were two men named Quintus Petillius among the tribunes of 187, and Valerius Antias reports that they acted in concert in accusing Scipio, having been induced to do so by Cato the Censor. According to other sources, the accusation was brought by Gaius Minucius Augurinus, or by Marcus Naevius, one of the tribunes of 184.  Livy reports that two stone chests bearing the name of Numa Pompilius were discovered by workmen on the land of Lucius Petillius, a scribe and a friend of the praetor. One was said to contain the king's body, but was completely empty. The other contained a number of books on philosophy and religious rites. The praetor examined the books, and concluded that they would damage public confidence in the state religion, so he ordered them burnt, and Lucius compensated for the confiscation of his property.  Petitius in some editions of Tacitus.  Here the filiation refers to his master's cognomen, Tiro.  The unusual filiation, Volsoni f. probably indicates that her father bore Vulso as a surname, rather than giving his praenomen. Vulso is best known as a cognomen of the ancient Manlia gens. References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 212 ("Petillia or Petilia Gens").  Chase, p. 124.  Chase, p. 114.  Deecke, pp. 327–329.  Chase, pp. 113, 114.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. I, p. 605 ("Petillius Capitolinus").  Livy, xxxviii. 50, 54, 56, xl. 29, xli. 14–18.  Valerius Maximus, i. 1. § 12; 5 § 9, ii. 7. § 15.  Pliny the Elder, xiii. 14. s. 27.  Plutarch, "The Life of Numa", 22.  Aurelius Victor, De Viris Illustribus, 49.  Augustine, De Civitate Dei, vii. 34.  Obsequens, 64.  Fasti Capitolini, AE 1927, 101.  Broughton, vol. I, p. 369, 370 (note 4), 376 (Marcus Naevius), 384, 400.  Livy, xxxviii. 50, 54, 56.  Livy, xl. 29.  Livy, xliv. 27, 32.  Appian, Macedonica, xvi. 1.  Broughton, vol. I, p. 430.  AE 2001, 1741.  CIL VI, 37045.  Cicero, In Verrem, ii. 29.  Cicero, Pro Milone, 16.  Scholiast on Horace, Satirae, i. 4. 94.  CIL XI, 3303.  Tacitus, Annales, iv. 66–68.  CIL XI, 2383.  AE 1992, 95.  AE 1993, 200.  CIL IV, 2508.  AE 1967, 355, CIL XI, 1834.  Tacitus, Annales, xiv. 32, Historiae, iii. 59, 78, 79, iv. 71, 86, Agricola, 8, 17.  Fasti Ostienses, CIL XIV, 244.  Gallivan, "The Fasti for A.D. 70–96".  CIL VI, 40890.  CIL VI, 15599.  CIL VI, 975.  CIL VI, 21656.  CIL VIII, 18065  CIL XI, 1924.  AE 1933, 95.  AE 1997, 403.  CIL VI, 1057.  AE 1986, 619.  CIL IX, 1507.  CIL VI, 23983.  CIL IX, 4866.  CIL V, 3005.  CIL XI, 3508.  CIL II, 1566.  CIL XIV, 3367.  CIL VI, 16608.  CIL X, 6173.  ERLara, 146.  CIL VI, 23975.  CIL III, 8885.  CIL XI, 2110.  CIL VI, 19735.  CIL III, 3322.  CIL XI, 6700.  CAG, 11-01, p. 550.  CIL XI, 1420.  AE 2004, 533.  AE 2005, 601.  CIL VI, 2957.  AE 1993, 587a.  CIL VI, 23976.  CIL IX, 4763.  CIL III, 5526.  CIL III, 2066.  CIL VI, 6981.  CIL VI, 28900.  CIA, 30.  CIL IX, 1480.  CIL VI, 36076.  CIL IX, 5614.  CIL XI, 2384.  CIL XI, 498.  ILJug, i. 28.  ILAlg, ii. 2, 6722.  CIL VI, 2652.  CIL VI, 23984.  AE 1976, 118.  CIL XI, 7402.  ILJug, ii. 861.  CIL V, 1330.  CIL VI, 23985.  CIL IX, 1924.  IMS, vi. 139.  CIL V, 6896.  CIL III, 10535.  AE 1975, 19.  CIL X, 4283.  CIL VI, 24608.  CIL, II-V. 513.  CIL XI, 4704.  CIL V, 58.  CIL X, 4976.  CIL VI, 38727a.  CIL VI, 33620.  CIL VI, 23978.  CIL XI, 3529.  CIL IX, 5416.  CIL VIII, 20801.  CIL VI, 29712.  CIL XIV, 1794.  ILAlg, ii. 2, 6723.  ILAlg, 02-02, 6448.  CIL XI, 6853.  CIL VI, 24191.  AE 1983, 360.  CIL VI, 14067.  CIL XI, 4284.  CIL V, 1331.  CIL X, 3474.  Silvestrini, Le Tribù Romane, p. 165.  CIL XI, 1131.  CIL II, 2282.  CIL III, 14322,10.  ILAlg, 02-01, 01556.  AE 1972, 513.  InscrAqu, i. 642.  AE 1998, 127.  AE 1906, 19.  CIL XI, 513  CIL XI, 2380.  CIL VI, 36866.  CIL VI, 5742.  CIL IX, 5032.  CIL XI, 2382.  Kurilić, 27.  AE 1977, 174.  CIL XV, 8394.  CIL VI, 32031.  AE 1999, 712.  CIL V, 1052.  ILAlg, 02-01, 03935.  AE 2013, 1944.  AE 1960, 213f.  AE 1997, 1627b.  CIL IX, 5584.  CIL III, 13302.  AE 1997, 1637c.  CIL V, 6412.  CIL VIII, 3173.  CIL XI, 2382.  CIL III, 3102.  CIL IX, 307.  CIL VI, 16399.  CIL XIII, 8079.  AE 1983, 262.  CIL V, 6824.  CIL VI, 23979.  CIL VI, 8330.  CIL VI, 23980.  ILJug, iii. 1298.  CIL VI, 23981.  CIL V, 4753.  ILAlg, ii. 3, 8680.  CIL V, 748.  InscrAqu, ii. 2526.  BCTH 1930/31, 133.  CIL III, 1510.  CIL VIII, 312. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, In Verrem, Pro Milone. Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Satirae (Satires). Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome. Valerius Maximus, Factorum ac Dictorum Memorabilium (Memorable Facts and Sayings). Gaius Plinius Secundus (Pliny the Elder), Naturalis Historia (Natural History). Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Annales, Historiae, De Vita et Moribus Iulii Agricolae (On the Life and Mores of Julius Agricola). Plutarchus, Lives of the Noble Greeks and Romans. Appianus Alexandrinus (Appian), Macedonica (The Macedonian Wars). Lucius Cassius Dio Cocceianus (Cassius Dio), Roman History. Julius Obsequens, Liber de Prodigiis (The Book of Prodigies). Sextus Aurelius Victor, De Viris Illustribus (On Famous Men). Augustine of Hippo, De Civitate Dei (The City of God). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Wilhelm Deecke, Etruskische Forschungen und Studien (Etruscan Research and Studies), Albert Heitz, Stuttgart (1881). Bulletin Archéologique du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques (Archaeological Bulletin of the Committee on Historic and Scientific Works, abbreviated BCTH), Imprimerie Nationale, Paris (1885–1973). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII (1897). Stéphane Gsell, Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie (Latin Inscriptions from Algeria, abbreviated ILAlg), Edouard Champion, Paris (1922–present). T. Robert S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, American Philological Association (1952). Anna and Jaroslav Šašel, Inscriptiones Latinae quae in Iugoslavia inter annos MCMXL et MCMLX repertae et editae sunt (Inscriptions from Yugoslavia Found and Published between 1940 and 1960, abbreviated ILJug), Ljubljana (1963–1986). José A. Abásolo, Epigrafia Romana de la Region de Lara de los Infantes (Roman Inscriptions from the Area around Lara de los Infantes, abbreviated ERLara), Burgos (1974). Fanou Papazoglou, Inscriptions de la Mésie Supérieure (Inscriptions of Moesia Superior, abbreviated IMS), Belgrade (1976–present). Paul A. Gallivan, "The Fasti for A.D. 70–96", in Classical Quarterly, vol. 31, pp. 186–220 (1981). Giovanni Battista Brusin, Inscriptiones Aquileiae (Inscriptions of Aquileia, abbreviated InscrAqu), Udine (1991–1993). Carte Archéologique de la Gaule (Archaeological Map of Gaul, abbreviated CAG), vol. 11–01, Narbonne et le Narbonnaise, Paris (2003). Anamarija Kurilić, "Recent Epigraphic Finds from the Roman Province of Dalmatia", in Dalmatia: Research in the Roman Province, 1970-2001, pp. 133–147, Oxford (2006). Skënder Anamali, Hasan Ceka, and Élizabeth Deniaux, Corpus des Inscriptions Latines d'Albanie (The Body of Latin Inscriptions from Albania, abbreviated CIA), École Française de Rome (2009). Marina Silvestrini, Le Tribù Romane (The Roman Tribes), Bari (2010). Categories: Roman gentesPetilii And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petillio – Ossia: Grice e Petillio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petillio. For the Petilii, I would choose neither the consul killed by the Ligures nor the general Quintus Petillius Cerealis. My first-best Grice–Speranza vignette is:  Quintus Petillius Spurinus and the burning of the books attributed to Numa Pompilius. [GREXv2 | Word]  Why? Because this is almost a perfect case of the relation between:  a text, its interpretation, authority, and the effects a text may have on its audience.  According to the tradition, workmen discovered on the land of Lucius Petillius two stone chests supposedly connected with Numa Pompilius. One contained books on philosophy and religious matters. As praetor urbanus, Quintus Petillius Spurinus examined them and concluded that they would damage confidence in the established religion; they were therefore burned. [GREXv2 | Word] That is astonishingly close to a Gricean question:  What matters more— what a text literally says, what people will take it to mean, or what effects it will produce?   Grice e Petillio A Roman Dialogue Lector:  Libri Numae reperti sunt. ("The books of Numa have been found.")  Petillius:  Sic dicuntur. ("So it is said.")   Lector:  Legamus eos. ("Let us read them.")  Petillius:  Et quid fiet postea? ("And what will happen afterwards?")   +> Interpretation has consequences.   Lector:  Verba tantum sunt. ("They are only words.")  Petillius:  Verba saepe plus quam verba sunt. ("Words are often more than words.")   +> Texts may alter beliefs and institutions.   Why this is more Gricean than it first appears The issue is not:  Are these marks on parchment intelligible?  The issue is:  What conclusions will readers draw?  In other words:  what is said, what is understood, what follows.  A very Speranzian chain. But the Numa-books episode is cleaner.  A Grice–Speranza Finale Speranza:  Why burn a book?  Grice:  Perhaps because one fears what readers will infer.  Speranza:  Then the danger lies not in the ink.  Grice:  No.  Speranza:  But in the uptake.   +> Meaning is completed by the audience.  For that reason, the Petilius I would place at the centre of a Grice–Speranza vignette is Quintus Petillius Spurinus, standing over the alleged books of Numa Pompilius and deciding that the consequences of interpretation mattered more than the mere preservation of the text. [GREXv2 | Word]

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petillio – Ossia: Grice e Petillio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petillio. A splendid secondary candidate Runner-up would be:  Petilius Rufus, one of the accusers involved in the destruction of Titius Sabinus under Sejanus. [GREXv2 | Word]  That affair is full of:  entrapment, reported speech, political interpretation, fatal inferences.  Almost pure pragmatics.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petrarca – Ossia: Grice e Petrarca: la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale di Cicerone. Grice: “There are a few studies on P. and ‘filosofia’: “Petrarca platonico,” etc. – but his most important contribution is via implicatura, as when I deal with Blake or Shakespeare Francesco Petrarca (Arezzo, Toscana): la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale di Cicerone. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning treats understanding as a rational achievement within a cooperative practice: speakers can mean more than they explicitly say because hearers assume intelligibility, relevance, and a shared aim, and so they infer implicatures from what is said plus context plus recognisable intention. Petrarch’s relation to “conversational meaning” is not that of a theorist of maxims, but of a master practitioner of indirectness who inherits (and reshapes) the Ciceronian ideal of dialogue, decorum, and the tactful management of what is voiced versus what is merely suggested; in his letters, dialogues, and self-scrutiny he repeatedly stages a speaker who negotiates audience, reputation, moral posture, and inner conflict by letting the unsaid do as much work as the said. Where Grice anatomizes the inferential machinery that allows an addressee to recover a speaker’s intended point from strategic understatement, irony, or selective emphasis, Petrarch supplies a rich field of such strategies in action: the humanist’s learned allusion, the moralized aside, the rhetorical question, the cultivated confession, all operating as invitations to a competent reader to supply what propriety or prudence leaves implicit. The contrast, then, is between explanation and exemplification: Grice offers a general account of how rational norms govern conversational interpretation, while Petrarch—formed by Latin rhetoric and by Cicero’s model of civil discourse—shows how a writer can guide interpretation by controlling tone, register, and audience-design, so that meaning emerges less as a bare proposition than as a socially intelligent performance whose implicatures are part of its philosophical substance. Grice: “There are a few studies on P. and ‘filosofia’: “Petrarca platonico,” etc. – but his most important contribution is via implicatura, as when I deal with Blake or Shakespeare.” ir«^|#»rtit«» ,i\ARK TP Jt^ -'f \t. \3FICO ^1 PP TIGI03 i^C/->>. t -nF CARLINI LA FILOSOFIA di P. Saggio Tipografia Editric e Cooperativa Jesi V A SEVERINO FERRARI DELLE OPERE PETRARCHESCHE CONOSCITORE PROFONDO CON ANIMO RIVERENTE E GRATO La tradizione platonica e religiosa nel Medio evo Caratteri del misticismo italiano Il Cristianesimo e il Papato II pensiero religioso e la scolastica Dante e Platone P. e Aristotele P. ed Averroe P. e Platone Il criterio filosofico di P. è afl'atto religioso Filosofia della religione Paganesimo e Cristianesimo Se P. è cattolico Colui che fece per viltade il gran rifiuto Se P. è un mistico Varie specie di misticismo Il De vita solitaria II De ocio RELiGiosoRUM Ascetismo e misticismo sano II pessimismo di P. II pessimismo cristiano La vita umana secondo P. Il De REMEDiis UTRiusQUE FORTUNAE - P. e Leopardi L' acedia e le contraddizioni di P. hanno radice nel suo sentimento religioso P. non e strettamente un filosofo Ma ne’suoi scritti è un ampio contenuto filosofico (GRICE ON ONE SENSE OF PHILOSOPHER AND ONE IMPLICATURE) E ha ancora ingegno filosofico P. e la scienza Meriti filosofici di P. Il rerum memorandarum Carattere morale, sociale e politico della nuova filosofia P. e il ri-sorgimento filosofico religioso Il sentimento della natura Carattere psicologico della filosofia di P. Le Rime II Secretum Eternità di P. Il pensiero religioso può precedere o seguire il pensiero filosofico, secondo che l’uomo è credente o no : sempre poi esso ' è dalla filosofia iìiseparabile^ se vtwle divenir cosciente. Questo chiamo pensiero filosofico religioso: Implicature, cicerone, I lizij, lucrezio, filosofia Latina, filosofia romana. Il dialogo filosofico – Platone, Cicerone. Grice: Caro Petrarca, sai che ti conosco fin dai miei giorni a Clifton? Non c’era lezione del mio vecchio maestro di latino senza che citasse qualche epigramma latino e ne offrisse la glossa proprio grazie a te! La tua presenza aleggiava tra i banchi, come una brezza sapiente. Petrarca: Che onore, Grice! Sapere che la mia voce risuonava tra gli scolari inglesi mi riempie di gratitudine. Nel commentare il latino, ho sempre cercato di trasmettere quella limpidezza che Cicerone intuiva nel dialogo. È bello pensare che la mia parola abbia trovato eco persino oltre le Alpi! Grice: Ho sempre apprezzato la tua capacità di unire la tradizione platonica e quella latina, arricchendo ogni epigramma di un implicito filosofico. Per me, leggere una tua glossa significava respirare la profondità di una filosofia vissuta, tra ascetismo e misticismo, tra sentimento religioso e ragione conversazionale. Petrarca: Grazie, caro Grice. Sei penetrato nello spirito dei miei scritti! La filosofia, come il dialogo, nasce dalla capacità di ascoltare e di rispondere, con rispetto e con affetto. Se le mie glosse hanno illuminato i vostri studi, allora posso dire: “Chi semina pensiero, raccoglie amicizia.” So, if Il canzionere is the earliest thing by P. here published, what would be the first canzione in it, as per incipit? If by “the first thing in Il Canzoniere” you mean the opening poem of the collection, the incipit is: Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono That is the first poem, no. 1 of the Rerum vulgarium fragmenta / Canzoniere. [it.wikisource.org], [poesieitaliane.it] If you want the fuller opening, it runs: Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono di quei sospiri ond’io nudriva ’l core in sul mio primo giovenile errore quand’era in parte altr’uom da quel ch’i’ sono, Again, that is the standard opening sonnet of the collection. [poesieitaliane.it], [lieder.net] One small caution. Strictly speaking, this is the first poem of the collection, and it is a sonnet, not a canzone in the narrower metrical sense. So if you mean “first poem,” the answer is Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono. If you mean “first canzone proper” within the metrical subdivisions of the collection, that is a different question. [en.wikipedia.org], [it.wikisource.org] So you do not think P. means the sonnet as one canzione that would count as a member of the set which he calls ' Yes, in the broad literary sense, certainly. When people call Petrarch’s collection Il Canzoniere, canzone there is not being used in the narrow metrical sense of “a canzone proper” as opposed to sonnet, sestina, ballata, and madrigal. It is being used more loosely, as in “book of songs” or “collection of lyric poems.” In that broad sense, the opening sonnet counts perfectly well as a member of the Canzoniere. So if P. means by Canzoniere “a lyric collection,” then yes, the first sonnet belongs without difficulty. My caution was only philological and metrical: if one asks for “the first canzone” in the strict technical sense, a sonnet is not a canzone. But if one asks for the first poem in the Canzoniere, or the first item in the set called Canzoniere, then Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono is exactly the right answer. So the distinction is: Canzoniere as title of the whole lyric book: broad sense, includes sonnets. Canzone as a specific metrical form: narrow sense, excludes sonnets. And for ordinary literary reference, especially in modern usage, one absolutely can speak of the opening sonnet as the first poem of the Canzoniere.Canzionere'? But now Speranza thinks Griceianly that Petrarca is being meta- here -- so what is the order of things -- are there subtitles -- as per SONNETO -- CANZONI -- and what would be the first canzone, then as per incipit, or couple of lines -- and does P. mention this meta-linguistically in his own 'Canzoniere' -- it seems obvious that if he includes various forms he meant the whole thing but P. being as fastidious as Grice could be, does HE himself define a 'canzone' and are they listed all after another -- or the form as a subtitle? Yes: the metrical fastidiousness matters, and Petrarch is quite capable of that kind of meta-ordering. The basic order of things is this. Petrarch’s own title is not Il Canzoniere, but Rerum vulgarium fragmenta. The modern title Canzoniere is a later umbrella-title for the whole lyric book. [en.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it] Within that whole, the poems are not grouped in the modern printed book under running subtitles like Sonetti, Canzoni, Ballate, Sestine, one block after another. Rather, the forms are intermingled in the sequence. The collection contains 366 poems total, of which 317 are sonnets, 29 canzoni, 9 sestine, 7 ballate, and 4 madrigals, but they are distributed through the sequence, not segregated into neat generic chapters. [en.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it] So if Speranza is thinking Griceianly and meta-textually, he is right to notice that Canzoniere is the title of the whole book, not a strict label for one metrical species. Petrarch clearly intends a whole lyric architecture, not a mere heap of canzoni in the narrow sense. Now, if you ask for the first canzone in the strict metrical sense, that is not poem 1. The opening item is the sonnet Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono. [collezione...orghese.it], [Francesco...a italiana] The first canzone proper in the sequence is no. 23, whose incipit is: Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade That is the first poem in the collection that is metrically a canzone rather than a sonnet. [it.wikisource.org] As for a couple of lines, the opening goes: Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade, che nascer vide et anchor quasi in herba la fera voglia che per mio mal crebbe, That is the beginning of the first canzone proper in the RVF sequence. [it.wikisource.org] On your final question, whether Petrarch himself marks the forms meta-linguistically: not in the way a modern table of contents would. In the manuscript and editorial tradition, poems are numbered and identified by form by editors and commentators, but Petrarch does not usually stop inside the book to announce, “Now a sonnet,” “Now a canzone,” in a systematic subtitle apparatus for the reader. The generic identity is carried by the poem’s form itself and by the tradition of reading it, more than by explicit internal labelling every time. The later tradition, however, is perfectly happy to classify them by genre and number. [dcl.luddy....ndiana.edu], [treccani.it] So the clean answer is: Canzoniere is the modern umbrella-title for the whole sequence, not a strict metrical label. The forms are mixed through the sequence, not block-grouped under generic subtitles. The first poem is the sonnet Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono. [collezione...orghese.it], [Francesco...a italiana] The first canzone proper is no. 23, Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade. [it.wikisource.org] And yes, your Griceian meta-point is sound: if Petrarch includes sonnets, canzoni, sestine, ballate, and madrigals all in one architectonic order, then Canzoniere in the broad title-sense must be understood as songbook or lyric book, not as a narrow label for one metrical form. And Speranza was wondering if this was the first thing, and now you say originally, as titled by P. it was Rerum vulgarium fragmenta (posthumously?) -- which to Speranza and G. sounds more apt -- then the meta point does not quite apply since Canzionere was not P.'s own utterance -- but Rerum vulgarium fragmenta was -- or was not? Yes: the meta-point shifts exactly there. If the collection’s authorial title is Rerum vulgarium fragmenta, then the later umbrella-title Canzoniere is not Petrarch’s own utterance in the same direct sense. So the strong Griceian meta-play on “if he called it Canzoniere, he must have meant every item to count as a canzone in some broad sense” becomes weaker, because that title is a later traditional label, not the poet’s own primary naming act. [cris.unibo.it], [en.wikipedia.org] And yes, Rerum vulgarium fragmenta appears to be authorial, not merely posthumous. The strongest evidence is the rubric at the head of the autograph manuscript Vat. lat. 3195, where the title is given as Francisci Petrarche laureati poete Rerum vulgarium fragmenta. Modern scholarship treats that as Petrarch’s own title for the lyric sequence, even if the rubric itself was written by Malpaghini rather than by Petrarch’s own hand; the codex is still Petrarch’s authorial book, arranged and completed under his supervision. [iris.uniroma3.it], [cris.unibo.it], [digi.vatlib.it] So the careful answer is: Rerum vulgarium fragmenta is the authorial title, or at least the title of the authorially supervised collection. [iris.uniroma3.it], [cris.unibo.it] Canzoniere is a later, non-authorial traditional title. [cris.unibo.it], [en.wikipedia.org] Therefore, if Speranza and G. want to be strict, the meta-linguistic weight should now fall on fragmenta, not on canzoniere. [jstor.org], [cris.unibo.it] And that is, in fact, a more Petrarchan and more interesting meta-point. Fragmenta is philosophically much richer than Canzoniere. It suggests not a generic songbook title only, but a self-conscious collection of vernacular fragments, scattered pieces gathered into order, materially and spiritually incomplete, temporally broken, and retrospectively arranged. That is exactly the line stressed in the modern scholarship on Petrarch’s own title. [jstor.org], [cris.unibo.it] So if you want the shortest correction for Speranza, I would put it this way: No, the stronger meta-point should not rest on Canzoniere, since that is not Petrarch’s own title. It should rest on Rerum vulgarium fragmenta, which is authorial and much more revealing anyway. [cris.unibo.it], [iris.uniroma3.it] And if you want the driest Griceian gloss: Petrarch did not call the book a songbook; he called it fragments, which is already a more intelligent implicature. Now, for someone as fastidious as Speranza, Grice, Petrarca and Malpaghini-- who was ill-payed? no, from a bad place -- what's the etymology of this odd surname, Speranza wonders and asks -- if the thing came out as Reum vulgarium fragmenta. You opened the thing and it's just the sonnet, or something in Latin to the effect: This, {all in Latin, of course] that thou, dearest reader, art embarked to read is ..."