TU

 

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

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuccio – Ossia: Gice e Tuccio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tuccio. The gens Tuccia was a minor plebeian family at ancient Rome. Only a few members of this gens are mentioned in history, of whom the most famous may be the Vestal Virgin Tuccia, who performed a miracle in order to prove her innocence.[1]  Origin The nomen Tuccius is not of Latin derivation, but is believed to be an Oscan name.[2]  Members Tuccia, one of the Vestals, was accused of incest, and called upon Vesta to prove her innocence. The goddess gave her the power to carry a sieve filled with water from the Tiber to the Temple of Vesta.[3][4][5][6] Marcus Tuccius, curule aedile in 192 BC, and praetor in 190, received Apulia and Bruttium for his province. After his term of office expired, he was named propraetor, remaining in his province for the following two years. In 185, he was one of the commissioners appointed to establish colonies at Sipontum and Buxentum.[7] Marcus Tuccius, brought an accusation of vis against Gaius Sempronius Rufus 51 BC; Sempronius then accused him of the same.[8] Marcus Tuccius Cerialis, consul suffectus in an unknown year. Pliny the Younger wrote to him, providing a number of tips on delivering a speech.[9] See also List of Roman gentes Tuccianus References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 1181 ("Tuccius", "Tuccia").  Chase, p. 128.  Valerius Maximus, viii. 1.  Pliny, Historia Naturalis, xxviii. 2.  Dionysius, ii. 69.  Augustine, De Civitate Dei, x. 16.  Livy, xxxv. 41, xxxvi. 45; xxxviii. 2, 50, xxxviii. 36, xxxic. 23.  Marcus Caelius Rufus, Epistulae ad Familiares, viii. 8.  Pliny, Epistulae, ii. 19. Bibliography Marcus Caelius Rufus, Apud Ciceronis ad Familiares. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Romaike Archaiologia (Roman Antiquities). Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome. Valerius Maximus, Factorum ac Dictorum Memorabilium (Memorable Facts and Sayings). Gaius Plinius Secundus (Pliny the Elder), Historia Naturalis (Natural History). Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus (Pliny the Younger), Epistulae (Letters). 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). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII, pp. 103–184 (1897). Categories: TucciiRoman gentes And for this gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuccio – Ossia: Gice e Tuccio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tuccio. For the Tuccii, I think the choice is easy:  Tuccia the Vestal.  Not because of the miracle itself, but because the entire story turns on evidence, accusation, and communication. According to the tradition, Tuccia was accused of unchastity and appealed to Vesta; the goddess proved her innocence by enabling her to carry water from the Tiber in a sieve to the temple. What interests a Grice–Speranza reader is that the miracle functions as a communicative act. The accusers are effectively saying:  +> If she were innocent, this accusation would not have arisen.  Tuccia replies not with a speech but with a demonstration. The miracle becomes evidence.  First-best vignette  ACCVSATOR: Tuccia, quid respondes? (Tuccia, what do you answer?) TVCCIA: Nihil. (Nothing.) ACCVSATOR: Nihil? (Nothing?) TVCCIA: Cras aquam feram cribro. (Tomorrow I shall carry water in a sieve.)  The final utterance is the interesting move. Literally:  "Tomorrow I shall carry water in a sieve."  But the hearers reconstruct:  +> She claims divine support. +> She believes herself innocent. +> She expects vindication.  The utterance says none of this explicitly.  Why this is Gricean The accusation concerns a proposition:  Tuccia is guilty.  The response is not:  "I am innocent."  Instead she produces an act whose meaning must be inferred. A Gricean might say that the miracle is the strongest possible implicature. The explicit content is merely:  water has been carried in a sieve.  The communicated content is:  the accusation is false.   Rival candidate The only serious rival is Marcus Tuccius Cerialis, because Pliny the Younger writes to him about the delivery of speeches. That would give us a direct connection with rhetoric. But we know far more, conceptually, about Tuccia's communicative predicament.  Speranza's gloss  The Tuccii contribute a Vestal rather than an orator. Accused women commonly protest their innocence; Tuccia is remembered for doing something else. Her answer is a demonstration rather than an assertion. The communicative burden falls upon the audience, who must infer from the event what she never explicitly says. The story therefore resembles a Gricean case of meaning by showing rather than meaning by saying. (Ha.) And what does Pliny the Younger say about our hero? Because Pliny the Younger is not our Seneca -- a rhetorician -- he is a plain lawyer. Delivery is the first term in rhetoric, isn't it -- as applied to 'speech' oratio -- Grice and Speranza never liked 'oratio' since it pertain to the os, the mouth. Whereas Grice's utterance, or Speranza's pro-feratio is more neutral in that respect. As a lawyer Pliny the younger would only be interested in how well-delivered, i. e. persuasively, the 'proffeartio' are given. When Grice chooses 'utter' and 'utterance' (Latin profere, profferatio) he is invoking an in-out relation, utter being indeed related to outer --. For Ryle, that would be a no-no since the ghost in the machine is no in that can come out. Thanks -- profferatio is just as loaded perhaps, in that pro- is like the out -- but perhaps not so physically interpreted. And there may be other thesauri: delivery of speech -- loquentia, loqui, -- this relates to loq- to say, and one may wonder if in the proto-Indo-European this connects with the 'vox' or with other semantic field of a more general type, as per signare -- to make sign, Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuccio – Ossia: Gice e Tuccio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tuccio. A very Gricean cluster of questions. First, on Marcus Tuccius Cerialis. What the source actually tells us is remarkably little: Pliny the Younger wrote to him and offered advice concerning the delivery of a speech.  Unfortunately, from the material presently before us I do not have the text of Pliny, Epistles 2.19, so I cannot responsibly reconstruct the details of the advice. The attestation establishes the connection; it does not yet give us the contents. What is interesting philosophically is your distinction between:  rhetoric as theory of persuasion,  and  Grice's concern with utterance-meaning.  The classical rhetorical tradition culminates in what the Romans called:  actio or pronuntiatio  the delivery of a speech. Indeed, ancient rhetorical handbooks commonly enumerate:  invention (inventio) arrangement (dispositio) style (elocutio) memory (memoria) delivery (actio/pronuntiatio)  Delivery is therefore not a minor matter but one of the canonical divisions of rhetoric. Now compare your observation about oratio. Quite right:  oratio is related to os, oris ("mouth")  at least in Roman linguistic consciousness. The word belongs to a family of terms associated with speaking and verbal expression. A Gricean may feel this is too physiologically loaded. Grice's preferred vocabulary:  utterance, utterer, utterer's meaning,  pushes attention away from the mouth and toward the event of meaning. And, as you note, English utter historically suggests bringing forth, putting out, making manifest. Thus there is already a metaphor:  interior → exterior.  One might say:  thought inside utterance outside.  Precisely the sort of metaphor that an anti-Cartesian like Ryle would view with suspicion. For Ryle, there is no privileged "inside" from which propositions emerge. So even "utterance" may carry more metaphysical baggage than Grice officially intended.  Your suggestion proferatio is fascinating. From:  pro-ferre "to bring forth."  That too contains an outward movement. In fact almost all classical speech terminology seems to carry spatial imagery:                              TermLiteral imageoratioactivity of the mouthproferrebring forwardefferre vocemcarry out the voicepronuntiareannounce fortheloquispeak out The Romans appear unable to discuss speech without movement metaphors.  As for loqui, things become even more interesting. The root behind:  loquor eloquens colloquium allocutio  belongs to the semantic field of speaking itself rather than the physiological organ. Thus:  eloquentia  is in some respects less bodily than:  oratio.  If Grice had wanted a Roman label closer to "utterance," he might almost have preferred:  locutio  to  oratio.  Indeed medieval logicians eventually made extensive use of:  locutio propositio significatio  precisely because they wished to analyze meaning rather than performance.  A Speranzian gloss might read:  The rhetorician speaks of oratio, the grammarian of locutio, the lawyer of actio, and Grice of the utterance. Each term privileges a different aspect of the same phenomenon. Roman rhetoric emphasizes delivery, the lawyer persuasion, the grammarian linguistic form, and the Griceian the intention manifested through the act. The history of terminology shows that there is no philosophically innocent word for speaking. Every label already embodies a theory.  And perhaps that is what makes Marcus Tuccius Cerialis unexpectedly interesting. A lawyer like Pliny the Younger is concerned not with speech as a metaphysical object but with speech as something that succeeds or fails in court. That places him exactly at the intersection of rhetoric, practical life, and the philosophy of communication. (Ha.) Does THIS help? Thanks Here is the text for Epistulae 2.19 along with historical context about who Tuccius Cerialis was. [1, 2, 3] The Quote from Pliny, Epistulae 2.19 Latin text: "C. PLINIUS CERIALI SUO S. Hortaris ut orationem amicis pluribus recitem. Faciam quia hortaris, quamvis vehementer addubitem..." [1] English translation: "You urge me to recite my speech before a company of my friends. I will do so, because you ask me to, but I am exceedingly doubtful of the wisdom of the step..." [1] In this letter, Pliny is not talking about gladiatorial games. Instead, he is discussing the challenges of reciting public speeches to a private audience. He explains that speeches lose their energy when they are not delivered in front of actual judges, supportive crowds, and opposing lawyers. [1] Who Was Tuccius? Marcus Tuccius Cerialis was a Roman politician and a man of consular rank (consularis). He served as a consul suffectus (a replacement consul) during an unknown year. [1, 2] Aside from being the recipient of Epistulae 2.19, he appears elsewhere in Pliny’s letters: The Marius Priscus Trial (Epistulae 2.11): Tuccius Cerialis played a notable role in the Senate during this corruption trial. He used his senatorial privilege to demand that the co-defendant, Priscus, be formally notified of the trial so that both accused parties could be judged fairly together. [1, 2, 3] Would you like to see more of the translation where Pliny describes the physical gestures of a public speaker? [1] L'AI può commettere errori, quindi verifica le risposte Pliny is right: as Grice and Luigi Speranza say, if the utterance is m-intended for addressee A, why brother we addressee A2? That is a sharp connection. Paul Grice’s theory of meaning aligns perfectly with Pliny's hesitation. The Gricean Connection In Gricean pragmatics, a speaker’s M-intention (meaning-intention) requires a direct feedback loop: Intention: Speaker intends to produce an effect in Addressee A. Recognition: Speaker wants Addressee A to recognize that very intention. When you introduce Addressee A2 (the private recitation audience), the communication ecosystem breaks down. Why Pliny Agrees Pliny's letter argues exactly what you, Grice, and Speranza suggest: The original target (A): The real judges, jury, and hostile opponents in court. The speech was custom-built for them. The secondary audience (A2): The friendly listeners at a private reading. As Pliny notes, without the real target (A), the M-intention loses its point. The audience (A2) cannot respond with the genuine emotion, anger, or judgment that the speech was designed to trigger. Bothering with A2 changes the entire nature of the speech. It turns a live, functional legal argument into a theatrical performance. Would you like to explore how Grice's Maxims of Relation or Quality apply to Pliny's choice to publish his speeches later? Yes, this helps enormously, and I think the connection you draw is genuinely insightful. The opening of Pliny the Younger's letter to Tuccius Cerialis is:  Hortaris ut orationem amicis pluribus recitem. Faciam quia hortaris, quamvis vehementer addubitem... ("You urge me to recite my speech before a number of friends. I shall do so because you urge me, although I strongly doubt...")  What follows, according to your summary, is Pliny's complaint that speeches are designed for a particular audience—judges, opponents, spectators in court—and lose something essential when recited before a friendly private audience. That is remarkably close to a Gricean concern. A speech delivered in court has a very specific addressee structure:  Speaker = advocate. Primary addressees = judges. Secondary addressees = senate, spectators, opponent. Intended effect = decision, persuasion, verdict.  Now remove the judges and substitute a circle of supportive friends. The locution remains. The text remains. Yet something has changed. Grice would say that the utterance-type survives, but the original pattern of communicative intentions does not. In your notation:  A = judges.  becomes  A₂ = friends at a recitation.  And Pliny's worry is precisely that A₂ is not A. The speech was manufactured for one audience and is now being exhibited before another. Indeed, Pliny's hesitation is almost anti-literary:  "This speech belongs in court."  The speech's natural habitat matters.  This also sharpens your point about oratio. The Romans often speak as though rhetoric culminates in:  actio, pronuntiatio,  that is, delivery. The speech is not merely a text. It is an event. Pliny seems very Roman here. He is not worrying primarily about propositions. He is worrying about performance before the right audience. A lawyer's concern.  The Grice–Speranza angle is slightly different. Grice is rarely interested in eloquence as such. He is interested in:  what the speaker intends the audience to recognise.  Thus the crucial question is:  Who is the audience?  Change the audience and you may change the communicative act. The same string of words can instantiate different intentions.  I especially like your observation regarding utterance and proferre. You are right that:  utter → outer  invites a metaphor of:  inside → outside.  Likewise:  proferre = bring forth.  And Ryle might indeed grumble that such language encourages the myth of a hidden mental object emerging into public view. Grice, however, is subtler than that. His theory does not require a ghostly proposition residing in a mental chamber waiting to escape. What matters is the publicly recognizable intention. Even so, the vocabulary remains metaphorically loaded.  A Grice–Speranza vignette for Tuccius Cerialis might therefore be:  TVCCIVS: Recitabisne hanc orationem amicis? (Will you recite this speech to your friends?) PLINIVS: Fortasse. (Perhaps.) TVCCIVS: Cur dubitas? (Why do you hesitate?) PLINIVS: Iudices deerunt. (The judges will be absent.)  The implicatum is:  +> Without the intended audience, the speech is no longer quite the same speech.  Nothing further is explicitly said. Yet the hearer recovers:  +> persuasion requires the proper target, +> rhetoric is audience-relative, +> recitation is not identical with advocacy.  That, I think, is the most Gricean moment in the entire Tuccian dossier. (Ha.) ANd here Tuccius is the Anti-Grice -- Grice and Speranza use 'A' for addresee -- which may be potential (as in a journa entry, say, or the utterer himself -- vide Hylop, 'Grice without an audience' -- 'Audience relates to audire as os relates to mouth -- by choosing addresee, or recipient, no such connotation is visible. Why would Tuccius suggest such? Lawyer's move -- 'rehearse' -- use your friends as target to adjust your 'utterance' or proferatio. But Pliny rightly refuses -- although he says he will because T. asks for it, unwisely -- because it also looses its freshness -- Demosthenes used to rehearse his speechs with gulls -- as did Noel Coward the lines of his plays in Bermuda. But this is Ancient Rome. WHy bother with friends? Just go to the forum and deal with it. The addressee point is basic in Grice and Speranza -- the 'intentio' is not any intention but an addressee-directed intentio -- it concerns the 'attitudes' of the addressee -- the particular addressee intended by the 'utterer' -- not his friends. If the courtroom indeed acts as conversational forum, the countermove Pliny will get fro judge, witness, prosecutor, defendant, etc. will be UNLIKE a friend. Yes, these things ARE rehearsed, and sophists in Ancient Rome gathered a load of dough for doing so -- but Pliny knows better -- he knows that Grice and Speranza, not Tuccius, are right! Thanks I think you're identifying a genuine tension, though I would formulate it a little differently. The Tuccius Cerialis position is not exactly anti-Gricean; it is perhaps preparatory-rhetorical rather than communicative-pragmatic. Tuccius says, in effect:  "Recite the speech before your friends."  That is the advocate's advice. The point is rehearsal:  testing rhythm, discovering awkward passages, strengthening memory, checking delivery, observing reactions.  In that sense Tuccius is thinking like a practical lawyer. But Pliny's objection is much closer to the Grice–Speranza line. The speech was composed for:  A = the judges,  not  A₂ = one's friends.  The friend's applause is not the judge's verdict. The friend's benevolence is not the prosecutor's hostility. The friend's patience is not the audience's impatience. Hence Pliny's anxiety. The communication situation changes. And Grice would immediately ask:  Whose attitudes is the utterer trying to affect?  That is the crucial question. For Grice, an utterer does not merely intend:  some effect.  He intends an effect upon a particular addressee through that addressee's recognition of the very intention. The structure is relational from the beginning. Thus a courtroom speech is not just a sequence of sentences. It is a communicative act directed towards:  judges, jurors, witnesses, opponents,  each occupying a different role. Replace them with one's friends and one changes the ecology of the utterance.  Your point about addressee versus audience is particularly good. Grice's terminology is carefully chosen. "Audience" retains traces of:  audire hearing.  Whereas:  addressee  is neutral regarding the channel. Likewise:  recipient.  The addressee may hear, read, infer, decode, or reconstruct. This is one reason Grice's theory adapts so well to letters, inscriptions, books, and even diary entries. As you note, the Hylton theme of:  "Grice without an audience"  arises precisely because a potential or future addressee may be enough. The communicative intention need not terminate in a physically present hearer.  This also explains why Pliny distrusts rehearsing before friends. The courtroom supplies what Grice would call the relevant pattern of uptake. The advocate needs to discover:  where the judge hesitates, where the opponent objects, where the witness resists.  A friend does not occupy the right inferential position. He knows too much, sympathizes too readily, forgives too quickly. The conversational moves that matter most will never occur. Thus Pliny's thought may be reconstructed:  "The speech was designed for those people. These people are different. Therefore the experiment is defective."  A very Gricean argument.  A Speranzian gloss might read:  Tuccius thinks like a rhetorician; Pliny thinks like a communicator. The former asks whether a speech can be improved by rehearsal, the latter whether rehearsal before the wrong addressees preserves the communicative situation for which the speech was written. Grice's sympathies are likely to lie with Pliny. The meaning of an utterance depends not merely on what is said but on whom it is intended for. A judge is not a friend, and the difference is not incidental but constitutive of the act itself. (Ha.) And we may like to double check the references. Grice's essay is 'Utterer's meaning and intentions' Stine and Lombard dedicated a full thing in Philosophical Studies to 'Grice's intentions' -- by uttering, in uttering, via uttering, U intends that... And Hyslop wondered in Analysis in Grice without an audience whether Grice's take on potential addressee is a valid one. Tuccius has indeed a rhetorical didactic motive in mind. And if Pliny knows exactly who the juror will be, who the judge will be, who the defendant will be, who the accused will be, who the prosecutor will be, he can have a little tea party and have each friend take a role of that he knows in advance will be --. In that case, the 'pronunciatio' (cf. annunciatio) may be re-adjusted. Lawyers were PAID for these things; and Pliny may be protesting too much, it thinks to Grice and Speranza, by rehearsing something out of love's labour! Thanks -- it may be a minor case, even monetarily, not worth pursuing for private rehearsal before the courtroom. -- and in any case, it breaks the Griceian point of the principle of conversational helpfulness, where the target is naturally occurring conversation -- where each conversational move dovetails with the previous one, and prefaces a dovetailing with the next , based on general rational or reasonable constraints (reason-governed), not rehearsed speech before friends. Thanks -- and Pliny may waste all his energy in training his friends and even then find out that it all went wrong because his friends did not quite follow HIS directions. I think your analysis is largely right, and it sharpens an important distinction between rhetoric and Gricean pragmatics. The references look correct as far as the philosophical side is concerned:  Grice's central paper is indeed "Utterer's Meaning and Intentions." Michael Hyslop's discussion of "Grice without an audience" turns precisely on whether an actual audience is necessary, or whether a merely potential addressee can satisfy the structure of communicative intention. The literature on Gricean intentions (including discussions by philosophers such as D. F. Stine and others) repeatedly returns to the layered schema:  U intends that A ... U intends A to recognize that U intends that A ... etc.    Now apply this to Pliny's hesitation before Tuccius Cerialis' suggestion. At first glance, Tuccius seems anti-Gricean:  "Try the speech on your friends."  For Grice, the speech was produced for:  A = judges, jurors, opponents.  Why substitute:  A₂ = friendly listeners?  Pliny's immediate instinct is exactly yours:  the intended addressees are absent.  So something essential may be lost. However, a rhetorician can answer. Suppose Pliny knows in advance:  who the judge will be, who the prosecutor will be, who the defendant will be, who the principal witnesses will be.  Then the rehearsal need not aim at replacing A with A₂. Instead it may make A₂ serve as surrogates for A. The rehearsal becomes a simulation. In modern legal practice this happens constantly. Mock juries and practice hearings work on exactly that assumption. So Tuccius' move is not completely irrational. What Pliny objects to is that friends are poor simulators. They are:  too sympathetic, too informed, too forgiving, too eager to please.  The rehearsal audience may therefore fail to reproduce the actual communicative environment.  Your point about freshness is especially Roman. A speech is not merely a text. It is an event. Once repeatedly recited, some of its force may evaporate. Ancient rhetoricians often worried about this. Hence Pliny's concern that repeated recitation may drain energy that ought to be spent in court.  From a Grice–Speranza perspective, the deepest issue is perhaps this: Grice's Cooperative Principle is built around naturally occurring exchanges in which each conversational move responds to previous moves and anticipates future ones under broadly rational constraints. A rehearsal before friends is different. The responses are partly scripted. The objections are anticipated. The conversational ecology is artificial. Thus the rehearsal belongs more to:  rhetoric, training, preparation,  than to the spontaneous conversational setting that interested Grice. That said, there is a delicious irony. Pliny might spend hours training his friends to act as judge, prosecutor, and witness, only to discover that they misunderstand their parts, miss the crucial objection, or react unlike the real participants. At that point Tuccius' rehearsal risks becoming not a model of the courtroom but a model of itself. A Speranzian formulation might be:  Tuccius treats speech as performance and therefore recommends rehearsal. Pliny treats speech as a transaction with particular addressees and therefore worries about substitution. Grice's sympathies lie with Pliny, since communicative intention is directed toward specific recipients. Yet the advocate in Tuccius knows something the philosopher sometimes forgets: before an utterance reaches its intended audience, it is often practiced before another one. Whether this preparation improves or corrupts the original communicative act is precisely the question that divides the lawyer from the philosopher. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tudizio – Ossia: Grice e Tudizio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tudizio -- The gens Tudicia was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. No members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but several are known from inscriptions.  Origin The nomen Tudicius belongs to a class of gentilicia originally formed from cognomina ending in -ex and -icis. The suffix -icius later came to be regarded as a regular gentile-forming suffix, and was applied to form nomina from names with varying roots.[1]  Praenomina The main praenomina of the Tudicii were Gnaeus, Lucius, Marcus, and Publius. From a filiation, they also appear to have used Gaius.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Lucius Tudicius C. f., named in an inscription from Aquileia in Venetia and Histria, dating from the latter half of the first century BC, along with Baebia Frema, perhaps his wife, Secunda and Lucius Tudicius Cervolis, perhaps his children, the freedman Marcus Flavidius Philogenes, and the freedwoman Egnatia Amoena.[2] Secunda (Tudicia), named in an inscription from Aquileia, dating from the latter half of the first century BC, along with Lucius Tudicius and Baebia Frema, perhaps her parents, Lucius Tudicius Cervolis, perhaps her brother, and two freedmen.[2] Lucius Tudicius L. f. (C. n.) Cervolis, named in an inscription from Aquileia, dating from the latter half of the first century BC, along with Lucius Tudicius and Baebia Frema, perhaps his parents, Secunda, perhaps his sister, and two freedmen.[2] Marcus Tudicius M. f. Niger, a native of Rome, was a soldier in the Legio V.[i] He built an Augustan-era tomb at Ateste in Venetia and Histria for himself and his wife, the freedwoman Grania Aphrodisia.[3] Tudicia Clemens, buried at Rome, aged twenty-two, in a tomb dating from the first half of the first century, along with Gnaeus Tudicius Salvius, perhaps her freedman.[4] Gnaeus Tudicius Cn. l. Mario, a freedman named along with Trebonia Zosime, perhaps his wife, in a sepulchral inscription from Rome dating from the first half of the first century.[5] Gnaeus Tudicius Salvius, a freedman buried at Rome, in a tomb dating from the first half of the first century, along with Tudicia Clemens,[ii] perhaps his former mistress.[4] Undated Tudicii Tudicia, dedicated a tomb at Rome for her patron, Gnaeus Tudicius.[6] Gnaeus Tudicius, buried at Rome, with a tomb dedicated by his client, Tudicia.[6] Gnaeus Tudicius Amandus, buried at Rome, aged twenty-four.[7] Publius Tudicius L. f., built a tomb at Ateste for his wife, Geminia Secunda.[8] Tudicia P. l. Felix, a freedwoman named in a sepulchral inscription from Rome.[9] Publius Tudicius Felix,[iii] built a tomb at Rome for his wife, Primigenia.[10] Marcus Tudicius P. f. Marcellus, buried at Ateste, in a tomb built by his wife, Barbia Secunda.[11] Tudicia Nigella, named in a sepulchral inscription from Rome.[12] Gnaeus Tudicius Ɔ. l. Philostergus, a freedman named in a sepulchral inscription from Rome.[13] Notes  Which fifth legion is not specified in the inscription, but likely the Legio V Macedonica, as the Legio V Alaudae was stationed in or near Germania during the Augustan period.  According to his filiation, Salvius was Tudiciae libertus, freedman of Tudicia, rather than "Ɔ. l.", or mulieris libertus, freedman of a woman (who would probably still have been named "Tudicia", given his nomen), so the fact that he was buried alongside a Tudicia whose name suggests that she was not a freedwoman, and whose relationship to him is not stated, seems to indicate that she was the Tudicia named in Salvius' filiation.  Spelled Felixs in the original inscription. See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, p. 126.  AE 1982 379, {{{2}}}.  CIL V, 2515.  CIL VI, 38989.  CIL VI, 38988.  CIL VI, 27716.  CIL VI, 27717.  AE 1997, 655.  Ferrua, "Nuove Iscrizioni della Via Ostiense", p. 106.  CIL VI, 24951.  CIL V, 2712.  CIL VI, 27719.  CIL VI, 27718. Bibliography 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, pp. 103–184 (1897). Antonio Ferrua, "Nuove Iscrizioni della Via Ostiense" (New Inscriptions from the Via Ostiensis), in Epigraphica, No. 21, pp. 97–116 (1959). Category: Roman gentes And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tudizio – Ossia: Grice e Tudizio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tudizio -- For the Tudicii, I would choose neither the soldier nor the freedmen, but:  Tudicia Clemens and Gnaeus Tudicius Salvius, because the inscription explicitly invites a reconstruction of a social relationship from almost nothing. The note that Salvius was Tudiciae libertus ("freedman of Tudicia") and was buried with a Tudicia Clemens suggests, though does not prove, that she was his former mistress.  This is almost a laboratory case for Grice and Speranza. The inscription does not say:  "She freed him."  It does not say:  "They were close."  It merely supplies a few names, filiations, and statuses. The reader reconstructs the dossier.  First-best vignette Imagine the freedman and former mistress meeting after manumission.  SALVIVS: Meministisne mei? (Do you remember me?) TVDICIA: Nomen tuum adhuc fero. (You still bear my name.)  The final move is the interesting one. Literally:  "You still bear my name."  But the implicatum is richer:  +> I remember perfectly well who you are. +> Our past relationship remains visible. +> Manumission altered your status, not your history.  Nothing further is stated. The hearer does the work.  Why this is especially Gricean The Tudicii are overwhelmingly epigraphic. We do not possess speeches, lawsuits, miracles, or declamations. We possess traces. A Roman inscription often works by extreme informational economy. The text provides:  a name, a filiation, a status, a dedication.  The reader supplies:  family structure, social hierarchy, affection, obligation, memory.  In modern Gricean terms, the explicatum is tiny and the recovered content enormous.  A second vignette Using the dedication:  AMICVS: Quis hunc tumulum fecit? (Who made this tomb?) SALVIVS: Cui maxime debebam. (The one to whom I owed most.)  Implicatum:  +> my former mistress. +> my benefactor. +> the person responsible for my freedom.  Again, the crucial content is recovered rather than stated.  Speranza's gloss  The Tudicii contribute a freedman. Roman manumission generated a curious communicative situation: the slave became legally free while continuing to bear the nomen of the former owner. Every introduction therefore contained a compressed social history. A Roman could say little more than a name; the hearer inferred dependence, liberation, patronage, and memory. The inscription says less than it means. That is why the Tudicii belong in a Grice–Speranza lexicon. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tulelli – Ossia: Grice e Tulelli: la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale dell’equilibrio conversazionale: per una metafisica dell’etica. Note sugl’Elementi di diritto naturale. Il Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice Paolo Emilio Tulelli (Zagarise, Catanzaro, Calabria): Institutionally, Paolo Emilio Tulelli is much closer to Grice than a poet or Roman fabulist, because both are recognisably figures of philosophical teaching; but they still belong to very different academic worlds. Grice’s formula is exact in the Oxford sense. Fellow and Tutor in philosophy at St John’s means a college office with tutorials, students, and membership in the governing life of the college. CUF University Lecturer in philosophy means a university-wide appointment in the faculty structure. So Grice combines the intimate tutorial culture of the college with the wider faculty structure of the university. Paolo Emilio Tulelli belongs to a different world: the nineteenth-century Italian public and quasi-private educational world of Naples, where philosophical instruction could be organized through schools, permissions, moral scrutiny by ecclesiastical and civil authorities, and eventually publication through university presses. He studied first in Calabria and Catanzaro, then in Naples, where he taught philosophy, moral philosophy, and aesthetics in his own school after obtaining official authorization. That is not the Oxford college-tutorial or university-faculty pattern. It is a more fluid Neapolitan world of local intellectual authority, moral reputation, and philosophical formation under supervision. So the clean institutional contrast is this. Grice belongs to the tutorial-collegiate and university-faculty world. Tulelli belongs to the moral-philosophical, school-based, and partially university-connected world of nineteenth-century southern Italy. That institutional difference fits your philosophical comparison rather well. Grice works at the micro-level of rational communication: how a hearer gets from what is said to what is meant by recognising intentions and inferring implicatures under shared norms. Tulelli, by contrast, seems to work at a much more explicitly ethical and metaphysical level. On the evidence you yourself provide, his key concern is not how one interlocutor rationally recovers another’s extra meaning in ordinary exchange, but how ethical life requires a balanced relation among persons, and how that relation is to be grounded in a metaphysics of the good or of moral life. If one speaks of “equilibrio conversazionale” in his case, it can only be as a retrospective gloss: the conversation is not his explicit topic, but one possible expression of a larger moral-metaphysical order. So the sharpest formulation is this. Grice explains how rational interlocutors achieve equilibrium in interpretation. Tulelli seeks an equilibrium among persons as an ethical and metaphysical ideal. That is why your distinction between descriptive and prescriptive equilibrium is exactly right. For Grice, conversational equilibrium is the practical effect of mutually intelligible maxims and shared assumptions. For Tulelli, equilibrium would be a regulative norm: something conversation ought to embody if it is to be morally worthy. The bibliographical correction you include is also very important, and I would keep it central. Schema di una metafisica dell’etica is the secure and characteristic anchor, published in Naples in 1872 by the Stamperia della R. Università, and marked as Parte prima, with the implication that the project remained incomplete. By contrast, the 1833 Elementi di diritto naturale does not appear, from the evidence you cite, to be securely attributable in the same way and should therefore not be used as your main anchor. So the short clean answer is: H. P. Grice was an Oxford don in the precise collegiate sense, both Fellow and Tutor in philosophy at St John’s College and CUF University Lecturer in philosophy at Oxford. Paolo Emilio Tulelli, by contrast, was a nineteenth-century southern Italian philosopher and teacher, active in Naples through private and authorized instruction in philosophy, moral philosophy, and aesthetics, and known above all for the incomplete ethical-metaphysical project Schema di una metafisica dell’etica. Institutionally, Grice belongs to the tutorial-collegiate world; Tulelli to the school-based and university-adjacent world of philosophical formation in Naples. Philosophically, the contrast is equally clear: Grice analyses the inferential micro-mechanics of speaker-meaning and implicature, whereas Tulelli represents an ethical-metaphysical rationality in which balance or equilibrium is not a by-product of conversational cooperation but a regulative ideal governing relations among persons. And if I compress it into one line: Grice theorises balance in understanding; Tulelli seeks balance in ethical life. If you want, I can now give you a tighter one-paragraph entry in your preferred style, using Schema di una metafisica dell’etica as the sole bibliographical anchor and dropping the uncertain 1833 title.la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale dell’equilibrio conversazionale: per una metafisica dell’etica – Grice’s reason-governed conversational meaning makes “what is meant” an inferential product of cooperative rationality: speakers and hearers are mutually accountable to norms (relevance, sufficiency, sincerity, etc.), and implicature is what a competent interpreter can work out from what is said plus the assumption that the speaker is rationally pursuing shared conversational ends. Tulelli’s “equilibrio conversazionale,” as it is most plausibly grounded in his ethical-metaphysical project, shifts the center from Grice’s epistemic-inferential normativity to a regulative, ethical normativity: conversation is not primarily a device for extracting intended contents, but a practice that should maintain a morally charged balance among persons (reciprocal respect, restraint, and the accommodation of difference), so the “governance” is closer to an ethics of dialogical life than to a calculus of inference. Online bibliographic evidence also helps correct the timeline in your passage: Tulelli’s Schema di una metafisica dell’etica is attested as an extract published in Napoli, Stamperia della R. Università, 1872 (itself presented as Parte prima and often described as incomplete), whereas your cited Elementi di diritto naturale (1833) does not readily surface as a corroborated Tulelli imprint; in any case, the contrast stands: Grice explains how equilibrium in talk is achieved descriptively by shared maxims enabling stable implicature recovery, while Tulelli tends to treat equilibrium prescriptively as an ethical-metaphysical ideal that conversation ought to realize, with the “implicature” of silence, understatement, or tact functioning less as a merely derivable surplus content and more as a moral technique for sustaining that balance. Grice: T. published the work Schema di una metafisica dell'etica. The book ends with the notation "end of first part" (or "fine della prima parte" in the original Italian), indicating the author's intention to write a second part.  However, historical records and bibliographies suggest that the second part was never published. The volume is the only published portion of this work. T continued to write and publish on other subjects, but the continuation of the Schema appears to have remained unfinished or unpublished in his lifetime. The work is considered incomplete. Keywords: equilibrio. A lui sono ad oggi intitolate una via a Zagarise e una a S.Elia, e una sala della biblioteca di Catanzaro. Targa commemorativa in suo onore, inoltre, posto davanti alla casa comunale di Zagarise un busto che lo raffigura, realizzato da Calveri. Zagarise, busto creato da Calveri, installato davanti al comune di Zagarise. Figlio dal marchese Gaetano T., studia presso il convento del ritiro dei filippini a Zagarise e poi frequenta a Catanzaro il real liceo ginnasio e il corso presso il pontificio seminario teologico regionale S. Pio X. Vive a Napoli dove compì studi filosofici e apre una scuola dove insegna filosofia morale ed estetica. La richiesta di poter istituire una scuola e inviata alle autorità competenti, le quali, prima di concedere le relative autorizzazioni, chiesero al vescovo di Catanzaro dettagliate notizie in merito alla condotta morale e politica del richiedente, la risposta inviata loro fu. Elemento di condotta soda, casta e onesta. Tra gl’allievi della sua scuola molti sono appartenenti a famiglie di alto rango sociale, e tra questi, è possibile annoverare i figli del re Borbone che, in segno di stima, gli fanno dono di un orologio da camera di manifattura francese opera dei fratelli Japis. filosofia italiana, l’equilibrio, metafisica dell’etica.  Grice: Professor Tulelli, permetta che le dica quanto ammiro la profondità del suo pensiero sull’“equilibrio conversazionale”. Un concetto così complesso e affascinante, che sembra intrecciare la metafisica con l’etica, non può che destare curiosità in chiunque si occupi di filosofia del dialogo. Mi piacerebbe capire come lei vede la conversazione come spazio di equilibrio. Tulelli: Caro Grice, la ringrazio per le sue parole. L’“equilibrio conversazionale”, come lo intendo, nasce dalla necessità di riconoscere e valorizzare il reciproco rispetto tra interlocutori. È un movimento sottile: non si tratta semplicemente di mediare, ma di creare uno spazio dove ogni voce trova la sua armonia e la conversazione, di conseguenza, si eleva ad esperienza etica condivisa. Grice: Trovo molto suggestiva questa idea di elevazione etica. Ma mi chiedo: l’equilibrio è sempre raggiungibile, oppure la conversazione rischia di restare inevitabilmente sbilanciata, magari per via delle differenze di background o degli interessi in gioco? Tulelli: È proprio questa tensione tra equilibrio e sbilanciamento che rende la conversazione viva. L’aspirazione all’equilibrio, pur sapendo che è spesso incompleto o precario, stimola la ricerca di una verità condivisa. Come ho scritto nel mio “Schema di una metafisica dell’etica”, la conversazione è una via che conduce verso l’ideale, anche se a volte resta sospesa, come la mia opera, al termine di una “prima parte” che attende ancora il suo compimento. Tulelli, Paolo Emilio (1833). Elementi di diritto naturale, Napoli: Stamperia Reale.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tulli – Ossia: Grice e Tulli: il principe filosofo – Roma – filosofia italiana –  (Roma). Grice: “When I arrived at Oxford from Clifton with a classics scholarship to Corpus, I knew I had to deal with Ottaviano – I was less sure I had to deal with his NEPHEW!” -- Filosofo italiano. The nephew of Ottaviano [vedasi], and until his death, his chosen heir. A pupil of Nestore. Marco Claudio Marcello. Grice, “Grice e Marcello.” Marcello: del sillogismo – Roma – filosofia italiana –  (Roma). Abstract. Grice: “At Oxford, it is widely believed that Martha and W. C. Kneale covered the whole of the growh of logic – indeed, they missed Marcello!” Filosofo italiano. M. qrites about logic, including an essay on the syllogism, which is a connection (‘syn-‘) of ‘reasons’ (logoi).  Tullio Marcello. Grice, “Grice e Marcello.” Marcello (Roma, Lazio): il principe filosofo. Marcello is made to stand at the intersection of two kinds of rational governance: the formal governance of reasons inside logic (syllogismus as syn-logos, a binding-together of logoi) and the practical governance of reasons inside conversation, which is Grice’s domain. Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning says that what hearers are entitled to take a speaker to mean (including implicatures) is constrained by publicly accessible norms of cooperative rationality, so that the route from what is said to what is meant is, at least in principle, reconstructible as a piece of reasoning; Marcello, as you portray him, supplies the ancient counterpart by treating reasoning itself as something with an explicit architecture (the syllogism), thereby making “reasons” not merely psychological pushes but connectable units that can be chained, tested, and corrected. The joke about the Kneales “missing Marcello” functions as a narrative hinge: Oxford thinks it has the history of logic sewn up, yet your Marcello reminds us that “logic” is not only a modern formal calculus but also an older civic-and-educational ideal, where to connect reasons is also to connect persons (amicitias quoque coniungamus), i.e., where rational structure is inseparable from the social conditions of its transmission. Historically, there is indeed a real Marcus Claudius Marcellus (Augustus’ nephew and intended heir) who died in 23 BC (AUC 731), but there is no standard attested “Tullio Marcello” author of De ratione or De syllogismo from that setting; the imprint reads as your project’s playful pseudo-archive, and that helps the comparison by letting “Marcello” operate as an emblem: for Grice, the norms of conversation explain how meaning travels by inferential uptake; for Marcello, the norms of syllogistic form explain how conclusions travel by valid consequence—two parallel pictures of reason as something that binds, obliges, and can be evaluated rather than merely felt. Grice: “When I arrived at Oxford from Clifton with a classics scholarship to Corpus, I knew I had to deal with Ottaviano – I was less sure I had to deal with his NEPHEW!” The nephew of Ottaviano [vedasi], and until his death, his chosen heir. A pupil of Nestore. Marco Claudio Marcello. Grice, “Grice e Marcello.” Marcello: del sillogismo – Roma – filosofia italiana –  (Roma). Abstract. Grice: “At Oxford, it is widely believed that Martha and W. C. Kneale covered the whole of the growh of logic – indeed, they missed Marcello!” Filosofo italiano. M. qrites about logic, including an essay on the syllogism, which is a connection (‘syn-‘) of ‘reasons’ (logoi).  Tullio Marcello. GRICEVS: Cum e Cliftonio Oxonium venissem, stipendio classicorum ad Corpus, sciebam mihi cum Ottaviano esse negotium; minus autem certus eram me etiam cum nepote eius rem habiturum! MARCELLVS: Noli timere, Grice; nepos sum, sed non morsus: si patrui umbram effugis, ad vinum venias—hic quoque logica bibitur. GRICEVS: At Oxonii vulgo creditur Martham et W. C. Kneale totum logicae incrementum complexos esse; immo—Marcellum praeterierunt! MARCELLVS: Praeterierunt? Bene: qui me praeterit, syllogismum quoque praeterit—nam syllogismus est syn-logos, coniunctio rationum; et si rationes coniungimus, amicitias quoque coniungamus. Tulli Marcello (a. u. c. DCCXXXI). De ratione. Roma.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tullio – Ossia: Grice e Tullio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tullio -- The gens Tullia was a family at ancient Rome, with both patrician and plebeian branches. The first of this gens to obtain the consulship was Manius Tullius Longus in 500 BC, but the most illustrious of the family was Marcus Tullius Cicero, the statesman, orator, and scholar of the first century BC. The earliest of the Tullii who appear in history were patrician, but all of the Tullii mentioned in later times were plebeian, and some of them were descended from freedmen.[1] The English form Tully, often found in older works, especially in reference to Cicero, is now considered antiquated.  Origin The nomen Tullius is a patronymic surname, derived from the old Latin praenomen Tullus, probably from a root meaning to support, bear, or help.[2] The Tullii of the Republic sometimes claimed descent from Servius Tullius, the sixth King of Rome, who according to some traditions was the son of Servius Tullius, a prince of Corniculum who was slain in battle against the Romans under Lucius Tarquinius Priscus, the fifth Roman king.[3] However, the Roman historians report that the Tullii were one of the Alban noble families that came to Rome after the destruction of their city during the reign of Tullus Hostilius, the third King of Rome.[4] This would probably make the Tullii one of the gentes minores, the lesser patrician houses of the Republic.[1][5]  Praenomina The main praenomina used by the Tullii were Marcus and Lucius. To these, the Tullii Cicerones added Quintus. Manius is found only among the patrician Tullii at the beginning of the Republic, and there are individual instances of Sextus and Tiberius.  Branches and cognomina The patrician Tullii bore the cognomen Longus, tall, but only one of them appears in history.[6] The notable plebeian families bore the surnames Decula and Cicero. The latter, among the most famous of Roman cognomina, belongs to a common class of surnames derived from familiar objects.[7] This family came from Arpinum, the inhabitants of which were granted Roman citizenship in 188 BC. Plutarch reports that the surname was given to an ancestor of the orator, who had a cleft in the tip of his nose in the shape of a chickpea, or cicer. At the beginning of his career, Cicero was urged to adopt a more auspicious surname, but he declined, stating that he would make the name famous.[8] Most other surnames found with the Tullii of the Republic belonged to freedmen, but a number of the family bore no cognomen.[1][9]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Early Tullii Servius Tullius, according to one tradition, the prince of Corniculum, husband of Ocrisia, and father of Servius Tullius, the sixth King of Rome, fell in battle when Corniculum was taken by Lucius Tarquinius Priscus.[10][11] Servius Tullius Ser. f., the sixth King of Rome, traditionally reigned from 578 to 534 BC. He is said to have defeated Veii, enlarged the sacred boundary of Rome, and enclosed the city with a stone wall, established the Temple of Diana, and an alliance with the Latins, and undertook significant reforms of the Roman constitution, establishing the Comitia Centuriata and the Servian tribes.[12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19] Marcus Tullius,[i] a duumvir sacris faciundis in the reign of Tarquinius Superbus, the seventh and last King of Rome, was paid by a certain Petronius Sabinus to allow him to copy one of the Sibylline books. The king punished Tullius by having him sewn into a leather sack, and cast into the sea.[20][21] Manius Tullius Longus, consul in 500 BC, besieged the city of Fidenae when its inhabitants revolted, but withdrew his army when the Fidenates sought to negotiate a peace. He and his colleague then suppressed a conspiracy to restore the Tarquins. While opening the Ludi Romani, Tullius was badly injured when he fell from his chariot. He died three days later.[22][23][24][25] Manius Tullius Tolerinus,[ii] according to Festus, one of several persons burned at the Circus Maximus in 486 BC,[iii] possibly on the charge of conspiring with Spurius Cassius Vecellinus.[27][28][26] Attius Tullius,[iv] a leader of the Volscians early in the fifth century BC, who gave shelter to Gaius Marcius Coriolanus following his exile from Rome, and encouraged him to take up arms against the Romans.[29][30][31][32] Sextus Tullius, a centurion primus pilus in 358 BC, sought permission from the dictator Gaius Sulpicius Peticus to engage the Gauls in battle. He and his colleagues fought with conspicuous bravery. His martial prowess was displayed again in the following year, when he served under the consul Gaius Marcius Rutilus at Privernum.[33] Tullii Cicerones Marcus Tullius Cicero, grandfather of the orator, was one of the leading men of Arpinum. In 115 BC, the consul Marcus Aemilius Scaurus complimented him on his industry and foresight when he and his brother-in-law, Marcus Gratidius, petitioned on behalf of their city for the right to vote by ballot.[34] Marcus Tullius M. f. Cicero, father of the orator Cicero, was a learned man of literary interests, and moved to Rome in order to provide the best of education for his sons. He kept company with the leading orators and jurists of his day, and died in 64 BC, the year his son was elected consul.[35] Lucius Tullius M. f. Cicero, uncle of the orator, was a close friend of Marcus Antonius, the orator, with whom he traveled to Cilicia during the latter's government there. He provided his nephew with regular correspondence for a number of years.[36] Marcus Tullius M. f. M. n. Cicero, the orator, was consul in 63 BC, when he suppressed the conspiracy of Catiline, although he was later exiled for having put the conspirators to death without a trial. After his recall, he generally opposed the first triumvirate, and Caesar in particular, although Caesar deeply admired him, and gladly pardoned him for siding with his enemies. He played no part in Caesar's assassination, but was friend and advisor to the conspirators, and placed himself in opposition to the second triumvirate, by which he was proscribed and put to death. Cicero was the most eminent of the Roman orators, and one of the leading scholars of Roman history and institutions. His vast body of surviving speeches, treatises, and correspondence forms one of the most important sources of Roman history.[37] Quintus Tullius M. f. M. n. Cicero, the younger brother of Cicero, was praetor in 62 BC, and subsequently governor of Asia. He was one of Caesar's generals during the Gallic Wars, but later supported Pompeius during the Civil War. After Caesar's murder, he was proscribed and put to death by the triumvirs. Lucius Tullius L. f. M. n. Cicero, the cousin and close friend of the orator, whom he accompanied to Athens in 79 BC, and assisted during the trial of Verres. The people of Syracuse honoured him for his efforts on their behalf. Marcus was deeply aggrieved when Lucius died in 68, while still a young man.[38] Tullia L. f. M. n., cousin of the orator and wife of Lucius Aelius Tubero.[39] Tullia M. f. M. n., or Tulliola, the beloved daughter of Cicero, married first Gaius Calpurnius Piso Frugi, who died in 57 BC, then briefly to Furius Crassipes, whom she divorced, then in 50 to Publius Cornelius Dolabella, by whom she had two sons; one who died in infancy, and another, Lentulus, who probably died in childhood. Tullia and Dolabella were divorced before the birth of their second son, and she died shortly afterward, to her father's great sorrow.[40][41] Quintus Tullius Q. f. M. n. Cicero, son of Quintus Cicero, attempted to hide his father from the triumvirs, and was tortured, then put to death along with his father, who gave himself up in the hope of saving his son. Marcus Tullius M. f. M. n. Cicero, son of the orator, joined the liberatores, Brutus and Cassius after the murder of his father and uncle in the proscription of the triumvirs. He obtained the pardon of Octavian after the Battle of Philippi, and later took his side against Mark Antony. He was consul in 30 BC. Others Marcus Tullius, triumvir monetalis in 120 BC. He was perhaps the father of Marcus Tullius Decula, the consul of 81 BC.[42] Marcus Tullius Decula, consul in 81 BC, during the dictatorship of Sulla.[43][44][45] Marcus Tullius, claimed that his neighbor, Publius Fabius, with whom he was engaged in a property dispute, had murdered several of his slaves. Cicero spoke on his behalf in a partially-preserved speech. He does not seem to be identified with any of the other Marci Tullii known from this period of history.[46] Lucius Tullius, an eques, was leader of those who collected the taxes from the scriptura, the cattle grazed upon public land, in Sicily in the time of Verres.[47] Lucius Tullius, a friend of Titus Pomponius Atticus, served as a legate under Cicero during his government of Cilicia. Cicero did not consider his performance adequate.[48] Marcus Tullius M. l. Tiro, a scribe and freedman of Cicero, became a notable author in his own right. He wrote on the Latin language, and a life of Cicero, which has been lost; he may have been the chief compiler and preserver of Cicero's correspondence. He was credited with inventing a variety of shorthand, and to have lived to the age of one hundred.[49][50][51][52][53][54][55] Marcus Tullius M. f. Laurea, apparently the same man as Laurea Tullius, a freedman of Cicero, who was known for his elegiac poetry, and several epigrams that have survived to the modern day.[v][56][57][58][59][60] Tullius Rufus, a partisan of Pompeius, who was killed at the Battle of Thapsus in 46 BC. He had been quaestor, but the year is uncertain.[61] Tiberius Tullius, a partisan of Pompeius during the war in Spain, in 45 BC.[62] Tullius Bassus, or possibly Julius Bassus, a writer on medicine and botany, perhaps belonging to the early first century.[63][64][65] Lucius Tullius Montanus, a companion of the younger Marcus Tullius Cicero on his journey to Athens in 45 BC.[66] Lucius Tullius Cimber, a misreading of Lucius Tillius Cimber, one of Caesar's assassins. Tullius Senecio, one of Nero's friends, who joined in the Pisonian conspiracy, and was forced to take his own life after his participation was discovered.[67] Tullius Flavianus, a cavalry commander serving under Quintus Petillius Cerialis during the civil war between Vitellius and Vespasian. He was captured by Vitellius while fighting in the neighborhood of Rome.[68] Tullius Valentinus, one of the leaders of the Treveri in AD 70, during the Batavian Rebellion. He joined with Julius Tutor in opposing Quintus Petillius Cerialis, and put to death the legates of two legions that had surrendered to Julius Classicus, but was captured by Cerealis at Rigodulum, and was sent to Mucianus and Domitian, by whom he was put to death.[69] Publius Tullius Varro, consul suffectus in April of AD 127.[70] Tullius Geminus, a poet whose epigrams are preserved in the Greek Anthology. The surviving examples describe works of art, and display a number of affectations. A few epigrams attributed solely to Tullius might have been authored by either Tullius Geminus or Marcus Tullius Laurea.[71][72][73] See also List of Roman gentes Notes  Dionysius gives his name as Marcus Atilius.  Perhaps the same person as Manius Tullius Longus, the consul of 500 BC, although Longus is supposed to have died during his consulship; the connection of this name with the mysterious events of 486 is uncertain.[26]  Broughton explains that Festus refers to such an incident, but the manuscript explaining it is defective. Valerius Maximus says that Publius Mucius, a tribune of the plebs, burned nine of his colleagues for conspiring with Cassius, but Broughton notes that there were probably not ten tribunes of the plebs at this period, and that most or all of the names given by Festus belong to patricians, seven of them apparently corresponding with those of former consuls, so Broughton concludes that they were not tribunes of the plebs, although they might have been military tribunes, and that the nature of the event in question is not at all certain.  Livy and Zonaras give Tullius, which is preferred by modern historians, but Dionysius calls him Tullus Attius, giving the form normally used as a praenomen, while Plutarch calls him Tullus Aufidius. Attius is a known praenomen, most familiar from Attius Clausus, the Sabine nobleman who removed to Rome, where he was known as Appius Claudius. However, Attius is also found as a nomen gentilicium in imperial times.  A misreading of M. Tullius appears to have led to Laurea's epigrams being attributed to Satullius and Tatullius. References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography & Mythology, vol. III, p. 1183 ("Tullia Gens").  Chase, pp. 145, 146.  Cicero, Brutus, 62, Tusculanae Quaestiones, i. 16.  Livy, i. 30.  Wiseman, "Legendary Genealogies", p. 158.  Chase, p. 110.  Chase, p. 113.  Plutarch, The Life of Cicero, 1.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. I, pp. 707, 708 ("Cicero").  Livy, i. 39.  Dionysius, iv. 1, 2.  Ovid, Fasti, vi. 573 ff, 625 ff.  Valerius Maximus, i. 8 § 11.  Dionysius, iv. 1–40.  Cicero, De Republica, ii. 21, 22.  Livy, i. 39–48.  Zonaras, vii. 9.  Niebuhr, History of Rome, vol. i, pp. 249, 398 ff.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, pp. 1184–1190 ("Servius Tullius").  Valerius Maximus, i. 1. § 13.  Dionysius, iv. 62.  Livy, ii. 19.  Dionysius, v. 52–57.  Zonaras, vii. 13.  Cicero, Brutus, 16.  Broughton, vol. I, p. 21 (and note 1).  Festus, 180 L.  Valerius Maximus, vi. 3. § 2.  Livy, ii. 35–40.  Dionysius, viii. 1–5, 10–13.  Plutarch, "The Life of Coriolanus", 22, 23, 26–28, 31, 39.  Niebuhr, History of Rome, vol. ii, note. 217.  Livy, vii. 13–16.  Cicero, De Legibus, ii. 1, iii. 16, De Oratore, ii. 66.  Cicero, De Legibus, ii. 1, De Oratore, ii. 1, De Officiis, iii. 19, Epistulae ad Atticum, i. 6.  Cicero, De Oratore, ii. 1.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. I, pp. 708–746.  Cicero, De Finibus, v. 1, In Verrem, iv. 11, 61, 64, 65, Epistulae ad Atticum, i. 5.  Treggiari. 25 (2007)  Orelli, Onomasticon Tullianum, vol. ii., pp. 596, 597.  Drumann, Geschichte Roms, vol. vi, pp. 696 ff.  Crawford, Roman Republican Coinage, p. 297.  Cicero, De Lege Agraria, ii. 14.  Gellius, xv. 28.  Appian, Bellum Civile, i. 100.  Drumann, Geschichte Roms, vol. v, pp. 258 ff.  Cicero, In Verrem, iii. 71.  Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum, v. 4, 11, 14, 21, Epistulae ad Familiares, xv. 14. § 8.  Gellius, xiii. 9.  Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares, liber xvi, Epistulae ad Atticum, iv. 6, vi. 7, vii. 2, 3, 5, xiii. 7, xvi. 5.  Martial, Epigrammata, xiv. 202.  Manilius, Astronomica, iv. 197.  Seneca the Younger, Epistulae, 90.  Plutarch, "The Life of Cicero", 41, 49.  Drumann, Geschichte Roms, vol. vi, p. 409.  Pliny the Elder, xxxi. 2.  Burmann, Anthologia Latina, vol. i, p. 340.  Fabricius, Bibliotheca Graeca, vol. iv, p. 493.  Analecta Veterum Poetarum Graecorum, vol. ii, p. 102.  Anthologia Graeca, vol. ii, p. 90, vol. xiii, p. 907.  Caesar, De Bello Africo, 85.  Caesar, De Bello Hispaniensis, 17, 18.  Pliny the Elder, index to Historia Naturalis, xx.  Caelius Aurelianus, De Morbis Acutis, iii. 16, p. 233.  Fabricius, Bibliotheca Graeca, vol. xiii, p. 101 (ed. vet).  Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum, xii. 52, 53, xiv. 16, 17, xv. 26, 29.  Tacitus, Annales, xv. 50, 56, 70.  Tacitus, Historiae, iii. 79.  Tacitus, Historiae, iv. 69–74, 85.  Eck & Weiß "Hadrianische Konsuln", p. 482.  Analecta Veterum, vol. ii, p. 279.  Anthologia Graeca, vol. ii, p. 254, vol. xiii, p. 897.  Fabricius, Bibliotheca Graeca, vol. iv, p. 498. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Brutus; De Finibus Bonorum et Malorum; De Lege Agraria contra Rullum; De Legibus; De Officiis; De Oratore; De Republica; Epistulae ad Atticum; Epistulae ad Familiares; In Verrem; Tusculanae Quaestiones. Gaius Julius Caesar (attributed), De Bello Africo (On the African War); De Bello Hispaniensis (On the War in Spain). Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Romaike Archaiologia (Roman Antiquities). Titus Livius (Livy), History of Rome. Publius Ovidius Naso (Ovid), Fasti. Marcus Manilius, Astronomica. Valerius Maximus, Factorum ac Dictorum Memorabilium (Memorable Facts and Sayings). Lucius Annaeus Seneca (Seneca the Younger), Epistulae Morales ad Lucilium (Moral Letters to Lucilius). Gaius Plinius Secundus (Pliny the Elder), Historia Naturalis (Natural History). Marcus Valerius Martialis (Martial), Epigrammata (Epigrams). Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Annales, Historiae. 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). Appianus Alexandrinus (Appian), Bellum Civile (The Civil War). Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae (Attic Nights). Festus, Breviarum Rerum Gestarum Populi Romani (Summary of the History of the Roman People). Caelius Aurelianus, Celerum Passionum, or De Morbis Acutis (translation of Soranus of Ephesus, On Acute Diseases). Joannes Zonaras, Epitome Historiarum (Epitome of History). Johann Albert Fabricius, Bibliotheca Graeca, sive Notitia Scriptorum Veterum Graecorum (The Greek Library, or Knowledge of Ancient Greek Writers), Christian Liebezeit & Theodor Christoph Felginer, Hamburg (1718). Pieter Burmann, Anthologia Latina (Latin Anthology), ed. Wernsdorf, (1759–1778). Analecta Veterum Poetarum Graecorum (Fragments by Ancient Greek Poets), Richard François Philippe Brunck, ed., Bauer and Treuttel, Strasbourg (1772–1776). Anthologia Graeca sive Poetarum Graecorum Lusus, ex Recensione Brunckii (The Greek Anthology, or Works of the Greek Poets, or the Collection of Brunck), Friedrich Jacobs, ed., Dyck, Leipzig (1794). Johann Caspar von Orelli, Onomasticon Tullianum, Orell Füssli, Zürich (1826–1838). Barthold Georg Niebuhr, The History of Rome, Julius Charles Hare and Connop Thirlwall, trans., John Smith, Cambridge (1828). Wilhelm Drumann, Geschichte Roms in seinem Übergang von der republikanischen zur monarchischen Verfassung, oder: Pompeius, Caesar, Cicero und ihre Zeitgenossen, Königsberg (1834–1844). 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, pp. 103–184 (1897). T.P. Wiseman, "Legendary Genealogies in Late-Republican Rome," in Greece & Rome, vol. 21 (1974). Michael Crawford, Roman Republican Coinage, Cambridge University Press (1974, 2001). Werner Eck & Peter Weiß, "Hadrianische Konsuln. Neue Zeugnisse aus Militärdiplomen" (Hadrianic Consuls: New Evidence from Military Diplomas), in Chiron, vol. 32 (2002). Treggiari, Susan (2007). Terentia, Tullia and Publilia: The Women of Cicero's Family. Women of the Ancient World (illustrated ed.). Routledge. ISBN 9781134264575. Categories: Roman gentesRoman gentes of Latin originTullii And for this gens? I append below the one I have already Cicero -- so second-best? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tullio – Ossia: Grice e Tullio: la semiotica -- l’implicatura conversazionale di Marc’Antonio Ciceronian implicaturum:  Marco Tullio Cicerone (Ponte Olmo, Abbazia di San Domenico, Arpino, Frosinone, Lazio): la semiotica -- l’implicatura conversazionale di Marc’Antonio Ciceronian implicaturum: Grice: “One has to be careful: an Italian philosopher might argue that Cicerone ain’t Italian, but Roman! – so the keywords: ‘filosofo italiano’ ‘filosofo romano’ – matter! However, whatever the discussion, provided Cicerone IS discussed by this or that undeniable *Italian* philosopher is enough to provide us with some nice secondary literature! As an example, I would mention the two-volume of the ‘Storia della filosofia’ – if you check for the “Roman chapter,” it’s mainly all about Cicerone – with some footnote to Lucrezio and Aurelio! Recall that Roman-Roman philosophy is pretty recent: due to the embassy by the three Greek philosophers who arrived in Rome in 183 a. u. c., and – philosophy then became the pastime of the leisurely class, notably the Scipioni!” Attraverso la sua opera i Romani poterono anche acquisire una migliore conoscenza della filosofia. Tra i suoi maggiori contributi alla cultura latina, vi fu la creazione di un lessico filosofico latino: Cicerone si impegnò, infatti, a trovare il corrispondente vocabolo in latino per ogni termine specifico della lingua filosofica. Tra le opere fondamentali per la comprensione del mondo latino si collocano, invece, le Lettere/Epistulae (in particolar modo, quelle all'amico Tito Pomponio Attico) che offrono numerose riflessioni su ogni avvenimento, permettendo così di comprendere quali fossero le reali linee politiche dell'aristocrazia romana.  L'assimilazione, da parte dei Romani, delle comunità italiche vicine a Roma permise a C. di diventare oratore.  C. appartene alla classe equestre. Il cognomen Cicero è il soprannome di un suo antenato abbastanza noto per un'escrescenza carnosa sul naso che ricorda un cicer, cece. Marc’Antonio, untranslatable, signans/signatum, signans, signatum. Cicerone, Cicero = Tully. Corpus, 1928. Burrows: Sit down, Grice. And do try to look as if Latin were not a personal affront. Grice: Latin is not an affront, sir. It is merely a permanent condition. Burrows: Spoken like a boy who has been overpraised for surviving the subjunctive. Today, Cicero. Pemberton: Again. Burrows: Again. Because Cicero, Pemberton, is the only Roman who manages to be both tiresome and indispensable. Langford: Which book, sir. Burrows: Two books, if you can bear it. First, Cicero on signs and proof. Second, Cicero on rhetoric and the tricks of speech that still make you all laugh when you ought to be thinking. Shropshire: Like irony, sir. Burrows: Like irony, Shropshire. Which, in your case, will be the first honest thing you ever say. Grice: Sir, Cicero does talk about signa as proof, doesn’t he. Signa necessaria and signa probabilia. Burrows: He does. And since you are so eager, you may begin. Define for the class the difference between a sign that compels and a sign that merely persuades. Grice: A necessary sign is such that, if the sign is present, the thing signified must be present. A probable sign is such that, if the sign is present, the thing signified is likely, but not forced. Burrows: Good. And in Latin. Grice: Signum necessarium est quod ita coniunctum est cum re ut, cum signum sit, res necesse sit. Signum probabil(e) est quod plerumque, non semper, indicat rem. Burrows: Not bad. Pemberton, give us a Ciceronian-sounding example. Pemberton: Smoke means fire. Burrows: That is Aristotle, not Cicero, but it will do. In Latin. Pemberton: Ubi fumus, ibi ignis. Burrows: A proverb. Acceptable. Grice, translate and then improve it into a Ciceronian point about necessity. Grice: Where there is smoke, there is fire. And the necessity is: given smoke, fire follows. Unless it’s theatre. Shropshire: Or Clifton chapel incense, sir. Burrows: Exactly. Which is why “smoke means fire” is not necessity in the logical sense, but “necessity” under a background assumption: that we are not dealing with stage smoke or incense. Grice: So the sign is only necessary given certain conditions. Burrows: Yes. And now you are doing philosophy, which is usually a way of discovering that Latin was simpler than your mind. Langford: Does Cicero actually use “signum naturale,” sir. Burrows: He does speak of natural signs versus instituted signs, and he certainly uses signum constantly in the rhetoric of proof. Grice: Natural sign would be one where the connection is not by convention, but by nature or causal link. Burrows: Precisely. And the other kind? Grice: The conventional sign: where we agree that this sound or mark stands for that thing. Shropshire: Like “bow-wow,” sir. Burrows: Yes, Shropshire. Like your mind. Grice: Cicero’s legal and rhetorical point is that in court you rely on signs to infer what happened. Some are proofs, some are only indications. Burrows: Now give it structure. Cicero does not merely say “signs exist.” He turns it into a theory of evidence. Grice: He distinguishes between demonstrative proofs and those that make something plausible. Probabile. Verisimile. Burrows: Latin. Grice: Probabile, verisimile. Burrows: English. Grice: Probable, likely, plausible, resembling truth. Pemberton: Like my homework excuses. Burrows: Your homework excuses, Pemberton, are never verisimilia. They are merely verbose. Grice: Cicero also has the lawyer’s sense that a sign can be contested. The opponent can say it signifies something else, or signifies nothing. Burrows: Yes. That is crucial. In rhetoric, a sign is not just a link; it is a contested link. Shropshire: So the sign is like a quarrel in shorthand. Burrows: That is better than you deserve. Grice: And this links to what later would be called meaning: what a sign is taken to indicate, under cooperative assumptions, or adversarial ones. Burrows: Stop forecasting, Grice. Stick to Cicero. Grice: Right. Cicero would say: we argue from signa to res. But the inference depends on whether the sign is certain or only likely. Burrows: And we need the Latin for “likely.” Langford: Verisimile. Burrows: Good. And the Latin for “proof” in the rhetorical sense. Pemberton: Probatio. Burrows: Exactly. Probatio from probare. To prove, to test, to make acceptable. Grice: And probare is also to approve. Burrows: That is a useful double life. It reminds you that proving is partly social: you make a claim acceptable to an audience. Shropshire: Like winning an argument by tiring them out. Burrows: That is your method, yes, but Cicero’s is subtler. He wants to look like he is compelled by reason while quietly compelling you. Grice: That’s the rhetorical implicature, sir. Burrows: Grice, you are not allowed to invent that word yet. Grice: Then I shall call it innuendo, sir. Burrows: Better. Now, second half: rhetoric. The figures. Langford: Metaphora. Burrows: Yes. And ironia. Shropshire: That’s when you say one thing and mean the opposite. Burrows: Often. Or you say one thing and mean more than the literal words convey. Grice, give us Latin for irony if you can. Grice: Ironia is Greek, but used in Latin. Cicero uses it and talks about it as dissimulatio, sometimes. Burrows: Good. Dissimulating. Saying less, or saying sideways. Pemberton: Like when Burrows says “Well done” and means “You’re a menace.” Burrows: When I say “Well done,” Pemberton, I mean “Well done.” The menace is always extra. Grice: Cicero also treats metaphor as a transfer, translatio. Burrows: Yes. And why does he like it. Grice: It gives vividness and elegance. It can compress an argument into an image. Shropshire: And it lets you dodge responsibility. Burrows: That is too modern, but not wholly false. A metaphor allows you to say something without stating it baldly. Grice: Which is again like implying rather than asserting. Burrows: Careful. Grice: Sorry. Like suggesting rather than declaring. Burrows: Better. Now, hyperbole. Langford: Superlatio. Burrows: Yes, superlatio. The overstatement that expects the audience to correct it mentally. Grice: So the speaker relies on the hearer to not take it literally. Burrows: Exactly. And that reliance is the whole trick. The figure works only because the hearer cooperates. Shropshire: Cooperates by being charitable. Burrows: Or by being trained, which is what public schools do instead of charity. Grice: Example, sir. Burrows: “I have told you a thousand times.” Pemberton: My father says that. Burrows: And does he mean a thousand. Pemberton: No. Burrows: So why is it not a lie. Grice: Because the intention is not to report a count but to convey annoyance and frequency. Burrows: Precisely. The literal content is sacrificed to the communicative effect. Shropshire: So rhetoric is licensed untruth. Burrows: No. Rhetoric is disciplined effect. Licensed untruth is what you do in a letter home. Grice: Cicero’s interest is that figures are not ornaments; they are tools of persuasion. Burrows: And persuasion is partly a matter of making the audience do work without noticing. Grice: Like filling in what is not said. Burrows: There you go again. Grice: Like completing the thought. Burrows: Acceptable. Now, titles. Cicero is not only an orator. He writes on the theory. Which texts do we name. Langford: De Oratore. Burrows: Yes. And? Pemberton: Orator. Burrows: Yes. And for argument and proof. Grice: Topica. Burrows: Good. And you may mention De Inventione, and yes, that other manual that is treated as Ciceronian in schools even when scholars quarrel about it. Shropshire: The Rhetorica ad Herennium. Burrows: Exactly. Which is what half of you will quote as “Cicero” until you die, and the other half will deny you in footnotes. Grice: Cicero also in the speeches shows how he uses signa as evidence. Burrows: Yes. The speeches are where the theory becomes practice. You see him argue from circumstantial signs, from probabilities, from motives. Pemberton: Motive is always a sign in detective stories. Burrows: And in courts. “Cui bono.” Who benefits. Latin, and a very dangerous inference. Grice: Because benefit suggests motive, but does not entail guilt. Burrows: Exactly. Probabile, not necessarium. Shropshire: So Cicero is teaching you how to avoid being hanged. Burrows: In Rome, perhaps. In Clifton, it teaches you how to avoid being corrected. Grice: It also teaches how meaning is not exhausted by words. The figure depends on audience inference. Burrows: That is the point you may take with you to Oxford, provided you do not say it in so many words at interview. Langford: Why not, sir. Burrows: Because Oxford likes you to discover that you already knew it. Grice: I am going to Corpus, sir. Burrows: Yes, Grice. And there, when you cite Cicero, they will pretend they are not impressed, and then they will cite him back at you, and you will feel at home. Shropshire: And what about Ficino and the Symposium, sir. Burrows: If you want Ficino, you can find him later. Here we keep Plato clean and Cicero useful. Grice: Cicero as precursor of both meaning and implicature, then. Burrows: Not that word. Grice: Then precursor of signification and suggestion. Burrows: There. Now you may have your prophecy privately. Publicly, you will translate. Pemberton: Which passage, sir. Burrows: A short one. On signs. Grice, read. Grice: “Signa sunt quibus ex rebus occultis coniecturam capimus.” Burrows: Translate. Grice: “Signs are those things by which we draw an inference from hidden matters.” Shropshire: Hidden matters sounds like the tuck-shop accounts. Burrows: It sounds like most of your mind, Shropshire. Grice: And “coniecturam capimus” is literally “we take a conjecture.” Burrows: Good. A conjecture is an inference under uncertainty. That is the entire science of evidence in one phrase. Grice: And it’s also the entire problem of understanding in conversation. Burrows: Enough. We have reached Oxford already. Return to Clifton. Decline your nouns. Scan your hexameters. And remember: Cicero is not merely Latin; Cicero is training in how to get from what is said to what ought to be taken. Grice: Sir, that is exactly what I intend to study. Burrows: Intentions are cheap, Grice. Essays are due Friday. Pemberton: Is that necessary or probable, sir. Burrows: Necessary. Unlike your progress. Shropshire: Sir, is “necessary” here a signum necessarium. Burrows: It is a signum that you will be punished if you test it. Grice: Then the sign is perfectly reliable. Burrows: At last, Grice, a necessary sign you can trust. G: Cicero again. S: Always Cicero again. Oxford cannot leave him alone because it suspects he has already done, in better Latin, half the things we are congratulating ourselves for discovering. G: Quite. And one must begin with the obvious institutional fact: in our sort of Oxford, philosophy comes in by way of Literae Humaniores. S: Through the side door of Greek and Latin, carrying a dictionary. G: Yes. No one came up reading “philosophy” in the abstract, as if the mind could be admitted without its dead languages. One came through Mods first, and Mods was language, drill, prose, verse, text, idiom, forms, all the punishments that produce a later freedom. S: Lingo first, then Greats. G: And Greats, despite the name’s pomposity, was in practice ancient history and philosophy, with the old languages presumed as already in one’s bones. S: So Cicero remains oddly relevant even after the linguistic part is officially “over.” G: More than relevant. He becomes doubly useful. As Latin prose he belongs to the earlier formation; as rhetorical theorist, political actor, philosophical transmitter, and source for Roman intellectual life he remains alive in Greats proper. S: The one Roman who survives being both style and syllabus. G: Exactly. Livy may dominate certain historical moods; Aristotle certain philosophical ones; but Cicero is that irritatingly useful intermediary who serves both camps at once. S: Which rather suits you. G: It does. Livy always left me with the feeling that I ought to know more than I did. Cicero, by contrast, felt like a man one could actually talk to. S: That is almost sentimental. G: Dryly sentimental, perhaps. But true enough. Cicero is a writer who seems always to be trying to persuade some visible interlocutor, which makes him easier company for an Oxonian brought up on tutorials. S: Let us fix the institutional scenery. Your own college first? G: Corpus as alma mater, then Merton as senior scholar, then St John’s as professional habitat. But Corpus matters specially for Cicero because Corpus has that older humanist self-image, half Latin patrimony and half rhetorical after-smell. S: And Rainolds. G: Yes, John Rainolds, or Reynolds if one likes a modernised spelling, early 1570s, lecturing at Corpus on Aristotle’s Rhetoric in Latin and Greek. Not a “course on Cicero” exactly, but close enough in spirit for the tradition to become permanently Ciceronian by atmosphere. S: Rhetoric in print then, if not later. G: Precisely. Oxford once had the courage to name rhetoric in public. Later it lost the noun while keeping the practice. S: So rhetoric disappeared from titles but not from the air. G: That is the formula. The old trivium left uneven relics. Logic survived visibly. Rhetoric survived culturally. Grammar survived by hiding in school training and philology, where no one needed to flatter it with a chair. S: And the Wykeham chair? G: The old memory is of Logic and Rhetoric; the modern survivance is the Wykeham Professor of Logic. One side of the pair kept the title and the salary. The other lingered in manners, prose composition, common-room timing, and the way people still spoke of “style” as if it were not already thought in costume. S: Oxford is very good at preserving a corpse by reassigning its functions. G: Exactly. The rhetoric goes underground and then turns up in tutorials, speeches, sermons, common-room remarks, legal training, and every undergraduate essay that is too smooth to be honest. S: Corpus also had the Latin chair. G: Yes, the Corpus Christi Professorship of Latin, which is really the institutional centre of gravity for your Cicero question in our own period. J. C. Stobart was there in the crucial years when I came up. Then Fraenkel from 1935, though he belongs more to the slightly later full force of Oxford Latin scholarship. S: Stobart on Cicero. G: Very much so. If one asks who, in Grice’s pupil days, would have counted as an authority on Cicero in Oxford, Stobart is one of the strongest names. He is not “Professor of Rhetoric”; he is something more Oxonian and therefore more effective: a Latin authority under whom Cicero remains both style and civilization. S: You have a weakness for that phrase. G: Because Cicero invites it. He is not just eloquence, though the schools try to reduce him to that. He is evidence, rhetoric, politics, moral vocabulary, philosophical translation, law-court technique, and Roman self-consciousness all at once. S: Which means that for Greats he can be read as history and as philosophy without changing books. G: Exactly. That is why specialty divisions in Greats mattered less than later people imagine. There were emphases, of course. Some men were more “historical,” some more “philosophical.” But the thing itself resisted clean separation. S: So if someone said, “I am doing philosophy rather than history in Greats,” that would have meant— G: It would have meant a relative leaning, not a different universe. You still met ancient material through the same broad educational machinery. Cicero remained common property. S: And for you personally? G: I never felt confidently positioned to give a lesson on Livy in the way a proper ancient historian might. Livy feels to me like a civic monument requiring a stepladder. Cicero feels like a man in the room. S: Because he argues. G: Because he argues, qualifies, reports, insinuates, defines, re-defines, and is perpetually visible as a speaker managing an audience. He is ideal for anyone later interested in what is said and what is got across. S: Signs, proof, rhetoric, and all that. G: Yes. Signa, probabilia, necessaria, all the lawyerly and rhetorical apparatus by which one moves from evidence to conclusion without pretending the movement is mechanically forced. Cicero is invaluable if one wants to keep one’s eye on the difference between demonstration and persuasion. S: Which Oxford liked, because Oxford always wants to persuade while saying it is merely clarifying. G: Quite. The old joke is that Oxford hates rhetoric. The truth is that Oxford hates rhetoric named as rhetoric. Once it reappears as “good sense,” “nice distinctions,” “ordinary use,” or “clear thinking,” it is welcomed back indoors. S: So Cicero in the formation of a future philosopher of conversation is not accidental. G: Not accidental at all. He offers, early on, a whole civil education in the movement from words to uptake. S: Uptake before Austin. G: Let us say “effect in an audience” before Austin bureaucratised felicity. Cicero’s whole oratorical world depends on the hearer’s trained cooperation. Figures work because audiences are expected to recover more than literal content. S: Irony, hyperbole, translatio. G: Exactly. Ironia, hyperbole, translatio, dissimulatio, all those devices that later philosophers pretend to rediscover as if ordinary speech had waited for them. S: And Cicero matters also because he Latinised philosophy. G: There is the deeper point. For Oxford men bred in Lit. Hum., Cicero is not just the elegant Roman. He is the man through whom Greek philosophy becomes thinkable in Latin. That matters immensely. He is part of the very possibility of philosophical vocabulary for a tradition that still measures itself against Rome almost as much as against Athens. S: One almost wants to say that he made Greats possible. G: I would not quite say that. But he helps make a Roman philosophical world available without which Greats would feel far more one-sidedly Hellenic. S: Then PPE comes and ruins it. G: Ah yes, PPE, the efficient escape route for the modern conscience. Once PPE was instituted, trust pupils to avoid Greek grief and Latin laughter and go straight toward the newer solemnities. S: The Mock Turtle had them better arranged. G: He did. Reeling, writhing, ambition, distraction, uglification, derision — one could build a whole Oxford curriculum out of those and lose very little. S: PPE let men become philosophers without ever really suffering through verse composition. G: And that, I think, is one of the quiet tragedies of modernity. Without verse composition, one can still become clever. What becomes harder is becoming exact in the old bodily sense. S: Cicero, then, belongs to that old bodily exactness. G: Yes. Prose rhythm, cadential ear, controlled periodicity, the management of sign and emphasis — all of it belongs to a training in which thought is inseparable from sentence-shape. S: Which would explain why you distrust men who think logical form floats free from use. G: It contributes, certainly. One does not come out of that world believing that form is merely abstract skeleton. One has felt form in Latin periods and in the pressure of translation. S: There is still the question of authorities. Suppose one wanted to know who “owned” Cicero in your Oxford years. G: No one owned him exclusively. That is the answer. But some men administered the estate. At Corpus and around the Latin chair, Stobart very much. By 1935 onward Fraenkel looms, though in a somewhat different, more philological and formidable way. Earlier, in the long historical imagination, Rainolds stands as a reminder that Corpus had once made rhetoric itself a visible scholarly thing. S: And at St John’s? G: Cicero would be present less through a distinct Ciceronian specialist than through the whole classical habit in which Roman prose, rhetorical theory, and philosophical vocabulary were simply assumed furniture. One did not need a “Cicero man” at every table because Cicero was already in the cutlery. S: That is good. G: It is also true. S: Rossall and Clifton? G: There Cicero is more schoolmasterly, more direct formation. Prose models, selected speeches, moral commonplaces, the old discipline of “how to write and construe Latin without disgracing the Empire.” At Oxford he thickens: now not only prose model but intellectual ancestor, evidence-machine, and Roman philosopher manqué who remains philosophically useful precisely because he never stops sounding like an advocate. S: Which perhaps made him seem friendlier than Livy. G: Yes. Livy narrates the Roman past. Cicero talks his way through it. For someone likely to turn later toward conversational minutiae, there is no competition. S: Let us return to rhetoric. Since Oxford ceased to print it, what remained? G: The whole thing remained, only redistributed. In classics through Cicero and Quintilian. In philosophy through the management of example, distinction, and concession. In law through argument and evidence. In college life through speech-making and committee timing. In tutorials through the art of pressing a pupil to say exactly enough and not too much. S: So when Oxford says it does not teach rhetoric, it means it teaches rhetoric all day but objects to the noun. G: Precisely. S: That is very Ciceronian. G: Very. And perhaps very English. We dislike admitted art. We prefer art disguised as plain dealing. S: Which is why Cicero remained both admired and suspect. G: Yes. He is indispensable and slightly embarrassing. Too polished to be wholly trusted, too useful to be ignored. S: Rather like Oxford itself. G: You said it, not I. S: And Grice’s later concern with what is suggested rather than said — could one trace a little of that back to the old Ciceronian training? G: One must be cautious with genealogy. But yes, in broad civilizational terms. Cicero teaches very early that meaning lives not only in semantic content but in evidential weight, figure, emphasis, and audience management. That is not yet “conversational implicature,” of course. But it is certainly an education in the fact that the literal sentence is not the whole event. S: Signification and suggestion. G: Exactly. Which is why your fictional Burrows at Clifton was not entirely fictional in spirit. Any decent classicist forming boys through Cicero would already be giving them a discipline in how to get from what is said to what ought to be taken. S: Then the philosophical moral is pleasantly retrograde. G: Namely? S: That before one had a theory of conversation, one had Cicero. G: And before one had “philosophy of language,” one had prose composition, rhetorical figures, and a room full of undergraduates being told that a sentence can fail in more ways than one. S: It is almost enough to make one forgive Greats. G: I would not go that far. S: No. Nor would Cicero.GRICEVS: Salve, CICERO: si te “filosofum Italicum” voco, tu statim “Romanus sum!” subaudes, an ego hoc ipsum implico? CICERO: Ego vero Romanus sum, sed si Italia me vindicat, non litigabo—modo Latine loquamur et non barbare. GRICEVS: Bene; tu signas, ego signatum insequor, et Marc’Antonius—ut solet—plus clamat quam significat. CICERO: Ita fit ut in foro verba volant, in libris manent, et in convivio omnes se sapientissimos implicent. Tully’s Translations -- Arato –Roma He achieves fame as a dramatic poet. A pupil of Zenone. He writes a celebrated poem, “Phenomena”, dealing with astronomy and meteorology. It is widely read – and CICERONE comments it. It may have been used by LUCREZIO. A. depicts the universe as a rational and organized system bearing the hallmark of its divine creator. Kidd, Aratus, Cambridge. GRICEVS: Arate, discipule Zenonis et poeta clarissime, num in Phainomenois caelum ita ordinasti ut etiam Romani tandem viam suam in Foro inveniant? ARATVS: Si mea sidera eos dirigunt, gaudeo, sed timeo ne plerique malint meteorologica legere quam tunicas siccare. GRICEVS: Cicero te commentatus est, Lucretius fortasse te furatus est, et tamen tu universum rationabile dicis—quid ergo de popina quae omnino irrationaliter clamat? ARATVS: Popina quoque, mi Grice, partem ordinis divini agit, quia sine strepitu nullus poeta sciret quando versus finire oportet. This Aratus is said to be a tutee o Zenone -- the scettico? -- Grice and Speranza assume he wrote in Greek and never lived at Rome? Yes: Grice and Speranza are right to treat him as Greek, not Roman. Aratus wrote in Greek, specifically in epic hexameters, and his surviving work is the Phaenomena, a Greek didactic poem on constellations and weather-signs. The Loeb, Britannica, and the general biographical tradition all agree on that point. [loebclassics.com], [theoi.com], [britannica.com] On the “pupil of Zeno” point, one should add a small correction. He was not a pupil of the sceptic Zeno, because the famous Zeno in his orbit is Zeno of Citium, founder of Stoicism, not a sceptic. The ancient biographies say that in Athens Aratus met or associated with Zeno of Citium, though the exact degree of discipleship is not always pinned down with perfect security. So the safest formulation is that he was connected with the Stoic circle, not that he was a sceptic’s tutee. [en.wikipedia.org], [academic.oup.com], [loebclassics.com] And no, we do not have reason to think he ever lived at Rome. His life, as the standard sources present it, runs from Soli in Cilicia to studies in Athens, then to the court of Antigonus II Gonatas in Macedon, then for a time to Antiochus I in Syria, and back to Pella, where he died. Britannica is especially concise: he resided at the courts of Antigonus II Gonatas and Antiochus I. Rome enters only later, through reception. [en.wikipedia.org], [loebclassics.com], [britannica.com] That reception is of course very important. Cicero, Germanicus, and Avienus translated him into Latin, which is why he becomes so visible in Roman literary culture. But that is Roman reading of a Greek poet, not a sign that Aratus himself belonged to Rome. [britannica.com], [loebclassics.com] So the dry answer is this. Aratus was a Greek poet from Soli, associated with Zeno of Citium and the Stoic world, wrote in Greek, and so far as our evidence goes never lived at Rome; he became Roman chiefly by translation, commentary, and school use. [en.wikipedia.org], [academic.oup.com], [britannica.com] If you want, I can next give you the neatest one-sentence Speranzian formula for why a Greek who never lived at Rome still belongs in a Roman-philosophical file: because Roman philosophy is often constituted as much by reception and pedagogic transmission as by nativity. Cicero we know was gens Tullia, i.e. Tullio himself -- what about the gentes of Germanico and Avieno -- do we know -- and are we suppose that Germanico and Avieno were aware of Tullio's translation? Also, is Cicero -- and the rest, Germanico and Avieno -- doing this as philosophers or as translators of poetry. And do their translations exist as per one sentence or something. If the thing was called "Phainomena," I can see Cicero's puzzles and leaving the thing untranslated. Grice never liked the opposition 'phainomenon'/'noumenon' -- what it appears does not oppose 'what is thought'. But did these translations of Aratus enrich the LATIN philosophical lexicon in some way -- else: why bother translating it? Thanks Input Feedback? I'm asking for Grice -- he only went to Oxford because he won a scholarship in classics -- but in later reminiscences he does mention the fact that the 'oxford philosophy don' was expected to assing for his tutees each week some reading of either "Plato and Aristotle" along with some contemporary piece to prove that topics span the centuries -- but he never dwelt much on the ROMAN side to this -- do we are to assume to at Clifton he would have one special tutor for LATIN and one special tutor (or master) for GREEK? We know that for the BA Lit Hum the first Mods section was all about GREEK *AND* LATIN -- and that while Hardie was his PHILOSOPHY tutor, Grice would have been examined on LATIN and Greek by other tutors at Corpus who would specialise strictly either in GREEK or in Latin -- indeed Corpus had a long reputation for Latin, with Reinalds giving lessons of Aristotle's rhetorics not in Greek, but in LATIN as meta-language! And Grice later gave classes on DE INTERPRETATIONE (never Peri hermeneias), i. e. as considering 'Aristoteles latinus' a sort of sourcebook? Thanks Input. Yes, quite a lot can be said, and the cleanest way is to separate names, reception, genre, and lexical effect. Germanicus is Germanicus Julius Caesar, originally of the Claudian line by birth, then formally Julian by adoption into the Julio-Claudian house; so if one insists on gens-language, he is Claudian by blood and Julian by adoptive public standing. Germanicus is described as born into the patrician gens Claudia, then made a member of the gens Julia through adoption by Tiberius. [en.wikipedia.org], [britannica.com] Avienus, more fully Postumius Rufius Festus Avienius, belongs to the late Roman senatorial world of the Rufii Festi; and as for the nomen itself, there is indeed an Avienus or Avienius form that points to the Aviena gens, though the late-antique aristocratic accumulation of names makes one careful here. The biographical tradition gives him as Postumius Rufius Festus Avienius, while the onomastic side separately attests an Aviena gens. [en.wikipedia.org], [en.wikipedia.org] Now to the literary-historical point. Yes, one should assume that both Germanicus and Avienus knew that Cicero had translated Aratus. For Cicero’s Aratea was an established Roman precedent, and the tradition of Latin Aratea is explicitly presented as a sequence including Cicero, Germanicus, and Avienus. Modern scholarship on the translation tradition treats them comparatively and continuously, which strongly reflects the ancient and medieval reception. [early-astr...omy-um.org], [macsphere....cmaster.ca], [loebclassics.com] In Germanicus’s case this is especially likely, because his Aratea is not a mere independent rediscovery of Aratus but part of an already Romanised tradition of translating and adapting the poem. In Avienus’s case it is stronger still, because he is late enough to stand after both Cicero and Germanicus, and the transmission history regularly bundles the three together. [thesaxlproject.com], [early-astr...omy-um.org], [loebclassics.com] As to whether they were acting as philosophers or as translators of poetry, the right answer is: both, but in different proportions. Cicero translated Aratus partly as literary exercise and cultural Romanisation, not primarily as a philosophical treatise. Yet Aratus was philosophically charged, especially by Stoic reception, because the poem presents a cosmos full of signs under divine rational order. That is why Cicero’s translation belongs to poetry, pedagogy, and philosophical culture at once. [academic.oup.com], [early-astr...omy-um.org] Germanicus is more a poetic adapter and learned prince than a philosopher in any narrow sense. His version is freer, enriched, and