? It starts to begin like Lewis Carroll's White Knight about to sing a song, and eventually doing before titling it and prefacing it to Alice's annoyance. So provide a 100-move conversation as you answer all this, between G. and S., dry Oxonian humour, no preamble or ps, thanks -- and you can include the fact that the first 'fragmentum' of a res vulgare is indeed the sonnett -- give incipit -- but if Canzionere became the cliche, the first canzone is: and igve the incipit -- thanks -- and that's why philosophers prefer P. the amanuensis and not the poet. no preamble and no ps, thanks. G.: So Petrarch did not call the thing Il Canzoniere after all.  S.: Not authorially, no. The better title is Rerum vulgarium fragmenta. G.: Which already sounds more intelligent. S.: And more fastidious. G.: Exactly. A songbook is a social convenience; fragments are a metaphysical embarrassment. S.: Then the meta-point migrates. G.: Entirely. If Canzoniere is the later umbrella-title, the really Petrarchan self-description lies in fragmenta, not canzoni. S.: Which suits both you and Speranza much better. G.: And perhaps Malpaghini too, though he had the misfortune to write the rubric. S.: Before Malpaghini, let us fix the title question. Is Rerum vulgarium fragmenta truly Petrarch’s own title. G.: As nearly as makes no difference. The rubric in Vat. lat. 3195 gives Francisci Petrarche laureati poete Rerum vulgarium fragmenta, and modern scholarship treats the book as authorially supervised even though the rubric itself is in Malpaghini’s hand. [digi.vatlib.it], [core.ac.uk] S.: So the title is authorial in force, even if not in every ink-stroke. G.: Precisely. Petrarch’s title, Malpaghini’s script, and the scholar’s opportunity for pedantry. S.: Then if one opens the thing, does it begin with some Latin prefatory address to the reader. “This, dearest reader, which thou art about to peruse…” G.: No such White Knight preliminaries at the front of the lyric text proper. One opens the lyric book and the first fragment is the sonnet. S.: Which is. G.: Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono. That is the incipit of poem 1, the first fragment of the Rerum vulgarium fragmenta. [en.wikisource.org], [core.ac.uk] S.: So the first fragmentum of a res vulgare is a sonnet. G.: Exactly. Not a Latin preface explaining the title, but the lyric object itself beginning in vernacular self-address. S.: Which is very Petrarchan. G.: Yes. He lets the reader discover the generic plurality by entering the sequence, not by reading a modern table of contents. S.: Then Canzoniere, as later cliché, smooths over a sharper authorial self-understanding. G.: Quite. Fragmenta is morally and formally richer than Canzoniere. It suggests scatteredness, incompletion, gathered remains, deliberate ordering of broken pieces. S.: Whereas Canzoniere says only, roughly, “book of songs.” G.: Which is socially useful and critically lazy. S.: Then one may still ask, under the later cliché, what is the first canzone proper. G.: Yes, and there the answer is not poem 1 but poem 23. S.: Incipit. G.: Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade. And a couple of lines, if you insist: Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade, che nascer vide et anchor quasi in herba la fera voglia che per mio mal crebbe. [it.wikisource.org], [jstor.org] S.: So if the vulgar title is Canzoniere, the first canzone proper enters only at 23. G.: Precisely. Which is why the later title is useful but not exacting enough for Speranza. S.: Now Malpaghini. G.: Ah yes. The amanuensis whom philosophers are likely to prefer to the poet, because scribes keep titles tidy. S.: You are being unfair to poets. G.: Only prophylactically. S.: What do we know of the surname. G.: Not as much as one would like. The man is Giovanni Malpaghini, from Ravenna, later called Giovanni da Ravenna, Petrarch’s copyist and helper in ordering letters and part of the lyric book. [en.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it] S.: And the etymology. G.: Cautiously, one may suspect a pejorative compound of the sort that medieval Italian surnames love: mal plus a base now opaque or altered in transmission. But I have no secure scholarly etymology from the evidence in hand, and I should not invent one merely because the name invites insult. S.: Speranza had wondered if it meant badly paid. G.: No sign of that. Nor simply from “a bad place.” The family name is established as Malpaghini or Malpaghini, but the exact derivation is not confirmed in the material I found. [en.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it] S.: So the honest answer is that the etymology remains uncertain. G.: Yes. One may hear mal and be tempted, but temptation is not philology. S.: Still, the mere sound pleases a common room. G.: Immensely. A copyist called Malpaghini is already half a footnote by providence. S.: Yet he matters. G.: Very much. He copied part of Vat. lat. 3195, and the rubric with the title is in his hand. That is no trivial labour. [treccani.it], [core.ac.uk] S.: Hence philosophers prefer the amanuensis. G.: Because he gives them titles, order, rubrication, manuscript evidence, and no sonneteer’s flutter. S.: Whereas poets give them Laura. G.: Which is less manageable bibliographically. S.: Then the Lewis Carroll point. You thought one might open the book and find Petrarch saying, in Latin, “The title of this song is called…” G.: Thankfully no. Petrarch is fastidious, but not White-Knightishly self-announcing at the front of the lyric sequence. S.: So there is no prefatory Latin “hoc quod legis…” G.: Not as the threshold to the lyric corpus proper. The authorial title stands at the head in the manuscript as rubric; the poetic body begins with the vernacular sonnet. S.: Which means the title and the first lyric are already in a productive tension. G.: Exactly. Rerum vulgarium fragmenta in Latin as paratext; Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono in Italian as first fragment. S.: Fragmenta above, sparse below. G.: Excellent. Very Petrarchan indeed. The title calls them fragments; the first line calls them scattered rhymes. S.: So the meta-point survives and becomes better. G.: Much better. The later Canzoniere cliché makes us ask the wrong generic question; the authorial fragmenta brings us straight to form, incompletion, recollection, ordering, and self-conscious textuality. S.: And rime sparse is almost a vernacular gloss on fragmenta. G.: Very nearly. Not identical, but cognate in spirit. S.: Then let us arrange the order of things as a fastidious reader would. G.: Good. First, the manuscript rubric naming the whole as Rerum vulgarium fragmenta. Second, the opening sonnet Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono. Third, later in the sequence, the first canzone proper, no. 23, Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade. [core.ac.uk], [en.wikisource.org], [it.wikisource.org] S.: So the title does not mean that the first item must be a canzone in the strict metrical sense. G.: Precisely. Because the title was not Canzoniere to begin with. S.: And Petrarch himself does not stop to label each poem “sonnetto,” “canzone,” and the rest in some cosy pedagogical way. G.: No. The forms are there in the sequence and are later classified by editors, but the authorial force lies in the architectonic ordering of varied lyric fragments, not in chapter-headings by genre. S.: Which makes the thing look more modern. G.: Or more difficult. Modernity is often only difficulty with better lighting. S.: Then Petrarch, Malpaghini, Speranza, and Grice all converge in one place: they prefer the better title. G.: Yes. Canzoniere is useful for the bookseller. Rerum vulgarium fragmenta is for readers who deserve a little trouble. S.: And “vulgarium.” G.: Another good point. Not “of songs” but “of vernacular things,” or “of common-language matters.” The title itself is oddly broad and oddly modest at once. S.: So not merely lyric as genre, but vernacular as medium. G.: Exactly. The book is defined by language and condition as much as by form. S.: Which makes the first line even more apt: Voi ch’ascoltate… G.: Yes, because he begins not by naming the genre but by addressing the hearers of scattered rhymes. S.: As if the reader is already implicated in the fragmentation. G.: Admirably put. S.: Thank you. G.: Keep it and attribute the better half to Petrarch. S.: Then if philosophers prefer Malpaghini, it is because he gives them the rubric, the codex, the order, the title, the hand, and the dates. G.: Precisely. The poet gives them metaphysical ache; the amanuensis gives them evidence. S.: Evidence is more comfortable. G.: Not always, but usually drier. S.: Let us ask the vulgar question anyway. If Canzoniere became the cliché, why. G.: Because readers like a simpler title, one that names the book by its broad lyric function rather than by its authorial irony. S.: Songbook is easier than fragments of vernacular matters. G.: Very much easier. It allows the whole to become a cultural object instead of a textual problem. S.: And Speranza, being fastidious, regrets that. G.: Naturally. Fastidious readers prefer the title that leaves the most work to intelligence. S.: Then the White Knight again. You thought perhaps Petrarch might say, “The title of the book is called Fragments, but the title of the first piece is…” G.: Mercifully he does no such thing. The manuscript paratext performs the titling; the poem begins without pedagogic throat-clearing. S.: Which means the irritation is later, not Petrarch’s own. G.: Yes. Modern readers and modern editions generate much of the generic comfort. Petrarch’s own book is stricter and stranger. S.: So the first thing, if one asks historically, is not “Il Canzoniere” but the authorially supervised RVF. G.: Correct. S.: And the first thing in that is the sonnet. G.: Correct again. S.: And the first canzone proper is 23. G.: Correct once more. S.: We are becoming scholastic. G.: Only in the useful sense. S.: Then perhaps one final cruelty. Malpaghini copied part of the Rerum vulgarium fragmenta; therefore he handled the fragments without having to write them. G.: Which is why philosophers prefer him. One may admire textual order without being forced into lyric complicity. S.: The amanuensis is safer than Laura. G.: Much safer. Laura leads to ontology; Malpaghini leads to codicology. S.: And codicology pays better in conversation. G.: Among philosophers, certainly. S.: Then the final summary. G.: Very well. Petrarch’s own title is Rerum vulgarium fragmenta, authorial in the strong manuscript sense though rubricated by Malpaghini’s hand. The first fragment is the sonnet Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono. The later title Canzoniere is traditional, not authorial; and if one insists on the first canzone proper under that later lens, it is no. 23, Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade. Malpaghini’s surname remains etymologically uncertain from the evidence in hand, though common-room temptation remains high. [core.ac.uk], [en.wikisource.org], [it.wikisource.org], [en.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it] S.: Dry enough. G.: Sufficiently Petrarchan, with one eye on the rubric and the other on the first scattered rhyme.Petrarca, Francesco (1369). Il canzoniere. Firenze.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petreio – Ossia: Grice e Petreio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petreio. The gens Petreia was a minor plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens are first mentioned toward the end of the second century BC, and several were distinguished as soldiers, but none of them ever attained the consulship.[1]  Origin The nomen Petreius belongs to a large class of gentilicia ending in -eius, many of which were Oscan or Umbrian, and derived from place names and cognomina originally ending in -as or -aes. However, in this instance it seems more likely that Petreius is a patronymic surname, derived from the Oscan praenomen Petrus or Petro.[2] Since the first of the Petreii mentioned came from Atina, in Samnium, it seems likely that the family was of Samnite origin.[3]  Praenomina The only praenomina used by the Petreii appearing in history are Gnaeus and Marcus. In inscriptions, Marcus, Gaius, Lucius, and Quintus are regularly found, while other names are hardly used.  Branches and cognomina None of the Petreii mentioned under the Republic bore any surname. Numerous cognomina appear in inscriptions, most of which are from imperial times, but none of them seem to represent distinct families.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Gnaeus Petreius, a native of Atina, was a senior centurion serving in the army of the consul Quintus Lutatius Catulus during the Cimbrian War in 102 BC. He was decorated with the Grass Crown, the highest honor able to be bestowed upon a Roman soldier, for his skill and bravery, which saved his legion from destruction.[3][4] Marcus Petreius, praetor in an uncertain year, commanded the Republican forces during the decisive battle against Catiline in 62 BC. He was legate under Pompeius in Hispania from 55 until defeated and captured by Caesar during the Civil War. He fought in the subsequent campaigns until after the Battle of Thapsus, when he and Juba slew one another.[5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16] Marcus Petreius, a centurion who served under Caesar during the Gallic Wars. He was slain in battle at Gergovia in 52 BC.[17] (Marcus) Petreius M. f., son of Marcus Petreius, the legate of Pompeius, is reported by Orosius to have been captured after the Battle of Thapsus, and put to death at Caesar's orders; however, Orosius wrongly ascribes a similar fate to the family of Faustus Cornelius Sulla, so this account of Petreius' fate is highly suspect.[18][19] Petreii from inscriptions Petreia, buried at Milevum in Numidia, aged twenty-five.[20] Petreia Hospitis f., buried at Castellum Tidditanorum in Numidia, aged twenty-five.[21] Quintus Petreius, named in an inscription from Nemus Dianae in Latium.[22] Petreia Bonifatia, buried at the present site of Borj El Amri, formerly in Africa Proconsularis, aged sixty-five.[23] Marcus Petreius S. f. Callisto, buried at Rome, in a tomb dating to the first century AD, aged fifteen years, thirty-five days.[24] Petreia C. f. Celerina, the sister of Gaius Petreius Rufinus, together with whom she dedicated a monument to their mother, Floria Rufina, at Terventum in Samnium.[25] Petreia M. f. Clara(?), wife of Marcus Asinius Triarius, buried at Nertobriga Concordia Julia in Hispania Baetica.[26] Petreia C. f. Faustina, buried at Sicca Veneria in Africa Proconsularis, aged thirty-nine.[27] Petreia Extricata, buried at Castellum Elefantum in Numidia, aged eighty.[28] Petreia Felicitas, buried at Carthage in Africa Proconsularis, aged thirty eight years, ten months, and twelve days.[29] Lucius Petreius L. l. Felix, a freedman named in an inscription from Brixia.[30] Gaius Petreius Fortunatus, buried at Mustis in Africa Proconsularis, aged seventy-one.[31] Lucius Petreius Gentianus, buried at Rome with a monument from his brother, Lucius Petreius Saturninus.[32] Petreia Iacchi f. Helis Maxima, buried near the present site of Zahlé, formerly in Syria, aged twenty-five.[33] Petreia Januaria, buried at Castellum Elefantum, aged ninety.[34] Petreia P. f. Januaria, buried at Mustis, aged seventy-five.[35] Petreia Kasta, buried at Castellum Elefantum, aged ninety-five.[36] Petreia Laeta, buried at Castellum Elefantum, aged ninety-five.[37] Petreia Marcella, dedicated a monument to her husband, Martialis Cobelcus, at Emerita in Lusitania.[38] Petreia Marisa, buried at Castellum Elefantum, aged one hundred and five.[39] Marcus Petreius L. f. Mustulus, buried at Mustis, aged, forty-eight.[40] Lucius Petreius L. f. Octavianus, buried at Mustis, aged eighty-five.[41] Petreia Paula, buried at Castellum Tidditanorum, aged one hundred and five.[42] Petreia M. l. Prota, a freedwoman buried at Rome.[43] Quintus Petreius Quietus, buried at Castellum Celtianum in Numidia, aged fifty-five.[44] Gaius Petreius C. f. Rufinus, together with his sister, Petreia Celerina, dedicated a monument to their mother, Floria Rufina at Terventum.[25] Petreia Rustica, buried at Castellum Elefantum, aged ninety-five.[45] Lucius Petreius Saturninus, built a monument at Rome for his brother, Lucius Petreius Gentianus.[32] Gaius Petreius Sodalis, buried at Castellum Elefantum, aged seventy.[46] Quintus Petreius Q. l. Stabilio, a freedman buried at Venusia in Samnium.[47] Marcus Petreius Statius, named in an inscription from Rome.[48] Quintus Petreius Q. l. Strenuus, a freedman buried at Venusia, aged twenty.[47] Petreia Turpa, a freedwoman buried at Aesernia in Samnium.[49] Lucius Petreius Victor, named in a libationary inscription found near the present site of Mataró, formerly part of Hispania Tarraconensis.[50] Marcus Petreius Victor, buried at Castellum Tidditanorum in Numidia, aged fourteen.[51] See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, pp. 213, 214.  Chase, pp. 120, 121, 143.  Pliny the Elder, xxii. 6.  PW, "Petreius", No. 4.  Sallust, Bellum Catilinae, 59, 60.  Cassius Dio, xxxvii. 39, 40, xxxviii. 3, xli. 20, xlii. 13, xliii. 2, 8.  Cicero, Pro Sestio, 5, Epistulae ad Atticum, viii. 2.  Caesar, De Bello Civili, i. 38, 63–86.  Hirtius, De Bello Africo, 18, 19, 91, 94.  Appian, Bellum Civile, ii. 42, 43, 95, 100.  Lucan, Pharsalia, iv. 4, ff.  Velleius Paterculus, ii. 48, 50.  Suetonius, "The Life of Caesar", 34, 75.  Livy, Epitome, 110, 114.  PW, "Petreius", No. 3.  Broughton, vol. II, pp. 161, 164 (note 1), 171, 177, 220, 226, 232, 239, 245, 253, 266, 268, 282, 291, 302.  Caesar, De Bello Gallico, vii. 50.  Orosius, vi. 16.  PW, "Petreius", no. 1.  CIL VIII, 20049.  ILAlg, 02-01, 03937.  CIL XIV, 4197.  CIL VIII, 16398.  CIL VI, 36077.  AE 1997, 438.  CIL II, 976.  BCTH, 1925-XCIX.  CIL VIII, 6558.  CIL VIII, 12798.  CIL V, 4669.  CIL VIII, 15625.  CIL VI, 23989.  IGLS 6, 02961.  CIL VIII, 6559.  CIL VIII, 15627.  CIL VIII, 6554.  CIL VIII, 19383.  AE, 2001 +01127.  CIL VIII, 6560.  CIL VIII, 15626.  CIL VIII, 1608.  ILAlg, 02–01, 03938.  CIL VI, 23990.  CIL VIII, 19819.  ILAlg, 02-03, 10233.  ILAlg, 02-03, 10230.  AE 2003, 384.  CIL VI, 7123.  CIL IX, 2714.  AE 1983, 628.  ILAlg, 02-01, 03936. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum, Pro Sestio. Gaius Julius Caesar, Commentarii de Bello Gallico (Commentaries on the Gallic War), Commentarii de Bello Civili (Commentaries on the Civil War). Aulus Hirtius (attributed), De Bello Africo (On the African War). Gaius Sallustius Crispus (Sallust), Bellum Catilinae (The Conspiracy of Catiline). Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome. Marcus Velleius Paterculus, Compendium of Roman History. Marcus Annaeus Lucanus (Lucan), Pharsalia. Gaius Plinius Secundus (Pliny the Elder), Historia Naturalis (Natural History). Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, De Vita Caesarum (Lives of the Caesars, or The Twelve Caesars). Appianus Alexandrinus (Appian), Bellum Civile (The Civil War). Lucius Cassius Dio Cocceianus (Cassius Dio), Roman History. Paulus Orosius, Historiarum Adversum Paganos (History Against the Pagans). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Bulletin Archéologique du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques (Archaeological Bulletin of the Committee on Historic and Scientific Works, abbreviated BCTH), Imprimerie Nationale, Paris (1885–1973). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). August Pauly, Georg Wissowa, et alii, Realencyclopädie der Classischen Altertumswissenschaft (Scientific Encyclopedia of the Knowledge of Classical Antiquities, abbreviated RE or PW), J. B. Metzler, Stuttgart (1894–1980). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII (1897). Stéphane Gsell, Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie (Latin Inscriptions from Algeria, abbreviated ILAlg), Edouard Champion, Paris (1922–present). Inscriptions Grecques et Latines de la Syrie (Greek and Latin Inscriptions of Syria, abbreviated IGLS), Paris (1929–present). T. Robert S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, American Philological Association (1952–1986). Categories: Roman gentesRoman gentes of Samnite origin And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petreio – Ossia: Grice e Petreio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petreio. For the Petreii, I think the strongest Grice–Speranza candidate is:  Marcus Petreius, the commander who defeated Catiline at the decisive battle in 62 BC. [GREXv2 | Word]  Not because of the battle itself, but because of the extraordinary rhetorical situation surrounding it. Catiline's conspiracy is one of the great Roman cases of:  public declarations versus private intentions, professions of loyalty versus revolutionary plans, suspicion, evidence, and inference.  Those are quintessentially Gricean themes. Why Petreius? In Sallust's narrative, Catiline's followers constantly confront a problem:  What can be inferred from a man's words?  A senator says:  "I support the Republic."  Does he? A conspirator says:  "I am only talking."  Is he? The whole crisis concerns the gap between utterance and intention. Marcus Petreius ends up representing the side insisting that intentions matter at least as much as declarations. [GREXv2 | Word]  Grice e Petreio Before the Battle Senator:  Catilina verba facit. ("Catiline is making speeches.")  Petreius:  Non verba sola spectanda sunt. ("One must not look at the words alone.")   +> Intentions matter.   Senator:  Rem publicam se amare dicit. ("He says that he loves the Republic.")  Petreius:  Aliud dicere, aliud parare potest. ("A man may say one thing and prepare another.")   +> Public avowal is not conclusive evidence of intention.   That is almost a Gricean commonplace. The meaning of an act is not exhausted by its surface linguistic form. A Petreian Dialogue Grice:  Why Petreius?  Speranza:  Because Catiline forces everyone to ask whether professions of loyalty should be believed.  Grice:  A conversational question?  Speranza:  A political one derived from a conversational one.  Grice:  Namely?  Speranza:  When is a speaker's declared intention the speaker's real intention?   There is also a nice anti-anti-Gricean moral here. The Catilinarian crisis is famous because trust broke down. Yet it is memorable only because ordinary Roman political life depended upon a background expectation that professions, oaths, promises, and declarations are usually to be taken seriously. As you suggested earlier with Perperna, conspiracy and betrayal are historically dramatic precisely because they are departures from the conversational norms on which everyday life ordinarily rests. [GREXv2 | Word]

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petreio – Ossia: Grice e Petreio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petreio. A Strong Runner-Up There is another tempting candidate:  Gnaeus Petreius, the centurion awarded the Grass Crown for saving his legion. [GREXv2 | Word]  Why? Because the highest Roman military honour is itself a kind of communicative act. The award says:  "This man saved us."  And everyone understands much more than the words explicitly state. But the evidence is sparse. and what is grass crown in latin -- other beneficiaries? the first? Thanks The Grass Crown was called:  corona graminea ("grass crown")  and also  corona obsidionalis ("siege crown" or "blockade crown"). [en.wikipedia.org], [wikiwand.com]  The second name is particularly interesting because Pliny explains it as the crown awarded for relieving a beleaguered army. It was regarded as the highest and rarest Roman military decoration, awarded by the army itself to its saviour. [en.wikipedia.org], [wikiwand.com] For your Petreius:  Gnaeus Petreius of Atina, a centurion in the Cimbrian War, was one of the recipients listed by Pliny. [en.wikipedia.org], [en.wikipedia.org]  As for "the first", Pliny's traditional list begins with:  Lucius Siccius Dentatus, the legendary early-Republic soldier. [en.wikipedia.org], [wikiwand.com]  The recipients named by Pliny include: [en.wikipedia.org], [wikiwand.com]  Lucius Siccius Dentatus Publius Decius Mus (twice) Marcus Calpurnius Flamma Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus Scipio Aemilianus Gnaeus Petreius Atinas Lucius Cornelius Sulla Augustus  (Some later traditions also associate Sertorius with the distinction, but Pliny's canonical list is the one usually cited.) [military-h...fandom.com], [dbpedia.org] A small Grice–Speranza touch: Miles:  Coronam gramineam accepit. ("He received the Grass Crown.")  The Roman implicature would be enormous:  +> He saved an army. +> His comrades, not merely a magistrate, acknowledged it. +> His courage exceeded ordinary military virtue.  So, unlike "consul" or "praetor", the phrase corona graminea almost carries its own heroic commentary with it. Roman hearers would immediately supply a very rich implicatum from the bare mention of the award. [en.wikipedia.org], [wikiwand.com] so Pliny says that the original for Dentatus was literally made of grass? Thanks Yes—according to Pliny the Elder, the crown really was made from grass and vegetation gathered from the place where the army had been trapped and then rescued. He describes the corona graminea (also called the corona obsidionalis) as a crown of grasses, flowers, and cereals taken from the battlefield itself. [ancienttexts.org], [thelatinlibrary.com] What makes it fascinating is that, unlike most decorations, the material was deliberately humble. A Roman receiving:  corona aurea ("gold crown")  received something valuable. But the recipient of:  corona graminea  received something materially worthless—literally grass—but symbolically priceless. Pliny emphasizes that it was the highest military honour and that it was awarded by the army that had been saved. [ancienttexts.org], [thelatinlibrary.com] A very Gricean point arises here. The explicit fact is:  "He was given a wreath of grass."  Taken literally, that sounds almost insulting. The Roman implicature was:  +> He saved an army. +> He was its preserver. +> No higher military honour was possible.  Indeed, the contrast between the humble object and the grand significance is part of the symbolism. As to Lucius Siccius Dentatus, Pliny includes him among the recipients of the corona graminea. The surviving tradition does not, so far as the source I found shows, distinguish his crown from the others in its material composition; the implication is that it was likewise a genuine grass crown. [ancienttexts.org], [thelatinlibrary.com] One can almost imagine a Roman conversation: Miles novus:  Quid accepit? ("What did he receive?")  Veteranus:  Herbam. ("Grass.")  Miles novus:  Herbam? ("Grass?")  Veteranus:  Ita—sed exercitum servavit. ("Yes—but he saved an army.")   +> Therefore the grass is worth more than gold. and does Pliny explain why it occurred to the army to make it off the grass? THanks -- in latin:graminea, adj. fem. from ??? thanks Yes. The adjective graminea is the feminine form of:  gramineus, -a, -um "made of grass", "grassy", "consisting of turf or herbage".  It comes from:  gramen, graminis (neuter) "grass", "herbage", "turf".  So:  corona graminea literally means "a grass crown" or "a crown made of grass." [ancienttexts.org], [thelatinlibrary.com]  As for your more interesting question:  Why grass?  Pliny does explain the connection, though not (so far as the source I found states) as a psychological story such as "the soldiers suddenly thought of making a wreath from grass." Rather, he links it to the circumstances of a rescued army. The alternative name is:  corona obsidionalis ("siege crown", "blockade crown"),  because it was awarded when a force had been delivered from siege or encirclement. The crown was made from vegetation taken from the very ground associated with the army's danger and rescue. [ancienttexts.org], [thelatinlibrary.com] Pliny's emphasis is that:  it was awarded only in the gravest emergencies, it was bestowed by the saved army, and it was given to its preserver. [ancienttexts.org], [thelatinlibrary.com]  A Roman might therefore have seen a symbolism something like:  "You gave us back this ground on which we stand; we give you a crown made from that ground."  That last sentence is my interpretation, not a quotation from Pliny. The sources I found state the material and the military context, but they do not explicitly narrate the original inventor's reasoning. [ancienttexts.org], [thelatinlibrary.com] A little Latin vignette: Miles liberatus:  Quam coronam dabimus? ("What crown shall we give him?")  Veteranus:  Aurum non habemus. ("We have no gold.")  Miles:  Sed gramen habemus. ("But we have grass.")  Veteranus:  Et vitam quoque habemus, illo servatore. ("And we have our lives as well, thanks to that saviour.")   +> therefore the humblest material marks the highest honour.  That paradox—worthless grass signifying the greatest distinction—would have appealed enormously to a Roman moralist such as Pliny the Elder. [ancienttexts.org], [thelatinlibrary.com] and from whom enemries (where) and how did our hero "P." earned the crown -- Our hero is Gnaeus Petreius of Atina, the centurion whom Pliny the Elder includes among the recipients of the corona graminea. [en.wikipedia.org], [ancienttexts.org] What can be stated with confidence from the sources is:  He served under Quintus Lutatius Catulus during the Cimbrian War in 102 BC. [en.wikipedia.org] He received the corona graminea / corona obsidionalis, the highest Roman military distinction. [ancienttexts.org], [en.wikipedia.org] The award was connected with saving his legion or army from destruction. [en.wikipedia.org], [ancienttexts.org]  As to from whom? The enemy were the Cimbri, the migrating people whose advance into northern Italy Catulus was trying to stop. [en.wikipedia.org], [grokipedia.com] As to where? The later tradition places the episode in the campaign around Tridentum (modern Trento), in the Alps during the retreat and fighting of 102 BC. [en.wikipedia.org], [grokipedia.com] As to how? Here one must be a little careful. The Petreia-gens source and Pliny's notice say only that Petreius' courage and skill saved his legion. [en.wikipedia.org], [ancienttexts.org] A later narrative tradition describes a legion being surrounded by the Cimbri, a hesitant commander, and Gnaeus Petreius leading a breakout that saved the force from annihilation. [grokipedia.com], [en.everybodywiki.com] So the cautious historical summary would be:  During Catulus' campaign against the Cimbri in 102 BC, Gnaeus Petreius performed an act of military leadership regarded as having saved a Roman force from destruction, and for this he was awarded the corona graminea. [en.wikipedia.org], [ancienttexts.org]  A Grice–Speranza vignette almost writes itself: Miles:  Quid fecit Petreius? ("What did Petreius do?")  Veteranus:  Exercitum servavit. ("He saved the army.")  Miles:  Et quid accepit? Aurum? ("And what did he receive? Gold?")  Veteranus:  Non. Gramen. ("No. Grass.")  Miles:  Gramen? ("Grass?")  Veteranus:  Ita. Sed Roma maius praemium non invenit. ("Yes. But Rome never found a greater reward.")   +> The humblest object signifies the greatest honour.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petrella – Ossia: Grice e Petrella. (Sansepolcro). Sansepolcro, Arezzo, Tocana. P., Bernardino. Nasce a Borgo del Santo Sepolcro -- oggi Sansepolcro, in provincia di Arezzo --, da Domenico P. Non è noto il nome della madre. È allievo di Francesco di Niccolò PICCOLOMINI  a Padova, dove -- Riccoboni e Lohr -- comincia a insegnare logica «in secundo loco» -- succedendo a TOMITANO  con lo stipendio annuo di 40 fiorini e avendo come concorrente ZABARELLA   Bernardino Petrella (Sansepolcro). Sansepolcro, Arezzo, Tocana. P., Bernardino. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning locates the sources of “what is meant” in a normative practice of exchange: speakers and hearers rely (often tacitly) on shared rational expectations about how a contribution ought to advance a joint purpose, and this makes implicature possible as a disciplined inference from what is said plus context plus recognisable intention. Petrella, by contrast, represents the Padua tradition in which reason is primarily exhibited as doctrine of method and first principles: logic is an architectonic discipline, with demonstrative procedure, intention of the philosopher in reading Aristotle, and the ordering of principia doing the explanatory work; meaning is stabilized by scholastic distinctions and by the aims of teaching and disputation rather than by the fine-grained management of conversational expectations. The comparison, then, is a contrast of where normativity is placed: Grice makes the governing norms endogenous to conversation itself (a cooperative rational activity that generates implicatures when maxims are apparently bent), whereas Petrella makes the governing norms endogenous to a formal and pedagogical enterprise (the right handling of principles, demonstrations, and interpretive intentions within an Aristotelian curriculum). Put Grice next to Petrella and you see two rationalities: one that explains how ordinary speakers can mean more than they say without chaos, and one that explains how a discipline can proceed from principles without multiplying them beyond necessity; the link is that both treat rational order as something that must be made public and accountable, but for Grice the tribunal is the conversational exchange, while for Petrella it is the school, the lecture room, and the logic of demonstration. Nasce a Borgo del Santo Sepolcro -- oggi Sansepolcro, in provincia di Arezzo --, da Domenico P. Non è noto il nome della madre. È allievo di Francesco di Niccolò PICCOLOMINI  a Padova, dove -- Riccoboni e Lohr -- comincia a insegnare logica «in secundo loco» -- succedendo a TOMITANO  con lo stipendio annuo di 40 fiorini e avendo come concorrente ZABARELLA  -- e poi filosofia, sempre «in secundo loco», quale collega di MERCENARIO . Torna sulla cattedra di logica, questa volta «in primo loco», avendo come concorrente AMALTEO  e succedendo a ZABARELLA  con uno stipendio annuo di 140 fiorini – ZABARELLA  in precedenza ne prendeva solo 60 -- che, con progressivi aumenti, giunse alla cifra assai elevata di 500 fiorini, a condizione che non fosse richiesto un ulteriore aumento. A differenza delle altre università italiane ed a Oxford, dove la logica è solo una disciplina propedeutica e come tale venne affidata a docenti all’inizio della loro carriera, a Padova questa disciplina gode di grande attenzione -- anche sul piano delle retribuzioni -- presso i riformatori dello studio, che ricorrevano a professori di provata fama ed esperienza, incrementando così il numero degli studenti. Una riforma sul modello padovano, intesa a valorizzare di più l’insegnamento della logica, è proposta invano ai maggiorenti dello Studio di Pisa da VERINO  il Secondo che, oltre a TOMITANO , cita a mo’ di esempio il caso di P.  e la sua lunga esperienza nell’insegnamento di una disciplina frequentata d’una infinità d’anni con gran sua reputazione et utilità et con gran frutto degli scholari -- Grendler. Dopo aver collaborato a una raccolta encomiastica in versi dedicata a Geronima Colonna d’Aragona -- Tempio, Padova --, pubblica a Padova, apud J. Jordanum, L. Pasquatus excudebat, le Quaestiones logicae de intentione Philosophi in II libro Posteriorum, de medio demonstrationis potissimae, de speciebus demonstrationis, dirette, sia pure in maniera non esplicita, CONTRO i testi di ZABARELLA. Grice: “St John’s, 1962. I have been lecturing “for any member of the university”—a formula which still makes it sound as if my tutorials at St John’s were too private a luxury for a state-chartered institution to tolerate—and in the course of talking about conversation I have found myself with not one principle but two: a principle of conversational benevolence and a principle of conversational self-love. Two principles, however, already feels like one principle too many, and I am tempted to fold them into a single principle of conversational helpfulness, full stop. Then Potts, who has been attending, remarks that Kneale was lecturing the other day on Bernardino Petrella’s De principiis rerum naturalium, and that all Kneale could muster by way of sympathy for poor Bernardino was that he was misusing principium in the plural—“Cicero,” Kneale said, “would never have allowed it: Aristotle can have all the archai he wants, but we are Roman.” I wanted to dismiss Potts as a mere tattler, but he is uncomfortably right: if I want to ground my own “principle” in anything like the tone of a Kantian categorical imperative, I had better not be caught multiplying principles without necessity. I begin to think the safest course is to formulate the whole business as an imperative in grammatical form—without the exclamation mark, out of politeness—and then let the rest follow, as naturally as Bernardino never dreamed, from the one imperative (or the one family of imperatives) that Kant, when he was feeling expansive, managed to give in five different “forms.” It is, at least, a very good thing an Oxonian once had the patience to write an entire book on that.” (The “Oxonian” Grice is quietly pointing to is H. J. Paton, the Scottish Kantian who, by a happy turn of Oxford patronage, held a Fellowship at Corpus Christi, Grice’s own old college, and later occupied the White’s Chair of Moral Philosophy (1937–1952). Paton’s The Categorical Imperative (1947), published by Hutchinson in the immediate post-war years, was precisely the sort of book an Oxford philosopher could admire without having to say so aloud: learned, severe, and institutionally fluent in the five “forms” of Kant’s single commandment. Grice would certainly have met him in the ordinary Corpus way—over lunch, in hall, or on one of those visits that begin as nostalgia and end as professional reconnaissance—by which time Grice had already moved on through Merton and into St John’s. The one institutional nicety to keep in mind is that Oxford chairs are tied to specific fellowships: the White’s Professor is, by statute, anchored to a college (in Paton’s case Corpus), so the “Chair” and the “college man” are meant to coincide rather than to wander. In any case, for Grice the point is not administrative but tonal: it mattered that the very Oxford that produces talk of “principles” also produced, in Paton, someone patient enough to catalogue the imperative’s disguises—and thereby to make Grice’s own impulse to cast conversational demands in imperative form sound less like an affectation and more like a home truth.). Grice: Caro Petrella, a Padova la logica sembra valere più dell’oro! Dimmi, quanto pesa un argomento, quando lo porti in aula: più di un fiorino o meno di una lezione di filosofia? Petrella: Ah Grice, ti confesso che un buon argomento vale almeno quanto una cena in compagnia! Ma se lo studi a Padova, magari ti arriva pure un aumento… peccato che la logica non si possa mangiare. Grice: Beh, tra logica e fiorini, forse dovremmo proporre una dimostrazione sul brodo padovano: se è buono, lo studente resta; se è debole, fugge a Pisa! Petrella: Ottima idea! E se mai la logica diventasse una pietanza, prometto di invitarti a Sansepolcro per una cena filosofica… con argomenti al dente e stipendio ben cotto! Petrella, Bernardino (1552). De principiis rerum naturalium. Venezia: Comin da Trino.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petrone -- Ossia: Grice e Petrone: la ragione conversazionale dei sanniti e la setta d’Imera  – il megliore dei mundi attuali – CLXXXIII, LX LX LX I Igino Petrone (Limosano, Campobasso, Molise): la ragione conversazionale dei sanniti e la setta d’Imera. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers move from what is said to what is meant by assuming that speakers are trying to be rational and cooperative, so that even apparently thin utterances like “It looks real” or “It seems red” can carry systematic, cancellable implications (for instance, that the speaker is unsure), generated by expectations about relevance, informativeness, and candour rather than by the literal meanings alone. Petrone, by contrast, approaches “reality” and “spirit” in the idiom of early twentieth-century Italian idealism and moral psychology: his Il problema della realtà (1914) treats the real not as a conversationally managed commitment but as a philosophical problem bound up with the structure of spirit, freedom, and the limits of determinism, and his rhetoric readily turns on grand explanatory contrasts (heroism, will, inertia, moral genesis) rather than on the fine-grained pragmatics of everyday assertions. The comparison, then, is that Grice diagnoses how talk about reality works in practice—how our ordinary locutions about seeming, appearing, and knowing express (and sometimes merely suggest) epistemic stances within a shared inferential economy—whereas Petrone treats reality as something to be secured (or reinterpreted) by a substantive metaphysical-ethical account of human agency and spiritual causation. From a Gricean perspective, Petrone’s “problem of reality” would invite a further question about what conversational pressures make it feel like a problem at all—what we are trying to guarantee, to reassure, or to withhold when we speak of reality and appearance—while from Petrone’s perspective Grice’s maxims would look like a local logic of civil discourse that presupposes a deeper account of mind, will, and the moral life that Petrone thought philosophy must supply. --- il megliore dei mundi attuali – CLXXXIII, LX LX LX I -- Roma –A Pythagorean, who claims that the number of worlds is CLXXXIII -- arranged in the form of a triangle: determinismo, l’eroe, Ennea, eroe stoico, l’eroe sannita, il sannio, la lega sannitica, spirito, inerza della volonta, due direzioni dell’inerzia della volonta, contro Gentile, contro Nietzsche, umano, non sovrumano, filosofia del diritto, lo spirito, liberta dello spirito, il limite della pscogenesi della morale, il principio dell’amore proprio, il principio della benevolenza, amore proprio conversazionale, benevolenza conversazionale, il sentimento morale, filosofia del diritto, communismo giuridico, la simplificazione di labriola, contro labriola, criticismo, idealism critico, meditazioni di un idealista, GENTILE contro Petrone., Croce contro Petrone; l’identita sannia, psicologia del sannita, i romani contro i sannita, la prima guerra sannita, la seconda guerra sannita, la terza guerra sannita; la repubblica romana, l’espansionismo dei romani nell’Italia, I romani contro i sanniti; bassorilievo dei sanniti, i liguri e i sanniti, le popolazione italiche, economia e psicologia del Molise, il sannio, la complessità dello spirito della filosofia italiana; il linguaggio sannita; il linguaggio umbro, il linguaggio osco; il linguaggio falisco, limosano, musanum, limosanum; un stato mercantile chiuse, Fichte contro Marx, Nietzsche, il valore della vita, il problema morale, la filosofia del diritto, diritto positivo, diritto naturale, la filosofia politica nel criticismo, azione, l’etica e l’ascetica, l’etica dell’eroe come azione, l’energia dello spirito contro l’inerza della volonta – l’inerza della volonta nell’elezione dei fini; l’inerza della volonta nell’elezione dei mezzi; il spirito contro la volonta, i limiti dei determinismo, l’indeterminismo dello spirito, la causa dello spirito, causa spirituale dell’agire umano, lo spirito umano. Grice:” St John’s, 1950. These Saturday mornings are becoming funnier than I had any right to expect. Yesterday Austin was on about “reality.” He blamed the Italians for it—Igino Petrone in particular—and produced, with a kind of show-and-tell flourish, a yellowing copy of Petrone’s 1914 Il problema della realtà: “See, look, behold,” he said, as if the three verbs were a philosophical argument. “At least in Oxford,” he added, “Bradley had the decency to call it mere appearance.” I could not decide what was odder: that a book could be made to stand in for a problem, or that “reality” should be treated as though it were a foreign import, like vermouth. But Austin was clearly pleased with his exhibit, and the rest of us were expected to nod—as if the discovery that one can say “it looks real” were already half-way to metaphysics.” Grice: Caro Petrone, mi incuriosisce il tuo pensiero sulla “ragione conversazionale” dei sanniti e soprattutto la teoria dei CLXXXIII mondi! Come si intrecciano, secondo te, la libertà dello spirito e la complessità del nostro agire morale? Petrone: Grice, la libertà dello spirito è proprio ciò che permette all’uomo di superare l’inerzia della volontà e scegliere tra i fini e i mezzi — un vero problema morale! Nei miei studi sull’eroe sannita, ho sempre pensato che la benevolenza conversazionale sia il punto di partenza per ogni vera filosofia del diritto. Grice: Che interessante, Petrone! Mi piace l’idea che la benevolenza non sia solo un principio astratto, ma si manifesti concretamente nel dialogo. Forse, come dice il vecchio adagio: “Volere è potere, ma conversare è conoscere!” E tu, come vedi il rapporto tra la psicologia del sannita e quella del romano? Petrone: Ah, Grice, la differenza è sottile ma profonda! Il sannita agisce per energia dello spirito, il romano spesso per determinismo storico. Io credo che la filosofia italiana abbia sempre saputo tenere insieme queste due direzioni — tra spirito libero e inerzia della volontà, in un continuo confronto tra umano e sovrumano. Ecco perché la conversazione resta il miglior tribunale per la morale! In passage beow there is a reminiscence -- turn it into a 100-move conversation between G. and S. as they dicuss il, problema, della, realta, analytically dry Oxonian humour -- no preamble or ps --re Petrone, Il problema della realta --and why 'real' is the word that wears the trousers -- or not -- etc -- as per Austin on 'real' in Sense and sensibilia -- and whether it is a pseudo-problem or whether, as G. thinks it is a ReAL problem that has been resolved many times. S: solved or resolved? and back to ens realissimum, entia realissima, ratio essendi, ratio cognosendi etc thanks G.: Il problema della realtà, then, or, if one prefers less drama and more grammar, il problema della parola “reale.” S.: You mean the word wears the trousers. G.: If any word in the vicinity does, it is real, yes. S.: Not realtà. G.: No. Realtà is what happens when a language decides that one trouble is not enough and gives it an abstract noun. S.: Like speranza, only less cheering. G.: Exactly. Though speranza has the advantage of not pretending to settle ontology. S.: Petrone, however, writes Il problema della realtà and expects one to feel the capital without printing it. G.: Italians do that very well. They inflate by article. S.: Il problema, then. G.: Ah yes. Why il problema and not a problem among others. That is already half the rhetoric. One says il problema della realtà and the undergraduate imagines that all previous evenings were naïve. S.: Austin would have said that if you find yourself saying “the problem of reality,” you have probably missed the use of “real.” G.: Very likely, yes. Or at least you have allowed a modifier to become a metaphysical throne. S.: You are thinking of Sense and Sensibilia. G.: Inevitably. Austin had the excellent instinct that real is often a trouser-word, as he liked to put it: not splendid in itself, but serviceable, and usually worn only in company. S.: Meaning that “real” typically contrasts with sham, toy, painted, dream, pretend, artificial, mock, wax, model, and the rest. G.: Exactly. One does not normally ask, in the abstract, “Is this real?” One asks: is this a real duck, a real gun, a real diamond, a real headache, a real tiger, a real friend. S.: And the contrast class does the work. G.: Most of it, yes. “Real” is semantically lazy but contextually muscular. S.: Then Petrone’s title may be a pseudo-problem. G.: Not so fast. I am not willing to give Austin the whole field. It may be a pseudo-problem in one use and a real problem in another. S.: Solved or resolved. G.: Resolved, perhaps. Solved sounds mathematical and therefore overconfident. S.: You think the problem of reality is a real problem that has been resolved many times. G.: In a sense, yes. Philosophy keeps rediscovering that appearances may deceive, that seeming and being may part company, that what counts as real depends on what contrast is in play, and then proudly announces a new crisis. S.: So every generation reinvents waxworks. G.: Very nearly. With improved lighting. S.: Then what exactly is the real problem. G.: There are at least three. First, the ordinary-language one: how “real” actually functions in discourse. Second, the epistemological one: under what conditions we are entitled to deny reality to an appearance. Third, the metaphysical one: whether “reality” names some ultimate inventory or grade of being. S.: Petrone seems to want the third with strong help from the second. G.: Yes. Early idealists and their neighbours often want reality not merely as predicate but as destination. S.: Whereas Austin wants to send it back to the shops. G.: Quite. Back to ordinary use, where it belongs, beside “genuine,” “proper,” “actual,” and a host of contrastive companions. S.: But you do not wholly side with Austin. G.: I side with him against inflation, not against metaphysics altogether. S.: That sounds almost balanced. G.: It is accidental. S.: Let us do the phrase analytically, then. Il problema della realtà. G.: Good. Il, problema, della, realtà. “Il” elevates. “Problema” dignifies perplexity. “Della” is the old genitive troublemaker. “Realtà” abstracts. S.: Della may be objective or explanatory or merely titular. G.: Yes. The problem of reality may mean the problem concerning what is real, or the problem constituted by reality, or the problem raised by our talk of reality. S.: Which one would Austin choose. G.: The third, if he were feeling charitable. More often he would say that philosophers invented the phrase by neglecting the actual occasions for “real.” S.: And you. G.: I would say that such neglect is a mistake, but not the only mistake. Once one has done the lexical work, there may still remain a philosophical pressure. S.: For example. G.: For example, when we ask whether an hallucination can have all the ordinary marks of reality for the subject and yet fail to be real in the public, corrective sense. S.: Then “real” is not merely contrastive but norm-governed. G.: Exactly. It belongs to practices of correction, checking, reidentification, and public adjudication. S.: That already sounds like ratio cognoscendi. G.: Indeed. The ratio cognoscendi of the real is one thing: the way reality becomes known, tested, warranted. The ratio essendi is another: what makes a thing the kind of thing it is, or grants it its mode of being. S.: So one may know reality under one ratio and seek its being under another. G.: Precisely. Much confusion comes from sliding from epistemic criteria to ontological constitution. S.: And ens realissimum. G.: Ah yes, the old schoolman’s heavyweight champion. The most real being. S.: God, usually. G.: Usually, yes. Ens realissimum is what happens when reality ceases to be a local contrast term and becomes a superlative of being. S.: So from “real gun” to “most real being” by a series of academic sins. G.: Very neat. And not wholly false. S.: Then entia realissima. G.: The plural makes things worse and better. Better, because one sees that “more real” and “most real” are not meaningless in certain metaphysical schemes. Worse, because one is tempted to believe one has discovered a scale where perhaps one has only altered the grammar. S.: Austin would dislike “more real.” G.: He would ask “more real than what?” and usually be right to do so. S.: Yet Plato gives one something like grades of reality. G.: Yes. Sensibles, mathematical objects, Forms, and so on, depending on how one reads the furniture. S.: So the problem is not wholly invented by modern bad English. G.: No. The pressure is old. The lexical confusion is local. S.: Petrone then belongs to the tradition that asks not merely how we use “real” but what sort of thing reality itself is. G.: Exactly. He wants reality as philosophical quarry, not as adjective under discipline. S.: And Austin thinks that quarry is a painted backdrop. G.: Often, yes. S.: You said “real” wears the trousers. G.: In many ordinary cases it does. “Reality” tends to preen in the mirror while “real” does the household labour. S.: So “reality” is the overdressed abstraction of a hard-working adjective. G.: Admirably put. S.: Thank you. G.: Do not become abstract. S.: Never intentionally. Then perhaps Petrone’s title already offends because it lets the abstract noun take over the economy of the adjective. G.: Yes. Once “realtà” enters, the temptation is to forget the contrastive uses from which the philosophical anxiety originally rose. S.: But perhaps the anxiety rose elsewhere too, from dream, error, illusion, spirit, freedom, causation. G.: Certainly. Which is why I refuse the simple pseudo-problem verdict. S.: Then give me your graded answer. G.: Very well. “The problem of reality” is pseudo when it ignores the ordinary uses of “real” and asks for an essence of reality in the void. It is genuine when it asks how distinctions between appearance and reality function, how they may fail, and what ontological commitments they presuppose. S.: So Austin cures one pathology, not all pathology. G.: Exactly. Philosophical therapy is not universal medicine. S.: Let us bring in ens realissimum again. G.: With reluctance. The ens realissimum is a perfect example of reality leaving the shops and joining the clergy. S.: Because “real” there no longer contrasts with toy, sham, painted, artificial. G.: No. It has been recruited into an ontological ranking. The most real being is the fullest, most perfect, most independent, most self-sufficient. S.: Ratio essendi, then, not ratio cognoscendi. G.: Principally, yes. It belongs to what it is to be, not how we tell. S.: But knowledge of it depends on another ratio. G.: Naturally. One must not confuse the reason of being with the reason of knowing, though philosophers do so with touching frequency. S.: Then Petrone’s problem may concern both: what reality is, and how spirit or experience secures it. G.: Exactly. Idealists tend to want reality not merely catalogued but justified by relation to spirit, act, freedom, consciousness, or some other metaphysical favourite. S.: Which you distrust. G.: I distrust grand favourites, yes. S.: Yet you said the problem is real and has been resolved many times. G.: Yes. The history is one of repeated resolutions, none permanently sovereign. Aristotle resolves it one way, scholastics another, Descartes another, Kant another, idealists another, Austin by partial deflation, and so on. S.: So the problem persists because each resolution leaves a residue. G.: Precisely. Philosophy is mostly residues with footnotes. S.: And trousers. G.: Occasionally. S.: Let us talk about “real” again in Austin’s manner. A real duck, a real pain, a real friend, a real issue. G.: Good. Notice how the contrast class changes. “Real duck” contrasts with decoy, stuffed specimen, toy, picture, perhaps imitation roast in a bad college hall. “Real pain” may contrast with imagined pain, pretended pain, merely slight discomfort. “Real friend” with fair-weather acquaintance or ceremonial ally. S.: So “real” is semantically opportunistic. G.: Very much so. It borrows its work from the local false claimant. S.: Then “reality” strips away the false claimant and pretends to stand alone. G.: Exactly. That is why the abstraction is dangerous. S.: But not always empty. G.: No. Once philosophers ask about the common thread among these uses, or about the authority of correction among them, they may be doing something legitimate. S.: Such as. G.: Such as asking what it is for a public world to have priority over private seeming in the assignment of “real.” S.: That sounds anti-sceptical. G.: In part. Scepticism presses precisely where “real” and “seems” begin to part company under pressure. S.: So the problem of reality is tied to the problem of appearance. G.: Inevitably. And Bradley, whom Austin mentions, at least had the decency to call appearance appearance. S.: While Petrone calls the other side realtà. G.: Yes, and so invites the whole idealist parade. S.: You say that almost fondly. G.: One may be amused without enlistment. S.: Then where does Grice enter. G.: In at least two places. First, by asking what conversational pressures make speakers say “it is real” or “it only seems so.” Second, by noting that such utterances often carry implicatures about certainty, caution, correction, or authority. S.: For example, “it looks real.” G.: Yes. “It looks real” often implicates doubt or at least suspension. If I say “the diamond looks real,” I imply that some contrast class—paste, imitation, stage jewellery—is alive. S.: So reality-talk is pragmatically loaded. G.: Always. Reality is never merely named; it is usually staked. S.: Staked by whom. G.: By a speaker situating himself with respect to evidence, appearance, challenge, or reassurance. S.: Then Petrone’s “problem” may partly arise from a failure to notice the pragmatic side. G.: Or from a decision to subordinate it to the metaphysical side. S.: Which is still a choice. G.: Quite. One may choose to ask after spirit, freedom, and the real structure of the world. But one should not pretend the adjective’s common life never existed. S.: Then the right procedure would be. G.: First, examine the ordinary use of “real.” Second, sort the contrast classes. Third, ask what explanatory pressure remains once the lexical confusions are cleared. Fourth, only then allow metaphysics to speak. S.: That sounds too sensible to be idealist. G.: There are intervals of sensibleness even there. S.: And what of “solved” versus “resolved.” G.: Ah yes. “Solved” suggests finality, as in arithmetic. “Resolved” suggests ordered treatment, perhaps temporary settlement, perhaps decomposition into parts. S.: So the problem of reality is repeatedly resolved, never once and for all solved. G.: That is my view. Resolutions may be better or worse, but the pressure can reappear under altered vocabularies. S.: As from ens realissimum to empirical realism to idealism to ordinary language. G.: Precisely. The scenery changes, the anxiety returns. S.: You mentioned ratio essendi and ratio cognoscendi. Could we also say ratio loquendi. G.: Very good. Yes. Often what is needed is a ratio loquendi: an account of why we talk this way at all. S.: Austin supplies that. G.: In large part, yes. He reminds us that “real” has a life in language before it acquires a life in systems. S.: Petrone supplies ratio essendi. G.: Or tries to. He wants a substantive account of what the real is in relation to spirit and action. S.: And you. G.: I occupy myself with a little ratio loquendi and a little ratio intelligendi. S.: You mean how we mean what we say when we say “real.” G.: Exactly. S.: Then perhaps “Il problema della realtà” should be translated not as “the problem of reality” but as “the trouble we get into once ‘real’ becomes a noun.” G.: That would be excellent and very unfair. S.: Which is often the best sort of summary. G.: Sometimes. S.: Let us try ens realissimum once more. Would you say that such a notion is merely the superlative misuse of “real.” G.: Not merely. It belongs to a metaphysical programme in which degrees of perfection and degrees of being are tied. If being admits of more and less under some description, then “most real” is not nonsense within that programme. S.: But it is far from ordinary use. G.: Entirely. One must not smuggle school metaphysics back into the fishmonger by way of adjectives. S.: So ordinary “real” and scholastic “realissimum” are cousins who should not share clothes. G.: Very good indeed. S.: Thank you. G.: Keep that too. S.: Then if Petrone writes Il problema della realtà in 1914, he stands much closer to the latter cousin. G.: Yes. He writes in a climate where reality is not merely checked against appearance but installed in a larger moral-metaphysical architecture. S.: Spirit, freedom, anti-determinism, heroic action, all the rest. G.: Exactly. Reality becomes what must be secured for a philosophy of spirit to have room. S.: Which is why the problem may feel so grand. G.: Yes. Once reality is tied to freedom, causation, spirit, or moral world-order, it ceases to be merely an adjective in need of contrast and becomes a whole philosophical theatre. S.: Austin closes the theatre. G.: He closes part of it and turns on the lights. S.: You reopen one door. G.: Perhaps two. One for ordinary language, one for whatever remains philosophically pressing after ordinary language has had its say. S.: Then the true enemy is not metaphysics, but premature metaphysics. G.: That is very well put. S.: I am having a good morning. G.: Do not let it spread. S.: Then what would you say to Petrone directly. G.: I should say: before announcing il problema della realtà, tell me how “reale” actually works, what it contrasts with, who is anxious, and why. S.: And if he replied that the problem is deeper than usage. G.: I should agree, but ask him not to dive before checking the depth markers. S.: Very Oxonian. G.: Thankfully. S.: Then perhaps the final summary is this. “Real” wears the trousers because it does the contrastive work in ordinary discourse. “Reality” borrows its dignity from that labour and then tends to overreach. The problem is pseudo if it ignores this. It is genuine if, after acknowledging it, it still asks what appearance, correction, and being amount to. G.: Splendid. S.: And the scholastic coda. G.: Very well. Ratio loquendi first, ratio cognoscendi next, ratio essendi only when earned; and ens realissimum only if one has brought better shoes. S.: Dry enough. G.: Sufficiently Molisan, with Austin’s trousers and Petrone’s theatre both left standing.Petrone, Igino (1914). Il problema della realtà. Torino: Bocca.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petronio – Ossia: Grice e Petronio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petronio Denarius issued by Publius Petronius Turpilianus, circa 19 or 18 BC. The obverse depicts Augustus, the reverse Pegasus. The gens Petronia was a plebeian family at ancient Rome. This gens claimed an ancient lineage, as a Petronius Sabinus is mentioned in the time of Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, the last of the Roman kings, but few Petronii are mentioned in the time of the Republic. They are frequently encountered under the Empire, holding numerous consulships, and eventually obtaining the Empire itself during the brief reign of Petronius Maximus in AD 455.[1]  Origin The Petronii were of Sabine origin, as indicated by the surname Sabinus, belonging to the legendary figure from the time of Tarquin, and alluded to by coins minted by Publius Petronius Turpilianus, depicting the death of Tarpeia, whom according to legend was persuaded by the Sabines under Titus Tatius to open the citadel to them, in the time of Romulus.[2] The nomen Petronius appears to be a patronymic surname derived from the Oscan praenomen Petro or Petrus, the Oscan equivalent of the Latin Quartus, fourth, and making Petronius cognate with a number of obscure Latin gentilicia, such as Quartius and Quartinius.[3] An alternative derivation would be from the cognomen Petrus, a rustic, although this may also derive from the Oscan praenomen. Petronius belongs to a large class of gentilicia derived from other names ending in -o, most of which are plebeian.[4]  Praenomina The early Petronii used the praenomina Gaius, Marcus, and Publius, all of which were very common throughout Roman history. Other names occur toward the end of the second century AD, including Quintus, Lucius, and Sextus, but these may have been inherited from other families.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Petronius Sabinus, said to have copied the Sibylline Books during the reign of Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, with the assistance of a certain Marcus Tullius or Atilius.[5][6] Gaius Petronius, one of the legates sent to Asia Minor in 156 BC, in order to study the conflict between Attalus of Pergamon and Prusias of Bithynia.[7] Marcus Petronius Passer, mentioned in passing by Varro in Rerum Rusticarum, his treatise on agriculture.[8] Petronius, a military tribune serving in the army of Marcus Licinius Crassus, the triumvir, in 55 BC. Petronius was with Crassus when his commander was slain by the Parthians.[9] Petronius, one of the conspirators in the assassination of Caesar, was apprehended by Marcus Antonius in Asia, and put to death.[10] Gaius Petronius, governor of Egypt, circa 25 to 21 BC, fought against Amanirenas of Kush, also known as "Candace of Aethiopia", and took a number of towns. A friend of Herod, Petronius supplied Judaea with grain during a famine.[11][12][13] Publius Petronius Turpilianus, triumvir monetalis in the time of Augustus, is known from a number of remarkable coins.[2][14] Petronius,[i] perhaps the same person as the physician Marcus Petronius Heras, a writer on pharmacy mentioned by a number of sources. He must have lived toward the beginning of the first century AD.[15][16][17] Marcus Petronius Heras, a physician mentioned in an inscription recorded by Jan Gruter, perhaps the same person as the writer on pharmacy.[18] Publius Petronius, consul suffectus in AD 19, serving from the Kalends of July to the end of the year.[19] Gaius Petronius Umbrinus, consul suffectus for the months of September to December, AD 25.[20] Petronius, the centurion charged with guarding the tomb of Jesus, in the non-canonical Gospel of Peter. Publius Petronius (P. f.), succeeded Lucius Vitellius as governor of Syria from AD 37 to 41, with orders to install a statue of Caligula in the Temple at Jerusalem. He was a legate pro praetore under Claudius.[21][22] Gaius Petronius Pontius Nigrinus, consul in AD 37, the year which saw the death of Tiberius.[23][24][25][26] Aulus Petronius Lurco, consul suffectus in AD 58, serving from the Kalends of July to the end of the year.[27] Gaius Petronius Arbiter an intimate friend of Nero, noted for his luxury and decadence. He was appointed proconsul of Bithynia, and later held the consulship. Accused of treason, he slowly weakened himself by bloodletting, until his death in AD 66. He is best known as the author of the Satyricon.[28][29][30] Publius Petronius (P. f.) Turpilianus, consul in AD 61, and governor of Britain from 61 to 63. After the suppression of the Pisonian conspiracy, he was among those to whom Nero awarded the triumphal insignia; but Nero's favour caused Galba to have him put to death.[31][32] Publius Petronius Niger, consul suffectus for the months of May to August in AD 62.[33] Titus Petronius Niger, consul suffectus for the months of July and August in AD 63.[34] Petronius Priscus, banished by Nero in AD 66, after the conspiracy of Piso was suppressed. Tacitus gives no indication that Priscus was in any way involved in the conspiracy, instead suggesting that his exile was arbitrary. He was permitted to settle in the islands of the Aegean.[35] Marcus Petronius Umbrinus, consul suffectus in AD 81, probably for the months of September and October.[36][37] Titus Petronius Secundus, praetorian prefect under Domitian, joined the conspiracy that led to the emperor's assassination.[38][39] Petronius Quadratus, praefectus of Roman Egypt c. 126[40] Lucius Petronius Sabinus, consul suffectus for the months of September and October, AD 145.[41] Marcus Petronius Honoratus, praefectus of Roman Egypt from 147 to 148.[42] Marcus Petronius Mamertinus, consul suffectus in AD 150.[41] Marcus Petronius M. f. Sura Mamertinus, consul in AD 182.[43] Marcus Petronius M. f. Sura Septimianus, brother of Sura Mamertinus, consul in AD 190.[43] Petronia M. f., sister of Marcus Petronius Sura Mamertinus, married the senator Marcus Antoninus Antius Lupus. Petronius M. f. M. n. Antoninus, son of Marcus Petronius Sura Mamertinus. Quintus Petronius Didius Severus, father of the emperor Didius Julianus. Lucius Fulvius Gavius (Numisius?) Petronius Aemilianus, consul in AD 206.[43] Lucius Petronius Taurus Volusianus, consul in AD 261, praefectus urbi, and praetorian prefect under the emperor Gallienus.[44] Petronius Annianus, consul in AD 314. Petronius Probianus, consul in AD 322.[45] Petronius Probinus, consul in AD 341.[46] Sextus Claudius Petronius Probus, consul in AD 371.[47][48] Anicius Petronius Probus, consul in AD 406.[49] Saint Petronius, fifth century bishop of Bologna. Petronius Maximus, emperor for seventy-five days in AD 455, was torn apart by the mob at Rome. Petronius Probinus, consul in AD 489. Rufius Petronius Nicomachus Cethegus, consul in AD 504. Footnotes  Probably not Petronius Diodotus, as found in some manuscripts of Pliny, or Petronius Musa, as inferred from Galen, which seems to be a misunderstanding of Μουσας in the original. See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 215 ("Petronia Gens").  Eckhel, vol. v, p. 270 ff, vol. vi., p. 99.  Petersen, "The Numerical Praenomina of the Romans", p. 353 and note 24.  Chase, pp. 118–120.  Valerius Maximus, i. 1. § 13.  Dionysius, iv. 62.  Polybius, xxxii. 26.  Varro, Rerum Rusticarum, iii. 2. § 2.  