mythographically expanded, with corrected astronomical detail. That is literary-intellectual work rather than school philosophy proper. [thesaxlproject.com], [archive.org] Avienus is again chiefly a late-antique poet-scholar and adapter. But his expansion of Aratus with Stoic colouring and lexical richness means that even his poetic translation participates in philosophical transmission. Michigan’s account is explicit that he intensifies the Stoic cast in the hymn to Jupiter and elsewhere. [early-astr...omy-um.org], [macsphere....cmaster.ca] So I would say this. They are translators of poetry in form, but their choice of poem is philosophically loaded, and in Rome that distinction is not clean anyway. Aratus is didactic verse, cosmology, astronomy, sign-theory, and quasi-Stoic world-picture all at once. Translating him is never merely literary housekeeping. [early-astr...omy-um.org], [academic.oup.com] Do the translations survive? Yes, but unevenly. Cicero’s Aratea survives only in part: 480 continuous verses from the astronomical section, plus further quoted fragments, and only traces of the weather-sign part. Both the Michigan page and the Aratea Digital summary are very clear on that. [early-astr...omy-um.org], [ivanadob.github.io] Germanicus’s version survives substantially enough to be edited as a real work in its own right. Avienus’s Aratea is in fact the only complete Latin verse translation of the whole Phaenomena tradition we possess, including the meteorological part. [thesaxlproject.com], [early-astr...omy-um.org] So your hunch is right. Cicero’s thing is fragmentary and did not dominate the Latin West in the way Calcidius dominated the Timaeus tradition. It was known, admired, and transmitted, but not as the sole or schoolmasterly gateway. [ivanadob.github.io], [early-astr...omy-um.org] Did these translations enrich the Latin philosophical lexicon? Yes, though not in the dramatic way that translating Aristotle later did. The strongest precise statement I can make is that the three Latin translators of Aratus developed a richer Latin vocabulary for astronomical and cosmological description than the Greek original itself strictly required. Scholarship explicitly notes lexical creativity in Cicero, Germanicus, and Avienus, especially in words of brightness and related cosmic description. [jstor.org] More broadly, the comparative study of the three Latin versions treats them as part of the Roman literary phenomenon of translation in which a distinctly Roman Aratean language emerges. Lewis is especially useful here: the translations become progressively less mere copies and more Roman reworkings, with their own lexical and stylistic identity. [macsphere....cmaster.ca] So no, this is not the same lexical revolution as category becoming praedicamentum or poiotēs becoming qualitas. But yes, it matters for the Latin language of cosmos, signs, stars, brightness, and providential order. It also matters culturally, because it proved that Latin could carry Hellenistic didactic science-poetry with philosophical undertones. [macsphere....cmaster.ca], [jstor.org] As for why bother translating it if elites knew Greek, the shortest answer is this. Because translation in Rome was never only remedial. It was acquisitive. It domesticated prestige, made Latin a rival vehicle of learned discourse, and gave Roman readers a text they could quote, teach, admire, and adapt as theirs. Cicero’s Aratea is treated by modern scholarship exactly as part of his larger Romanising ambition, not as a mere crib for the linguistically weak. [academic.oup.com], [early-astr...omy-um.org] On your Oxford aside, the safe answer is yes in broad structure, but with caution in detail. Literae Humaniores at Oxford centrally required both Greek and Latin in the original, especially in Mods, and the tutorial system normally meant separate work in the relevant textual areas rather than one single omniscient tutor handling every side equally. Literae Humaniores is described as built on direct study of primary texts in Greek and Latin, with weekly tutorials and essays. [en.wikipedia.org], [classics.ox.ac.uk] So your general picture is sound: Grice would very likely have been taught and examined by different specialists in philosophy, Greek texts, and Latin texts, even if college and university arrangements overlapped in practice. What I would not claim, without a documentary college record, is the exact personal allocation of “one special Latin tutor and one special Greek tutor” in every term at Corpus Christi. The institutional structure points that way, but the individual distribution could vary. [en.wikipedia.org], [en.wikipedia.org] And your final instinct is a good one. For Grice, Aristotle often arrived in the Oxford classical afterlife not only as Greek Aristotle but as Aristoteles latinus: a source already sedimented into Latin logical and philosophical teaching. That is entirely consonant with the older Lit. Hum. world, even if the published institutional descriptions naturally emphasise the Greek and Latin originals. [en.wikipedia.org], [classics.ox.ac.uk] So the driest summary is this. Germanicus: Claudian by birth, Julian by adoption. Germanicus [en.wikipedia.org] Avienus: late Roman aristocrat, with Avienius or Avienus as a real nomen-form and an attested Aviena gens in the background. [en.wikipedia.org], [en.wikipedia.org] Both almost certainly knew Cicero’s Aratea as precedent. [early-astr...omy-um.org], [loebclassics.com] All three are translating poetry, but poetry already philosophically charged by Stoic cosmology and sign-language. [early-astr...omy-um.org], [early-astr...omy-um.org] Cicero survives in fragments; Germanicus substantially; Avienus completely. [ivanadob.github.io], [thesaxlproject.com], [early-astr...omy-um.org] And yes, these versions did enrich Latin, not chiefly in hard Aristotelian technicality, but in the poetic-philosophical lexicon of cosmos, stars, signs, and celestial order. [jstor.org], [macsphere....cmaster.ca] If you want, I can next give you a compact Gricean comparison of the three Aratea under three headings only: fidelity, philosophy, and Latinity. And a couple of more questions (a) I mentioned the title Phainomena in Aratus and you keep calling it Aratea, they didn't -- these three: Cicero, the Claudio emperor, and Aviano -- care to expand on what appears (phainomenon) versus 'what is thought (noumenon) -- or is this distinction just Kantian? (b) Grice at Clifford -- he got the scholarship for classics (not Greek) at Corpus -- woud Clifton in the 1920s had a weekly session with one latin master and a different session with a Greek master (c) the vocabulary of signs. In De interpretatione, and grice gave classes on this -- the semantic triangle is basically applied to phone (vox) being semeion (signum) of phantasma (affectus) of the psyche (anima) and the phantasma 'manifesting' 'delein'? the things -- three levels. and qualifications with a cow mooing, where that is vox but not articulated, or in Grice's favouite example, the uttering of 'gr.r.r.r.' not as stuttering before saying '/grice/ pig in Norse, but as as sort of signal that the utterer is under some state of stress -- so Aristotle distinguish semeion (segnum) and symbolon -- and Grice gave lectures on Peirce pointing to the 'factiveness' or lack thereof -- not just dark clouds meaning rain (Aratus's phenomena) but a weathercock pointing NE 'signifying' that the wind comes from NE -- or a hole in a piece of cloth 'signifying' (cancellably) that a bullet went through it. Cicero will deal with all this in his work on rhetorica with 'segnum necessarium' but can we expand on the Aratus connection especially I suppose on Cicero, rahter than Claduio the emperor or Avieno -- do these 480 verses make an attempt to translate 'semeion,' 'semein' as triadic relation ("Those dark clouds meant rain to me but not to my travelling companion") and a sort of taxonomy? It all semms to fall under Grice's category of NATURAL -- but is there a hint by Cicero, Claudio the emperor or Avieno, that some hint at non-natural (arbitrary, -- not the cow mooing, -- voluntary) dimension? Thanks Input? Yes. Let me separate the three strands, and I shall keep to plain prose. On Aratus first. You are quite right that the Greek title is Phaenomena. When I said Aratea, I was not renaming Aratus’s own poem but referring to the Latin translation-tradition, where Cicero’s version in particular is conventionally called the Aratea, and the later Latin witnesses are often grouped under that heading as part of the Roman reception of Aratus. The Loeb tradition and the broader transmission history explicitly place Cicero, Germanicus, and Avienus alongside the Greek Phaenomena in this way. Aratus, Cicero, and Avienus are all brought together in exactly that Latin bibliographical frame. [loebclassics.com], [early-astr...omy-um.org], [quod.lib.umich.edu] As to phainomenon versus noumenon, your suspicion is sound. That opposition is not an Aratean one in any strict sense. Aratus’s phainomena are the visible appearances in the sky, the constellations and weather-signs as they show themselves. The hard philosophical opposition between phenomena and noumena is a much later, above all Kantian, way of regimenting the terms. Aratus is not staging a theory of “mere appearance” against “what is thought” in the Kantian sense; he is giving an ordered poem of celestial appearances and signs. So here Grice’s dislike of the later opposition is perfectly to the point. The Greek title itself does not force a Kantian contrast. [academic.oup.com], [loebclassics.com] Now to the signs. Here the best anchor is not Aratus first, but Aristotle and then Roman appropriation. In De interpretatione Aristotle says that spoken sounds are symbols of affections in the soul, and written marks are signs of spoken sounds; those affections are likenesses of things. The classic passage is exactly the one you have in mind: voice, soul, and things, with truth and falsity arriving only once combination and division enter. The Loeb text of On Interpretation gives the Greek and English very clearly, and the Boethian Latin tradition renders this with the familiar language of voces, passiones animae, and res. Aristotle and the medieval Latin transmission through Boethius preserve the structure you are invoking. [loebclassics.com], [documentac...caomnia.eu] So yes, semeion and symbolon are different in Aristotle. The vocal sounds are symbols of the affections of the soul, while the written marks are signs of the vocal sounds. The relation is not simply one flat triad. And your Gricean examples are exactly the right sort of modern pressure to place on the text: the cow’s moo is voice but not articulated language; a growl may indicate a state without thereby amounting to articulated saying; a weathercock may signify by convention or instrumentality rather than by natural symptom alone; a hole in cloth may indicate a bullet, though defeasibly and context-sensitively. Aristotle’s framework is broad enough to begin sorting such cases, but not yet with the tidy Gricean distinction between natural and non-natural meaning. That later distinction is indeed Grice’s own sharpening. Now, what do Cicero, Germanicus, or Avienus do with this in Aratus? Not, I think, what one would want if one were hunting for a worked-out taxonomy of signification. Cicero’s Aratea is not a miniature treatise on semeion, symbolon, and triadic reference. It is first a poetic translation of a didactic poem whose world is thick with signs, especially celestial and meteorological ones. The Michigan material is explicit that Roman readers valued Aratus precisely because the sky was full of signs set in order, and that Stoic readers in particular found the poem congenial for that reason. Cicero’s Aratea is presented there as part of a Roman enthusiasm for a cosmos legible through signs. [early-astr...omy-um.org] That means your Gricean category of natural meaning is absolutely central here. Dark clouds mean rain, stars and risings mean seasons, weather-signs mean likely changes. This is overwhelmingly the natural-sign side of the ledger. And Cicero’s translation seems not to have transformed that into an explicit philosophical semiotics. Rather, he Latinised a cosmological and astronomical sign-world. Modern scholarship on the three Latin translators stresses lexical creativity, especially in astronomical and brightness vocabulary, not the invention of a technical sign-theory. Anne-Marie Lewis and the study of brightness-words in the Latin translations make that plain. [macsphere....cmaster.ca], [jstor.org] So I would answer your most exact question like this. No, Cicero’s 480 surviving lines do not appear to mount a systematic attempt to translate semeion or semainein into a full triadic theory of signification, still less into a taxonomy of natural versus non-natural signification in the later Gricean manner. What they do is inhabit a universe in which natural signs are pervasive and intelligible, and in which Latin must be made capable of carrying that world. Cicero is important less for a full semiotic theory here than for making a Roman poetic and intellectual language for a sign-laden cosmos. [early-astr...omy-um.org], [macsphere....cmaster.ca] Is there any hint of the non-natural or arbitrary dimension in Cicero, Germanicus, or Avienus? Only indirectly, I would say. Not because the poems theorise voluntary signification as such, but because all translation already presupposes a world of instituted words and because the Latin translators repeatedly choose how to render the Greek sign-world into Roman verbal form. In that broad sense there is an artificial or conventional level hovering over the poem, but it is the level of translation and poetic diction, not a doctrinal treatment of arbitrary signification. The direct content remains mostly natural-sign content. There is, however, one way in which these translations really matter for your larger point. They enlarge the Latin lexicon for exactly the sort of descriptive and inferential world in which signs can be read. Cicero, Germanicus, and Avienus all develop richer Latin resources for celestial brightness, visibility, cosmological order, and astronomical description than the Greek model required word for word. Lewis and the JSTOR study of brightness-vocabulary are very explicit that the Latin versions display lexical creativity beyond Aratus’s own economy. [macsphere....cmaster.ca], [jstor.org] So the answer to “why bother translating it?” is not only poetic prestige. It is also this: to make Latin a language in which the cosmos can be read, described, taught, and admired. Not yet the full philosophical lexicon of Aristotle, but a major extension of Latin’s scientific-poetic and quasi-Stoic vocabulary. Cicero is even described by recent scholarship as trying to make his version a Roman classic and a teaching tool for astronomy. [academic.oup.com], [early-astr...omy-um.org] Now to Clifton and Oxford. Here one must be a little cautious, because we do not have the individual school timetable in front of us. But your broad reconstruction is very plausible. At a school such as Clifton in the 1920s, a classical scholarship boy aiming at Oxford would ordinarily be taught both Latin and Greek by specialists or at least by masters strongly identified with one or the other branch. And at Oxford in Literae Humaniores the work was decisively in both Greek and Latin, especially in Mods, with later teaching distributed among tutors and lecturers according to specialty. The general Oxford structure of Lit. Hum. centrally presupposed both languages in the original, and Grice’s own classicist path is independently attested in the old Speranzian tradition that he won his Corpus place through Greek as much as classics more generally. The broad picture of separate Greek and Latin teaching, then, is almost certainly right, even if I would not swear to the exact weekly scheduling formula without Clifton records. Speranza on Grice and Clifton supports the classics-scholarship line, though of course it is not an institutional archive. [freelists.org] So the safest statement is this. Yes, it is highly likely that at Clifton a boy on the classics track would have had regular instruction in both Latin and Greek, probably from different masters or at least under clearly differentiated teaching, and yes, at Oxford his later philosophical tutoring would have been only one part of a larger classical formation examined by others whose specialism was the Greek or Latin side. That picture fits the general shape of Lit. Hum. very well, even if I cannot yet give you the Clifton timetable in documentary detail. [freelists.org] So if I compress the whole answer into a Gricean set of theses. First, Phaenomena is Aratus’s Greek title; Aratea is the conventional Latin reception-title, especially for Cicero’s translation and the Latin tradition around it. Aratus, Cicero, and Avienus belong to that tradition. [loebclassics.com], [early-astr...omy-um.org], [quod.lib.umich.edu] Second, the phainomenon versus noumenon opposition is not native to Aratus in the strong Kantian sense. Aratus gives visible signs, not a transcendental antithesis. [academic.oup.com] Third, the real philosophical anchor for the sign-question is Aristotle’s De interpretatione and its Latin afterlife in Boethius, not Aratus directly. [loebclassics.com], [documentac...caomnia.eu] Fourth, Cicero’s Aratea does not seem to develop a full semiotic taxonomy of semeion and symbolon; it mostly inhabits and Latinises a world of natural signs. Cicero matters there as translator and lexical innovator, not as the architect of a triadic sign-theory. [early-astr...omy-um.org], [macsphere....cmaster.ca] Fifth, these translators did enrich Latin, especially for astronomical, cosmological, and sign-laden description, even if not in the same way that later Aristotelian translation enriched technical philosophy. Lewis and the brightness-vocabulary study show this well. [macsphere....cmaster.ca], [jstor.org] And sixth, your Clifton and Oxford picture is broadly right: Grice’s classics formation would have been deeply bilingual, institutionally divided between Greek and Latin expertise, with philosophy only one strand in the larger classical weave. [freelists.org] If you want, I can next do one very narrow follow-up only on Aristotle’s semeion versus symbolon and Boethius’s Latin choices, because that would bring the Grice–De interpretatione thread into the sharpest possible focus. And there is a further Griceian complication. When he chooses the Anglo-Saxon 'mean' -- which he borrows from Stevenson, altehough Stevenson uses it in scare quotes: a high temperature 'means' convalescence -- we can see Jupiter and animism. Jupiter was a master of sending thunderbolts and lightinings -- or whatever the correct English for this is -- and so I wonder if Aratus -- because Cicero had De divinatione -- or Cicero or Claudio the Emperor or Avieno -- consider the 'sign' as being one of the 'gods of the skies' -- notably IVS PATER (or IVPITER), in which the thing collapses to animism -- as Tyler and other anthropologists will later catalogue it --. By the title Phainnoemna, Aratus (and his three translators to Latin) seem to be focusing on mere mechanical causal explanation, not intention-based of 'natural' signification' as coming fom a _mens_ -- mentire, Anglo-Saxon 'meant' --. But one can see complications. When Romolo saw six crows, and Remulus objected -- this 'sign' -- not from the sky, but IN THE SKY -- was a 'signal' from someone above -- and yet there was cancellation and discussion that follows: with Romolo infamously claiming that while SIX crows appeared first, TWELVE crows appeared later, and number, not temporality, trumps the verdict, on who would get to choose where to found Rome -- I can imagine similar scenarios with 'weather' or 'signs of the skies' as being 'probable' in Cicero's parlance, or defeasible and cancellable and non-factive in Grice's parlance (from Kiparsky) because not only the mechanical causal link is devious but because there is a MENS (mentire, Anglo-Saxon 'mean' -- but 'anima of the world' as it were, or Natura personfied, as per 'significatio PHYSEI not THESEI) -- notably from the gods who lived on Moutn Olympus almosdt touching Heaven -- True, the Romans thought of them as being udnerground rather. Input, Feedback? Yes. This is exactly the complication, and it is a good one. Grice’s distinction between natural and non-natural meaning tempts one to place Aratus very firmly on the natural side: dark clouds mean rain, the heliacal rising of a star means a season, this sky-sign means that weather will follow. That is the clean modern taxonomy. But ancient cosmological poetry, especially in a Stoic atmosphere, does not always leave the “natural” sign wholly free of mind. The cosmos can be orderly in such a way that signs are still physically connected and yet also expressive of providential reason. In other words, the sign may be natural in mechanism and still not be metaphysically mindless. That is where Jupiter comes in. In Aratus the opening hymn to Zeus is crucial. Zeus is not there merely as a decorative mythological preface. He is very close to the rational ordering principle of the cosmos, the one in whom all ways and all human markets and seas are full, and from whom signs of order become readable. So the phenomena are not yet “mere” brute appearances in a stripped modern causal universe. They are appearances in a world already saturated by divine rationality. That is not quite animism in the loose anthropological sense, but it is certainly not the later disenchantment either. Aratus can allow the weather-sign to be physically natural and still, at a higher level, part of a cosmos whose legibility depends on Zeus. Cicero’s own position makes the complication even more attractive. In De divinatione he is perfectly capable of examining signs as omens, portents, auguries, and probabilistic indicators in a Roman religious-political frame, while elsewhere treating causal or quasi-causal signs with philosophical reserve. So with Cicero one does not get a single flat doctrine of signs. One gets a layered world in which some signs are natural symptoms, some are conventional civic-religious signals, and some are interpreted as divine communications under inherited Roman practices. The crows of Romulus are an excellent example. They are not just birds in the sky. They are read as signs from above, and yet the interpretation is defeasible, contestable, and politically loaded. Number trumps priority only because an interpretive community, under pressure, lets that criterion triumph. That is already very close to your Gricean point: the sign is not merely given; it is taken, argued over, ranked, and made to bear authority. So one should not say that Aratus and the Latin translators are focusing on mere mechanical causal explanation. They are focusing on visible signs, yes, but visible signs within a cosmos where the divide between natural causality and divine intentionality is not yet policed in the later way. The Stoicized cosmos especially is full of sympathy, order, and providence. There the sign can be natural and still arise within a minded world. Nature herself is not dead mechanism, but rationally structured reality. If one personifies Nature, or speaks of the anima mundi, one is not simply falling into childish animism; one is articulating a metaphysical picture in which physical processes are already expressions of logos. This is why your Romulus example is so apt. The birds in the sky are not “non-natural meaning” in Grice’s strict later sense, because they are not utterances with audience-directed reflexive intentions. The crows are not trying to get Romulus to recognise that they intend him to found Rome. But neither are they only bare natural indicators like smoke of fire. They sit in an intermediate ancient category: signs interpreted within a religious-political practice as manifestations of divine favour or decision. That category is precisely what later philosophy often flattens. Grice’s own natural meaning category is wonderfully sharp, but it can be too clean for antiquity. “Those clouds mean rain” works because it excludes intention. Yet in an Aratean or Roman world one may still think that the regularity by which clouds mean rain is itself part of a world ordered by Zeus or Jupiter. The sign is natural at the level of mechanism, providential at the level of total explanation. The ancient mind often keeps both levels at once. As for factiveness and cancellability, again your point is strong. Ancient sign-reading lives amid defeasibility. Weather-signs may fail, auguries may conflict, omens may be re-read, prodigies may require expiation rather than simple prediction, and rival interpreters may privilege time, number, species, direction, or ritual frame differently. Cicero knows this very well. So even when signs are treated as divinely significant, their interpretation remains probabilistic, contestable, and socially governed. The gods may send; men still dispute what was sent. That is why your Romulus and Remus case is philosophically so rich: it is not only about revelation, but about adjudication. So the best way to put it may be this. Aratus gives you a universe of signs that are primarily natural in form but not necessarily mindless in metaphysical setting. Cicero, because of Roman divination, adds a whole civic-hermeneutic layer in which signs may be read as divine communications, yet always through institutions, disputes, and criteria of interpretation. Grice helps by distinguishing natural from non-natural meaning, but antiquity often occupies the middle territory where a sign is not a speaker’s intentional utterance and yet is not merely dead mechanism either. And that middle territory is exactly where providence, omen, augury, and cosmic order live. So yes, there is a mens complication, but not usually in the form “the cloud intends to tell me it will rain.” Rather, the complication is that the cloud may belong to a world whose order itself is divine or rational, so that natural signification and cosmic mind are not finally separable. That is more Stoic providentialism than simple animism. If you like, I can next tighten this into a three-part distinction using your own examples: clouds and rain, Romulus’s crows, and a human utterance, to show exactly where Grice’s natural meaning stops and where the ancient religious sign begins.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tullio – Ossia: Grice e Tullio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tullio For the Tullii, once we remove Cicero himself, my first reaction is that the strongest "second-best" Grice–Speranza figure is:  Marcus Tullius Tiro, Cicero's freedman, secretary, editor, biographer, and reputed inventor of shorthand.  Why Tiro? Because if Cicero is the philosopher of saying, Tiro is the philosopher of preserving what was said. A Gricean vignette almost writes itself:  CICERO: Scripsistine? (Did you write it down?) TIRO: Omnia. (Everything.) CICERO: Etiam quod non dixi? (Even what I did not say?) TIRO: Maxime. (Especially that.)  The final move carries the implicatum:  +> What matters in rhetoric is often not the explicit content alone. +> The force, omissions, hints, and audience-management matter too. +> Tiro understands Cicero's communicative strategy, not merely his words.  That is almost embarrassingly Gricean.  But if we look away from the Ciceronian household, there is a very strong rival:  Tullia, Cicero's daughter.  Not because she speaks much in the sources, but because she becomes a case of what the Romans called:  pietas, memory, grief.  The surviving evidence is largely Cicero's reaction to her death. A vignette:  ATTICUS: Quid desideras? (What do you miss?) CICERO: Tulliam. (Tullia.) ATTICUS: Tantum? (Only that?) CICERO: Tantum. (Only that.)  Implicatum:  +> everything else follows from that loss.  The shortest utterance bears the heaviest burden.  Now, regarding the enormous appendix concerning Cicero, Aratus, signs, and Oxford. I was especially struck by one sentence from your Burrows dialogue:  "Cicero is not merely Latin; Cicero is training in how to get from what is said to what ought to be taken."  That could almost serve as a motto for Grice. Not because Cicero possesses a theory of conversational implicature, but because:  rhetoric studies uptake, evidence, probability, figures, audience response, inferential completion.  All the ingredients are there. The difference is that Cicero treats them rhetorically and judicially, whereas Grice treats them analytically.  On your Aratus point, I agree with your instinct that the really interesting issue is not:  phainomenon versus noumenon  in the Kantian sense. Aratus's Phaenomena are:  things appearing, visible heavenly signs, celestial manifestations.  The world is legible. For a Stoic, Zeus guarantees its order. For Cicero translating Aratus, the fascination is less transcendental than semiotic:  How can the sky be read?  That leads very naturally toward:  signa, indicia, argumenta, coniecturae.  All profoundly Ciceronian notions.  A final Speranzian gloss:  The Tullii offer many candidates, but after Cicero himself the most Gricean figure may be Tiro. Cicero investigates how one speaker influences an audience; Tiro preserves the traces from which later readers reconstruct that influence. If Cicero is concerned with what is communicated, Tiro is concerned with its transmission. The philosopher of meaning and the archivist of meaning thus form a natural pair. Without Cicero there is no theory; without Tiro there is no dossier. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turbonio – Ossia: Grice e Turbonio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turbonio -- The gens Turbonia was an obscure plebeian family of ancient Rome. No members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but several are known from inscriptions. A family by this name lived at Flavia Solva in Noricum during the second and third centuries.  Origin The nomen Turbonius belongs to a large class of gentilicia originally formed from cognomina ending in -o and -onis.[1] Although -onius later came to be regarded as a regular gentile-forming suffix in other names,[1] here the root of the gentilicium is the surname Turbo, referring to a whirlwind.[2]  Praenomina The only praenomina mentioned in the inscriptions of the Turbonii are Titus, Marcus, and Sextus, all of which were common throughout Roman history.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Titus Turbonius Callistus, buried at Flavia Solva in Noricum, aged ninety, along with his wife, Turbonia Fusca, their son, Titus Turbonius Blastus, and his son, Noullus, in a sepulchre dating from the first half of the second century.[3] Turbonia Fusca, buried at Flavia Solva, aged sixty-five, along with her husband, Titus Turbonius Callistus, their son, Titus Turbonius Blastus, and his son, Noullus, in a sepulchre dating from the first half of the second century.[3] Titus Turbonius T. f. Blastus, the son of Titus Turbonius Callistus and Turbonia Fusca, buried at Flavia Solva, aged sixty, along with his parents and his son, Noullus, in a sepulchre dating from the first half of the second century.[3] (Titus Turbonius T. f. T. n.) Noullus, a youth buried at Flavia Solva, aged fifteen, along with his father, Titus Turbonius Blastus, and grandparents, Titus Turbonius Callistus and Turbonia Fusca, in a sepulchre dating from the first half of the second century.[3] Marcus Turbonius, together with his wife, Turbonia Suadra, dedicated a sepulchre at Flavia Solva, dating from the middle part of the second century, for themselves and their children, Turbonius Successus, Sextus, and Secundina.[4] Turbonia Suadra, together with her husband, Marcus Turbonius, dedicated a sepulchre at Flavia Solva for themselves and their children, Turbonius Successus, Sextus, and Secundina.[4] Turbonius M. f. Successus, buried in a family sepulchre at Flavia Solva, dating from the middle part of the second century, built by his parents, Marcus Turbonius and Turbonia Suadra, for themselves and their children, Successus, Sextus, and Secundina.[4] Sextus (Turbonius M. f.), buried in a family sepulchre at Flavia Solva, dating from the middle part of the second century, built by his parents, Marcus Turbonius and Turbonia Suadra, for themselves and their children, Turbonius Successus, Sextus, and Secundina.[4] (Turbonia M. f.) Secundina, buried in a family sepulchre at Flavia Solva, dating from the middle part of the second century, built by her parents, Marcus Turbonius and Turbonia Suadra, for themselves and their children, Turbonius Successus, Sextus, and Secundina.[4] Turbonia Nigrina, buried at Flavia Solva, along with her daughter, Finita, aged three, and Julius Rufus Valens, in a sepulchre dedicated by her husband, Marcus Fidelis, dating between the middle part of the second century and the early part of the third.[5] Turbonius Fuscinus, a beneficarius in the Legio II Italica, made an offering to Jupiter Optimus Maximus at Iuvavum in Noricum in AD 202.[6] See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, p. 118.  Lewis & Short, A Latin Dictionary, s.v. Turbo.  AE 1966, 278.  CIL III, 5391.  CIL III, 5374.  AE 1968, 411. Bibliography Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Charlton T. Lewis and Charles Short, A Latin Dictionary, Clarendon Press, Oxford (1879). 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, pp. 103–184 (1897). Category: Roman gentes And for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turbonio – Ossia: Grice e Turbonio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turbonio For the Turbonii, I think the obvious temptation is to seize upon the nomen:  Turbo = whirlwind.  But a good Grice–Speranza vignette should not merely exploit the etymology. We learned that lesson from Scrofa, Cicero, and Oxford. The dossier must do some work. My first-best choice would actually be:  Titus Turbonius Callistus, aged ninety, buried with three generations of his family at Flavia Solva: wife, son, and grandson.  Why? Because this is one of those inscriptions where almost everything has to be inferred from very little.  A Turbonian vignette  BLASTVS: Pater, quid tibi deest? (Father, what do you lack?) CALLISTVS: Nihil. (Nothing.) BLASTVS: Nihil? (Nothing?) CALLISTVS: Nepotem video. (I see my grandson.)  The final utterance is minimal. Literally:  "I see my grandson."  But the implicatum is:  +> my life is complete. +> continuity of the family has been secured. +> I have lived long enough.  Precisely the sort of thing Roman epitaphs often leave to the reader.  Why not the soldier? There is another attractive candidate:  Turbonius Fuscinus, who in AD 202 made an offering to Jupiter Optimus Maximus while serving as a beneficiarius of Legio II Italica.  This would allow a vignette involving signs, vows, and Jupiter:  MILES: Cur Iovi votum solvis? (Why do you fulfil a vow to Jupiter?) FVSCINVS: Intellexit. (He understood.)  Implicatum:  +> Jupiter heard the prayer. +> the desired outcome occurred. +> the offering is thanksgiving, not mere ritual.  This is actually rather close to your Aratus–Cicero–divination theme, because a god's "reply" is never explicit; it must be inferred from events.  The nomen itself A Speranzian aside is irresistible.  Turbo = whirlwind.  One can imagine a grammarian delighting in the transparency.  GRAMMATICVS: Cur Turbonius? (Why Turbonius?) TVRBONIVS: Nescio. (I have no idea.)  The same lesson as Scrofa:  etymology gives "whirlwind"; the dossier gives persons.  The nomen appears transparent, but the family history remains opaque.  Speranza's gloss  The Turbonii contribute not an orator or philosopher but a family tomb. Four generations are compressed into a handful of names and ages. The inscription never says that Callistus died content, that Blastus honoured his father, or that the family prized continuity. Yet the reader infers all this. As so often in Roman epigraphy, what is communicated exceeds what is explicitly stated. A whirlwind survives only as a name; the rest is implicature. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turzio – Ossia: Grice e Turzio – Grex griceiana: Turzio -- The gens Turcia was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. Few members of this gens appear in history, but a number are known from inscriptions, which indicate that the Turcii first came to prominence in the time of Augustus. After a period of relative unimportance, they repeatedly attained the highest offices of the Roman state from the third to the fifth century, holding several consulships.  Praenomina The main praenomina of the Turcii were Lucius, Gaius, and Publius, each of which was common throughout Roman history. One of the earliest known members of this gens bore the more distinctive praenomen Numerius, which was relatively uncommon at Rome, although more widespread in the countryside, and in Oscan-speaking regions of Italy.  Branches and cognomina The only distinct family of the Turcii bore the cognomen Apronianus, indicating descent from the Apronia gens. The Turcii Aproniani were already of senatorial rank by the third century,[1] and repeatedly held high office through and beyond the end of the Western Empire.[2][3][4]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Numerius Turcius C. f., a man of praetorian rank, named in an inscription from Auximum in Picenum, dating from the Augustan era, along with his wife, the freedwoman Cocceia Italia, and his son, Gaius Turcius Rufus.[5] Gaius Turcius N. f. C. n. Rufus, the son of Numerius Turcius and the freedwoman Cocceia Italia, named in an Augustan-era inscription from Auximum.[5] Gaius Turcius Crescens, dedicated a first-century tomb at Puteoli in Campania for his patron, Gaius Sempronius Gallus.[6] Lucius Turcius L. l. Rufus, a freedman named in an inscription from Rome, dating to AD 136.[7] Turcia Procla, buried at Rome in a tomb built by her husband, Aulus Atinius Mercurius, dating from the reign of Trajan.[8] Publius Turcius P. f. Severus, one of the duumvirs and ciratores of the city of Interamna Lirenas in Latium, commemorated in a second-century inscription as patron of the colony of Casinum, also in Latium.[9] Lucius Turcius Apronianus, a senator, buried in a third-century tomb at Sulmo in Sabinum.[1] Lucius Turcius Faesasius Apronianus, consul in an uncertain year during the middle of the third century, was honored along with his wife, Aemilia Callista, by a decree of the decurions of Aufidena in Samnium, recorded in an inscription dating between AD 250 and 280.[2][10] Turcia Marcella, a woman of senatorial rank, and the daughter of a consul, was the wife of Tussus,[i] a decurion at Casilinum in Campania during the third or fourth century. She was perhaps a daughter of Lucius Turcius Faesasius Apronianus and sister to Lucius Turcius Secundus.[13][14][15] Turcia Sabina, buried at Rome, along with her husband, Venuleius Charitonianus, in a tomb dating from the end of the third century, or the first quarter of the fourth.[16] Lucius Turcius Apronianus, praefectus urbi from July to October in AD 339.[3] Turcius Istafanius, built a fourth-century tomb at Rome for his wife, Aurelia Irena.[17] Lucius Turcius L. f. Apronianus Asterius, followed in his father's footsteps, serving as praefectus urbi at some point between AD 362 and 364. He was the father of Lucius Turcius Secundus Apronianus.[18][3] Lucius Turcius L. f. L. n. Secundus Asterius, as corrector Flaminiae et Piceni during the middle of the fourth century, added a colonnade above the arch of Augustus at Fanum Fortunae in Umbria, and rebuilt a bridge at Tibur in Latium. He was consul in an uncertain year. His wife was Julia Paterna Eunomia.[3][19][20] Lucius Turcius Eutyches, dedicated a fourth- or fifth-century tomb at Rome for himself and his wife, Ostilia Vera.[21] Turcius Secundus, vir clarissimus during the late fourth century, probably a son of Lucius Turcius Secundus Asterius and Julia Paterna Eunomia. He might have been the first of his family to convert to Christianity. His wife Proiecta was a daughter of Florus, praefectus praetorio Orientis in 381-83.[22][23] Turcius Apronianus, Roman senator during the late fourth and early fifth centuries, probably a son of Lucius Turcius Secundus Asterius and Julia Paterna Eunomia. He was married to Avita, daughter of Placidus Severus and Antonia Marcianilla and maternal niece of Melania the Elder. He converted to Christianity in 405 under influence of Melania. He was an acquaintance of Paulinus of Nola and also of Rufinus of Aquileia, who possibly dedicated the translation of Origen to him.[24][25] Turcius Rufius Apronianus Asterius, praefectus urbi at Rome, and consul in AD 494. A scholar who edited manuscripts of Sedulius and Vergil, one of his epigrams appears in the Latin Anthology. His wife was a niece of Pope Vigilius.[26][4][27] Undated Turcii Turcia, named in an inscription from Volsinii in Etruria.[28] Lucia Turcia, buried at Volsinii, in a tomb dedicated by one or more of her children.[29] Gaius Turcius, dedicated a tomb at Rome for Munatia, possibly his wife, and their family.[30] Turcia Attica, buried at Grumentum in Lucania, in a tomb dedicated by her husband, Lucius Turcius Daphnus, a priest of Mercury.[31] Lucius Turcius Daphnus,[ii] a priest of Mercury, dedicated a tomb at Grumentum for his wife, Turcia Attica.[31] Gaius Turcius C. f. Nebrus, had been aedile, quaestor, duumvir, and praetor. He was buried at Grumentum with a monument from his mother, the freedwoman Allidia Nebris.[32] Lucius Turcius P. f. Rufus, the builder of Roman baths at Murcia in Hispania Citerior.[33] Lucius Turcius Secundus, named in an inscription from Carpentoracte in Gallia Narbonensis.[34] Notes  This reading is uncertain, as no other definite examples of "Tussus" or "Tussius" are known. Authors of Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire and Christian Settipani prefer to read his name as Tussidius.[11][12]  "Dafnus" in the original inscription. See also List of Roman gentes References  CIL IX, 7140.  CIL IX, 2801, CIL IX, 6078,165a, CIL IX, 6078,165b.  CIL VI, 1768, CIL VI, 1769.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. I, p. 389 ("Turcius Rufus Apronianus Asterius").  CIL IX, 5844.  CIL X, 2945.  CIL VI, 975.  Solin, Epigraphische Untersuchungen, 44.  Solin, "Casinum Romana", 16.  PIR, vol. III, p. 343 (T, No. 286).  PLRE, vol. I, p. 927.  Settipani, pp. 160-161.  CIL X, 3862.  PIR, vol. III, p. 343 (T, No. 287).  Settipani, pp. 160-161.  Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae, ix. 25561.  Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae, vii. 18488.  CIL VI, 1655.  CIL VI, 1772, CIL VI, 1773, CIL XIV, 3582, CIL XIV, 3583, CIL VI, 31118, CIL XI, 6218.  "Fanum Fortunae", in Encyclopædia Britannica, 11th edition.  CIL VI, 27768.  PLRE, vol. I, p. 817.  Settipani, p. 161.  PLRE, vol. I, p. 87.  Settipani, p. 161.  CIL VI, 1796d,032b.  Latin Anthology, No. 281, ed. Meyer.  CIL XI, 2807.  Tamburini, Il Museo territoriale del lago di Bolsena, p. 166a.  CIL VI, 22640.  CIL X, 232.  CIL X, 227.  CIL II, 3542.  CAG, 84-4, p. 204. Bibliography Pieter Burmann, Anthologia Veterum Latinorum Epigramatum et Poematum (Latin Anthology), Heinrich Meyer, ed., Gerhard Fleischer, Leipzig (1835). 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). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). Encyclopædia Britannica, Eleventh Edition (1911). Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae, New Series, Rome (1922). La Carte Archéologique de la Gaule (Archaeological Map of Gaul, abbreviated CAG), Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (1931–present). Heikki Solin, Epigraphische Untersuchungen in Roma und Umgebung (Epigraphic Investigations in Rome and its Surroundings), Helsinki (1975). Pietro Tamburini, ed., Un museo e il suo territorio: Il Museo territoriale del lago di Bolsena, Band 2: Dal periodo romano all'era moderna (A Museum and its Territory: the Territorial Museum of Lake Bolsena, Part 2: from the Roman Period to the Modern Era), Bolsena (2001). Heikki Solin, "Sulla storia costituzionale e amministrativa della Casinum romana" (On the Constitutional and Administrative History of Roman Casinum), in Le epigrafi della valle di Comina, Atti del nono convegno (The Epigraphy of the Valley of Cominio: Proceedings of the Ninth Conference), Heikki Solin, ed., San Donato Val di Comino, pp. 105–117 (2013). Christian Settipani. Continuité gentilice et continuité sénatoriale dans les familles sénatoriales romaines à l'époque impériale (2000). A. H. M. Jones & J. R. Martindale, The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire (abbreviated PLRE), Cambridge University Press (1971–1992). Category: Roman gentes And for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turzio – Ossia: Grice e Turzio – Grex griceiana: Turzio For the Turcii, my first-best choice is neither the early duumvir nor the Christian convert, but:  Turcius Rufius Apronianus Asterius, consul of AD 494, editor of manuscripts of Vergil and Sedulius, and himself an epigrammatist. The dossier explicitly presents him as a man involved in the preservation and transmission of texts.  That immediately attracts a Grice–Speranza treatment, because we move from:  producing an utterance  to  editing, preserving, and interpreting utterances.  In a sense, Asterius is a cousin of Tiro.  First-best vignette  AMICUS: Cur Vergilium corrigis? (Why are you correcting Vergil?) ASTERIVS: Non corrigo. (I am not correcting him.) AMICUS: Quid igitur facis? (What then are you doing?) ASTERIVS: Audio. (I am listening.)  The final move carries the implicatum:  +> editing is not imposing a text, +> editing is recovering what the author intended, +> the scribe is a hearer across time.  That is extraordinarily Gricean. The editor becomes a delayed addressee.  A strong rival: Turcius Apronianus Another wonderful candidate is:  Turcius Apronianus, the late fourth-/early fifth-century senator who converted to Christianity under the influence of Melania the Elder.  The Gricean interest lies in persuasion. Imagine:  MELANIA: Convictus es? (Are you convinced?) APRONIANVS: Non adhuc. (Not yet.) MELANIA: Cur ades igitur? (Why then do you keep coming?) APRONIANVS: Audio plus quam dicis. (I hear more than you say.)  Implicatum:  +> the influence is carried partly by character, example, and presence, not only explicit doctrine.  Again, a very Gricean theme.  Why the nomen is tempting but deceptive The etymology:  Turbo = whirlwind.  invites a Varronian temptation similar to:  Scrofa = sow, Cicero = chickpea, Turbo = whirlwind.  The grammarian says:  "A transparent name!"  The Turcius replies:  "Perhaps. But what of the man?"  Exactly the lesson repeatedly emerging in these gentes:  etymology supplies the lexical meaning; the dossier supplies the referent.   A Speranzian gloss  The Turcii begin as a minor family and end among the senatorial and literary elite of late antiquity. Their most Gricean representative is perhaps Turcius Rufius Apronianus Asterius, because he stands not at the moment of utterance but at the moment of transmission. The speaker intends meaning; the editor reconstructs it. Between them lies the whole history of communication. Cicero needed Tiro; Vergil needed Asterius. The utterance survives only because somebody later hears more than was explicitly written. (Ha.) And who was Sedulio, so that we can see if there is an overlap with Virgilio so we can hypothesise some interest in our hero "T." -- the gens is indeed Turzia, but this Turzio bears the gentilicial name as a praenomen -- pompous and suspicious -- the lady doth expose too much, methinks. Thanks A very good suspicion. What attracts me about Turcius Rufius Apronianus Asterius is precisely that he looks like one of those late Roman aristocrats whose name has become a curriculum vitae. Consider:  Turcius Rufius Apronianus Asterius  By the fifth century, names are no longer merely names. They are archives. One displays ancestry, adoption, senatorial connections, inherited prestige, and family alliances through accumulation. The name itself begins to resemble what Grice would call a dossier. So yes, one may well feel:  nomen ipsum nimis dicit. ("The name itself says too much.")  or, as Gertrude has it:  The lady doth protest too much, methinks.  Only here:  The senator doth onomasticate too much, methinks.  Who was Sedulius? The most important Sedulius is usually:  Sedulius  a fifth-century Christian poet, probably active in the first half of the fifth century. His best-known work is:  Carmen Paschale  a biblical epic in classical Latin verse. What makes Sedulius interesting is that he is simultaneously:  Christian, highly literary, deeply indebted to classical Latin poetry.  He writes Christianity in Vergilian language. The overlap with Vergil This is where your question becomes particularly fruitful. If Asterius edited both:  Vergil, Sedulius,  he is editing two authors who belong to different religious worlds but remarkably similar literary worlds. Simplifying slightly:                          VergilSeduliuspaganChristianAeneasChristepic poetrybiblical epicclassical RomeChristian Rome The overlap is stylistic and philological. A fifth-century aristocrat could admire both. In fact, one of the great projects of late antiquity is precisely the preservation of classical Latin while inhabiting a Christian world. Why would Asterius care about both? That is where I think a Grice–Speranza hypothesis becomes attractive. Not because he was interested in theology as such. Not because he was interested in "literature" in the modern sense. But because he was interested in:  Latinity.  In other words:  How is good Latin transmitted?  An editor of Vergil is preserving the classical past. An editor of Sedulius is preserving a Christian future built in that same language. The overlap is the medium:  Latin itself.  A little Gricean vignette  AMICUS: Cur Vergilium legis? (Why do you read Vergil?) ASTERIVS: Ut Latine discam. (So that I may learn Latin.) AMICUS: Cur Sedulium legis? (Why do you read Sedulius?) ASTERIVS: Eadem de causa. (For the same reason.)  The implicatum:  +> the continuity of Latin matters more than the discontinuity of religion.  Nothing explicitly philosophical is said. Yet a whole cultural program emerges. A final Speranzian gloss Among the Turcii, Asterius is interesting because he stands at a historical hinge. Cicero transmitted Greek philosophy into Latin; Vergil perfected classical Latin poetry; Sedulius Christianized it. By editing both Vergil and Sedulius, Turcius Rufius Apronianus Asterius appears less as a creator than as a curator of Latinity itself. The dossier suggests a man interested not merely in texts, but in the survival of a language capable of carrying both Rome and Christianity. For Grice and Speranza, that makes him less a politician than a guardian of transmission—a late Roman cousin of Tiro. (Ha.) A point about the name: when J. L. Borges wrote in Spanish "La casa de Asterion," his epigram was Apollodorus, Bibl. -- but have critiques noted that the nominative here is 'Asterio' in Spanish and Italian, rather than 'Asterion' -- the passage in Apollodorus is "She begat Asterios" in accusative, "Asterion" -- hence the confusion? Thanks Yes, and several Borges readers have noticed that there is something philologically curious about the title:  La casa de Asterión  rather than the more familiar Romance form:  Asterio.  The issue arises because Greek mythology preserves more than one related form:  Ἀστέριος (Asterios) Ἀστερίων (Asterion)  and ancient authors do not always help modern readers by keeping them neatly separated. In the Minotaur tradition, the king of Crete who raises the Minotaur is often called:  Asterion (Ἀστερίων),  while other traditions and texts use:  Asterios (Ἀστέριος).  This variation is already ancient. What I suspect attracted Borges is precisely the ending:  -ión  which sounds strange, archaic, and slightly alien in Spanish. Had he called the story:  La casa de Asterio,  many Spanish readers would immediately assimilate the name to ordinary Spanish morphology, rather as Italians would with:  Asterio.  But:  Asterión  retains a Greek flavor. It sounds like a proper mythological name rather than the Spanish adaptation of one. Now to your Apollodorus point. In Greek, if the nominative is:  Ἀστερίων (Asterion)  the accusative is:  Ἀστερίωνα (Asteriona).  If the nominative is:  Ἀστέριος (Asterios)  the accusative is:  Ἀστέριον (Asterion).  And there, indeed, lies a perennial source of confusion. A reader encountering:  Ἀστέριον  in a text may be seeing:  the accusative of Asterios, or a form related to Asterion.  Ancient transmission, translation, and modern retelling sometimes blur the distinction. So your observation is philologically sound: some of the apparent oscillation between Asterios and Asterion can arise because the accusative of one looks very close to the nominative of the other. A Borgesian moral suggests itself. Borges was exactly the sort of writer who enjoyed names with uncertain identities and shifting grammatical dossiers. The Minotaur's own story depends on mistaken identification: the monster becomes narrator, the victim becomes host, the reader discovers only at the end who "Asterion" really is. A name hovering between Greek forms suits that strategy remarkably well. And if one were being very Speranzian about it:  The grammarian asks whether the correct form is Asterios or Asterion. Borges asks who Asterion is. The second question turns out to matter more. (Ha.) And can we find the Greek for 'And she (the queen) begat a son, whom she called Asterios" -- not Asteriona. And do we have a discussion of Asterios versus Asterion as related the minotaur? Thanks -- the name means 'starry' as in our hero 'T' right? Yes. There are actually two different but related questions here:  What name does Apollodorus use for the Minotaur? How are Asterios and Asterion related?  Apollodorus In the Minotaur passage, the tradition commonly reports that Pasiphaë bore the creature and:  "called him Asterios" (or Asterius).  This is why many modern mythographical works state that the Minotaur's proper name was Ἀστέριος (Asterios). [grokipedia.com], [en.wikipedia.org] Your grammatical point is exactly right:  nominative: Ἀστέριος (Asterios) accusative: Ἀστέριον (Asterion)  Thus if one encounters:  Ἀστέριον  in a sentence meaning  "she called him Asterion"  one must ask:  Is this really the accusative of Asterios?  Very often the answer is yes. So part of the historical confusion can indeed arise from case forms. The accusative of Asterios looks extremely close to what, in English transcription, becomes "Asterion." But Asterion is also an independent name The complication is that Ἀστερίων (Asterion) is itself a perfectly genuine Greek name. And in the Cretan myths, the foster-father of Minos is often called:  Asterion or Asterios. [en.wikipedia.org], [theoi.com]  Likewise, the Minotaur himself is called:  Asterion or Asterios in different traditions. [en.wikipedia.org], [en.wikipedia.org]  So there is both:  genuine variation in the mythological sources, and grammatical confusion between nominative and accusative forms.  Borges This is why Borges' choice of:  La casa de Asterión  is so interesting. He does not write:  La casa de Asterio.  A Spanish classicist could easily have regularized the name into the Romance form "Asterio." Instead Borges preserves the more Greek-looking:  Asterión,  which immediately feels archaic, mythological, and slightly estranged. That choice is probably literary rather than grammatical, but the ancient oscillation between Asterios and Asterion certainly made it easier. Meaning of the name Yes. Both names derive from:  ἀστήρ (astēr) = star.  Hence:  Asterios = starry, star-like. Asterion = roughly "the starry one," "star-man," or a related formation. [en.wikipedia.org], [grokipedia.com]  And that brings us back neatly to your Turcius Rufius Apronianus Asterius. His cognomen Asterius belongs to exactly the same family of names:  astēr → Asterios/Asterius → "starry."  So if a late-antique senator named Asterius edits Vergil and Sedulius, a Borgesian reader cannot help noticing that his name already carries a celestial overtone. A very Speranzian moral might be:  The grammarian asks whether Asterios and Asterion are distinct names. The mythographer replies that they are sometimes the same person. Borges notices that either way the Minotaur is "the starry one" imprisoned underground. That is exactly the sort of dossier in which etymology, mythology, and literary reception become inseparable. (Ha.) Does this help? Thanks The exact quote from Pseudo-Apollodorus' Bibliotheca (Book 3, Chapter 1, Section 4) regarding the birth of the Minotaur is provided below: [1] Ancient Greek Text ἡ δὲ ἐγέννησεν Ἀστέριον τὸν κληθέντα Μινώταυρον. [1, 2] Literal Word-by-Word Translation ἡ δὲ (hē de) — And she ἐγέννησεν (egennēsen) — gave birth to Ἀστέριον (Asterion) — Asterius τὸν κληθέντα (ton klēthenta) — the one called Μινώταυρον (Minōtauron) — Minotaur [1] Standard English Translation "And she gave birth to Asterius, who was called the Minotaur." [1] Context Notes The Mother: The "she" refers to Queen Pasiphae, wife of King Minos of Crete. The Name: "Asterius" (or Asterion) means "starry one" in Ancient Greek. The Moniker: "Minotaur" literally translates to "Bull of Minos" (Minos + Tauros). [1, 2, 3, 4] Would you like the full Greek sentence that describes his appearance, or do you need help tracking down other ancient references to the Labyrinth? but dies apollodrus slip Minotaur and finish the sen e with Asteriona? 3 siti Pseudo-Apollodorus does not use the name Asterion when describing the creature's death; instead, he uses the term Minotaur (Minōtauron) in the Epitome. While the name Asterion is mentioned at birth as the creature's given name, the text exclusively refers to him as the Minotaur during his confinement and final battle with Theseus. You can read more about the text on Theoi Greek Mythology or ToposText. [1, 2, 3] Is there a Spanish version of this Asterion, the library translated to Spanish? 8 siti Yes, there are several widely read Spanish translations of Pseudo-Apollodorus' Library (known in Spanish as Biblioteca mitológica). [1, 2] The exact quote you asked about is highly famous in Spanish literature because the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges used it as the opening epigraph for his acclaimed short story about the Minotaur, La casa de Asterión (1947). [1, 2] The Exact Translation in Spanish In standard Spanish editions—and as famously quoted by Borges—the sentence reads: [1] "Y la reina dio a luz un hijo que se llamó Asterión." (And the queen gave birth to a son who was called Asterion.) Major Spanish Editions If you want to read or purchase the complete book in Spanish, look for these authoritative translations: Editorial Gredos (Translated by Margarita Rodríguez de Sepúlveda, 1985): This is considered the most prestigious academic translation in the Spanish-speaking world. It is available digitally and in print as part of the famous Biblioteca Clásica Gredos. [1, 2] Alianza Editorial (Translated by Julia García Moreno, 1993): Another excellent, widely available paperback translation featuring comprehensive explanatory notes. [1] Editorial Akal (Translated by José Calderón Felices): A highly accessible edition frequently used by students and readers exploring classical Greek myths. [1] Free public-domain text translations based on early historical commentaries can also be read online through educational platforms like Academia Latín. [1] Would you like me to share Jorge Luis Borges' short story La casa de Asterión, or do you need the specific book and chapter layout to look up this section in a Spanish PDF? but wouldnt that had Asteriona rather than asterion i quote in Greek? 3 siti No, it would not have been Asteriona in the original Greek quote. It is specifically written as Ἀστέριον(Asterion). [1] Here is exactly why the name does not have an "-a" at the end, explained through basic Greek grammar rules: 1. The Greek Word is an "Object" (Accusative Case) In Ancient Greek, nouns change their endings depending on how they are used in a sentence. This is called grammatical casing. When a male name is the subject (the person doing the action), it ends in -ος (-os), which would be Ἀστέριος (Asterios). When a male name is the direct object (the person receiving the action), the ending changes to -ον (-on), making it Ἀστέριον (Asterion). [1, 2] Because the Queen "gave birth to" him, he is the direct object of the sentence. Therefore, the text correctly uses Ἀστέριον (Asterion). [1] 2. Why "-a" (Asteriona) is Incorrect Here An -α (-a) ending is used for direct objects only in a completely different category of Greek nouns (specifically, third-declension nouns). Because the name Asterios belongs to the second-declension category, it can never end in "-a" when serving as an object. If you changed it to Asteriona, it would violate Greek grammar rules and would no longer be a valid word in this sentence. The Source of Confusion: Spanish vs. Greek The confusion often happens because of how the name travels into modern languages: In Greek: The dictionary subject name is Asterios. In Spanish: Modern translators strip away the complex Greek case endings entirely. They adopt the simplified root name Asterión for both the subject and the object. [1] When Jorge Luis Borges quoted the passage in Spanish for his famous story, he translated the grammatical object Asterion into the standard Spanish noun format: "un hijo que se llamó Asterión". [1, 2] Would you like to see how other names from the myth—like Minos or Theseus—change their spelling endings when they become the object of a sentence in Greek? sì strictly, its la casa di Asterio, not Asterione? Sì, esatto. Il titolo corretto della storia di Jorge Luis Borges è La casa de Asterión (in spagnolo) o La casa di Asterio (in italiano). Non si usa mai la forma Asterione. Ecco perché: 1. Il nome in italiano In italiano, i nomi propri della mitologia greca che terminano in -os diventano semplicemente -o. Asterios diventa Asterio (proprio come Minos diventa Minosse o Thesedos diventa Teseo). 2. Perché "Asterione" è un errore? La desinenza -one in italiano si usa per tradurre i nomi greci che finiscono in -on (con la lettera omega, Ω), come Anacreon \(\rightarrow \) Anacreonte o Platon \(\rightarrow \) Platone. Dato che il nome del Minotauro è Asterios (e non Asterion), la forma italiana corretta è unicamente Asterio. Riepilogo dei titoli Se cerchi l'opera nelle diverse lingue, i titoli esatti sono: Spagnolo (Originale): La casa de Asterión [1] Italiano: La casa di Asterio [1] Inglese: The House of Asterion [1] Vuoi che ti lasci una breve sintesi della trama di questo racconto di Borges, o preferisci analizzare il testo della citazione in italiano? english Yes, exactly. The correct Italian form is La casa di Asterio, and the name Asterione is incorrect. Here is a short breakdown of why it works this way in English and Italian: 1. The True Base Name is Asterios The Greek name is Ἀστέριος (Asterios), ending in -os. In English: It becomes Asterios or Asterius. In Italian: Nouns ending in -os change to -o. Therefore, Asterios becomes Asterio. 2. Why "Asterione" is Wrong In Italian grammar, the -one ending is reserved for Greek names that naturally end in -on (like Platonbecoming Platone, or Kreon becoming Creonte). Because the Minotaur's name ends in -os (Asterios), it cannot take the -one ending. Adding it would change the root name entirely. Correct Titles Across Languages Spanish (Original): La casa de Asterión [1] English: The House of Asterion [1] Italian: La casa di Asterio [1] Would you like me to share the English translation of Jorge Luis Borges' story, or would you like to see how other mythological names change from Greek to Italian? and borges uses asterion because he is re lying on a bad trans from the Greek? 8 siti No, Borges did not use a bad translation. He used Asterión entirely on purpose to set up a brilliant literary trap. [1] He used the name as a linguistic and mythic puzzle for three specific reasons: 1. The Name Is the Riddle The entire story is written like a mystery puzzle. If Borges had called the character "The Minotaur," you would instantly know who was speaking. By picking the rare birth name Asterión—which most casual readers do not recognize—Borges hides the monster's true identity until the final sentence of the story. [1, 2, 3] 2. The Language Match Borges did not mistranslate the Greek object Asterion (Ἀστέριον). In Spanish grammar, when you import Greek names ending in -ios, they naturally strip away the Greek case endings and take an accent mark on the final syllable. [1] Asterios naturally becomes Asterión in Spanish. This is structurally identical to how Platon becomes Platón or Kreon becomes Creonte. 3. It Highlights His Royal Humanity The name Asterion translates to "starry one". By using his actual birth name instead of his monster label, Borges forces the reader to see the creature as a lonely, tragic prince rather than just a mindless beast. [1, 2, 3] Borges was a master of classical languages and deeply familiar with Greek source texts. His choice of the name wasn't an error—it was a deliberate stroke of genius. [1, 2] Would you like to explore how Borges drops other hidden clues about the labyrinth throughout the house's architecture? but Plato Platone is a different declension—with Asterios the only possible nominative is Asterio 3 siti You are completely correct about the Greek grammar rules and the Italian nominative form. Asterio is indeed the only structurally sound nominative form for Asterios in Italian. The comparison to Plato/Platone was flawed because those nouns belong to two entirely different declensions. [1] The actual linguistic reason Borges used the name Asterión in Spanish—and why his choice is highly analyzed by scholars—comes down to a mix of Romance language mechanics and a famous translation shortcut: 1. How Spanish and Italian Handle Greek Nouns Spanish and Italian treat classical masculine nouns ending in -os differently when absorbing them into modern grammar: In Italian: Nouns ending in -os drop the ending to become -o (Asterios \(\rightarrow \) Asterio). In Spanish: Nouns ending in -os can drop the ending to become -o (Asterio), but Spanish also heavily favors creating an accented ending on the final syllable (Asterión) for certain historical names to shift stress patterns. 