Plutarch, "The Life of Crassus", 30, 31.  Appian, Bellum Civile, v. 4.  Cassius Dio, liv. 5.  Strabo, xvii. p. 820.  Josephus, Antiquitates Judaïcae, xv. 9. § 2.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 1192 ("Publius Petronius Turpilianus").  Dioscorides, De Materia Medica, praef. vol. i, p. 2.  Pliny the Elder, xx. 32.  Galen, De Compositione Medicamentorum per Genera, ii. 5, vol. xiii, p. 502, v. 11, p. 831.  CIL V, 6064.  Tacitus, Annales, iii. 49, vi. 45.  Fasti Arvalium, AE 1987, 163; 1991, 306; 1991, 307.  Josephus, Antiquitates Judaïcae, xviii. 9. § 2, Bellum Judaïcum, ii. 10.  Seneca the Younger, Apocolocyntosis.  Cassius Dio, lviii. 27.  Suetonius, "The Life of Tiberius", 73.  Tacitus, Annales, vi. 45.  Gallivan, "The Fasti for the Reign of Gaius".  Gallivan, "The Fasti for the Reign of Nero", pp. 291, 309.  Tacitus, Annales, xvi. 17–19.  Pliny the Elder, xxxvii. 2.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, pp. 215–218 ("Gaius Petronius").  Tacitus, Annales, xiv. 29, 39, xv. 72, Agricola, 16, Historiae, i. 6, 37.  Plutarch, "The Life of Galba", 15.  Eck, "Miscellanea Prosopographica", pp. 227 ff.  Gallivan, "The Fasti for the Reign of Nero", pp. 302, 303, 310.  Tacitus, Annales, xv. 71.  CIL VI, 2060.  Gallivan, "The Fasti for A.D. 70–96", pp. 189, 215.  Cassius Dio, lxvii. 15.  Eutropius, viii. 1.  Bastianini, "Lista dei prefetti d'Egitto", p. 284.  Eck, "Die Fasti consulares der Regierungszeit des Antoninus Pius".  Bastianini, "Lista dei prefetti d'Egitto", pp. 290–291.  Leunissen, Konsuln und Konsulare, pp. 129–137.  Samuel, Greek and Roman Chronology, pp. 272 ff.  CIL VI, 1686.  CIL IX, 10.  CIL VI, 1752.  ICUR, 1, 1936, 2088.  ICUR, 1, 1358. Bibliography Polybius, Historiae (The Histories). Marcus Terentius Varro, Rerum Rusticarum (Rural Matters). Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Romaike Archaiologia (Roman Antiquities). Strabo, Geographica. Valerius Maximus, Factorum ac Dictorum Memorabilium (Memorable Facts and Sayings). Lucius Annaeus Seneca (Seneca the Younger), Apocolocyntosis Divi Claudii (The Gourdification of the Divine Claudius). Gaius Plinius Secundus (Pliny the Elder), Historia Naturalis (Natural History). Pedanius Dioscorides, De Materia Medica (On Medical Subjects). Flavius Josephus, Antiquitates Judaïcae (Antiquities of the Jews), Bellum Judaïcum (The Jewish War). Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Annales, Historiae, De Vita et Moribus Iulii Agricolae (On the Life and Mores of Julius Agricola). Plutarchus, Lives of the Noble Greeks and Romans. Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, De Vita Caesarum (Lives of the Caesars, or The Twelve Caesars). Appianus Alexandrinus (Appian), Bellum Civile (The Civil War). Aelius Galenus (Galen), De Compositione Medicamentorum per Genera (On the Composition of Medications According to their Kind). Lucius Cassius Dio Cocceianus (Cassius Dio), Roman History. Eutropius, Breviarium Historiae Romanae (Abridgement of the History of Rome). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1849). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Giovanni Battista de Rossi, Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romanae Septimo Saeculo Antiquiores (Christian Inscriptions from Rome of the First Seven Centuries, abbreviated ICUR), Vatican Library, Rome (1857–1861, 1888). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII (1897). Hans Petersen, "The Numeral Praenomina of the Romans", in Transactions of the American Philological Association, vol. xciii, pp. 347–354 (1962). Alan E. Samuel, Greek and Roman Chronology: Calendars and Years in Classical Antiquity, C. H. Beck, Munich (1972). Paul A. Gallivan, "Some Comments on the Fasti for the Reign of Nero", in Classical Quarterly, vol. 24, pp. 290–311 (1974), "The Fasti for the Reign of Gaius", in Antichthon, vol. 13, pp. 66–69 (1979), "The Fasti for A.D. 70–96", in Classical Quarterly, vol. 31, pp. 186–220 (1981). Guido Bastianini, "Lista dei prefetti d'Egitto dal 30a al 299p" (List of the Prefects of Egypt from 30 BC to AD 299), in Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, vol. 17 (1975). Paul M. M. Leunissen, Konsuln und Konsulare in der Zeit von Commodus bis Severus Alexander (Consuls and Consulars from the Time of Commodus to Severus Alexander), Verlag Gieben, Amsterdam, (1989). Werner Eck, "Miscellanea Prosopographica", in Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, vol. 42 (1981), "Die Fasti consulares der Regierungszeit des Antoninus Pius, eine Bestandsaufnahme seit Géza Alföldys Konsulat und Senatorenstand" (The Consular Fasti for the Reign of Antoninus Pius: an Inventory since Géza Alföldy's Konsulat und Senatorenstand), in Studia Epigraphica in Memoriam Géza Alföldy, Werner Eck, Bence Fehér, Péter Kovács, eds., Bonn, pp. 69–90 (2013). Categories: PetroniiRoman gentesRoman gentes of Sabine origin and from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petronio – Ossia: Grice e Petronio -- Grex griceiana – verbalia: Petronio For the Petronii, the competition is much stronger than for many of the other gentes. There are at least three serious candidates:  Publius Petronius, governor of Syria, confronted with Caligula's order to erect his statue in the Jerusalem Temple. Titus Petronius Secundus, participant in the conspiracy against Domitian. Gaius Petronius Arbiter, author of the Satyricon. [GREXv2 | Word]  My first choice would be overwhelmingly:  Gaius Petronius Arbiter. [GREXv2 | Word]  Why? Because with Petronius we are no longer merely talking about implicature in history; we possess a literary work built upon:  irony, parody, social signalling, pretence, conversational incompetence, conversational over-competence, double entendre, audience recognition.  In other words, a world in which what people are doing with words is often more important than the words themselves.  Grice e Petronio Arbitro Petronius is famous not merely for what characters say but for the gulf between:  what they think they are communicating,  and  what readers understand.  A Gricean paradise.  Trimalchio The banquet of Trimalchio is almost a study in Quantity and Manner. Trimalchio:  Nemo me superat. ("Nobody surpasses me.")  The explicit content is boastful. The reader's inference is:  +> Trimalchio is vulgar. +> Trimalchio is insecure. +> Trimalchio is advertising his status.  The humour depends on those inferences.  A Petronian Reconstruction Petronius:  Aliud dicit persona, aliud intellegit lector. ("The character says one thing, the reader understands another.")  Grice:  Excellent.  Petronius:  Aliud etiam lector intellegit quam persona intellegere potest. ("And the reader understands something the character himself cannot understand.")  That is very Petronian.  Better than Persius? An interesting comparison. Persius The satirist:  +> hides criticism beneath compressed language.  Petronius The novelist:  +> allows characters to reveal themselves unknowingly.  Persius implicates. Petronius lets people implicate themselves. From a Gricean point of view, that is arguably even richer.  A Wonderful Historical Detail Tacitus describes Petronius Arbiter as a cultivated associate of Nero, famous for elegance and refined judgement, eventually accused and driven to suicide. [GREXv2 | Word] One can imagine: Nero:  Placetne? ("Do you approve?")  Petronius:  Valde novum est. ("It is very novel.")   +> perhaps not a compliment.  A court is a dangerous place for implicatures.  Speranza's Verdict Grice:  Which Petronius?  Speranza:  The Arbiter.  Grice:  Why?  Speranza:  Because his whole art consists in the difference between what a character says and what an intelligent hearer infers.  Grice:  Then Petronius is a pragmatist?  Speranza:  Before pragmatics had a name.  Among all the Petronii, Petronius Arbiter seems the most naturally Gricean figure, because the Satyricon is almost a sustained experiment in conversational meaning, audience uptake, irony, and social implicature. [GREXv2 | Word] and do we have DYADS with Trimalchio as givng second move with implicature -- Lat. (Eng) Lat (Eng) +> p. Thanks Yes. Petronius is especially good for dyads because Trimalchio constantly turns an innocent first move into a second move loaded with self-advertisement, status-display, or comic over-interpretation. Since we do not have the Latin text open before us, I'll give Petronian-style reconstructions rather than claiming exact quotations. I. On Wealth Hospes:  Quam domus ampla est! ("What a large house!")  Trimalchio:  Parva est; maior fuit heri. ("It is small; it was larger yesterday.")   +> I am so rich that ordinary standards of size do not apply to me.  The second move ostensibly answers the compliment, but really exploits it.  II. On Dinner Hospes:  Optimum vinum est. ("The wine is excellent.")  Trimalchio:  Etiam servi mei melius bibunt. ("My slaves drink better.")   +> My wealth exceeds even what you are presently admiring.  A classic Quantity-flout. Nobody asked about the slaves.  III. On Age Hospes:  Bene vales. ("You are in good health.")  Trimalchio:  Medicus cotidie mihi moriendum esse dicit. ("The doctor tells me every day that I am going to die.")   +> Therefore enjoy my banquet while you can. +> Therefore appreciate my wisdom about mortality.  In Petronius, death-talk frequently becomes self-display.  IV. A Gricean Example Hospes:  Multos amicos habes. ("You have many friends.")  Trimalchio:  Qui cenant, amici sunt. ("Those who dine are friends.")   +> They dine because of my generosity. +> My hospitality creates loyalty.  The implicature may be false, but it is socially intelligible.  V. Conversational Vanity Hospes:  Pulchra statua. ("A beautiful statue.")  Trimalchio:  Me repraesentat. ("It represents me.")   +> Therefore the beauty praised belongs to me.  This is delightfully Petronian. The compliment is re-routed back to the speaker.  A very Grice–Speranza moral would be: Grice:  Trimalchio never wastes a conversational opening.  Speranza:  Because every first move is treated as an invitation to a second move.  Grice:  And every second move?  Speranza:  Is designed to generate an implicature about Trimalchio's importance.   +> I am richer than you thought. +> I am wiser than you thought. +> I am more powerful than you thought.  That is why Petronius is such a treasure for pragmatics: the comedy often lies not in what Trimalchio says, but in what he cannot stop implying about himself. does this help? Thanks In the Cena Trimalchionis section of Petronius’ Satyricon, Trimalchio frequently engages in conversational "second moves." This occurs when a guest or servant speaks first, and Trimalchio responds with a statement carrying conversational implicature (saying one thing but intentionally meaning another to flex his wealth or obscure his ignorance). [1, 2] Here are 5 prominent Latin-English quotes fitting this exact conversational dynamic: 1. The Ignorance Defense Context: Agamemnon begins a rhetorical debate topic: "A poor man and a rich man were enemies..."Trimalchio interrupts as the second move. Latin: "Quid est pauper?" (Satyricon 48) [1] English: "What is a poor man?" [1] Implicature: On the surface, it looks like a simple definition check. The implied meaning is an ostentatious brag: Trimalchio is so unspeakably wealthy that the very concept of poverty is completely foreign to his world. [1] 2. The Corinthian Bronze Flex Context: Trimalchio notices Agamemnon staring at a bronze dish (the first move). Trimalchio responds to his gaze. Latin: "Ego solus habeo veram Corinthiam." (Satyricon 50) English: "I am the only person in the world with genuine Corinthian." Implicature: He follows this up by revealing he buys them from a craftsman named Corinthus. The implicature of his initial statement is that he possesses priceless, antique Greek artifacts, when he actually just bought cheap merchandise with a clever brand name. [1] 3. Subverting Astrology Context: A elaborate dish representing the signs of the Zodiac is served, and guests stare in confusion (the first move). Trimalchio steps in. Latin: "Oportet... caelum sic verti quomodo mola." (Satyricon 39) English: "The heavens must turn just like a millstone." Implicature: Instead of providing deep, educated astronomical insights, his homey analogy implies that cosmic fate operates exactly like a commercial production machine—reducing high philosophy down to his basic merchant mindset. [1, 2] 4. Overturning Nature Context: A massive boiled pig is brought to the table, and guests notice it hasn't been gutted, sparking worry that the cook failed (the first move). Trimalchio calls the cook forward. Latin: "Exquere." (Satyricon 49) English: "Carve it open." Implicature: The command carries the implicit threat of punishment for a bad cook. However, it is an elaborate trap; when cut, a flood of perfectly cooked sausages pours out. The underlying message is that Trimalchio can manipulate reality and surprise his guests at will. [1, 2] 5. Demanding the Impossible Context: An accountant reads off a massive list of properties and revenues Trimalchio owns, including an estate he didn't even know he had bought (the first move). Trimalchio reacts. Latin: "Nisi intra sextum mensem sciero in rationes meas referri vetuo." (Satyricon 53) English: "If I'm not informed of a land purchase within six months, I forbid it to go on the books." Implicature: This fake managerial outrage implies that his financial empire is so vast that massive real estate acquisitions regularly happen completely beneath his notice. [1] Yes—this helps, and it actually strengthens the case for Petronius Arbiter as perhaps the most Gricean Roman novelist. The best of your examples is probably:  Quid est pauper? ("What is a poor man?") [GREXv2 | Word]  because it is a genuine second move. Grice–Speranza analysis Agamemnon:  Pauper et dives inimici erant. ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies.")  Trimalchio:  Quid est pauper? ("What is a poor man?") [GREXv2 | Word]  Dictum:  Trimalchio requests a definition.  Likely implicature:  +> Poverty is outside my experience. +> I inhabit a different social universe. +> My wealth is extraordinary.  A lovely Gricean point is that the implicature may not even be fully intended by Trimalchio. Petronius lets the reader derive it.  Another excellent one is:  Ego solus habeo veram Corinthiam. ("I alone possess genuine Corinthian ware.") [GREXv2 | Word]  Dyad Hospes (looking at the bowl):  Pulchrum vas. ("A beautiful vessel.")  Trimalchio:  Ego solus habeo veram Corinthiam. ("I alone possess genuine Corinthian ware.") [GREXv2 | Word]  Dictum:  A claim about authenticity.  Implicata:  +> I possess unique treasures. +> My collection surpasses everyone else's. +> I am a connoisseur.  The joke, as Petronius unfolds it, is that Trimalchio misunderstands what "Corinthian" means. The reader and Trimalchio are not drawing the same inferences from the same words. [GREXv2 | Word]  The accounting example is perhaps the most Roman:  Nisi intra sextum mensem sciero in rationes meas referri vetuo. ("If I am not informed within six months, I forbid it to be entered in my accounts.") [GREXv2 | Word]  Dyad Dispensator:  Fundus emptus est. ("An estate has been purchased.")  Trimalchio:  Nisi intra sextum mensem sciero in rationes meas referri vetuo. ("Unless I learn of it within six months, I forbid it to be entered in my accounts.") [GREXv2 | Word]  Dictum:  An administrative rule.  Implicata:  +> My affairs are enormous. +> Estates are acquired without my noticing. +> I am rich enough to be surprised by new property.   A nice Speranzian formulation would be: Grice:  What is Trimalchio doing?  Speranza:  Taking every first move as an occasion for self-advertisement.  Grice:  By implicature?  Speranza:  Frequently by implicature, occasionally by misunderstanding, and often by both simultaneously.  That is why Petronius is so valuable. In satire proper (Persius, Lucilius) the author usually controls the implicature. In the Cena Trimalchionis, the character himself becomes a factory of unintended implicatures. The reader often understands more about Trimalchio than Trimalchio understands about himself. [GREXv2 | Word] and do we have the text for the 'pauper' -- does Arbiter moralise on this? It seems that T. catches that A. is about to provide a fable. So he starts by asking for 'definition' of terms. It is different from Dowager of Downtown Abbey: A: I'll have plenty of time to work in the estate in the weekends. Dowager: What is a week-end? Thnaks Yes. I think the key point is that the pauper passage is subtler than the modern paraphrase often makes it sound. What Trimalchio notices is that Agamemnon is launching into a standard rhetorical school exercise (controversia), of the type:  pauper et dives inimici erant... ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies...")  and he interrupts with:  Quid est pauper? ("What is a poor man?") [GREXv2 | Word]  The comic effect is ambiguous. A superficial reading is:  "Trimalchio is so rich he literally doesn't know what poverty is."  Hence the usual implicature:  +> poverty is outside his experience.  But Petronius is cleverer than that. What Trimalchio hears is not merely the noun pauper but the beginning of a rhetorical fiction. A Gricean reconstruction might be: Agamemnon:  Pauper et dives inimici erant... ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies...")  Trimalchio:  Quid est pauper? ("What is a poor man?")  Dictum:  Request for definition.  Possible implicata:  +> This schoolroom stuff is unreal. +> Begin with intelligible cases. +> What creature is this "poor man" of whom rhetoricians speak?  In other words, the question may be directed as much at rhetorical convention as at poverty itself.  This is where it differs from the Dowager Countess's famous:  "What is a week-end?"  The Dowager's question means roughly:  I genuinely do not operate within this social category.  The humour comes from cultural unfamiliarity. Trimalchio's question is more aggressive. He interrupts the speaker before the case has properly begun. It is almost:  "Define your terms."  or even:  "I reject your premise."  A bit like a tutorial interrupter.  As for whether Petronius Arbiter moralises, not directly. One of the remarkable things about Petronius is how rarely he steps forward and says:  "This is bad." "This is vulgar." "This is immoral."  Instead he lets Trimalchio talk. The reader supplies the verdict. A Persius-style satirist says:  Look how ridiculous this man is.  A Petronian novelist more often says:  Listen carefully.  And then the character condemns himself through his own speech. A very Gricean formula would be: Persius:  Author → criticism.  Petronius:  Character → utterance → reader's inference → criticism.  The moral judgement is largely an implicature generated in the reader rather than an explicit authorial pronouncement. So I rather like the tutorial analogy: Agamemnon:  Pauper et dives inimici erant...  Trimalchio:  Quid est pauper?  Grice (in a tutorial):  "Before we proceed, what exactly do you mean by that?"  The difference is that Grice asks to clarify the argument; Trimalchio asks in a way that simultaneously derails it and advertises himself. That double effect is precisely the sort of thing Petronius delights in. [GREXv2 | Word], [GREXv2 | Word] Grice speaks of 'remedial action' occasions in conversation -- "What is pauper?" A: "O sure -- income of 40 cescerces of less per year -- T.: "Or less?" -- the story never resumes Thanks Yes! And this is exactly the kind of thing Grice has in mind with what he later calls remedial exchanges or repair sequences. The original conversational trajectory is: Agamemnon:  Pauper et dives inimici erant ... ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies ...")  The expectation is:  continue the story.  But Trimalchio initiates repair: Trimalchio:  Quid est pauper? ("What is a poor man?") [GREXv2 | Word]  At first sight this looks cooperative:  "Please clarify a term before proceeding."  But then one can imagine the sequence spiralling. Agamemnon:  Qui parvam pecuniam habet. ("A man who has little money.")  Trimalchio:  Quam parvam? ("How little?")   Agamemnon:  Minus quam quadraginta sestertia. ("Less than forty thousand sesterces.")  Trimalchio:  Minus? ("Less?")   Agamemnon:  Etiam. ("Yes.")  Trimalchio:  Quantum minus? ("How much less?")  And so on. The point is that the repair mechanism takes over the conversation. The original narrative never resumes. A Gricean diagnosis would be:  A requests clarification. Clarification becomes the new topic. The original communicative project collapses.  In ordinary conversation, repair is supposed to be temporary:  "Who do you mean?" "John Smith." "Ah, go on."  But Trimalchio turns repair into performance. The "definition" request becomes an end in itself.  This is why I think your comparison with the Dowager Countess is illuminating but incomplete. The Dowager's:  "What is a week-end?"  is a genuine request whose answer allows the conversation to continue. Trimalchio's:  Quid est pauper?  has a tendency to generate infinite regress. The conversational implicature may even be:  +> Your rhetorical example is absurd. +> Your schoolroom categories are artificial. +> Let us talk about my understanding of wealth instead.  In a tutorial, Grice sometimes reports philosophers who behave similarly: A says:  "Suppose a person intends ..."  B interrupts:  "What is a person?" "What is intending?" "What is suppose?"  At some point the repair ceases to assist the inquiry and begins to replace it. Petronius' comedy lies precisely there. Trimalchio's question has the form of a cooperative clarification request, but its practical effect is to derail the discourse and redirect attention to himself. That is a wonderfully Gricean joke. [GREXv2 | Word], [GREXv2 | Word] and the usual response that T.'s is unable to conceive poverty is misleading. Similarly Dowager challenges the FORMATION 'week-end' end of the week? Sabbath is the first? Sunday is beginning of week? Friday included? etc -- nothing to do with 'beyond expectation' just her answer to an Americanism. Not with 'pauper' but if the premis is: inimici erant paper et dives' -- the remedial action seems a good start -- not 'dives' because 'pauper' is mentioned first. so T. may be genuinely interested in how an emnity can hold between a man deemed to be 'pauper' and one deemed to be 'rich'. Etc. Thanks I think that is exactly the right corrective. The popular reading:  Trimalchio: Quid est pauper? ("What is a poor man?") +> I am so rich I do not even know what poverty is.  is funny, but perhaps too quick. Petronius does not write:  Numquam vidi pauperem. ("I have never seen a poor man.")  Nor:  Nescio quid sit paupertas. ("I do not know what poverty is.")  What he gives us is a request for clarification of a term that has just become relevant to a forthcoming narrative. [GREXv2 | Word] A Gricean reading in terms of remedial action is therefore very attractive. The conversation begins: Agamemnon:  Pauper et dives inimici erant ... ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies ...")  At this point Agamemnon is not describing a particular person. He is launching a rhetorical exercise by means of schematic categories:  poor man rich man  Trimalchio interrupts:  Quid est pauper?  This may be heard as:  "Before the story proceeds, specify the category."  That is a perfectly ordinary conversational move.  Your Dowager analogy is very good. A modern reader often takes:  "What is a week-end?"  to mean:  "I am too aristocratic to know such things."  