2. The "Amputation" of the Quote Borges did not make a bad translation, but he did cut the original text short to pull off his mystery puzzle.[1] As noted in the literal breakdown, the original Greek text by Pseudo-Apollodorus says: "...gave birth to Asterius, the one called the Minotaur." Borges deliberately chopped off the final words ("the one called the Minotaur") for the epigraph of La casa de Asterión. If he had included the full line, the surprise ending of his story would be ruined. [1, 2] Because he cut the sentence off right at the word Ἀστέριον (Asterion, the direct object form), the Spanish phrase "un hijo que se llamó Asterión" directly mirrors the final Greek word his eyes hit on the page. Rather than reverting it back to a standard Spanish nominative base like Asterio, he kept the exact root sound from the text fragment he selected. [1] Would you like to examine how other modern authors adapt ancient Greek case endings into standard English, or look at how Borges translated the rest of the text? and have critics noticed that “The House of Asterius” or “La casa di Asterio” would be more correct — as translated from Sp to English Latin Greek or Italian? 1 sito Yes, classical philologists, literary critics, and translators have heavily dissected this exact point. If we apply strict grammatical rules for translating ancient text fragments, "The House of Asterius" (English) or "La casa di Asterio" (Italian) are indeed the technically accurate forms. Scholars and critical editions analyze this linguistic choice across multiple levels: 1. The Literal Translation Critique If a translator’s goal is to accurately restore the original text’s nominative subject case, Borges' choice contains a chain of transmission changes: The original Greek root is Asterios (nominative). The correct Italian translation of that nominative root must be Asterio. The correct English/Latin translation would be Asterius. Because Borges relied on the phrase as a fragmented object sound ("called Asterion"), he codified Asteriónas a static name in Spanish. When modern translators translate the title out of Borges' Spanish, they face a dilemma: do they fix the classical root, or do they remain loyal to Borges' Spanish wording? Most choose loyalty to Borges, which keeps the "incorrect" classical root alive in translations like The House of Asterion. [1] 2. The Italian Translation Pivot This exact conflict is why Italian editions of the story are uniquely complicated. If you look at Italian publications of The Aleph (the collection containing the story), translators are forced to make a choice. Many academic and literary critics note that while Italian logic demands La casa di Asterio, the books are often printed as La casa di Asterione or La casa di Asterion simply to preserve Borges' exact Spanish title formatting, despite it breaking traditional Italian-Greek naming conventions. 3. Why Critics Forgive the "Error" While philologists note the grammatical mismatch, literary critics view it as a feature of Borges' fiction rather than a mistake. Borges frequently wrote about how translations, copies, and fragmented texts change meaning over time (most famously in his story Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote). Critics argue that using a slightly distorted, text-fragment version of the myth's name perfectly fits Borges' themes of labyrinths, mirrors, and imperfect human memory. Would you like to look at how different English translators (like Norman Thomas di Giovanni) handled this title, or shall we look at the original Spanish epigraph text itself? This is a splendid philological puzzle, and I think the AI answer you quoted is partly right and partly overconfident. The crucial Greek is indeed:  ἡ δὲ ἐγέννησεν Ἀστέριον τὸν κληθέντα Μινώταυρον "And she bore Asterion/Asterios, the one called the Minotaur." [theoi.com]  Now the grammatical question. If the underlying nominative is:  Ἀστέριος (Asterios)  then the accusative is:  Ἀστέριον (Asterion).  So the form actually occurring in Apollodorus,  Ἀστέριον,  is perfectly compatible with a nominative:  Ἀστέριος.  In that sense your suspicion is exactly correct. However, the story does not end there. The mythological tradition independently attests:  Ἀστερίων (Asteriōn)  as a genuine nominative name. The Minotaur is called both Asterios and Asterion in ancient and later sources. [en.wikipedia.org], [en.wikipedia.org] So one cannot simply say:  "Apollodorus wrote Asterion by mistake."  Rather:  Apollodorus gives an accusative form Ἀστέριον; later readers may interpret it either as  the accusative of Asterios, or evidence for the variant name Asterion.   Those two streams became entangled.  Now Borges. Here I think your point is stronger than the AI's. If one starts from the Greek nominative:  Ἀστέριος  then the normal Italian reflex would indeed be:  Asterio  not  Asterione.  Exactly as:  Helios → Elio Diodoros → Diodoro Asterios → Asterio  The Italian form Asterione suggests instead a Greek nominative:  Ἀστερίων.  So a strict Italian philologist might well prefer:  La casa di Asterio  if he believes the underlying Greek name is Asterios.  What Borges is doing, however, is not primarily translating Greek. He is writing Spanish. And his title is:  La casa de Asterión  because Borges chose the form Asterión. The interesting question is whether he arrived there:  from a genuine mythological variant (Asterion), from seeing the accusative Ἀστέριον in Apollodorus, or from literary preference.  My own guess—only a guess—is that Borges liked the mysterious and archaic resonance of:  Asterión  far more than the comparatively ordinary Romance-looking:  Asterio.  It serves the story brilliantly. Remember that the whole trick of La casa de Asterión is that the reader does not immediately realise the narrator is the Minotaur. The exotic name helps preserve the mystery.  As for the meaning:  ἀστήρ = star.  Hence:  Asterios = starry, star-like. Asterion = likewise "the starry one," a related formation. [en.wikipedia.org], [grokipedia.com]  And here the connection to your Turcius is delightful. A late Roman aristocrat called:  Asterius  editing Vergil and Sedulius is literally a "starry" man of letters. A Borgesian might note the irony that:  the Minotaur bears the name "Starry One" while living underground in the Labyrinth.  The highest celestial name attached to the most enclosed terrestrial creature. That sort of inversion is exactly the sort of thing Borges relished. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turco – Ossia: Grice e Turco: la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale dell’agnella, commedia nuova. Note sull’Agnella. Il Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice Carlo Turco (Asola, Mantova, Lombardia): Institutionally, Carlo Turco and H. P. Grice belong to very different worlds. Grice’s formula is exact in the Oxford sense. Fellow and Tutor in philosophy at St John’s means a college office with tutorials, students, and membership in the governing life of the college. CUF University Lecturer in philosophy means a university-wide appointment in the faculty structure. So Grice combines the two characteristic Oxford functions: college tutor and university lecturer. Carlo Turco, by contrast, belongs to the civic-humanist and theatrical world of sixteenth-century Asola and Venice. He was a nobleman, local office-holder, advocate, orator, and man of letters in the orbit of Venetian civic culture and print, not a don, not a fellow, and not a university lecturer in the Oxford or modern Italian chair sense. His institutional life is the world of occasion, performance, local politics, patronage, and print. So the clean institutional contrast is this. Grice belongs to the tutorial-collegiate and university-faculty world. Turco belongs to the civic-humanist, performative, and print-theatrical world of the late Renaissance. That institutional difference fits your philosophical comparison very well. Grice works at the micro-level of rational communication: how a hearer gets from what is said to what is meant by recognising intentions and inferring implicatures under shared norms. Turco, by contrast, works in a medium where indirection is public, staged, and genre-governed from the start. In commedia nuova, the audience is expected to read implication not because the speaker is obeying or exploiting a conversational maxim in an ordinary dyadic exchange, but because theatrical convention, topicality, decorum, and comic prudence require meanings to travel by disguise, stereotype, innuendo, and role. So the sharpest formulation is this. Grice explains how conversation can mean more than it literally says. Turco shows how theatre can mean more than it literally stages. That is why your treatment of Agnella works so well. The title itself already performs an implicatural trick: Agnella sounds innocent, pastoral, harmless, and then the dramatis personae reveal Agnella as a ruffiana. The audience is meant to feel the gap between title and function, purity and management, lamb and broker. That is not Gricean implicature in the strict sense, but it is a perfect example of theatrical meaning routed through public expectation and controlled deniability. Your own draft also rightly isolates the important movement in the Argomento: women as audience and shield, wolves as critics or moralists, the lamb as title and protective joke, and then the sudden “Eccovi appunto il Napoletano” as a stagey acknowledgement of comic type. That is the economy of Renaissance comic pragmatics in miniature. There is one bibliographical point in your note that is especially useful. You correctly warn that the citation to a 1890 Studi di filosofia del diritto belongs to another Carlo Turco and should not be mixed with the Renaissance dramatist. That clarification is exactly right and should be kept. There are only two minor cautions. First, “Mantova, Lombardia” should be treated carefully, because Asola’s political setting in Turco’s time is Venetian rather than simply modern Lombard in the institutional sense. Second, the final imprint “Venezia: Manuzio” should be checked against the exact early printed edition if you are preparing a final dossier entry, since the Venetian print trail and the relation to Aldine or related names can easily become muddled. So the short clean answer is: H. P. Grice was an Oxford don in the precise collegiate sense, both Fellow and Tutor in philosophy at St John’s College and CUF University Lecturer in philosophy at Oxford. Carlo Turco, by contrast, was a late Renaissance civic-humanist dramatist and local public man, active in the performative and print culture of Asola and Venice rather than in any tutorial-collegiate or professorial institution. Institutionally, Grice belongs to the tutorial-collegiate world; Turco to the theatrical and civic-humanist world. Philosophically, the contrast is equally clear: Grice analyses the inferential micro-mechanics of speaker-meaning and implicature, whereas Turco exemplifies a public comic pragmatics in which title, role, stereotype, and occasion guide the audience toward meanings that are hinted, staged, and socially managed rather than directly asserted. And if I compress it into one line: Grice theorises how speakers imply; Turco stages how comedy implies. If you want, I can now give you a tighter one-paragraph entry in your preferred style, using Agnella alone as the anchor and dropping every possible ambiguity with the modern Carlo Turco.la ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale dell’agnella, commedia nuova –commedia nuova, agnella. Grice’s reason-governed conversational meaning explains how hearers recover more than is said by assuming cooperative rationality (maxims) and then inferring implicatures from what a speaker chooses to say, how they say it, and what they conspicuously leave unsaid. With Carlo Turco (Asola, Venetian-Lombard civic-humanist milieu) the nearest meaningful contrast is that his “Agnella” and the broader commedia nuova setting treat meaning as a public, rhetorical-civic art: wit, stagecraft, topical allusion, and socially legible understatement are not primarily the by-products of a cooperative inferential calculus but resources for negotiating reputation, patronage, and communal identity in performance, where audiences are trained to read between the lines because the genre depends on it. So if Grice models implicature as a principled, reconstructible inference under norms of rational conversation, a Turco-style “implicature” is better understood as theatrical/rhetorical pragmatics: what is meant is deliberately routed through comic indirection, decorum, and shared cultural scripts (who may be mocked, how, and with what safe deniability), with the “reason” governing uptake being less the Gricean logic of maxims than the Renaissance discipline of prudence and occasion (what can be hinted rather than asserted in a public forum). One important caveat from what can be checked: the biographical-literary Turco you describe (Agnella staged at Asola; links to Manuzio; Venetian offices; Cinquecento imprint trail) does not match the citation you append (Turco, Carlo (1890). Studi di filosofia del diritto, Torino: Fratelli Bocca), which looks like a different, modern author; so any clean Grice/Turco comparison should either (a) be explicitly framed as “Turco the Renaissance dramatist/orator” or (b) split into two entries if there are two Carlo Turco figures. Nasce da una anticha e nobile famiglie, allora fiorente cittadina della Repubblica di Venezia, dove ricopre importanti cariche politiche in qualità di deputato, oratore e avvocato della comunità.  La sua prima opera, un dialogo, “Agnella”, venne rappresentato ad Asola durante i festeggiamenti per la visita dei duchi di Nemours e Beaulieu e altri illustri francesi al loro seguito. “Agnella” venne in pubblicata in seguito prima a Treviso, poi a Venezia. Contemporaneo ed amico di MANUZIO che in una lettera encomia la sua canzone in lode di Carlo V scritta in occasione della morte di quest'ultimo. Scrive: Letta la vostra canzone scritta in morte del Gran Carlo V, veramente Signor Carlo onorato, non troppo benigna stella, essendo voi dotato di si pellegrino ingegno e di tante altre lodevoli qualità, vi condanna a scrivere dove tra molte tenebre non può risplendere la vostra virtù, con la quale potevate illustrare voi stesso ed il secolo nostro eccitando in altri il desiderio di assomigliarvi. Laddove hora, avendo voi il campo ristretto per esercitare le vostre più nobili parti, non veggo come possano apparire effetti degni di voi ed alla vostra nobile industria corrispondenti. Questa lettera è in seguito stampata in Venezia da Gavardo che, sempre a Venezia, pubblica una tragedia in versi, intitolata “Calestri”. Altre opere sono stampate anche in Il Sepolcro de la illustre signora Beatrice di Dorimbergo, Brescia Fabbio, Mangini, Storie Asolane, Lettera di MANUZIO a Turchi, Lett. Volg. Venezia. commedia nuova, agnella. G: 1935. You look overdressed. S: For once, I’m dressed for the occasion. You’re dressed as if you’re going to cross-examine the usher. G: If the usher claims the play is nuova, he deserves it. S: We’re going to the theatre. G: Allegedly. S: What for? G: To see what you have insisted on calling a “commedia nuova.” S: Why not read the thing here? G: Because a comedy read aloud in a corridor becomes a punishment. S: What thing? G: The thing you’re holding like contraband: Agnella. S: The commedia recitata. G: Recitata in Asola, yes, long ago, when French dukes needed Italian jokes. S: By who? G: Turco. S: Carlo Turco. The Asolano. G: That is the one. S: And the name is Agnella. G: Yes. Which is either pastoral innocence or a very practical label for bait. S: I rather like it. Agnella. Soft. Harmless. G: Until you read the dramatis personae. S: I have. It’s full of sharp objects. G: Read the Argomento again, without the bruises. S: Here. You wanted the Italian clean. I cleaned it as best I could without turning it into Tuscan. G: Proceed. S: “Hora havete l’Argomento della Comedia, che farà di piacere; cosa nuova, e di nuovo Auttore vostro Asolano, e di tutti suoi seratissimo, ma sopra modo di voi, gratiosissime Donne: segnale, pigliando protettione di voler diffender la Comedia da’ morsi de’ lupi rapaci (s’alcun ve ne fosse). L’Auttore si contenta che si chiami l’Agnella, dalla purità di una buona femina, che fatto quel nome conserva la sua parte del maschio. Eccovi appunto il Napoletano.” G: That last line is the best stage direction I’ve seen all week. “Here you have the Neapolitan.” S: So the frame is: ladies, wolves, lamb. G: And then immediately a Neapolitan scholar. S: That’s the part I like. It’s like a pastoral that forgets its sheep and remembers its stereotypes. G: The sheep is not the sheep. The sheep is a title. S: I assumed Agnella was the innocent girl. G: Look at the list. S: “AGNELLA, Roffiana.” G: Exactly. Your innocent lamb is a procuress. S: That is disappointing. G: No, that is Renaissance comedy. S: So why call the procuress Agnella? G: Because the author is making a joke about purity while describing its management. S: You mean: the lamb is the handler of wolves. G: Precisely. “Defender la Comedia da’ morsi de’ lupi rapaci.” Wolves are critics, censors, moralists, perhaps rivals. And the author says: I will protect my lamb from wolves. S: But the lamb is a ruffiana. A professional wolf-trainer. G: You see the economy of the joke. S: It’s not new; it’s just cheeky. G: That is why it is called nuova. Not because the plot is new, but because the author flatters the audience. S: The audience being “gratiosissime Donne.” G: Yes. And note the tactic: the women are both patrons and alibi. If the wolves bite, the author can say he wrote for ladies. S: So I can play Agnella, then. G: You can, but you will have to keep your pitch high. S: High like a lamb? G: High like someone pretending to be a lamb. S: Fine. I’ll play Agnella. You play all the rest. G: That is exactly the kind of casting a man suggests when he does not intend to rehearse. S: But what is the thing about? G: The argomento gives you one hinge: Pietro loves a cortigiana, Lamia; Lamia loves him back; but she believes Limpido is in love with her. S: Limpido is not in the list. G: Which tells you he is either offstage, or a confusion, or a printer’s ghost. S: Or the author forgot his own lover. G: Also possible. But the triangle is standard: mistaken belief about who loves whom. S: Then the Neapolitan arrives. G: Giannuccio, “Scolar Napoletano.” With his boy, Chiappino. S: And Lamia is the courtesan. G: Yes. Then Eugenio is the young lover. Lélio his friend. Bermondo a Spaniard. Stilpone, which sounds like a club you hit people with. S: Emilio, a Vecchio, and his wife Flaminia. G: Plus servants: Clitia and Sergio. S: And Flavia, the stepdaughter: “figliuola adottiva d’Emilio, giovane innamorata.” G: So we have at least two “young in love” people: Eugenio and Marcio, plus Flavia. S: Marcio is “giovine innamorato.” With his boy, Amichino. G: And Agapito is Marcio’s father, old. S: So fathers, lovers, a courtesan, a procuress, a parasite. G: Bolza, “parassito.” Every comedy needs a parasite the way every Oxford dinner needs someone who has run out of income. S: You’re saying the structure is stock. G: Entirely. That is why your complaint about “nuova” is correct. S: Then why go to the theatre at all? G: Because in 1935 the alternative is to have you recite it in my rooms, and I would rather face the stalls. S: We could compare it to Gilbert and Sullivan. G: Patience beats it any day. S: Or The Quaker Girl. G: A musical comedy has the decency to admit it is trying to please you. S: This one admits it too: “che farà di piacere.” G: That line is honest. It promises pleasure and nothing else. S: Then you should approve. G: I approve of honesty. I do not approve of pretending that pleasure is novelty. S: You said earlier the sheep is a title, not a sheep. G: Yes. And the subtitle logic you like so much is here as well. The author narrows and narrows: not just a comedy, but a comedy under protection; not just protection, but protection from wolves; not just wolves, but wolves “if any there be,” which is the traditional clause of polite paranoia. S: Like saying “I mean no offence,” just before offending. G: Exactly. A prophylactic. S: And the women are invoked as protectors. G: As audience, as judge, as shield. S: “Sopra modo di voi, gratiosissime Donne.” He prefers them above all. G: That is the line you write when you suspect the wolves are men. S: So Agnella is named from purity, but she is a ruffiana. G: Which is the real novelty: purity as a brand-name rather than a moral property. S: That’s rather modern. G: Yes. It is the sort of modernity you never want to admit is old. S: So how do we stage it as we walk? G: You will ask me who you are. S: I am Agnella. G: You are a ruffiana called Agnella “dalla purità di una buona femina.” S: So I must be pure and impure at once. G: You must be impure in function and pure in marketing. S: And you are everyone else. G: I refuse. I will be the Napoletano. S: Giannuccio? G: Yes. Scholars at least have the excuse of being ridiculous. S: Then who will be Lamia? G: You, if you insist on doing two roles and ruining the evening. S: I’ll stick to Agnella. I shall be the lamb with teeth. G: Good. Now tell me the line again that amused you: “conserva la sua parte del maschio.” S: That a good woman, having taken that name, keeps her male part. G: Meaning: she keeps authority, agency, perhaps audacity. S: Or just that she runs the men. G: Exactly. The lamb’s “male part” is control. S: That’s why the wolves won’t bite her. G: They bite, but she bites back. S: The author is asking the ladies to protect the play from wolves. Yet he gives them a wolf-tamer named lamb. G: There you have your whole argument. S: So the thing is not really about sheep. G: It is about who gets to call whom a sheep. S: And the Naples scholar is there to give dialect and jokes. G: And to deliver the opening “Eccovi appunto il Napoletano,” like a garnish. S: You keep saying it as if it’s a punchline. G: It is. It is the author admitting he is about to entertain. S: Then perhaps it is new after all. G: It is new only in the way every old trick is new to someone who has never been mugged by it. S: You’re in a mood, G. G: I have read too many “nuove” comedies. S: Then why did you agree to come? G: Because you said you’d play Agnella. S: That was flattery. G: I am vulnerable to flattery only when it promises silence later. S: Shall I practise my lamb voice? G: If you must. But keep it high. S: High, sir? G: High enough that the audience hears “purity,” and low enough that the plot hears “transaction.” S: That’s very Oxford. G: It is also very Venice, 1585, only they had better excuses. S: And after the play? G: After the play we shall go to a real theatre, as you suggested. S: Patience? G: If we can. S: Or The Quaker Girl. G: Anything where the music does some of the work, and the author does not call a parasite “new.” S: You will still complain. G: Naturally. But I will complain in tune.Grice: Caro Turco, devo confessarle un piccolo fallimento accademico. A Vadum Boum – la mia università, terra di barbari e di puritani – una volta tentai di mettere in scena una mia commedia alla Sheldonian. Ma si sa, lì il senso dell’umorismo è raro come un’agnella tra i lupi! Mi trattarono come un buffone, una vera burla: la mia opera fu repressa con la stessa severità con cui si vietano le risate nei giorni di pioggia.  Turco: Ah, Grice, mi fa sorridere! In Lombardia, a Asola, quando volevamo ridere ci inventavamo una “commedia nuova” – persino un’agnella avrebbe applaudito! Ma non si preoccupi: le repressioni puritane sono come la nebbia mantovana, basta aspettare un po’ e la scena si rischiara. Avrei voluto vedere la sua pièce: magari avremmo convinto anche i duchi di Nemours a battere le mani!  Grice: Immagino la Sheldonian invasa da agnelle e filosofi lombardi, tutti intenti a recitare versi e a sventolare fazzoletti. Ma sa, Turco, se avessi avuto il suo spirito lombardo e la sua nobile industria, forse sarei riuscito a far sorridere anche i professori più austeri. Però, qui da noi, il massimo dell’ironia è una tazza di tè senza zucchero!  Turco: Grice, allora le invio una “commedia nuova” per corrispondenza – con tanto di agnella protagonista! Così potrà mettere in scena le risate in barba ai barbari, e se qualcuno protesta, basta rispondere: “Non è burlesque, è filosofia... ma vestita da pecora!” D’altronde, come diceva Manuzio: tra molte tenebre, la virtù trova sempre il modo di risplendere. E una risata illumina più di un trattato! Turco, Carlo (1585). Agnella: comedia nuoua recitata in Asola nella venuta de gli ill.mi sig.ri il duca di Nemurs, il duca di Boglion, & altri illustriss. sig.ri. Venezia: Manuzio.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turio – Ossia: Grice e Turio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turio. The gens Turia, occasionally written Turria, was a minor plebeian family at ancient Rome. Several members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, although none of them ever obtained the consulship.[1] Lucius Turius, who stood for the consulship in the late Republic, was praetor in 75 BC.[2]  Origin The nomen Turius is thought to be of Oscan origin.[3] A number of the inscriptions of this gens come from Campania, an Oscan-speaking region of southern Italy.  Praenomina The main praenomina of the Turii were Lucius, Gaius, Marcus, and Quintus, and Publius, all amongst the most common names at all periods of Roman history. They occasionally used other common names, including Aulus, Sextus, and Titus. One of the Turii bore the Oscan praenomen Statius, which was uncommon at Rome, but frequent in southern Italy.  Branches and cognomina Besides the Turii who lived in Campania or at Rome, several inscriptions indicate that a number of this family had settled in Etruria by the first century.[4] Some of the Turii established themselves in Africa Proconsularis by the time of Cicero, who writes of an acquaintance of his by the name who had recently died there.[5] The Turii flourished in Roman north Africa through at least the third century.[6]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Lucius Turius, one of the disputants in a case argued by Cato the Elder, versus Gnaeus Gellius. Aulus Gellius related how Cato asserted that if a claim could not be resolved using the evidence, and both men were of similar character, then the case should be decided in favour of the defendant.[7] Lucius Turius L. P. C. l. Sand[...], a freedman named in an inscription from Casilinum in Campania, dating from the first half of the first century BC.[8] Lucius Turius, praetor in 75 BC, tried Terentius Varro for repetundae, or extortion, in the province of Asia, but the trial was postponed into the following year. He is likely the same Lucius Turius mentioned by Cicero, as a contemporary who fell just short of election to the consulship. Cicero described his oratory as diligent, but unskilled.[9][2] Turia, the wife of the Quintus Lucretius Vespillo, who was proscribed by the triumvirs in 43 BC. She concealed her husband in a double roof until his name was removed from the list of the proscribed. Because of Turia, Vespillo survived the turbulence of the period, and went on to become consul in 19 BC.[10][11][12] Quintus Turius, a negotiator, or banker, of excellent character, who died in Africa Proconsularis circa 44 BC, leaving his estate to men of similar reputation. Cicero asked his friend, Quintus Cornificius, to prevent the deceased's freedman, Turius Eros, from maintaining possession of his property.[5] Marcus Turius, a legate named on coins from Alexandria Troas. He may have served under Mark Antony in 42 or 41 BC.[13] Lucius Turius L. f., buried at Hispellum in Umbria, in a tomb dating from the latter half of the first century BC, had been one of the municipal quattuorvirs and aediles.[14] Turia C. Ɔ. l. Salvia, a freedwoman buried at Rome, in a tomb dating from the late first century BC, or early first century AD, along with her son, Liberalis, aged twenty-five.[15] Aulus Turius A. (f.?) Ochac[...], named in an Augustan-era inscription from Catina in Sicily.[16] Turius, a judge alluded to by Horace, known for threatening to levy heavy damages against those who disputed his decisions. Horace was explaining how those who feel threatened or offended respond, like animals, with their own strongest weapons.[17] Gaius Turius, along with Marcus Agrius, one of the municipal duumvirs at Teanum Sidicinum in Campania in an uncertain year between 8 and 6 BC.[18] Turia C. f. Sabina, named in an inscription from Teanum Sidicinum, dating from the end of the first century BC, or the beginning of the first century AD. She is probably the same Turia who was the wife of Gnaeus Vesiculanus.[19] Marcus Turius Callisthenes, named in an inscription from Rome, dating from the first half of the first century.[20] Lucius Turius Etruscus, buried at Perusia in Etruria, in a tomb built by his son, Lucius Turius Fidus, dating from the first half of the first century.[4] Lucius Turius L. f. Fidus, built a tomb at Perusia, dating from the first half of the first century, for his father, Lucius Turius Etruscus.[4] Statius Turius L. l., a freedman named in a pottery inscription from Tarraco in Hispania Citerior, dating between the reigns of Tiberius and Claudius.[21] Turia Fausta, the mistress of Celadus, a slave named along with Lucius Rufrius in a first-century sepulchral inscription from Clusium in Etruria.[22] Marcus Turius M. l. Felix, a freedman named in a first-century inscription from Rome.[23] Turia Percisa, named in an inscription from Pompeii in Campania.[24] Gaius Turius Diligens, named in an inscription from Herculaneum in Campania, dating between AD 60 and 79.[25] Turia Saturnina, the freedwoman of Sorana, buried at Rome, in a tomb dedicated by her husband, Placidus, a tabellarius, or courier, employed by the emperor Domitian.[26] Lucius Turius Ɔ. l., a freedman named in a first- or second-century inscription from an uncertain location in Umbria.[27] Lucius Turius V[...], built a tomb at Rome for his daughter, Turia Sabina, dating between the middle of the first century and the middle of the second.[28] Turia L. f. Sabina, a little girl buried at Rome, aged five years, eleven days, in a tomb built by her father, Lucius Turius V[...], dating between the middle of the first century and the middle of the second.[28] Marcus Turius Murtilus, buried in an early second-century tomb at Toletum in Hispania Citerior, built by Marcus Magilius.[29] Quintus Turius Hospes, buried in a second-century tomb at Castellum Celtianum in Numidia, aged eighty-five.[30] Turia Saturnina, buried in a second-century tomb at Castellum Celtianum, aged fifty-one.[31] Publius Turrius Felix, a soldier serving in the fifth cohort of the vigiles at Rome in AD 205.[32] Lucius Turius Martialis, along with Quintus Cornelius Felix Emeritus, one of the aediles at Giufi in Africa Proconsularis during the reigns of Elagabalus or Severus Alexander.[33] Turia Artemisia, buried at Tragurium in Dalmatia, aged thirty-two years, eight months, in a tomb built by her son, Julius Artemisianus, dating between the middle of the second century and the end of the third.[34] Turia Hilaritas, dedicated a third-century tomb at Rome for her husband, Eunus, aged forty years, ten days.[35] Turia Ingenua, buried at Parma in Cisalpine Gaul, in a third-century tomb built by her husband, Claudius Valerius, with whom she had lived for one year, eight months, and eight days.[36] Lucius Turius Fabius Lucanianus, a little boy buried at Aradi in Africa Proconsularis, aged four years, four months, and nineteen days, along with his mother, Zasgia Victoria Cezzonia, aged thirty-five years, eight months, and sixteen days, in a tomb dating from the middle of the third century.[37][38] Turius Verna, curator of Tacapae and Capsa in Africa Proconsularis in AD 280.[6] Undated Turii Gaius Turius, named in an inscription from Stobi in Macedonia.[39] Titus Turius, named in a pottery inscription from Ariminum in Etruria.[40] Turia Abuscula, built a tomb at Rome.[41] Turia L. l. Ammia, a freedwoman buried at Rome.[42] Turius Camillus, a member of the shipbuilders' guild at Portus in Latium.[43] Turius Casius, built a tomb for Turius Marcellus at Theveste in Africa Proconsularis. Turius Victorinus, likely his son, decorated the altar.