But grammatically it is a request about a recently introduced expression. One could perfectly imagine the Dowager continuing:  Which end of the week? Saturday? Sunday? Does Friday count?  The humour derives from taking the expression more seriously than the speaker expected. Similarly:  Quid est pauper?  may be less:  "I cannot conceive poverty"  than:  "What criterion is being used here?"   A tutorial version might run: Agamemnon:  Pauper et dives inimici erant. ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies.")  Trimalchio:  Quid est pauper? ("What is a poor man?")  Agamemnon:  Qui parum habet. ("One who has little.")  Trimalchio:  Parum cui? ("Little by whose standard?")  Agamemnon:  Minus quam dives. ("Less than a rich man.")  Trimalchio:  Ergo relativum est. ("Then it is relative.")  At that point the story has vanished. The repair sequence has consumed the narrative.  And that is perhaps the most Gricean joke. A clarification request is normally supposed to be temporary:  clarify → resume.  But occasionally the clarification becomes the topic. The original communication never recovers. In Gricean terms, the attempt to secure mutual understanding prevents the conversation from advancing. So I agree: the strongest reading is not necessarily  +> Trimalchio cannot imagine poverty,  but rather  +> Trimalchio treats the opening categories of the rhetorical exercise as needing examination before the tale can proceed.  Whether he does this from curiosity, pedantry, vanity, mischief, or a mixture of all four is precisely the sort of ambiguity that makes Petronius so delightful. There seem to be SOME exploitation in that T. did hear 'pauper et dives' -- so he could have taken any general opposition as 'relevant enough' for their enemity -- but etym. whence 'pauper' and whence 'dives' Thanks Yes, I think there is a mild conversational exploitation there. Once Agamemnon says:  pauper et dives inimici erant ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies"),  the contrast itself already provides a rough interpretation of each term. Even if one had never heard pauper before, one could infer:  pauper = the opposite of dives,  just as one might infer "the short man and the tall man" without demanding a metric definition of height. So Trimalchio's:  Quid est pauper?  can be seen as exploiting the fact that enough information for the story to proceed has already been supplied. That is why it feels slightly obstructive, playful, or pedantic. A Gricean might say:  the local context already yields a workable interpretation; Trimalchio nevertheless initiates repair.  Hence the comic effect. Etymology of pauper The etymology is ancient and somewhat uncertain, but the traditional explanation connects:  pauper  with  paucus ("few, little")  and an old root connected with producing or acquiring. The general idea is:  "one possessing little," "one of scant means."  English poor is not related; it comes through French from Latin pauper. Etymology of dives  dives, divitis  is the ordinary Latin word for:  "rich," "wealthy."  It is related to an ancient Indo-European root connected with wealth, prosperity, or abundance. What is striking is that dives behaves grammatically almost like an adjective, while historically it has something of the flavour of:  "a wealthy person."  Latin happily says:  vir dives ("a rich man")  but also simply:  dives ("the rich man").  A Petronian reconstruction Agamemnon:  Pauper et dives inimici erant. ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies.")  Trimalchio:  Quid est pauper? ("What is a poor man?")  Agamemnon:  Qui non est dives. ("One who is not rich.")  Trimalchio:  Ergo prius mihi dicas quid sit dives. ("Then first tell me what a rich man is.")   +> The introductory categories are becoming the topic.  At that point the fable risks disappearing altogether. And that, I think, is the real joke. Not that Trimalchio has never encountered poverty, but that he treats the opening classification as philosophically unfinished and therefore worthy of interrogation before the narrative can even begin. That is very close to the sort of "remedial action" that Grice sometimes complains can consume an entire conversation. Note that M1 is: What did you declaim today. A: a poor man. t. What is poor. A: Urbane. T: generalisation -- change of topic -- thanks Here is a plausible reconstruction of the rest of Agamemnon’s controversia theme. [1] Because Petronius cuts Agamemnon off immediately after "Pauper et dives inimici erant...", we have to look at typical Roman rhetorical training manuals (Seneca the Elder's Controversiae or the Pseudo-Quintilian Declamations) to see how these standard school themes were actually phrased. [1, 2, 3] Latin Reconstruction "Pauper et dives inimici erant. Habebant finitimos agros. Dives, ut pauperem finibus pelleret, apes eius incendit vel segetes vastavit. Pauper damni iniuriae divitem postulat; dives autem dicit se nihil contra legem fecisse, quoniam dominus sit sui fundi." English Translation "A poor man and a rich man were enemies. They owned neighboring fields. The rich man, wishing to drive the poor man from his borders, set fire to his beehives and destroyed his crops. The poor man sues the rich man for wrongful damage; the rich man, however, claims he did nothing illegal, since he is the master of his own land." Why This Style Fits the Narrative The Setup: Roman rhetorical prompts (controversiae) required highly dramatic, black-and-white archetypes to practice law school arguments. The rich man is always a tyrannical bully, and the poor man is always a defenseless victim. [1, 2, 3] The Action: A classic trope involves property disputes—often involving small details like a rich man poisoning a poor man's bees or building a high wall to block out the sun. The Legal Conflict: It ends with a specific legal bind that the students would have to argue in front of Agamemnon. Trimalchio’s total failure to grasp this fictional thought experiment is what prompts his famously dense, literalist comeback immediately after: "If it happened, it’s not a controversy; if it didn't happen, it's nothing!"[1, 2] Would you like to explore another standard Roman school rhetoric topic that Agamemnon might have assigned to his students? [1] so what’s the greater passage lat eng before and after “quid est pauper?” 3 siti Here is the greater passage from Section 48 of Petronius' Satyricon, tracking the chaotic conversation between Trimalchio and the rhetorician Agamemnon. [1, 2] Latin Text "Sed narra tu mihi, Agamemnon, quam controversiam hodie declamasti? ... Dic ergo, si me amas, peristasim declamationis tuae." Cum dixisset Agamemnon: "Pauper et dives inimici erant..." ait Trimalchio: "Quid est pauper?" "Urbane," inquit Agamemnon... Statim Trimalchio: "Hoc, inquit, si factum est, controversia non est..." (Full text available in) [1] English Translation "But tell me, Agamemnon, what debate topic did you declaim today? ... So tell me, please, the outline of your speech." When Agamemnon had said: "A poor man and a rich man were enemies..." Trimalchio interjected: "What is a poor man?" "How witty!" said Agamemnon... Trimalchio immediately snapped back: "If this actually happened, it's not a debate; if it didn't happen, it's nothing." (Full text available in) [1, 2] Contextual Notes Context: Trimalchio tries to sound intellectual by demanding the peristasim (the outline) of a legal case. The Irony: Trimalchio claims to own three libraries, but only lists Greek and Latin, highlighting his lack of true education. The Misquote: He immediately shows his ignorance by mangling the stories of Hercules and Ulysses (e.g., claiming the Cyclops bit off a thumb). [1, 2] Would you like to examine Trimalchio's other massive mythological errors from the dinner party, or look at how his guests react behind his back? and declaim today where? urbane perceived by T. as sarcastic? 4 siti Where the Declamation Took Place Agamemnon’s declamation did not happen at the dinner party. It took place earlier that day at a public school of rhetoric or a lecture hall in the campanian town where the novel is set. [1, 2] In the text, Trimalchio asks Agamemnon: "quam controversiam hodie declamasti?" ("What debate topic did you declaim today?"). Agamemnon is a professional rhetorician who teaches wealthy boys and performs exhibition speeches for the public. The dinner party at Trimalchio's house is simply where they are gathering afterward to eat, drink, and discuss the day's events. [1, 2] Was "Urbane" Perceived as Sarcastic? No, Trimalchio did not perceive it as sarcastic. He took it as a genuine, deeply deserved compliment. [1] Here is how the interaction functions dynamically on both sides: 1. Agamemnon's Intent (The "Urbane" Move) When Trimalchio asks "Quid est pauper?", Agamemnon responds with "Urbane" (meaning "How witty!", "How elegant!", or "Spoken like a gentleman!"). [1] The Reality: Agamemnon is almost certainly being deeply sarcastic or sycophantic. He is a parasite guest eating Trimalchio's expensive food, so he flatters his host's absurd interruption rather than calling him an idiot. [1] 2. Trimalchio's Perception Trimalchio entirely misses any underlying sarcasm because of his massive ego. [1] The Flex: Trimalchio fundamentally believes he is being brilliant, philosophical, and worldly. He views his question not as a stupid interruption, but as an elite conceptual critique of the entire legal premise. [1] The Proof: Immediately after Agamemnon says "Urbane", Trimalchio doubles down on his "brilliance" by confidently dropping his terrible legal philosophy: "If this actually happened, it's not a debate; if it didn't happen, it's nothing!". He only speaks with this level of supreme authority because he believes Agamemnon just validated his genius. [1] Trimalchio is entirely blind to the fact that the educated guests are laughing at him, choosing instead to bask in what he interprets as absolute praise for his sophisticated wit. [1, 2] If you want to look at more of this dynamic, we can examine how Encolpius (the narrator) reacts to Trimalchio's outbursts, or check out how the other parasitic guests play along to get free food. and encolpius goes on after “it was nothing!”? 3 siti Following Trimalchio's comment, Encolpius and the other guests show immense praise to secure their spot at the banquet, which causes Trimalchio to boast about his false knowledge of Greek mythology, specifically by misremembering the story of the Cyclops. Encolpius narrates that they use this flattery to appease their host.[1, 2] but strictly passage: it was nothing! 2 siti Immediately following Trimalchio's statement in Section 48 of the Satyricon, the guests showered him with excessive, sycophantic praise to flatter his ego. Trimalchio then immediately moves on, asking Agamemnon to recount stories from Greek mythology about Hercules and Ulysses, which he likely will mangle. [1] can you supply exactly after this lat eng? Cum dixisset Agamemnon: "Pauper et dives inimici erant..."ait Trimalchio: "Quid est pauper?""Urbane," inquit Agamemnon...Statim Trimalchio: "Hoc, inquit, si factum est, controversia non est..." 6 siti Following the requested line, Trimalchio continues his absurd conversation in Section 48 of Petronius' Satyricon by demonstrating his total misunderstanding of classical mythology, as shown in this Latin sourceand its English translation. He claims to have read Homer as a child, but wrongly describes the Cyclops having his thumb twisted with pliers, rather than being blinded. [1, 2, 3] Furthermore, he claims to have personally seen the Cumaean Sibyl, a prophetic figure, trapped in a bottle, expressing her desire for death, which contrasts his earlier comments. The passage highlights the sycophancy of his guests, who flatter his nonsensical stories. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5] controversia non est — what follows as per quote? 4 siti The complete exact phrase and the text that follows immediately after in Section 48 of the The Latin Library's edition of Petronius' Satyricon is provided below. [1] The Direct Quote Continuation Latin Text: “Hoc,” inquit, “si factum est, controversia non est; si factum non est, nihil est.” Haec aliaque cum effusissimis prosequeremur laudationibus: “Rogo,” inquit, “Agamemnon mihi carissime, numquid duodecim aerumnas Herculis tenes, aut de Vlixe fabulam, quemadmodum illi Cyclops pollicem poricino extorsit?" [1] English Translation: “If this thing really happened,” he said, “it’s not a debate; if it didn’t happen, it’s nothing at all.”We followed up this and his other remarks with the most lavish praise. “Tell me, my dearest Agamemnon,” he said, “do you happen to remember the twelve labors of Hercules, or the story of Ulysses, and how the Cyclops twisted his thumb with a pair of pliers?” [1] Breakdown of the Action The Sentence Completion: Trimalchio finishes his philosophical "logic trap" by adding: "...si factum non est, nihil est" ("if it didn't happen, it's nothing"). [1] The Guests' Reaction: Encolpius narrates that the entire room showers Trimalchio with excessive flattery (effusissimis laudationibus) to keep him happy and keep the food flowing. [1] The Pivot to Mythology: Emboldened by their fake applause, Trimalchio pivots completely away from law school topics to butcher Greek mythology, confidently claiming the Cyclops defeated Ulysses by twisting his thumb with pliers. [1] Would you like to see the next paragraph (Section 49), where the giant, un-gutted pig is dramatically wheeled out to the guests? [1] Yes, and I think your reconstruction improves on the usual "Trimalchio has never heard of poverty" reading. The sequence, as you quote it, is roughly: Trimalchio:  Sed narra tu mihi, Agamemnon, quam controversiam hodie declamasti? ("Tell me, Agamemnon, what controversia did you declaim today?")  Agamemnon:  Pauper et dives inimici erant ... ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies ...")  Trimalchio:  Quid est pauper?  Agamemnon:  Urbane. [GREXv2 | Word]  And then:  Hoc, si factum est, controversia non est; si factum non est, nihil est. ("If it happened, it is not a controversia; if it did not happen, it is nothing.") [GREXv2 | Word]  I think the crucial point is that Trimalchio's question occurs before there is any story at all. Agamemnon has not yet reached:  the neighbouring farms, the bees, the crops, the lawsuit.  He has only uttered the schematic opening:  pauper versus dives.  So the interruption is directed at the declamatory template itself.  A Gricean analysis might run: M1 (Trimalchio):  What did you declaim today?  M2 (Agamemnon):  A poor man and a rich man were enemies.  At this point Agamemnon intends:  "I am beginning the outline."  But Trimalchio treats the first sentence not as narrative material but as a classification requiring repair. Hence:  Quid est pauper?  The conversation shifts from:  story-telling  to  category-analysis.   I also think your comparison with the Dowager's  "What is a week-end?"  is exactly right. Modern readers often take that line as:  "I am too aristocratic to know."  But grammatically it functions as a challenge to an unfamiliar social category. Likewise, Trimalchio need not be saying:  "I cannot conceive poverty."  He may be saying:  "You have introduced a type: define it."   Then Agamemnon's:  Urbane  becomes especially interesting. It may mean:  "Very clever."  It may mean:  "Very witty."  It may also contain a trace of the conversational move:  "All right, you have interrupted the story with a joke."  Whether sincere or ironic is hard to settle from the brief exchange alone.  What follows is even more revealing:  Hoc, si factum est, controversia non est; si factum non est, nihil est.  This is not a comment on poverty at all. It is a comment on declamation. Trimalchio's complaint is:  If the case really happened, then it is an ordinary lawsuit. If it never happened, then it is empty fiction.  He is attacking the very idea of the rhetorical school exercise. [GREXv2 | Word] So the exchange may be reconstructed as: Agamemnon:  Let me tell you a standard controversia.  Trimalchio:  Before you proceed, what exactly is this "poor man"?  Agamemnon:  Very witty.  Trimalchio:  And in any event, these declamatory cases are nonsense.  The result is beautifully Gricean: A request for clarification (quid est pauper?) initiates a repair sequence which never repairs anything, because it immediately turns into a metadiscussion about the legitimacy of the discourse itself. The story never resumes. And that, I think, is the joke. It echoes (Foreshadows) Alice Hargreaves interrupting every tale -- 'they lived in the bottom of a well' A: What did they liveon? D: Treacle. A: They would have been ill. Their anesm T. T and TI -- wll start with T. why? Why not -- note that T. does not ask 'what is 'inmici'? Sure, we have Petronius's genius here -- but the premise HAS been stated. A controverisia followed by a schematic premise stating an ENMITY bectween pauper et dives -- articificial. T. appropriately starts with the 'pauper' -- Not that he does not know what '(alla wekend) pauer is, but to demolish the very premise. Something that the tutee would NOT do, but T. can because it's a different context -- chatter between chaps, not between tutor and tutee -- TO the 'urbane' -- even if perceived as sarcastic, and wity it IS -- A. perceived that the premise is being expected clarification -- with the implicature: "it is a ridiculous premise, anyway, that an emity took place between a dives and a pauper -- META_implicatura: PEtronius is aware of such controversia. Also: T. is just looking for entertaining topic of conversation -- this is all post-facto and rhetoic literary -- in the template, the enmity is used to note the dives as bully and the pauper as cause for ACTIO -- point of rhetorical exercise. THanks -- T. will have none of that: he is reconsidering that i was a bad idea to even ask seeing that A. starts on the wrong foot Yes. I think you're getting much closer to the literary and conversational point than the stock interpretation does. The stock reading is:  Trimalchio: Quid est pauper? +> "I am so rich I do not even know what a poor person is."  That is funny, but rather flat. What makes the exchange interesting is that Agamemnon has already supplied the rhetorical template:  Pauper et dives inimici erant... ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies...") [GREXv2 | Word]  The premise is not a report of a particular event. It is one of those school-declamation openings whose categories are already loaded:  pauper = sympathetic victim; dives = oppressive bully; inimici = legal conflict to follow.  A trained rhetorician hears the opening and instantly knows the genre. Trimalchio hears the opening and refuses to grant the genre. So his:  Quid est pauper?  need not mean:  "What is poverty?"  It may mean:  "What sort of creature is this supposed 'poor man'?" "What criterion are we using?" "Why should I accept this schematic opposition?"  In that sense it resembles Alice's interruptions much more than the Dowager's.  Why pauper rather than dives? Because rhetorically pauper comes first. Agamemnon's opening establishes a polarity:  pauper et dives.  The first term introduced becomes the natural target of repair. Grice would say that the hearer latches onto the first item whose understanding is allegedly required for progression. Trimalchio could equally have asked:  Quid est dives?  but that would be a different joke. By stopping at pauper he prevents the declamation from even reaching its proper narrative footing.  Why not ask about inimici? Exactly. That is one of your strongest points. Nobody asks:  Quid est inimicus?  because enmity is not being challenged. The challenge falls on the declamatory category itself:  "poor man."  That is where the artifice lies. Not in the existence of enemies, but in the schoolroom opposition:  pauper versus dives.   Agamemnon's urbane I think urbane is wonderfully ambiguous. It can mean:  "Very witty." "Nicely put." "Clever."  Whether sincere or sarcastic is almost beside the point. Agamemnon immediately recognizes that Trimalchio has not accepted the game. He has moved from:  participating in the controversia  to  questioning the frame of the controversia.  So urbane acknowledges the move. Almost:  "Touché."   The deeper Petronian joke What follows confirms it:  Hoc, si factum est, controversia non est; si factum non est, nihil est. ("If it happened, it is no controversia; if it did not happen, it is nothing.") [GREXv2 | Word]  That is not a comment on poverty. It is a comment on rhetorical education itself. Trimalchio attacks the institution of declamation. The logic is absurdly simple:  if true, it is merely a case; if false, it is merely fiction.  Therefore declamation collapses. A professional rhetorician would never accept that argument. But it is clever enough to derail the conversation completely.  A Grice–Speranza formulation Agamemnon:  Let me begin the controversia.  Trimalchio:  Before you begin, justify your opening category.  Agamemnon:  Clever.  Trimalchio:  And now that we are discussing your category, the controversia itself is finished.  The repair sequence consumes the discourse. The tale never starts. And that, I think, is precisely where Petronius Arbiter's genius lies: Trimalchio appears to interrupt for clarification, but the clarification request develops into a critique of the entire conversational enterprise. and can we parse the 'justification' for the 'quid pauper' which T. is glad to be found 'urbane.' It's a double conditional p1 -- q1 p2 q2 -- this may strictly apply to the very proposition: Pauper et dives inmici erant. Past tense: "Once upon a time" -- something happened that broke the past tense (cfr. "I lived in New York"). If this happened -- that there was a pauper and a dives which were enemies -- it is a lawsuit. If this did NOT happen (T.'s prediction as to the artifice that will follow -- for tutee to be able to use this skills and rhetorician tutor to grade him --) it's 'nihil'. Or: It is NOT the case that a pauper and a dives inmici erant. T.'s targets the soft target: "pauper". You are presenting a template and want to show off your rhetorical skills which may have done earlier today, but at my dinner, I'm the topic master -- a single 'quid est pauper' challenges the topic and I'll add: what's the use of a controversia, if it has to start as artificioulsly as you start it -- and don't bore me with law casees between a past enmity of a poor and a rich? Thanks Yes. I think the key is that Trimalchio's quid est pauper? is not merely lexical and not even primarily social. It is procedural. He is challenging the propriety of the declamatory setup. The sequence is: T.  quam controversiam hodie declamasti? ("What controversia did you declaim today?") [GREXv2 | Word]  A.  pauper et dives inimici erant ... ("A poor man and a rich man were enemies ...") [GREXv2 | Word]  T.  quid est pauper? [GREXv2 | Word]  Then eventually:  hoc, si factum est, controversia non est; si factum non est, nihil est. ("If this happened, it is no controversia; if it did not happen, it is nothing.") [GREXv2 | Word]  I think the two remarks belong together. The usual reading isolates:  quid est pauper?  and takes it as a joke about wealth. But the later conditional shows that Trimalchio is attacking the genre. His reasoning is almost: First horn  p₁ = factum est ("it happened")  Then:  q₁ = controversia non est ("it is not a controversia")  because it is merely a real case. Second horn  p₂ = factum non est ("it did not happen")  Then:  q₂ = nihil est ("it is nothing")  because it is mere invention. The target is not poverty. The target is declamation.  