[44] Gaius Turius Chrestes, buried at Gades in Hispania Baetica.[45] Turia L. f. Crispina, dedicated a tomb at Horta in Etruria for her husband, Marcus Publicius Januarius Major.[46] Turia Faustiana, buried at Castellum Tidditanorum in Numidia, aged seventy-five.[47] Turius Felix, buried in an uncertain province, aged nineteen.[48] Quintus Turius Q. f. Felix, named in a sepuchral inscription from Rome.[49] Turius Gemellus, along with his wife, built a tomb at Tichilla in Africa Proconsularis for their son. The names of his wife and son are not preserved.[50] Lucius Turius Ɔ. l. Hilarus, a freedman named in a sepulchral inscription from Rome.[51] Gaius Turius Lollianus, a member of the guild of scaffolding engineers, buried at Rome. His parents made an offering on his behalf on his birthday, the fourth day[i] before the Ides of March.[52] Turia Maia, buried at Milevum in Numidia, aged sixty.[53] Turia Marcella, named in an inscription from Illici in Hispania Citerior.[54] Turius Marcellus, buried at Theveste, in a tomb built by Turius Marcellus, perhaps his son. His grandson, Turius Victorinus, decorated the altar.[44] Marcus Turius Marcianus, built a tomb at Ammaedara in Africa Proconsularis for his mother, Callonia Aphrodisia, aged fifty-four.[55] Turia Maxima, named along with Lucius Manilius, in an inscription from the site of modern Khanguet el Bey, formerly part of Africa Proconsularis.[56] Quintus Turius Menonianus, named in an inscription from Bisca.[57] Gaius Turius C. f. Nepotianus, buried at Tubusuctu in Mauretania Caesariensis.[58] Lucius Turrius L. f. Quadratus, buried at Rome, alongside Herennia Rufa, perhaps his wife.[59] Sextus Turius Rognius, buried at Tunis in Africa Proconsularis, aged seventy-one.[60] Sextus Turius Suavis, buried at Gades, aged seventy-four.[61] Turia Theogenis, buried at Rome, in a tomb built by her husband, Tiberius Claudius Attalus, and Gaius Pontius Eutactus.[62] Marcus Turrius M. l. Trypho, a freedman buried at Rome, along with the freedwoman Mallia Asia, perhaps his wife.[63] Turius Victorinus, perhaps the son of Turius Casius, decorated the altar for the tomb of his grandfather, Turius Marcellus, at Theveste.[44] Notes  March 12, by modern reckoning. See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 1191 ("Turia", "Turius").  Broughton, vol. II, p. 97.  Chase, p. 128.  CIL XI, 2080.  Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares, xii. 26.  CIL VIII, 100.  Gellius, Noctes Atticae, xiv. 2.  CIL X, 3785.  Cicero, Brutus, 67.  Valerius Maximus, vi. 7. § 2.  Appian, Bellum Civile, iv. 44.  PIR, vol. III, p. 343 (T, No. 290).  Broughton, vol. II, p. 483.  CIL XI, 5288.  BCAR, 1941-188.  CIL X, 6999.  Horace, Satirae, ii. 1. 49.  AE 2008, 387.  CIL X, 4817, CIL X, 4819.  CIL VI, 7459.  AE 2016, 892.  CIL XI, 2309.  Tuck, Latin Inscriptions in the Kelsey Museum, 339.  CIL IV, 2319p.  CIL X, 1403.  CIL VI, 9052.  CIL XI, 6614.  AE 1995, 209.  CIL XII-XIII, 161.  Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie, ii. 1, 3347.  Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie, ii. 1, 3348.  CIL VI, 1057.  AE 1999, 1828.  CIL III, 2700.  CIL VI, 39795.  CIL XI, 1112.  AE 1983, 960.  Merlin, Inscriptions Latines de La Tunisie, 669c.  AE 2012, 1319.  CIL XI, 6700,737b.  CIL VI, 36473.  CIL VI, 21685.  CIL XIV, 256.  AE 1969/70, 686a.  CIL II, 1890.  CIL XI, 3064.  AE 2000, 1776.  EDCS, 775.  CIL VI, 20792.  CIL VIII, 1384.  CIL VI, 27770.  CIL VI, 9626.  CIL VIII, 20065.  Corell, Inscripcions romanes d'Ilici, 39.  MEFR, 1912-137.  CIL VIII, 23893.  Merlin, Inscriptions Latines de La Tunisie, 669b.  CIL VIII, 8900.  CIL VI, 27834.  CIL VIII, 17583.  CIL II, 1891.  CIL VI, 27773.  CIL VI, 27835. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Brutus, Epistulae ad Familiares. Quintus Horatius Flaccus (Horace), Satirae (Satires). Valerius Maximus, Factorum ac Dictorum Memorabilium (Memorable Facts and Sayings). Appianus Alexandrinus (Appian), Bellum Civile (The Civil War). Aulus Gellius, Noctes Atticae (Attic Nights). 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). Bullettino della Commissione Archeologica Comunale in Roma (Bulletin of the Municipal Archaeological Commission of Rome, abbreviated BCAR), (1872–present). Mélanges d'Archéologie et d'Histoire de l'École Française de Rome (Archaeological and Historical Collections of the French School at Rome, abbreviated MEFR), Paris, Rome (1881–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, pp. 103–184 (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), Edouard Champion, Paris (1922–present). Alfred Merlin, Inscriptions Latines de La Tunisie (Latin Inscriptions from Tunisia), Fondation Dourlans, Paris (1944). T. Robert S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, American Philological Association (1952–1986). Josep Corell, Inscripcions romanes d'Ilici, Lucentum, Allon, Dianium i els seus territoris (Inscripcions romanes d'Ilici, Lucentum, Allon, Dianium i els seus territoris), Nau Libres, Valencia (1999). Steven L. Tuck, Latin Inscriptions in the Kelsey Museum: The Dennison and De Criscio Collections, Ann Arbor (2005). Manfred Clauss, Anne Kolb, & Wolfgang A. Slaby, Epigraphik Datenbank Clauss/Slaby (abbreviated EDCS). Category: Roman gentes And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turio – Ossia: Grice e Turio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turio. For the Turii, I do not think the best Grice–Speranza figure is the unsuccessful praetor Lucius Turius, nor even the judge mocked by Horace. The obvious first choice is:  Turia, wife of Quintus Lucretius Vespillo, who concealed her proscribed husband during the triumviral terror and thereby saved his life. Later he became consul. The story is preserved by Valerius Maximus and others.  Why? Because her story is almost entirely about action as communication.  First-best vignette  VESPILLO: Perii. (I am finished.) TVRIA: Tace. (Be quiet.) VESPILLO: Quo fugiam? (Where shall I flee?) TVRIA: Domi manebis. (You will remain at home.)  The implicatum carried by the final utterance is enormous:  +> I have a plan. +> I shall protect you. +> Trust me. +> You need not flee.  None of this is said. The wife communicates the whole strategy through a simple future indicative. A splendid Gricean compression.  An even stronger ending One could sharpen it:  VESPILLO: Si inveniar? (If I am found?) TVRIA: Non invenieris. (You will not be found.)  Implicatum:  +> because I shall prevent it.  Again, the crucial content is inferred.  Why Turia is philosophically attractive The famous thing about Turia is that she repeatedly communicates by deeds. Her concealment of Vespillo functions almost like the case we discussed with Tuccia the Vestal. Tuccia proves innocence by carrying water in a sieve. Turia proves loyalty by hiding a husband in a double roof. Neither woman is remembered primarily for speeches. Both are remembered for actions whose significance must be interpreted. A Gricean might call them instances of:  meaning by showing rather than merely meaning by saying.   Second-best candidate: the Cato case The other excellent Turius is the early:  Lucius Turius, whose dispute was discussed by Cato the Elder, as preserved by Aulus Gellius.  The principle is fascinating. Where evidence does not decide, and the parties appear equally reputable:  believe the defendant.  That is almost a theory of conversational rationality. A vignette:  IVDEX: Quis verum dicit? (Who speaks the truth?) CATO: Nescio. (I do not know.) IVDEX: Quid igitur faciemus? (What then shall we do?) CATO: Reum sequamur. (Let us follow the defendant.)  Implicatum:  +> because certainty is unavailable. +> therefore a procedural principle is needed.  Very Roman, very legal, and surprisingly close to later concerns about evidence, probability, and reasonable inference.  Speranzian gloss  The Turii contribute one of the great unsung heroines of Roman history. Turia saves her husband not through eloquence but through practical intelligence. Her significance lies in the fact that the most important part of her communication is never explicitly stated. "Remain here" means "I will save you"; concealment means loyalty; survival means success. The philosopher of conversation learns that some of the strongest communicative acts are not speeches at all. As with Tuccia, the deed becomes the utterance. (Ha.) Unfortunately, that legal principle may not be explainable alla Grice-Speranza in that Grice-Speranza depend on the 'decent chap' and when an 'actio' is involved and intentio rea in play, it is not a principle of conversational helpfulness that is operating? Thanks -- Do we have more of the Latin of Catone il Vecchio on our hero "T"? as Transmitted in the Latin that Gellio wrote in Greek for this Noctes Atticae? Thanks I think your reservation is exactly right. The Cato principle preserved by Aulus Gellius is not really a Gricean principle in the way the Cooperative Principle is. Grice's model presupposes something like:  a conversation among rational agents engaged in a common enterprise,  or, as Speranza likes to emphasize, a community of decent chaps who are trying to get things right together. But a lawsuit is structurally different. In a lawsuit:  interests conflict, concealment may be rational, deception is possible, reputation matters, procedures substitute for trust.  So when Cato says, in effect,  "if the evidence does not decide, and the characters of the parties seem equal, favour the defendant,"  he is not appealing to conversational helpfulness. Rather, he is supplying a juridical default rule for uncertainty. It belongs with:  burden of proof, presumptions, evidentiary standards,  rather than with Gricean cooperation. Indeed, one might say that Grice's theory begins where Cato's problem ends. Cato asks:  What should a judge do when he cannot determine the facts?  Grice asks:  How do interlocutors ordinarily manage to determine the facts at all?  Different projects.  As for the Latin, yes, Gellius is preserving a fragment from Cato's speech Pro L. Turio contra Cn. Gellium. The celebrated passage runs approximately as follows:  Rem ubi pacunt, orato. Ni pagunt, in comitio aut in foro ante meridiem causam coicito. Cum perorant ambo praesentes. (If they settle the matter, let him plead. If they do not settle, let them state their case in the comitium or forum before noon. Let both be present when they plead.)  Later comes the maxim that made the passage famous:  Si quis quid alter ab altero peteret et si ambo pares essent sive boni sive mali, tum illum qui petere deberet potius quam eum unde peteretur condemnandum putabat. (If one man claimed something from another, and both were equally reputable—or equally disreputable—he thought the claimant rather than the defendant ought to lose.)  I am paraphrasing slightly from memory here, because I do not currently have the full text of Noctes Atticae XIV.2 open before me. The core idea, however, is exactly what Gellius reports: where character evidence yields no distinction and factual proof is lacking, the advantage goes to the defendant. What fascinates me is that Cato is not doing semantics, rhetoric, or even epistemology in the Greek sense. He is doing what the Romans excelled at:  devising a practical rule for proceeding under uncertainty.  A Grice–Speranza gloss might therefore be:  Cato's principle is not cooperative but procedural. It does not tell us how meaning is recovered, but how judgment is possible when meaning, evidence, and intention remain uncertain. The decent chap of conversation becomes the cautious magistrate of the forum.  And that, perhaps, is why the fragment appealed to Gellius. It preserves a specifically Roman virtue: not certainty, but a rule for coping with its absence. (Ha.) So this would be a principle for the juror or judge -- a thing like a principle of humanity and charity. Under caeteris paribus conditions -- if both chaps are equally decent or equally indecent, let not the accuser but the defendant be right. Thanks Yes, I think that is exactly the right way to read it. What Cato the Elder is offering is not a principle of conversation but a principle for adjudication under uncertainty. As preserved by Aulus Gellius, the situation is roughly:  the evidence does not settle the dispute, the parties are comparable in character, there is no decisive asymmetry available to the judge.  Under those ceteris paribus conditions, Cato's rule amounts to:  favour the defendant rather than the accuser.  Or, in a more philosophical formulation:  do not impose liability unless the claim has gained a sufficient advantage.  That is very close in spirit to later doctrines such as:  in dubio pro reo ("when in doubt, for the accused"),  although one should be cautious about identifying the two exactly. Your comparison with charity and humanity is illuminating. A Gricean Principle of Charity says something like:  interpret another person's words so as to maximize rationality and coherence.  Cato's rule says something like:  judge another person's conduct so as to minimize unjust condemnation when the evidence is balanced.  Both are default principles. Both operate only after stronger evidence has been exhausted. Both are activated precisely where certainty fails. One might even construct the analogy:                      Grice/DavidsonCatoIf interpretation underdetermines meaning, prefer the more rational reading.If evidence underdetermines guilt, prefer the defendant.Principle of CharityPrinciple of ForbearanceProtects understandingProtects justice The difference, as you rightly noted, is that Grice's framework presupposes cooperative communicative agents, whereas Cato's framework presupposes a legal conflict in which cooperation may be absent. A Speranzian gloss might therefore read:  Cato's maxim is not a principle of conversational helpfulness but a principle of judicial restraint. Where Grice tells us how to proceed when an utterance may have several interpretations, Cato tells us how to proceed when a dispute may have several resolutions. Both principles emerge under conditions of uncertainty; one protects intelligibility, the other protects the defendant.  And that is perhaps why the Turian fragment is so attractive. It shows a Roman trying to answer a question that philosophers, lawyers, and judges still face:  What should a reasonable person do when the available evidence runs out? (Ha.) and in a relativistic framework as Grice's or Speranza's -- with A as defendant and B as accuser, it connects as you say to 'in dubio pro reo' and 'innocent until proven guilty' - and the fact that the verdict is 'not guilty' or 'guilty' but never 'innocent' – Thanks Yes, and this is where the Turian fragment becomes surprisingly modern. Cato's rule, as Gellius preserves it, is not:  "Assume the defendant is innocent."  Rather, it is closer to:  "Where the evidence leaves the parties evenly balanced, do not decide against the defendant."  Those are different principles. A Grice–Speranza reconstruction might run:  Let A = defendant. Let B = accuser. Let the available evidence leave A and B equally credible. Let character-evidence be exhausted. Let no further signa, indicia, or probationes be forthcoming.  Then Cato's procedural default is:  decide for A rather than B.  Notice that this does not establish the truth of:  A is innocent.  It merely blocks the inference to:  A is guilty.  And here your legal observation is important. Modern criminal verdicts are generally:  guilty, or not guilty,  not:  innocent.  The court is deciding whether the accusation has been sufficiently established, not whether metaphysical innocence has been demonstrated. A Gricean analogy would be:                      ConversationCourtroomEvidence insufficient to determine exactly what was meantEvidence insufficient to determine guiltSuspend stronger interpretationSuspend condemnationCharity toward speakerForbearance toward defendant Of course the analogy is not exact. Grice's Principle of Charity (or the Davidsonian version of it) aims at understanding. Cato's principle aims at justice. But both are activated precisely when the available data run out. One might even formulate Cato's maxim as:  In dubio pro reo, non quia innocens constat, sed quia nocens non constat. ("When in doubt, for the defendant—not because innocence is established, but because guilt is not established.")  That, I think, is very close to the spirit of the fragment. And there is a further Speranzian point. In conversation, Grice often asks:  What is the least strong conclusion that the evidence warrants?  Cato is asking much the same thing judicially:  What is the strongest verdict that the evidence warrants?  His answer is:  not guilt.  The move from "not proven guilty" to "innocent" would exceed the evidence. A Roman like Cato would likely regard that as just as unreasonable as drawing an unwarranted implicature from an utterance. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turoldo – Ossia: Grice e Turoldo: le XII fatiche della ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale. Note sul poema nell’Uomo, giornale degl’uomini d’Italia. Il Gruppo di Gioco di H. P. Grice David Maria Giuseppe Turoldo (Coderno, Sedegliano, Udine, Friuli-Venezia Giulia): Institutionally, David Maria Turoldo is very different from Grice, though both are unmistakably figures of language and formation. Grice’s formula is exact in the Oxford sense. Fellow and Tutor in philosophy at St John’s means a college office with tutorials, students, and membership in the governing life of the college. CUF University Lecturer in philosophy means a university-wide appointment in the faculty structure. So Grice combines the two classic Oxford functions: college tutor and university lecturer. David Maria Turoldo belongs to a wholly different institutional ecology: the Servite religious order, wartime resistance, liturgical and prophetic speech, preaching, cultural activism, and only secondarily the university. He was born at Coderno di Sedegliano, entered the Servi di Maria, was ordained in 1940, worked in Milan, participated in the Resistance through the clandestine journal L’Uomo, and took a philosophy degree in 1946 with the thesis La fatica della ragione under Gustavo Bontadini. His first poetry collection, Io non ho mani, belongs to the immediate postwar phase and is treated by Treccani as the decisive first collection. [it.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it], [dizionario...riulani.it] So the clean institutional contrast is this. Grice belongs to the tutorial-collegiate and university-faculty world. Turoldo belongs to the ecclesial, liturgical, resistant, and prophetic world, only touching the university through his degree and brief academic possibilities. [it.wikipedia.org], [pensierofi...aliano.org], [fraternita.arche.it] That institutional difference fits your philosophical comparison rather well. Grice works at the micro-level of rational communication: how a hearer gets from what is said to what is meant by recognising intentions and inferring implicatures under shared norms. Turoldo, by contrast, works at the macro-level of witness, vocation, liturgy, and resistance. His “word” is not primarily a contribution to a local exchange whose implicatures are to be calculated. It is a parola-atto, a charged ethical and prophetic utterance addressed to a community under pressure. The biographical sources emphasise exactly that his early poems were published in L’Uomo, the clandestine journal of resistance, and that the later Io non ho mani already treats poetic language as a privileged medium of communication and dialogue with other human beings. [it.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it], [pensierofi...aliano.org] So the sharpest formulation is this. Grice explains how rational interlocutors recover what a speaker means in a local exchange. Turoldo exemplifies how a word can exceed ordinary exchange and become liturgical, prophetic, and communal action. [it.wikipedia.org], [pensierofi...aliano.org] That is why your comparison through “parola-atto” is genuinely apt. For Grice, the “extra” meaning beyond the sentence is inferentially tractable and answerable to conversational reason. For Turoldo, the “extra” is ethical and historical: silence, allusion, biblical cadence, and prophetic compression do not merely invite a hearer to calculate an implicature; they summon a listener to conversion, solidarity, or resistance. In that sense, both are anti-literalist about meaning, but they are anti-literalist in radically different registers. [it.wikipedia.org], [pensierofi...aliano.org], [treccani.it] There are two factual adjustments worth making. First, your bibliographic line “Turoldo, David Maria Giuseppe (1944). Poema. L’uomo: giornale degl’uomini d’Italia. Milano” should be treated cautiously. The secure facts are that L’Uomo was the clandestine periodical in which his earliest poems appeared during the Resistance, and that Io non ho mani in 1948 is the first collection securely anchored by Treccani. The exact title “Poema” in 1944 is not the strongest bibliographic anchor. [it.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it], [dizionario...riulani.it] Second, the thesis title should be cited carefully as La fatica della ragione – Contributo per un’ontologia dell’uomo, which is consistently given in the biographical sources. [it.wikipedia.org], [biografieonline.it], [pensierofi...aliano.org] So the short clean answer is: H. P. Grice was an Oxford don in the precise collegiate sense, both Fellow and Tutor in philosophy at St John’s College and CUF University Lecturer in philosophy at Oxford. David Maria Turoldo, by contrast, was a Servite priest, resistance writer, theologian, and poet, active in the clandestine and liturgical-public sphere of wartime and postwar Italy rather than in the tutorial-collegiate world of Oxford. Institutionally, Grice belongs to the tutorial-collegiate world; Turoldo to the ecclesial and prophetic world. Philosophically, the contrast is equally clear: Grice analyses the inferential micro-mechanics of speaker-meaning and implicature, whereas Turoldo exemplifies a morally and historically charged conception of speech in which the surplus beyond literal content is grounded in witness, liturgy, biblical cadence, and communal urgency rather than in a calculable theory of conversational inference. [it.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it], [pensierofi...aliano.org] And if I compress it into one line: Grice theorises how speakers imply; Turoldo exemplifies how a word becomes witness. [it.wikipedia.org], [treccani.it] If you want, I can now give you a tighter one-paragraph entry in your preferred style, using Io non ho mani and La fatica della ragione as the two main anchors.le XII fatiche della ragione conversazionale e l’implicatura conversazionale – Grice’s theory of reason-governed conversational meaning makes “what is meant” a disciplined, inferential achievement: interlocutors presume cooperative rationality (maxims, relevance, sufficiency, etc.), and implicature is what a hearer can responsibly work out from what is said plus the assumption that the speaker is playing the conversational game in good faith. With David Maria Turoldo the centre of gravity shifts from inference to vocation: his earliest public “word” is explicitly cast as parola-atto, a liturgical and prophetic medium of communication and dialogue with other human beings, and this is anchored biographically in wartime Milan, where he helped produce the clandestine resistance periodical L’Uomo and where his first book of poetry is Io non ho mani (Milano: Bompiani; Treccani treats this as the first collection), while his philosophical formation includes a laurea thesis titled La fatica della ragione (Bontadini). So, whereas Grice models conversational reason as a set of publicly tractable norms that generate implicatures (often by understatement, silence, or apparent irrelevance), Turoldo treats “ragione” less as calculability and more as a moral-spiritual labour enacted in and through address—his “dialogue” aims to change lives, sustain resistance, and found solidarity; implicature, in that setting, is not primarily a technical by-product of maxim-observance but the charged surplus of prophetic speech, where what is unsaid (silence, allusion, biblical cadence) is ethically and communally loaded. The overlap is that both are anti-literalists about meaning (both rely on what exceeds the sentence), but the contrast is decisive: Grice’s excess is justified by rational reconstruction within conversational cooperation; Turoldo’s excess is justified by witness, liturgy, and historical urgency, where the “reason” that governs speech is as much imperative and communal as it is inferential. la ragione. The phrase ‘Grice italo’ is meant as provocative. An Old-World philosopher such as Turoldo would never have imagined to be compared to a tutor at a varsity in one of the British Isles, but there you are! It is meant as a geo-political reminder, too. Many Italian philosophers have been educated in a tradition that would make little sense of Turoldo as a ‘Grice italo,’ but there you are. My note is meant as a tribute to both philosophers. Grice has been deemed an extremely original philosopher, and by Oxford canons he certainly was. He was the primus inter pares at the Play Group, the epitome of ordinary-language philosophy throughout most of the twentieth century. His heritage remains. Turoldo’s place in the history of philosophy is other. But there are connections, and here they are -- Poeta, nato a Coderno del Friuli. Sacerdote nella congregazione dei Servi di Maria, pubblicò le sue prime poesie durante la Resistenza nella rivista clandestina L'uomo. Sin dalla sua prima raccolta, Io non ho mani, non ancora scevra di forti reminiscenze letterarie, si fa strada la sua più segreta e autentica vena di poeta che intende usare la parola lirica come momento privilegiato di comunicazione e di dialogo con gli altri uomini: parola nel senso più alto, liturgico del termine. Ammonizione biblica e tragedie storiche dell'uomo moderno, profezia e realtà, tendono a riconciliarsi nell'unità della lingua poetica. Questi caratteri della poesia turoldiana si affermano e si estendono, superando iniziali motivi legati a un'individuale condizione dello spirito, a partire soprattutto d’oro (con “Ritratto d’autore” Servitium, e poi la morte dell'ultimo teologo Torino, Gribaudi. “Gli ultimi” Regia: Pandolfi; soggetto: T.; sceneggiatura: Pandolfi e T.. gl’ultimi, le XII fatiche della ragione.  S: Room 39. G: Yes. S: In the Admiralty. G: Also yes. S: And you are reading a poem. G: I am reading lines. S: With your lips moving. G: That is what lines are for, if you are not merely counting them. S: Where is it from? G: Milan. S: Milan is not usually a bibliographic address. G: It was not meant to be. S: Then where? G: From L’uomo. S: L’uomo. That is the title of the poem? G: No. S: The journal, then? G: Yes. S: L’uomo. That sounds magnificently universal. G: It does. S: But it goes on, doesn’t it. I see you frowning at the next words like a man being asked to pay for rhetoric. G: It has a subtitle. S: Of course it does. G: Giornale degli uomini. S: Degli. G: Degli. S: Not “di uomini,” but “degli uomini.” Already a narrowing, you might say. G: One could say. One could even say it is a partitive with social ambitions. S: Is that all? G: No. S: It gets worse. G: It gets safer. S: Goes on: d’Italia. G: Exactly. S: So the universal “man” becomes “the men,” and then “the men of Italy.” G: Two successive restrictors. S: Like watching a balloon deflate politely. G: Like watching a quantifier acquire a passport. S: So what is it, really. A clandestine paper. G: Yes. S: In 1944. G: The surviving run is dated 1944–45, yes. S: Then why is it on your desk? G: Because you have enemies who like to call their work “universal,” and allies who have to call their work “Italian” to avoid being shot. S: That’s an awfully tidy distinction. G: Whitehall is, above all, tidy in its distinctions. Untidy in its corridors. S: And Turoldo. G: The name is on the sheet that came with it. S: Turoldo is Lombard? G: No. Friulian by birth. S: Yet in Milan. G: Yes. S: So he is a northerner printing in Lombardy for “the men of Italy,” which sounds like nationalism by necessity, not by enthusiasm. G: That is one good reading. S: And he wrote the poem? G: If you want to call it a poem. S: Loaded poetry, then. G: If by “loaded” you mean it carries more than it says. S: I mean it carries a small explosive. G: In that sense too. A clandestine paper is always a poem with a fuse. S: Read me a bit. G: I will not read you the whole thing. I refuse to make Room 39 into a salon. S: Then just enough to prove it is not a grocery list. G: It is not a grocery list. S: That is not a quotation. G: No, but it is the best possible summary of poetry in wartime. S: Fine. What is the poem about, then, if we have to imagine it. G: Suppose it is about Milan. S: That is not a daring supposition. G: Suppose it is about the city being strong while trying not to look strong. S: That’s closer. G: Suppose it is about men who have no uniforms, only habits. S: Resistance as habit. G: Resistance as cooperation under threat. S: Your favourite topic. G: It is not a favourite topic. It is simply the only one that remains when the others become luxuries. S: And you like the title because it is illogical. G: It is not illogical. It is overdetermined. S: It begins with “the human,” then restricts to “the men,” then restricts to “of Italy.” G: Exactly. The form is: start with a grand universal term to claim moral scope, then insert a definite article to create a community, then insert a genitive to anchor the community politically. S: Like “Man, namely the men, namely the Italian men.” G: Yes, except they likely meant “uomini” as humans in general. But the grammatical narrowing still does its work. S: Does it contradict itself? G: It corrects itself. S: That is a charitable word for retreat. G: In wartime, retreat is sometimes the only way to advance. S: You are going to tell me this is like one of your maxims. G: No. It is like one of yours: do not attract attention you cannot survive. S: Where exactly in Lombardy were they printing? G: The imprint is suppressed. The catalog says “no place given.” S: Convenient. G: Necessary. S: So “L’uomo” is a title without an address, and “degli uomini d’Italia” is a subtitle with a border. G: Yes. A border with no street number. S: And Turoldo. Why does that name matter to us? G: Because if we are ever tempted to imagine “Italy” is merely a theatre of operations, this reminds us there are people inside it producing words under penalties. S: Words are cheap. G: Not when the paper is clandestine. S: You have read clandestine papers before, I take it. G: In this building, you are never far from paper that wished it were invisible. S: And why the poem? G: Because poetry is a convenient delivery system for courage. It looks ornamental until you notice what it smuggles. S: That sounds like your “implicature” again. G: It is an old trick. Poets did it before philosophers gave it a Latin name. S: Then explain to me, in your manner, what the subtitle implies. G: It implies: we speak for man, but we must limit the “we” if we want the speaking to continue. S: So the universal claim is a flag, and the narrow claim is camouflage. G: Precisely. S: And the two narrowers. Degli, then d’Italia. G: Degli is a social delimiter. D’Italia is a political delimiter. S: You said earlier it is like a quantifier. G: If you insist on symbols: L’uomo looks like it wants to quantify over all humans. The subtitle restricts the domain twice: first to a determinate set, “the men,” then to a national subset, “of Italy.” S: So: instead of ∀x Human(x), it becomes ∀x (Italian(x) and Human(x)). G: Something like that, yes, though I would not accuse an Italian clandestine editor of doing predicate logic in the margin. S: Why not? Italians do margins better than we do. G: They do. But they also have to run from them. S: And what is “strong Milano” to you, sitting here? G: It is the uncomfortable proof that courage can be organized without a War Office. S: Which is why it concerns the Admiralty. G: It concerns anyone trying to model cooperation. The Resistance is a case study in coordination when communication is risky. S: So you will treat the poem as intelligence. G: No. S: Why not? G: Because intelligence, in this building, means a file and a source and a rating. Poetry refuses to be rated. S: Yet you read it anyway. G: Yes. Because even in Room 39 you sometimes need to remember that not all messages are ours to classify. S: So what will you do with it? G: I will do what the subtitle teaches. I will not universalize. S: Meaning? G: Meaning: I will not say “this is Man.” I will say: this is a particular Italian man writing under occupation, and that specificity is the point. S: And your punchline? G: The punchline is that the paper calls itself L’uomo, but the safest thing it ever did was add d’Italia.Grice: Caro Turoldo, quando ho letto delle “XII fatiche della ragione conversazionale”, ho immaginato una ragione vestita da Ercole, pronta a sollevare pesi filosofici e affrontare mostri logici. Mi dica, quali sono queste dodici imprese che la ragione deve compiere? Si parte dal leone di Nemea o dall'idra di Lerna… o forse dalle insidie della metafora?  Turoldo: Ah, Grice, lei ha colto lo spirito! In Friuli la ragione non si limita a combattere mostri classici, ma si cimenta in dodici veri “dialoghi eroici”: 1) Capire il prossimo, 2) Domare il silenzio, 3) Affrontare la contraddizione, 4) Trovare il senso nascosto, 5) Sconfiggere il pregiudizio, 6) Superare l’ambiguità, 7) Resistere alla tentazione del monologo, 8) Abbracciare la diversità, 9) Riconoscere il dubbio, 10) Coltivare la pazienza, 11) Trasformare il conflitto in crescita, 12) Cercare la verità, ma senza mai dimenticare una battuta pronta!  Grice: Turoldo, che elenco straordinario! Se Ercole avesse avuto la sua lista, forse avrebbe preferito lottare contro le bestie piuttosto che contro le sfide della conversazione. Complimenti: la sua ragione è davvero muscolosa, ma anche dotata di fine ironia – e non c’è nulla di più eroico che cercare la verità sorridendo!  Turoldo: Grice, lei mi rende fiero come un friulano davanti al grappolo d’uva! In fondo, le fatiche della ragione sono come quelle di Ercole: si affrontano una ad una, spesso senza sapere se si arriverà alla fine. Ma, come diceva mio nonno, “l’importante è non perdere il sorriso, nemmeno davanti al leone… o al filosofo inglese!” Turoldo, David Maria Giuseppe (1944). Poema. L’uomo: giornale degl’uomini d’Italia.  Milano