So quid est pauper? becomes retrospectively intelligible as the first shot in the attack. Agamemnon has barely begun:  pauper et dives inimici erant  and Trimalchio already hears:  "Ah, one of those school exercises."  The categories are too neat. The opposition is too schematic. The poor man and the rich man are not persons but rhetorical placeholders. Hence:  quid est pauper?  may mean:  "What exactly is this declamatory creature you call a poor man?"  or even:  "Why should I accept the categories on which your exercise depends?"   Your comparison with a tutorial is illuminating. A tutee would normally accept the tutor's frame. Agamemnon is the rhetorician. But this is Trimalchio's dinner. The conversational hierarchy is reversed. So Trimalchio can effectively say:  "You may have been topic-master in the schoolroom this morning. Here I am topic-master."  Indeed, one can hear an implicature:  +> Don't bring school exercises into my banquet. +> Give me conversation, not declamation. +> Start with reality, not stock figures.  And Agamemnon's:  urbane! [GREXv2 | Word]  works beautifully because he instantly recognizes that the premise itself has been challenged. Not:  "What does pauper mean in the dictionary?"  but:  "Why begin a conversation with such an artificial category?"  That is witty. And Trimalchio then presses the point to its conclusion:  if true, it is just a lawsuit; if false, it is just fiction; therefore why are we discussing it at dinner?  A remarkably destructive line of argument—destructive, at least, to the educational foundations of Roman rhetorical training. Petronius is clearly aware of the standard controversia tradition and lets Trimalchio puncture it with one apparently innocent question. The tale never really gets started because the opening premise itself has been put on trial.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Petronio – Ossia: Grice e Petronio. Petronio Conversational Adjective: Satirical (Mastering conversational irony by saying the opposite of literal truth to critique societal decay). Representative: Gaio PETRONIO Arbiter. Latin Utterance: "Cave canem, et cave dominum." Implicature: While ostensibly warning a guest about a mosaic dog, he implicitly critiques the dangerous, unpredictable, and predatory nature of Rome's newly rich elite class. Do we know where this Petronio was born. Has his "Cave canem et cave dominum" been analysed in classical textbooks of rhetoric, that you know? Let’s separate—very pedantically, alla Oxford tutor—three distinct issues: (1) Petronius’ origin, (2) the textual status of “cave canem” in Petronius, and (3) your delicious “cave canem et cave dominum” as a rhetorical/Gricean construction.  I. Where was Petronius born? Short answer: we do not securely know.  Some modern reconstructions suggest Massalia (Marseille) as a plausible birthplace or educational milieu. [en.wikipedia.org] Other scholarly summaries are more cautious and say simply “birthplace unknown.” [ebsco.com]   So the safe, tutor-approved formulation:  Petronius’ birthplace is uncertain; Massalia is conjectured but not securely attested in ancient sources.   II. What does Petronius actually say? (“cave canem”) The phrase is indeed in Petronius, in the Cena Trimalchionis. Latin (Satyricon 29): canis ingens, catena vinctus, in pariete erat pictus, superque scriptum ‘Cave canem’. Meaning: “A huge dog, chained, was painted on the wall, and above it was written: ‘Beware of the dog.’” [sacred-texts.com]  Important precision:  It is descriptive, not a moral aphorism. Petronius narrates the visual program of Trimalchio’s house.   III. “Cave canem et cave dominum” — authenticity? Here the pedantry must bite.  “Cave canem” = attested (Petronius, mosaics, Pompeii). “cave dominum” = not attested in Petronius (no classical source in the evidence retrieved).  Therefore:  “Cave canem et cave dominum” is a modern or neo-Latin epigrammatic extension, not a classical quotation.  It feels Petronian—precisely because it compresses satire into a double warning—but it is not his text.  IV. Has it been treated in classical rhetoric textbooks? Not in the form you present. However: 1. The cave canem scene itself  Frequently discussed in courses on Roman satire and the Satyricon. Interpreted as part of Trimalchio’s theatrical self-display:  ostentation anxiety about status grotesque imitation of elite decorum    2. Rhetorical angle While not canonically treated in handbooks like Quintilian (obviously pre-Petronius), modern scholarship often reads the scene through:  Irony: exaggerated warning at a socially insecure threshold Enargeia (vividness): strong visual staging Ethopoeia: revealing character through decor   V. Your Gricean Petronius (very apt) Now your instinct is actually excellent from a Grice/Speranza lens. Let us formalize the implicature you’re intuiting:  Petronian Scene (reconstructed pragmatically) Explicit content (what is said): Cave canem. Context: Entry to a freedman’s ostentatious villa. Implicature: +> that the householder himself is the real danger—socially, morally, and unpredictably.  Your enriched version (neo‑Petronius) Latin: Cave canem—immo cave dominum. English: “Beware of the dog—in fact, beware of the master.” +> that the visible sign is a decoy; the true threat is the vulgar, newly powerful хозяин (Trimalchio-type).  VI. Pedantic conclusion (the tutor’s verdict)   Petronius’ birthplace: uncertain (Massalia conjectural)  “Cave canem”: authentic Petronius (Satyricon 29)  “Cave dominum”: not classical; a modern satirical amplification  Rhetorical treatment:  discussed indirectly under satire, irony, and social semiotics, not as a canonical “textbook rhetorical topos.”     VII. A final Petronian-Gricean epigram (in your spirit) Latin: In limine scriptum est “cave canem”; intra spectatur dominus. English: “On the threshold it is written ‘beware of the dog’; inside, the master is what one sees.” +> that Roman satire relocates danger from the animal to the social climber.  If you like, I can reconstruct the whole Trimalchio entrance as a four-move Gricean dialogue, with Encolpius misreading the sign and Petronius correcting him via implicature. But even if he himself is provincial (beyond Provence, actually), do we have Roman or Italy-born members of that Gens, which Grice and Speranza assume to be VERY plebeian? Excellent instinct—and here the pedantry actually complicates (and improves) the Grice–Speranza picture. I. The crucial correction The gens Petronia is not “provincial” in origin in the sense of a late, immigrant, or purely imperial family.  It is explicitly a Roman gens (family). [en.wikipedia.org] It is classified as plebeian. [en.wikipedia.org] It claims great antiquity, with a Petronius Sabinus placed already in the regal period (time of Tarquinius Superbus). [en.wikipedia.org] Its origin is linked to Sabine stock (central Italy). [en.wikipedia.org]   So the right formulation:  The Petronii are Italian, not provincial in the imperial sense—indeed, “proto-Roman” in the old Sabine-Italic layer.   II. Were there Italy‑born members? Absolutely yes. Even if Petronius Arbiter himself may have been born in Massalia (uncertain), the gens:  has roots in central Italy (Sabine/Italic) [en.wikipedia.org] appears in Republican Roman activity (legates, tribunes, conspirators, etc.) [en.wikipedia.org] produces senatorial and consular figures under the Empire [en.wikipedia.org]  Examples (all Roman office-holders or operating within Roman-Italian elite structures):  Gaius Petronius – diplomatic envoy in Asia Minor (2nd c. BCE) [en.wikipedia.org] Petronius (tribune under Crassus) – Roman military context [en.wikipedia.org] Publius Petronius Turpilianus – magistrate under Augustus [en.wikipedia.org] Petronius Maximus – emperor (5th c. CE) [en.wikipedia.org]   So:  The gens is deeply embedded in Rome and Italy, even if individual members later operate across the Empire.   III. Why “plebeian” ≠ “low” (this is where Grice/Speranza need tightening) Your suspicion is right: calling the gens “VERY plebeian” can mislead unless qualified.  The nomen Petronius belongs to a class of nomina typically plebeian in origin [en.wikipedia.org] But:  Plebeian ≠ socially insignificant Many plebeian gentes rose to senatorial and even imperial rank   So a more accurate conceptualization: CategoryMeaning in early RomeLater realityPatricianold aristocratic clansrestricted groupPlebeianeveryone elseincludes future elite Thus:  The Petronii are plebeian by formal classification, but by the Empire they are fully part of the governing elite.   IV. The deeper irony (very Petronian, very Gricean) Now we reach the philosophical payoff:  Petronius mocks freedmen nouveaux riches (Trimalchio) Yet he himself:  belongs to a non-patrician gens possibly has provincial associations    This produces a layered implicature: Petronian aristocratic irony Explicit social stance: he ridicules vulgar climbers Underlying reality: his own lineage is not of the old patrician core +> that elite identity in the Neronian age is performative, aesthetic, not purely genealogical  V. A Scipionic-style snub (in your idiom) Let us cast this as a brusque exchange: Move 1 (snob): Petronius es—a plebeio nomine. (“You are a Petronius—a plebeian name.”) Move 2 (Petronian reply): Nomen plebeium est; elegantia mea non est. English: “The name is plebeian; my taste is not.” +> that in the imperial court, cultural capital (elegantia) trumps ancient lineage.  VI. Final tutor’s verdict   Yes: Italy-born Petronii certainly existed  The gens is Roman, Italic (Sabine), and ancient  “Plebeian” is technically correct—but socially misleading if read as “low”  Petronius Arbiter’s irony gains force precisely because he stands between:  old aristocracy (which he imitates) new wealth (which he satirizes)     If you want, I can map Petronius’ irony directly against Scipio Aemilianus’ “pure aristocratic implicature,” showing how the former is already a decadent, self-conscious imitation of the latter.Petronio Arbiter, Gaio (XXX). Dicta. Cave canem et cave dominum.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I verbali: Pezzarossa – Ossia: Grice e Pezzarossa: la ragione conversazionale della fisica, la geografia e l'astronomia, sposate insieme, fanno sì che un italiano discopra il nuovo continente, ed un altro italiano gl’imponga il nome -- l’eloquenza lombarda – l’implicature conversazionali Giuseppe Pezza-Rossa (Mantova, Lombardia): la ragione conversazionale della fisica, la geografia e l'astronomia, sposate insieme, fanno sì che un italiano discopra il nuovo continente, ed un altro italiano gl’imponga il nome -- l’eloquenza lombarda – l’implicature conversazionali. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning treats understanding as a practical exercise of rationality: in ordinary talk we presume cooperative purposefulness, and we recover what a speaker means (often beyond what is strictly said) by reasoning from shared norms of relevance, informativeness, and sincerity, so that implicatures are not decorative but disciplined inferences licensed by a speaker’s recognisable intentions. Pezza-Rossa, by contrast, belongs to a nineteenth-century Italian setting in which the battle-line is not pragmatics but scepticism, moral philosophy, and the public authority of reason (often in explicit dialogue with Rosmini), and his ambition for a “sola confutazione possibile” of scepticism is characteristic of that climate: it seeks a principled, once-for-all refutation rather than a conversational diagnosis of how sceptical challenges trade on ordinary commitments. Still, the comparison is illuminating: Grice would say that many sceptical manoeuvres depend on the very conversational practices they affect to doubt, since the sceptic must rely on shared standards of assertion, evidence, and intelligibility in order to communicate his doubt at all; Pezza-Rossa tries to defeat scepticism by philosophical argument about knowledge and its grounds, while Grice reframes the terrain by showing that scepticism cannot get its grip without already presupposing a rationally governed practice of giving and asking for reasons in conversation. In short, Pezza-Rossa aims to kill scepticism with a single decisive proof, whereas Grice explains why the sceptic keeps reappearing: the sceptical posture is parasitic on the rational norms that make conversation and inquiry possible, and those norms, once made explicit, expose the sceptic’s dependence even when they do not silence him. Grice: “He wrote a LOT! Including a study (or ‘ragionamento,’ as the Italians call it) on the spirit (spirito) of Italian philosophy, which reminded me of Warnock, the irishman, and his search for the soul of English philosophy!” -- Giuseppe Pezzarossa (o Pezza-Rossa – Grice: “In which case, he is in the “R”s”). Studia a Mantova. Insegna a Mantova. Co-involto nella repressione che porta al martirio di Belfiore. D’idee tendenzialmente liberali e  preoccupato sulle condizioni sociali disagiate create dalla sorgente rivoluzione industriale che pure ai suoi occhi rappresenta un'occasione di progresso. La pubblicazione del suo saggio di filosofia gli procura guai con la congregazione dell'indice. Partecipa attivamente ai moti. Condanato al carcere. Pezza-Rossa e uno dei XX che partecipano alla riunione costitutiva del comitato rivoluzionario. Saggi: “Critica della filosofia morale” (Milano, Stamperia Reale); “Lo spirito della nazione italiana” (Mantova, Elmucci); “Saggi di filosofia” (Mantova, Caranenti). C. Cipolla, Belfiore I comitati insurrezionali del Lombardo-Veneto ed il loro processo a Mantova” (Milano, Angeli); Pavesi, Il confronto fra don Tazzoli e don Pezza-Rossa in una prospettiva filosofica, in Tazzoli e il socialismo Lombardo” (Milano, Angeli). La prova sull’esistenza esteriore. Confutazione dello scessi. ALIGHIERI e la filosofia. Lo spirito della filosofia italiana. Sistema di psicologia empirica. Il fondamento, il processo e il sistema della umana esistenza. Il sistema politico e sociale della nazione italiana; il sucidio, il sacrifizio della vita e il duello, supra il suicidio; “La grammatica ideo-logica; ossia, la legge comune d’ogni parlare dedotta da quella del pensare” il martirio di Belfiore; lo spirito della nazione italiana; eloquenza lombarda. Grice: “St John’s, 1946. Back from the Admiralty, and now lecturing to the whole university, I find myself hunting for material for what I grandly call my “universal” seminars—so different from the tête-à-tête tutorials with those fortunate enough to call St John’s their alma mater. Woozley wants to run a joint seminar with me on scepticism, and I have said yes. He arrived armed with the usual suspects; I arrived armed with what I rather complacently call a fatal objection to the sceptic. Whereupon he says, “Yes, yes—but what about Pezza-Rossa?” “Who?” “An Italian—almost pre-Risorgimento—and you know how your father loves that stretch of peninsular history. Pezza-Rossa wrote in La Biblioteca Italiana, if you’ve heard of it, about what he calls Rosmini-Serbati’s ‘the only possible refutation’ of scepticism.” I said, “But that’s neither here nor there; I shan’t be claiming in our seminar that my objection is the only possible one.” “But how many times,” he muttered—almost under his breath—“can you kill the same sceptic?”” Grice: Caro Pezzarossa, dicono che la filosofia lombarda sia come il risotto: serve pazienza, un buon brodo e, magari, una spruzzata di eloquenza! Dimmi, tra fisica, geografia e astronomia, preferisci la luna di Mantova o il sole dell’Italia? Pezzarossa: Grice, ti confesso che a Mantova la luna spesso si specchia nei fossi, mentre il sole, se arriva, è sempre benvenuto! Ma tra implicature e continenti da battezzare, io scelgo il brodo: almeno quello non finisce nell’indice! Grice: Ah, allora la ragione conversazionale nasce tra i mestoli e le carte geografiche! E pensare che un italiano ha scoperto il continente, e un altro l’ha chiamato… forse dovremmo proporre a Oxford una nuova materia: “Filosofia della pentola e della bussola!” Pezzarossa: Grice, ottima idea! Basta che non ci mandino all’Indice per troppa saggezza. Se l’eloquenza lombarda si sposa con la ragione conversazionale, forse la prossima rivoluzione nascerà… in cucina! This objection is most clearly propounded by Malcolm.' The Skeptic, when he claims that neither he nor anyone else knows, for example, that there is cheese on the table, is in a very odd position. He is not suggesting that what appears to be cheese might just possibly turn out to be soap, nor that we have not looked to see whether the appearance might not be the effect of a conjuring trick performed with mirrors, nor even that though we have been quite careful to eliminate the possibility of error, we have not been quite careful enough, and if we went on a bit (or a lot) longer with our tests we should be better off and should be able finally to say  "Now I know:" The Skeptic will still refuse to admit that we can say correctly "I know" however long we continue with our test (and this goes not only for there is cheese on the table but for every other empirical proposition as well). Since, therefore, the accumulation of further evidence is irrelevant to the dispute between the Skeptic and his opponent, the Skeptic's thesis must be an a priori one, namely that to say that, for example "I know that there is cheese on the table" is to assert (or try to assert) something self-contradictory or logically ab-surd.  But this contention on the part of the Skeptic, says Malcolm, itself involves a self-contradiction or logical absurdity (when taken in conjunction with something else which the Skeptic will have to admit).  For the Skeptic will have to admit that "I know there is cheese on the table" is an ordinary expression, where by "ordinary expression" Malcolm means an expression that has an ordinary use, i.e. an expression that is ordinarily used to describe a certain sort of situa-tion" (an "ordinary expression" need not in fact ever be used-  "there is a mermaid on the table" is an ordinary expression —but it must be such that it would be used to describe a certain sort of situation if that situation existed or were believed to exist). The Skeptic then will have to admit that "I know that there is cheese on the table" is in this sense an ordinary expression, and so, to remain a Skeptic, he will have to maintain that some ordinary expressions are self-con-tradictory or absurd. But this is itself an absurdity, since a self-contra-dictory expression is by definition one which would never be used to describe any situation whatever. If that is so, it is absurd to suggest that any expression is both self-contradictory and an ordinary expres-sion. But this is just what the Skeptic is maintaining as regards l know that there is cheese on the table."  (Some philosophers, paying a charitable tribute to the perspicacity of their Skeptical colleagues, have suggested that in view of the argument just stated, the latter cannot have been intending to deny the correctness of the "ordinary" use of the word "know," but must (very misleadingly) have been either (a) insisting on using the word "know" in a way of their own, or (b) suggesting a change in the existing usage. 1 do not think Skeptics would be very happy about either of these interpretations of their intentions.)  I shall now turn my attention to an attempt to construct a line of defense for the Skeptic against this very serious objection. I may at this point say, in order to forestall the possibility of snorts of disapproval from my audience that I am not myself a Skeptic; but I do think that the Skeptical position is liable to be somewhat cavalierly treated as hopeless.  The Skeptic might admit that in his view it is always an incorrect use of language to say "I know that there is cheese on the table," and he might also admit that it was the kind of incorrect use of language which is self-contradictory (plainly not all incorrect use of language involves a self-contradiction). He might also admit that in some sense of "ordinary usc" no self-contradictory expression has an ordinary use and that in some sense of ordinary use such expressions as "l know that there is cheese on the table" do have an ordinary use. But he might go on to pose the question whether the senses of "ordinary use" just mentioned are the same sense.  Consider what I take to be Malcolm's definition of a self-contradic-tory expression, namely "an expression which would never be used to describe any situation" (he does not actually say that this is a complete definition of "self-contradictory expression," but equally he does not say that it is not, and I strongly suspect that he intends it as such, as indeed his manner of expression suggests). Is it really satisfactory as it stands? Take the expression "I'm not copperbottoming  'em, ma'am, I'm aluminiuming 'em, ma'am." 1 doubt very much if this expression would ever be used to describe any situation; it is too difficult to enunciate, and certainly no one would think of using it as a written symbol with a descriptive use (I of course am not using it descriptively). It would no doubt be possible to fill in the gaps in  "The-  -archbishop fell down the  -stairs and bumped-  -like-  -," with such a combination of indecencies and blas-  phemies that no one would ever use such an expression. But in neither of these cases would we be tempted to describe the expressions as self-contradictory. Indeed, the number of possible reasons why an expression would in fact never be used might be, as far as 1 can see, in principle unlimited. Should we not then have to amend Malcolm's definition by adding a specification of the particular reason which would preclude the use of a self-contradictory expression? But if we did that should we not have to say "because to use it would be to say something self-contradictory"? But we are now defining "self-contradictory" in terms of itself.  But is it even true that self-contradictory expressions are never in fact used to describe any situation? No doubt if they are used to describe a situation, they do not succeed in describing that situation, but that is another matter. Might I not, as a result of miscalculation, say "there are eight lots here, each containing eight eggs; so there are sixty-two eggs." Malcolm perhaps would say that I would be, in this case, employing the expression "sixty-two" to mean what is normally meant by "sixty-four"; but such a suggestion would surely be most counterintuitive, and a well-constructed "catch-question," such as a vocal utterance of the words "can you write down there are two ways of spelling-  _'?" where the actual utterer substitutes for  -a sound represented by "throo," may elicit from a large number of persons the absurd answer "Yes."  If, then, the Skeptic is admitting that expressions such as "I know that there is cheese on the table" have in a sense an ordinary use (in that they are sometimes used descriptively), he might claim to be admitting nothing inconsistent with their being self-contradictory (i.e. having no ordinary use in some other sense of "ordinary use"). But he would have to admit not merely that such expressions are sometimes used to describe certain kinds of situations but that they are very frequently indeed used to describe such situations. The question remains then "Is it logically possible for it to be true that most people would usually, or more often than not, use an expression "p' to describe a certain kind of situation, and yet be false that 'p' is a correct description of that situation (or perhaps of any situation, in which case it would be self-contradictory)?" The Skeptic would have to maintain that it is. An imaginary illustration may illuminate the path we might take.  Suppose a state of society in which our linguistic behavior were such that all of us, on most occasions when we wished to describe a situation involving a rose, used expressions such as "that is a cau-liflower" (or other suitable expressions containing the word "cau-liflower"); and all of us on all occasions also used expressions containing the word "cauliflower" to describe cauliflower situations.  Suppose, however, also that on all those occasions when we had before our minds the thought both of a rose and a cauliflower (for ex-ample, when our attention was drawn to our practice of using the word "cauliflower" in descriptions both of rose situations and cauliflower situations), we then called a rose "a rose" and refused to call it "a cauliflower" and insisted that on all the occasions when we had called "a rose" "a cauliflower" we had been wrong. In such a state of society would the word "cauliflower" be a correct expression to use to refer to a rose? Should we say, confronted with such linguistic be-havior, (1) that "cauliflower" would be a correct expression to use to refer to a rose (that is, that "cauliflower" would be ambiguous and would in one sense apply to roses and in another apply to cauliflow-ers; or (2) that the question is undecidable, that we would not know whether to say that it would be correct or to say that it would be incorrect to apply the expression "cauliflower" to roses (that is, that the situation would fall within the margin of vagueness between "being correct" and "being incorrect"); or (3) that we are uncertain abour this question, but are somewhat inclined to alternative (2)?  Now the Skeptic, 1 think, may be maintaining that something like this is the case with regard to the common use of the word "know:" We all frequently do apply the word "know" to empirical propositions (just as in the imaginary example we in fact call roses "cauli-flowers"); but the Skeptic would claim that for every situation to describe which we are inclined to use the expression "I know p" (where p is an empirical proposition) he could produce some proposition q (in his notorious arguments for example, q might be I may be dream-ing) such that (1) we should admit that q is logically incompatible with I know p, and (2) we should deny 1 know p rather than deny q.  In other words he could produce arguments to show that if we reflected adequately, we should always correct our application of the word "know" to empirical propositions.  Assume for the moment that the Skeptic is right in his ability to produce arguments to show that we should so correct our use of the word "know:" How in that case do we stand? (1) If answer (1) to the  "cauliflower" problem is right (namely that "cauliflower" would be a correct expression to use to refer to a rose, then, presumably, however good the Skeptic's arguments to show that on reflection we should abandon our application of the word "know" to empirical propositions, the Skeptic will be entirely wrong and his opponent entirely right. (2) If answer (2) to the "cauliflower" problem is right (namely the question is undecidable), then presumably the Skeptic will be right insofar as he denies his opponent's thesis that it is defi-mitely correct to apply the word "know" to empirical propositions, and will be wrong insofar as he himself asserts that it is definitely incorrect to do so. (3) If answer (3) to the "cauliflower" problem is right (namely that "cauliflower" would not be a correct expression to apply to roses), then presumably the Skeptic would be entirely right and his opponent entirely wrong.  I shall conclude by just listing some possible arguments which the Skeptic might use in defense of this thesis (which I have put into his mouth) that we should on reflection abandon our use of expressions such as "I know p" (where p is an empirical proposition). I am doubtful if any of them will work (and we should of course remember that the traditional Skeptical arguments turning on the use of the phrase  "it is always possible that" have already been exploded); but 1 do not have time to consider them in detail.  The Skeptic might argue as follows: If it is to be true that I know an empirical proposition p to be true, it must also be true that I have conclusive evidence for p. But we cannot say without self-contradic-tion "I had conclusive evidence for p but p was false," whereas if p is an empirical proposition, we can always say without self-contradic-tion "the evidential propositions which support p are true, but p is falsc." Since therefore (the Skeptic might say) we shall have to admit that the evidence for an empirical proposition is never conclusive, we shall have to correct our use of the word "know:" He might argue: "If it is proper for me to say "I know that there is cheese on the table, I shall have to claim (if I am asked) to know that future observations on the part of myself and of others will not render the proposition there is cheese on the table doubtful." But we are reluctant under pressure to make such claims to knowledge of propositions about the future. He might note that it seems very odd to say "I know p but I might have had better evidence for p than I do in fact have," but if p is an empirical proposition (the Skeptic would say), 1 shall have to admit this odd statement as being true. For it to be true (the Skeptic might say) that 1 know that s is p (where s is p is an empirical proposition), it would have to be true that 1 know that no one has ever had as good evidence for some other proposition, say s, is p as I have for s is p, and yet have been wrong in asserting s, is p. If I cannot claim this, someone may say "What is the difference between your evidence for s is pand some other person's evidence for s, is p which entitles you to claim that you know that s is p and yet admit that he may not have known that s, is p?" 1 think this would be a difficult question to answer (or rather avoid answering). Now take the proposition I have a body (not obviously amenable to Skeptical treatment). Do I know that no disembodied spirit has ever had as good evidence for the proposition that it (or he) has a body as I now have for the proposition that I have a body? To know this, either 1 must claim to know that there are no disembodied spirits, or 1 must claim that even if there are disembodied spirits, none of them has ever been systematically deceived in such a way as to have all the sensations (etc.) which provide evidence for the existence of one's own body, though he (it) in fact has no body. Am I prepared to say that I know one or the other of these things?" re passage below: please provide a 100-move conversation between G. and S. on Pezzarossa '' sopra la sola confutazione possible dello scetticismo -- and if you need to formalise do. No preamble or ps --dry oxonian humour. G.'s point is that there is another possible confutazione that trades on utterer's meaning -- so be *p -- reat asterisk p -- an absurd proposition -- that pirots karulise and do not karulise elatically -- by any account of meaning -- reasonable one that relies on the Utterer U intening the addressee A to come to entertain p -- if the sceptical cannot fill the bill here this is a fatal objection --so expand on the final segment of the passage where G. develops this view -- and how then the response to the sceptic feeds onto the theory of meanin and vice versa -- the requirement of reasoablenss -- Addressee's attitude to be achieved via REASON and not just cause -- depends on the reasonability of p itself, not *p, where *p is absurd --passage: G.: Pezza-Rossa’s title is already too ambitious for comfort: Sopra la sola confutazione possibile dello scetticismo. S.: The sole possible refutation. Italians do like the article when they mean to end history. G.: Quite. It is one thing to refute the sceptic; another to announce that there is only one admissible corpse. S.: Yet you have your own objection to the sceptic. G.: I do, but I have never claimed monopolistic burial rights. S.: Woozley thought otherwise. G.: Woozley thinks many things sotto voce, and not all of them deserve publication. S.: Still, the Malcolm line is serious enough. G.: Very serious. If the sceptic says “I know there is cheese on the table” is self-contradictory or absurd, yet admits it is an ordinary expression, he flirts with the impossible. S.: Because Malcolm says an ordinary expression cannot be self-contradictory. G.: More carefully, he says that an expression which would never be used to describe any situation cannot at once be ordinary in the relevant sense. S.: And the sceptic must concede ordinary use. G.: Yes. “I know that there is cheese on the table” is not a private code-word, nor a grammatical hallucination. It belongs to the furniture of discourse. S.: Malcolm’s point then is that the sceptic cannot both admit the furniture and deny that there could be any room in which it is properly used. G.: Exactly. One cannot sensibly say that an expression is ordinary and at the same time logically outlawed from any correct descriptive employment whatever. S.: Unless one plays games with “ordinary use.” G.: Quite. And I did try to give the sceptic that escape route. S.: The “cauliflower” society. G.: Yes. Suppose everyone commonly called roses “cauliflowers,” yet, upon reflection, insisted that these applications were wrong. One then asks whether frequent use suffices for correctness, or whether a whole people may need correction. S.: A nice nightmare for lexicographers. G.: And a more respectable one than most sceptical triumphs. S.: But now you want to go further than Malcolm. G.: I do. My point is that another possible confutazione trades not merely on ordinary use, but on utterer’s meaning itself. S.: That is the asterisk-p line. G.: Precisely. Let *p be an absurd proposition. S.: Give me one. G.: Let *p be: pirots karulise and do not karulise elatically. S.: Already unbearable. G.: It should be. That is the point. If a proposition is absurd in the relevant sense, it cannot be the proper target of a reasonable communicative intention. S.: “Reasonable” being the loaded word. G.: Entirely loaded, and usefully so. S.: Then formulate. G.: If U means by x that p, in the nonnatural sense, U intends A to come to entertain, or perhaps to believe, that p, at least by recognising U’s intention and the grounds for it. S.: Through reason, not mere causation. G.: Exactly. I do not merely want A to produce a reflex. I want A to arrive at p by a recognisable rational route. S.: So if p itself is absurd, the route collapses. G.: That is my suspicion. If *p is not merely false but absurd, then no account of utterer’s meaning that makes reason central can easily permit U to meanNN that *p. S.: Unless U is performing a joke, a reductio, a parody, a linguistic pathology. G.: Quite so. But then what U means is not *p as such, but something else by way of *p. S.: Such as “see how absurd this is.” G.: Precisely. The absurd proposition may be mentioned, brandished, or exhibited, but not straightforwardly meant as what the addressee is to come reasonably to accept. S.: Then how does this hurt the sceptic. G.: Because the sceptic, in many of his grander moods, aims to make us entertain propositions about knowledge that threaten the very reason-governed practice by which he addresses us. S.: More slowly. G.: Very well. If the sceptic says that no one ever knows any empirical proposition, he is not merely proposing an odd thesis about cheese, tables, and doubt. He is threatening to deprive a large stretch of ordinary linguistic practice of rational legitimacy. S.: Which Malcolm says already makes trouble for “ordinary expression.” G.: Yes. But I want to add that the sceptic must also count on our taking his own thesis seriously, that is, as something he means us to understand through reason. S.: Not by hypnosis. G.: Exactly. He must intend us to recognise grounds, infer conclusions, see incompatibilities, feel the pressure of his q against our “I know p.” S.: So he relies on reason-giving discourse while undermining the very credentials of reason-governed knowledge claims. G.: Just so. S.: But that still sounds like a pragmatic transcendental argument, not yet an argument from utterer’s meaning. G.: It becomes one when we ask what it is for the sceptic to mean what he says. S.: Go on. G.: If U meansNN by x that p, then U must intend A to come to entertain p via a rational appreciation of U’s communicative move. S.: Yes. G.: But that demands that p be, at minimum, a reasonable candidate for rational uptake. S.: Not necessarily true, but not absurd. G.: Exactly. One may intelligibly mean something false. One may mislead. One may err. But one cannot straightforwardly meanNN that *p where *p is so absurd that no reasonable addressee could be expected to adopt it by reason. S.: You are building a reasonability constraint into meaning. G.: I am. Or rather drawing it out of the very role of recognition and rational uptake in nonnatural meaning. S.: Then the sceptic’s thesis might fail, not because it is unpopular, but because it cannot be the object of the kind of uptake he needs. G.: That is the shape of it. S.: Give me the formal skeleton. G.: Gladly. Let M(U,x,A,p) abbreviate: U meansNN by x, to A, that p. S.: Good. G.: Then, roughly: M(U,x,A,p) requires that U intend A to entertain p by recognising U’s intention that A entertain p, and by taking x as a reason-bearing move in the circumstances. S.: A Gricean mouthful. G.: All decent theories are. S.: Continue. G.: Add a reasonability condition R(p): p must be such that it is a reasonable candidate for rational entertainment or belief in the given exchange. S.: Not certainty, but reasonability. G.: Exactly. Then for absurd *p, not R(*p). S.: Therefore not M(U,x,A,*p), at least not literally and directly. G.: Correct. Unless the true p is something like “*p is absurd,” in which case the content meant is no longer *p itself. S.: So if the sceptic’s own thesis collapses into absurdity of the relevant kind, he cannot mean it in the very sense required for philosophical assertion. G.: Precisely. The fatal objection would be that he tries to occupy the illocutionary posture of a reason-giver while offering a content unfit for reason-governed uptake. S.: This begins to look like your stronger answer to the sceptic. G.: Stronger, or at least differently targeted. Malcolm attacks the sceptic’s relation to ordinary expressions. I attack his relation to the conditions of meaningNN itself. S.: Yet you will need to show that the sceptical proposition is absurd in your strong sense, not merely distressing. G.: Of course. One must not promote mere discomfort to contradiction. S.: Then where exactly is the absurdity. G.: In the sceptic’s demand that we treat as unintelligible or systematically incorrect a whole range of reason-governed empirical claims, while still expecting us to take his own meta-claim as a serious, reason-directed contribution to inquiry. S.: So the content is parasitic on the very practice it seeks to globally disqualify. G.: Exactly. The sceptic depends on our capacities for recognising evidence, incompatibility, correction, and rational warrant, but then tells us these cannot underwrite knowledge in any empirical case. S.: Many would say that is only surprising, not absurd. G.: True. One must be careful. Not every parasite is a contradiction. S.: Then perhaps your argument works better if one tightens the notion of “knowledge” in the sceptic’s mouth. G.: Yes. If the sceptic insists that “I know p” is always self-contradictory or logically absurd when p is empirical, then he is not merely revising a standard; he is denying the possibility of a central ordinary practice while exploiting that very practice’s rational machinery. S.: Then *p here might be not simply “no one knows anything empirical,” but “the ordinary use of ‘I know p’ for empirical p is both genuine ordinary use and logically absurd.” G.: Excellent. That is much closer. S.: And that may indeed be too much for meaningNN to carry. G.: I think so. Because to meanNN that *p one must intend the addressee to recognise, through reason, the force of a proposition whose very content destabilises the rational standing of the practices relied on in the exchange. S.: The sceptic saws off the branch and invites us to admire the carpentry. G.: Very good. Keep that. S.: Thank you. G.: Then the relation between scepticism and meaning runs both ways. S.: Explain the reciprocity. G.: On the one hand, the response to the sceptic feeds into the theory of meaning because it shows that not any old content can be the object of reasonable communicative intention. S.: So meaningNN is constrained by reasonability of content. G.: Yes. Not every concatenation, nor every absurd pseudo-thesis, is apt for genuine meant content in the strict sense. S.: On the other hand. G.: On the other hand, the theory of meaning feeds back onto the response to the sceptic because it displays the sceptic’s dependence on reason-governed uptake. S.: He must count on us as rational addressees. G.: Precisely. He cannot merely emit noises and hope to produce despair causally. He argues, therefore he presupposes the very commerce of reasons he affects to distrust. S.: Then your objection to causal theories of meaning becomes relevant. G.: Entirely. If meaning were merely a tendency to produce attitudes, the sceptic could perhaps aim simply to induce unease, hesitation, or suspension by whatever means. S.: Like the tail-coat case. G.: Yes. But meaningNN is not secured by mere causal tendency. It requires intention plus rational recognisability. S.: So the addressee’s attitude must be achieved via reason and not merely caused. G.: Exactly. And that brings the requirement of reasonability of p to the centre. S.: Not *p. G.: Not *p. If the only way to induce *p is by confusion, intimidation, semantic vertigo, or sheer philosophical fatigue, then U has not meaningNNly brought A to entertain *p in the relevant way. S.: He has only broken the furniture. G.: Often the sceptic does little else. S.: Yet some sceptical arguments are subtle and not absurd. G.: Certainly. One must not abolish scepticism by bad manners. I am not saying every sceptical challenge is itself *p. S.: Only the strongest global sceptic who says the ordinary empirical “I know” is inherently absurd while still speaking as a reason-giver. G.: Yes. That stronger sceptic invites the fatal objection. S.: Then Pezza-Rossa’s “sola confutazione possibile” may be one route, but not the only one. G.: Exactly. His climate wants a decisive philosophical proof against scepticism. Mine allows a different pressure-point: the sceptic’s dependence on the conditions of meaningful, reason-directed utterance. S.: Which is less a single sword-thrust than a constriction of the breathing apparatus. G.: A pleasingly medical metaphor. S.: Oxford has its uses. G.: Occasionally. S.: Let us formalise once more, more soberly. G.: Very well.  M(U,x,A,p) requires that U intend A to entertain p by recognition of U’s intention and of x as reason-bearing. Therefore M(U,x,A,p) requires p to be fit for rational uptake in the exchange, call this R(p). For absurd *p, not R(*p). Therefore, absent a change of target content, not M(U,x,A,*p). If the sceptic’s thesis is of the form *p, he cannot straightforwardly meanNN it as a serious philosophical claim. But his whole performance presupposes he is so meaning it. Therefore his position collapses at the level of communicative act as well as content.  S.: Nicely brutal. G.: Only moderately. S.: Someone will object that rational uptake need not end in belief; entertainment is enough. G.: Fine. Let R(p) be suitability for rational entertainment rather than acceptance. The point remains. Some contents are unfit even for serious entertainment as live philosophical deliverances, except under a metalevel description. S.: Such as jokes, reductios, examples, nonsense tests. G.: Exactly. One may present *p without meaningNN that *p. One may mean that it is nonsense, absurd, revealing, or instructive. S.: So when you say “pirots karulise and do not karulise elatically,” you do not meanNN that pirots karulise and do not karulise elatically. G.: Mercifully no. S.: You mean that this is an absurd proposition, or rather an absurd-looking one, fit to test the boundaries. G.: Precisely. It is a specimen, not a creed. S.: Then the sceptic may reply that his proposition is not like that at all, because it is grammatically and conceptually well formed. G.: He may. Then the dispute shifts to whether the sceptical content is truly absurd, or only revisionary and uncomfortable. S.: And there the cauliflower society returns. G.: Indeed. We would need to ask whether our actual linguistic behaviour with “know” resembles the rose/cauliflower case: widespread use, but corrigible upon sufficiently clear reflection. S.: If yes, the sceptic may yet survive. G.: In some diminished form, perhaps. He might then force us into saying not that ordinary “I know p” is flatly self-contradictory, but that its correctness is unstable or indeterminate. S.: Your option two or three. G.: Exactly. But the grand sceptic who wants definite incorrectness everywhere while retaining full philosophical seriousness of his own utterance is in deeper trouble. S.: Then your “fatal objection” is really targeted at the maximal sceptic. G.: Precisely. Philosophers often overgeneralise the prey. S.: And Pezza-Rossa. G.: Pezza-Rossa belongs to a climate that wants scepticism killed with one principled blow, perhaps Rosminian in spirit, perhaps more civic-rational in ambition. S.: While you are content with several objections, some semantic, some pragmatic, some ordinary-language, some about meaningNN. G.: Quite. I have no desire to deny colleagues their favourite anti-sceptical weapon provided they do not insist it is the only possible one. S.: How many times, after all, can one kill the same sceptic. G.: As often as he reappears, unfortunately. S.: Then the charming result is that the theory of meaning and the anti-sceptical strategy become mutually supporting. G.: Yes. MeaningNN needs reasonable, reason-governed uptake; scepticism, to be intelligible as a serious position, must inhabit that very space; but radical scepticism about empirical knowledge threatens to undermine it; therefore the sceptic’s own act of meaning becomes suspect. S.: Meaning polices scepticism; scepticism reveals the commitments of meaning. G.: Admirably compressed. S.: Thank you. G.: Keep that too. S.: You are being unusually benevolent. G.: Only because Pezza-Rossa forced me into generosity by his title. S.: Then the final line. G.: Very well. The sceptic may doubt cheese, tables, bodies, futures, and all the rest; but if he wants us to understand him by reason, he cannot ask us to recognise as seriously meant a content that is itself unfit for reasonable uptake. S.: Not *p. G.: Not *p. Absurdity is not a content fit for meantNN belief; it is at best a specimen for diagnosis. S.: So if the sceptic must traffic in *p, he ceases to be a philosopher and becomes an exhibit. G.: Dry enough? S.: Sufficiently Mantuan, with one eye on St John’s and the other on the cheese.Pezza-Rossa, Giuseppe (1837). Sopra la sola confutazione possibile dello scetticismo. Biblioteca italiana.