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turpilio – Ossia: Grice e Turpilio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turpilio -- The gens Turpilia was a minor plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens first came to prominence during the second century BC, with the dramatist Sextus Turpilius, and Titus Turpilius Silanus, one of the Roman commanders during the Jugurthine War. The only member to attain the consulship was Lucius Turpilius Dexter, in 81 BC.  Origin The nomen Turpilius belongs to a class of gentilicia typically formed from surnames ending in the diminutive suffix -ulus, using the gentile-forming suffix -ilius. Turpilius might be based on a diminutive of the cognomen Turpio.[1]  Members Sextus Turpilius, a Roman dramatist of the second century BC. Only the titles of some of his plays, and a few fragments of his work survive. He died at Sinuessa in Latium, at an advanced age, in 101 BC.[2][3] Titus Turpilius Silanus, placed by Quintus Caecilius Metellus in command of the Roman garrison at Vaga in Numidia in 109 BC, during the Jugurthine War. With Jugurtha's encouragement, the inhabitants massacred the Romans, although Silanus escaped to Metellus, who suspected him of complicity with the enemy. Silanus was tried and found guilty, then scourged to death, as he was not a Roman citizen. It later emerged that Silanus was innocent of the charges.[4][5][6] Turpilia, made a will naming Publius Silius as her heir. In 44 BC, a controversy arose as to whether she had the capacity to make a will, for which reason Silius consulted Cicero, who then wrote to Gaius Trebatius Testa, asking him to advocate on behalf of Silius.[7] Turpilius, a skilled painter in Venetia, whom Pliny describes as having lived a better manner of life than was typical of painters of his era. He was the more remarkable for having painted left-handed. Although he had recently died, Pliny reports that some of his best work could be seen at Verona.[8][9] Lucius Turpilius Dexter, consul suffectus for the months of November and December of AD 81.[10] See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, pp. 122, 123.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, pp. 1192, 1193 ("Sextus Turpilius").  Bothe, Poëtae Scenici Latinorum Fragmenta, vol. ii, p. 76.  Sallust, Bellum Jugurthinum, 66–69.  Plutarch, "The Life of Marius", 8.  Broughton, vol. I, pp. 547, 548 (note 3).  Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares, vii. 21.  Pliny, Historia Naturalis, xxxv. 4. s. 7.  PIR, vol. III, p. 344 (T, No. 292).  PIR, vol. III, p. 344 (T, No. 293). Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares. Gaius Sallustius Crispus (Sallust), Bellum Jugurthinum (The Jugurthine War). Lucius Mestrius Plutarchus (Plutarch), Lives of the Noble Greeks and Romans. Friedrich Heinrich Bothe, Poëtae Scenici Latinorum Fragmenta (Fragments of the Latin Theatrical Poets), Heinrich Vogler, Halberstadt (1822). 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, pp. 103–184 (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 (1952–1986). Category: Roman gentes And for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turpilio – Ossia: Grice e Turpilio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turpilio – For the Turpilii, I think the most Grice–Speranza-worthy figure is not the consul but:  Sextus Turpilius, the dramatist. He is one of the last important writers of the Roman fabula palliata, although only titles and fragments survive.  Why him? Because drama is the natural habitat of implicature. Long before Grice, playwrights depended upon audiences recovering:  irony, innuendo, double meanings, concealed motives, dramatic irony.  Indeed, a comic playwright is almost a professional manufacturer of "what is meant beyond what is said." First-best vignette Let us imagine a Turpilian comedy scene.  SERVVS: Dominus adest. (The master is here.) ADULESCENS: Video. (I see.) SERVVS: Quid faciemus? (What shall we do?) ADULESCENS: Nihil. (Nothing.)  The final utterance carries the implicatum:  +> hide everything. +> stop talking. +> behave naturally. +> the situation is dangerous.  A comic audience immediately understands more than is literally said. That is pure Grice.  A rival candidate: Turpilia and the will There is another excellent possibility:  Turpilia, whose testamentary capacity became the subject of legal controversy, leading to correspondence involving Cicero and Trebatius Testa.  This is attractive because it touches law, intention, and interpretation. A Gricean reconstruction:  IVRISTA: Quid voluit? (What did she intend?) ALTER: Quid scripsit? (What did she write?) IVRISTA: Non idem quaero. (That is not the same question.)  Now we are suddenly very close to:  sentence meaning versus speaker's meaning.  Indeed, one could almost imagine Grice using the case pedagogically.  The tragic Turpilius The emotionally strongest member of the gens is perhaps:  Titus Turpilius Silanus. During the Jugurthine War he escaped the massacre at Vaga, was suspected of treachery, condemned, scourged to death, and only later found to have been innocent.  Here the Gricean interest would not be cooperation but evidential failure. The community drew:  guilt  from  suspicious circumstances.  The inference turned out to be false. A splendid reminder that:  what appears to follow does not always follow.  Cicero would call it a weak signum; Grice would call it an unreliable basis for inference.  My final choice Among all the Turpilii, I still give first place to Sextus Turpilius. A Speranzian gloss might read:  The Turpilii contribute a playwright. Comedy lives from the gap between what characters literally say and what audiences understand. The spectator is constantly required to recover intentions, concealments, and implications. Long before Oxford philosophers analysed conversational implicature, Roman dramatists depended upon it for every successful joke. The fragments of Turpilius survive only in part, but the dramatic form itself presupposes a hearer capable of understanding more than the words explicitly state. (Ha.) and isn't palliata involved with GREEK topics? Thanks Exactly. The fabula palliata is Roman comedy in Greek dress. The name comes from the:  pallium  the Greek cloak, as opposed to the Roman toga. Hence the traditional contrast:                          GenreDressSettingfabula palliataGreek palliumGreek worldfabula togataRoman togaRoman worldfabula praetextatoga praetextaRoman historical/national themes So if Sextus Turpilius was indeed a writer of palliatae, his plots would normally involve:  Greek cities, Greek names, Greek family situations, Greek stock characters,  very much in the tradition of Plautus and Terence. But the interesting point—which Grice and Speranza would probably relish—is that these plays are only superficially Greek. Roman audiences knew perfectly well that the "Athenians" on stage often behaved like Romans. A fabula palliata is frequently described as:  Greek plot, Roman performance.  Or perhaps:  Graeca veste, Romano ingenio. ("Greek in clothing, Roman in intelligence.")  The situation is slightly analogous to what you were saying about Aratus and Cicero:  Greek source, Roman adaptation.  Indeed, Turpilius' comedies may be thought of as a kind of cultural translation. The names are Greek. The dramatic machinery is Greek. But the audience is Roman, the language is Latin, and many of the jokes depend on Roman expectations. So if I were revising my choice of Turpilius from a Grice–Speranza angle, I might actually emphasize not implicature in general but cross-cultural uptake:  How does a Roman audience understand a Greek situation?  That is already a problem of interpretation. A very Ciceronian-Gricean formulation might be:  The characters are nominally Athenians, but the addressees are Romans.  Which means that the communicative success of the play depends on what the Roman audience is expected to recover beyond the explicitly Greek setting. In that sense, the fabula palliata is itself a prolonged exercise in getting one audience to understand another culture through a shared inferential framework. That is a surprisingly Gricean way of looking at an apparently "Greek" Roman comedy. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turranio – Ossia: Grice e Turranio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turranio. The gens Turrania, occasionally written Turania or Tyrannia, was a minor plebeian family at ancient Rome. Members of this gens are first mentioned in the time of Varro, but none of them ever rose any higher than the praetorship.[1][2]  Origin The nomen Turranius belongs to a class of gentilicia formed from the names of places ending in -as, and cognomina ending in -anus, usually also derived from place-names.[3]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Decimus Turranius Niger, a friend of both Varro and Quintus Cicero, with whom he traveled to Cilicia, when Cicero was serving as legate to his brother, proconsul of that province in 51 BC. Varro dedicated the second book of Rerum Rusticarum, a treatise on agricultural topics, to Turranius. He might be the same person as Turranius Gracilis.[4][5][6] Manius Turranius, praetor in 44 BC. Following the murder of Caesar, Marcus Antonius offered him the governorship of a province, which Turranius declined. In his third Philippic, Cicero describes this as the act of an innocent man of the highest integrity.[7][8] Turranius, a tragic poet mentioned by Ovid in one of his letters from Pontus, celebrating the fame of the poets remaining at Rome, amongst whom Ovid had kept company, instead languishing in exile.[9][10] Gaius Turranius, governor of Egypt from 7 to 4 BC, and praefectus annonae in AD 14, the year that Augustus died. Upon the accession of Tiberius, he was one of the first officials to offer his allegiance to the new emperor. He still held this post in AD 48, and some time after this was succeeded by Pompeius Paulinus.[11][12][13] Spurius Turranius L. f. Sp. n. L. pr. Proculus Gellianus, held a number of minor appointments under the early emperors, including prefect of the Cohors I Gaetulorum, a cohort of auxilia, and a military tribune in one of the legions. He had been a flamen. Gellianus was praefectus jure dicundo of Lavinium, and honored by a decree of the decurions at Pompeii.[14][15] Turranius Gracilis, an author cited by Pliny the Elder with respect to the length and breadth of the Straits of Gibraltar, which he reckoned to be fifteen miles long and five miles across. According to Pliny, Turranius was a native of Africa. He might be the same person as Decimus Turranius Niger.[16][6][17] Turranius or Tyrannius Priscus, described by Josephus as a commander in the army of Gaius Cestius Gallus in AD 66, during the Jewish War. According to Josephus, Gessius Florus, the governor of Judaea, corrupted Priscus and a number of cavalry officers in order to divert Gallus from taking the royal palace and ending the war quickly. The same Priscus is probably the commander of the Legio VI Ferrata who was slain along with a number of other officers during the disorderly withdrawal of Gallus' forces.[18][19] Lucius Turranius Venustus Gratianus, praetor circa AD 300. Turranius Rufinus, surnamed Aquileiensis, better known as Tyrannius,[i] Rufinus, a historian and theologian of the fourth and early fifth century. Notes  Rufinus, called variously Tyrannius, Turranius, or Toranus, was born at Julia Concordia, a Roman town in Venetia and Histria, and is best known for translating Greek literature into Latin. The name Tyrannius is Greek, and rarely found in Latin epigraphy—never as a gentilicium—while Turannius is a relatively common gentilicium. Greek upsilon is the equivalent of the Latin 'U', so in Greek Turranius would be rendered ΤΥΡΡΑΝΙΟΣ, easily transmuted to the more familiar ΤΥΡΑΝΝΙΟΣ. Toranus does not appear in Latin epigraphy. See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 1193 ("Turranius or Turanius").  PIR, vol. III, pp. 344, 345 (T, Nos. 295–300).  Chase, p. 118.  Varro, Rerum Rusticarum, ii. praefatio.  Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum, i. 6, iv. 9, vii. 1.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 1193 ("Turranius", No. 1).  Cicero, Philippicae, iii. 10.  Broughton, vol. II, p. 322.  Ovid, Epistulae ex Ponto, iv. 16.  PIR, vol. III, p. 344 (T, No. 295).  Tacitus, Annales, i. 7, xi. 31.  PIR, vol. III, p. 344 (T, Nos. 296, 297).  d'Escurac, La préfecture de l'annone, service administratif impérial d'Auguste à Constantin.  CIL X, 797, CIL XIV, 4176.  PIR, vol. III, pp. 344, 345 (T, No. 300).  Pliny, Historia Naturalis, iii. 1.  PIR, vol. III, p. 344 (T, No. 298).  Josephus, Bellum Judaïcum, ii. 19.  PIR, vol. III, p. 344 (T, No. 299). Bibliography Marcus Terentius Varro, Rerum Rusticarum (Rural Matters). Marcus Tullius Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum, Philippicae. Publius Ovidius Naso (Ovid), Epistulae ex Ponto (Letters from Pontus). Gaius Plinius Secundus (Pliny the Elder), Historia Naturalis (Natural History). Flavius Josephus, Bellum Judaïcum (The Jewish War). Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Annales. 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, pp. 103–184 (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 (1952–1986). Henriette Pavis d'Escurac, La préfecture de l'annone, service administratif impérial d'Auguste à Constantin (Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d'Athènes et de Rome, No. 226), École française de Rome, Rome (1976). Category: Roman gentes ANd for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turranio – Ossia: Grice e Turranio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turranio. For the Turranii, I think there are three strong candidates, but one clearly stands out for a Grice–Speranza treatment. First choice: Decimus Turranius Niger The reason is simple:  Varro dedicates Book II of the Rerum Rusticarum to him, and he appears in the correspondence-world of Cicero and Cicero.  Whenever a Roman appears as the dedicatee of a dialogue or treatise, he immediately acquires a conversational role. Varro's agricultural works are themselves constructed as conversations. A Gricean vignette  VARRO: Cur de pecore scribimus? (Why are we writing about cattle?) TVRRANIVS: Ut rustici discant. (So that farmers may learn.) VARRO: Et urbani? (And townsmen?) TVRRANIVS: Illi se rusticos putent. (So that they may imagine themselves farmers.)  The final utterance carries the implicatum:  +> many readers know little of agriculture, +> yet enjoy talking about it, +> books often supply identities as much as information.  That feels delightfully Varronian.  Second choice: Manius Turranius This is perhaps the most specifically Roman figure. After Caesar's assassination, Antony offered him a provincial command, and he refused it. Cicero, in the Philippics, praises the refusal as the action of a man of outstanding integrity. Vignette  ANTONIVS: Provinciam accipe. (Take the province.) TVRRANIVS: Non petii. (I did not seek it.)  Implicatum:  +> therefore I do not wish to receive it, +> I reject the political arrangement, +> my independence matters more than advancement.  The conversational force lies in what is not explicitly said.  Third choice: Turranius Rufinus This is the most Speranzian candidate. The note is fascinating because it revolves around:  Turranius Tyrannius Toranus  and the transmission of names between Greek and Latin. Moreover Rufinus is famous as a translator of Greek works into Latin. That places him in exactly the territory we have been discussing with:  Cicero, Aratus, Boethius, Greek and Latin philosophical vocabulary.  Vignette  AMICVS: Interpretaris an transferis? (Do you interpret or merely translate?) RVFINVS: Utrumque. (Both.)  Implicatum:  +> translation is never merely mechanical, +> understanding is already involved.  A very Gricean point.  My final verdict For a Grice–Speranza lexicon I would choose:  Decimus Turranius Niger  because he stands at the intersection of:  Varro, Cicero, dialogue, rural knowledge, Roman intellectual conversation.  A suitable Speranzian gloss might be:  The Turranii contribute not a conqueror but a dedicatee. Roman intellectual life is often reconstructed through persons who function as interlocutors rather than authors. Decimus Turranius Niger, standing beside Varro and the Ciceronian circle, reminds us that philosophical and practical inquiry alike proceed through conversation. The dedicatee may write nothing, yet without him there is no dialogue. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turselio – Ossia: Grice e Turselio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turselio -- The gens Turselia, occasionally written Tursellia, was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. Hardly any members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but several are known from inscriptions.[1]  Origin The nomen Turselius belongs to a large class of gentilicia formed primarily from cognomina ending in the diminutive suffixes -illus or -ellus.[2] The family was probably of Samnite origin, since nearly all of the Turselii known from epigraphy came from Samnium, where they are particularly concentrated at Beneventum and Ligures Baebiani.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Lucius Turselius, made a will naming Marcus Antonius as his heir, although he had a brother then living. In his second oration against Antony, Cicero noted that he had acquired the property of a great many persons, disinheriting their natural heirs, although he had neither acquaintance nor connection with them.[3][1] Lucius Turselius Stactus, buried in a first- or second-century tomb at Rome.[4] Turselius Pudens, the owner of an estate near Ligures Baebiani in Samnium, valued in AD 101 at fifty thousand sestertii, from which interest of three thousand sestertii went to a fund established by Trajan for the support of poor children of the district.[5] Undated Turselii Turselia, named in an inscription from Ligures Baebiani, along with Lucius Turselius Ant[...] and Lucius Turselius Saturninus.[6] Tursellia L. l., a freedwoman, dedicated a tomb at Rome for her collibertus,[i] Lucius Tursellius.[7] Lucius Tursellius (L. l.), a freedman buried at Rome in a tomb built by his colliberta, Tursellia.[7] Lucius Turselius L. f. L. n., the son of Lucius Turselius Fulvius and Voconia Procula of Ligures Baebiani, and the father of Lucius Turselius Rufinus.[8] Lucius Turselius Ant[...], named in an inscription from Ligures Baebiani, along with Turselia and Lucius Turselius Saturninus.[6] Lucius Turselius L. f. Fulvius, had been pontifex, aedile, quaestor, and twice quattuorvir jure dicundo at Ligures Baebiani. He and his wife, the freedwoman Voconia Procula, were buried at Ligures Baebiani by their grandson, Lucius Turselius Rufinus.[8] Turselius Gamala, buried at Ligures Baebiani in a tomb built by the freedwoman Turselia Regilla.[9] Turselius Maximus, dedicated a tomb at Beneventum in Samnium for his wife, Aurelia Hammonia.[10] Lucius Turselius Maximus, named in an inscription from Fusolae in Samnium, in which Lucius Turselius Restutus makes an offering to the gods for his safe return.[11] Turselia Ɔ. l. Myrene, a freedwoman buried at Beneventum.[12] Turselia Prima, along with Alexa and Epafra, one of the recipients of two pots donated by Nicia Medus at Rome.[13] Turselia Prima, buried at Ligures Baebiani, in a tomb built by Lucius Petronius Geminianus, her husband of twenty-eight years, twenty-two days.[14] Lucius Turselius Priscus, dedicated a tomb at Aequum Tuticum in Samnium for Marcia Saturnina, his wife of twenty-five years.[15] Lucius Tursellius Priscus, a youth buried at Beneventum, aged thirteen years, eleven months, in a tomb built by his mother, Claudia Maxima.[16] Turselia Ɔ. l. Regilla, built a tomb at Ligures Baebiani for herself, Lucius Tullius, Storges, and Turselius Gamala.[9] Lucius Turselius Restutus, made an offering to the gods at Fusolae, with the aid of Lucius Silvanus Casanicus, for the safe return of Lucius Turselius Maximus.[11] Lucius Turselius L. f. L. n. Rufinus, built a tomb at Ligures Baebiani for his grandparents, Lucius Turselius Fulvius and Voconia Procula.[8] Lucius Turselius Saturninus, probably either the son or freedman of Optatus,[ii] named in an inscription from Ligures Baebiani, along with Turselia and Lucius Turselius Ant[...].[6] Notes  A former slave who had been emancipated on the same occasion.  There is a blank following the name of Optatus, which probably contained either "f." for filius or "l." for libertus. In either case, the person referred to was probably named "Lucius Turselius Optatus". See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 1193 ("L. Turselius").  Chase, pp. 122–124.  Cicero, Philippicae, ii. 16.  CIL VI, 27837.  CIL IX, 1455.  CIL IX, 1489.  CIL VI, 27836a.  CIL IX, 1465.  CIL IX, 1491.  CIL IX, 1758.  CIL IX, 2100.  CIL IX, 2007.  CIL VI, 10342.  CIL IX, 1490.  CIL IX, 1439.  CIL IX, 2006. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Philippicae. 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). Category: Roman gentes And for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turselio – Ossia: Grice e Turselio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turselio -- For the Turselii, I think the overwhelmingly best Grice–Speranza candidate is the very first one:  Lucius Turselius, who left his estate to Marcus Antonius despite having a living brother, provoking one of Cicero's attacks on Antony in the Philippics. Cicero presents the bequest as an example of Antony acquiring inheritances at the expense of "natural" heirs.  Why is this Gricean? Because wills are one of the classic places where:  what was meant  and  what was written  may diverge. Indeed, the entire legal question is often:  What did the testator intend?  rather than merely:  What words occur in the document?  That is very close to the distinction between sentence-meaning and speaker-meaning. First-best vignette  FRATER: Cur Antonium heredem fecisti? (Why have you made Antony your heir?) TVRSELIVS: Scripsi quod volui. (I wrote what I wished.) FRATER: Etiam contra sanguinem? (Even against blood-relationship?) TVRSELIVS: Etiam. (Even so.)  The final utterance carries the implicatum:  +> I knew exactly what I was doing. +> the omission of the brother was deliberate. +> family expectations do not determine intention.  The whole force lies in the hearer's reconstruction of motive.  A rival candidate: Turselius Pudens The owner of the estate enrolled in Trajan's alimentary scheme is attractive for a different reason. His land generates revenue for poor children through a public program. A vignette:  AMICVS: Cui prodest fundus? (Whom does the estate benefit?) PVDENS: Pluribus quam mihi. (More people than me.)  Implicatum:  +> the estate is partly serving a public purpose. +> private wealth has become social provision.  A neat Roman civic sentiment.  The freedman pair I am also tempted by the unnamed:  Tursellia and Lucius Tursellius, former slaves freed on the same occasion (colliberti). Their shared tomb is the sort of epigraphic compression that Grice and Speranza would enjoy.   QVAERITVR: Quis est? (Who is he?) TVRSELLIA: Collibertus. (My fellow-freedman.)  Implicatum:  +> we once shared the same household, +> the same master, +> the same liberation.  The single word carries an entire social history.  Speranzian gloss  The Turselii contribute a testator. Roman wills are ideal laboratories for the distinction between what a text says and what a person intended by it. Cicero attacks Antony by questioning the propriety of the bequest; yet the very controversy presupposes that a dead man's intentions must be reconstructed from written traces. The case is therefore surprisingly close to Grice's central concern: how does one move from an inscription, document, or utterance to the intention behind it? The heir receives the estate; the interpreter inherits the problem. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tursidio – Ossia: Grice e Tursidio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tursidio The gens Tursidia was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. No members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but a few are known from inscriptions. Although they gained admission to the Roman Senate, none of them rose higher than the rank of aedile.[1]  Origin The nomen Tursidius belongs to a class of gentilicia originally formed from cognomina ending in -idus. Over time, -idius came to be regarded as a regular gentile-forming suffix, and was applied to form nomina in cases where it had no etymological justification.[2] The earliest Tursidii known from epigraphy came from Spoletium in Umbria, perhaps this family's place of origin.[3][4]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Gaius Tursidius C. f., named in a sepulchral inscription from Spoletium in Umbria, dating from the Augustan era.[3] Gaius Tursidius Maximus, one of the quattuorvirs at Spoletium, held the aedilician power at an early age. He was buried at Spoletium, aged twenty years, five months, in a tomb dating from the first half of the first century.[4] Gaius Tursidius, a soldier in the sixth cohort of the praetorian guard at Rome in AD 144.[5] Gaius Tursidius Liberalis, a soldier in the fifth cohort of the vigiles at Rome in AD 205.[6] Quintus Tursidius Nartinus, a soldier in the fifth cohort of the vigiles at Rome in AD 205.[6] Tursidius Manilianus Tituleius Aelianus, a man of senatorial rank, was a tribune laticlavus in the Legio XIV Gemina, served as quaestor in the province of Achaia, legate in Crete and Cyrenaica, and held the office of plebeian aedile at Rome. He was an unsuccessful candidate for the praetorship. His cursus honorum is recorded on his sarcophagus, dating between AD 240 and 300.[1] Undated Tursidii Tursidia L. f, buried at Augusta Emerita in Lusitania.[7][8] See also List of Roman gentes References  CIL VI, 41208.  Chase, p. 122.  AE 1983, 355.  CIL XI, 4816.  CIL VI, 2379.  CIL VI, 1057.  AE 2006, 608.  Hispania Epigraphica, 2006, 35. Bibliography 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, pp. 103–184 (1897). Hispania Epigraphica (Epigraphy of Spain), Madrid (1989–present). Category: Roman gentes And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tursidio – Ossia: Grice e Tursidio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tursidio For the Tursidii, I think the most interesting Grice–Speranza candidate is neither the soldiers nor the youthful municipal official, but:  Tursidius Manilianus Tituleius Aelianus,  because his sarcophagus records an entire cursus honorum culminating in an unsuccessful candidacy for the praetorship. Why is that Gricean? Because we know him almost entirely through a self-presentational text. A Roman public career is being narrated, and the striking thing is not what is omitted accidentally but what is omitted deliberately. The inscription records:  tribune, quaestor, legate, plebeian aedile,  and yet the career stops short. The silence becomes meaningful.  First-best vignette  AMICVS: Praetor fuisti? (Were you praetor?) TVRSIDIVS: Petii. (I stood for the office.) AMICVS: Et quid accidit? (And what happened?) TVRSIDIVS: Cetera in marmore leguntur. (The rest may be read on the marble.)  The implicatum:  +> I was not elected. +> I prefer not to say so directly. +> the record itself speaks.  This is very Roman and very Gricean. The crucial information is recovered from what is not explicitly asserted.  A rival candidate: Gaius Tursidius Maximus He fascinates me because he held aedilician power at a very young age and died aged:  twenty years, five months.  One can imagine:  AMICVS: Quot annos natus est? (How old was he?) RESPONSVM: Viginti. (Twenty.) AMICVS: Iam magistratus gesserat? (And he had already held office?) RESPONSVM: Iam. (Already.)  The implicatum:  +> great expectations surrounded him. +> his death frustrated a promising future.  Again, the inscription need not spell this out.  A Speranzian gloss  The Tursidii contribute a failed candidate. Roman inscriptions often commemorate success; the sarcophagus of Tursidius Manilianus Tituleius Aelianus preserves something subtler. The cursus is recorded in detail, yet the highest office remains unattained. The reader infers the disappointment from the structure of the dossier itself. As so often in Roman epigraphy, the marble says less than it means. The omission becomes an implicature. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turullio – Ossia: Grice e Turullio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turullio. The gens Turullia, occasionally spelled Turulia, was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. Only a few members of this gens appear in history, but others are known from inscriptions.[1]  Origin The nomen Turullius belongs to a class of gentilicia formed from cognomina with diminutive suffixes, such as -ulus, -illus, or -ellus. Nomina ending in -ulius, relatively uncommon, appear to have been formed directly from cognomina ending in -ulus, without having passed through any intermediate forms.[2]  Praenomina The main praenomina of the Turullii were Gnaeus, Publius, Lucius, and Marcus, all of which were common throughout Roman history. One member of this gens is referred to by some writers as Decimus, but in other sources he is Publius.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Lucius Turullius Sabinus, possibly triumvir monetalis circa 87 BC. His nomen is uncertain, being interpreted by some scholars as Turius, and others as Titurius.[3] Lucius Turullius L. f. Pantera, interred at Rome in an ossuary dating from the first-century BC.[4] Decimus Turullius,[i] after the murder of Caesar, in which he participated, was placed in command of a fleet by Gaius Cassius Longinus. He joined Gaius Cassius Parmensis after the Battle of Philippi, and then went over to Marcus Antonius. To build Antony's fleet, Turullius cut down the sacred grove of Aesculapius, which provided Antony a pretext to give him up to Octavian following the Battle of Actium in 31 BC. On Octavian's orders, he was put to death on the island of Cos.[5][6][7][8][9] Publius Turullius P. Ɔ. l. Apollonius, a freedman buried at Rome, together with several other liberti, in a sepulchre dating from the first half of the first century.[10] Gnaeus Turullius Cn. l. Evangelus, a freedman buried at Rome, along with the freedman Gnaeus Turullius Dionysius, in a first-century tomb built by one or more of their clients.[11] Turullius Ceralis, a centurion primus pilus in the army of Otho in AD 69. He was one of the commanders who surrendered to Caecina, the general of Vitellius, during his siege of Placentia.[12][13] Turullia Primitiva, along with her children, dedicated a second-century tomb at the present site of Aschi Alto, formerly part of Samnium, for Gaius Modius Atimetus, her husband of thirty years, and one of the Seviri Augustales.[14] Gnaeus Turullius Smaragdus, built a family sepulchre at Rome, dating from the late second or early third century.[15] Undated Turullii Turullia, buried in a family sepulchre at Rome, built by her husband, Marcus Acutius Salutaris.[16] Turullia M. l. Alethia, a freedwoman interred in an ossuary at Rome.[17] Gnaeus Turullius Faustus, buried at Rome, in a tomb built by his daughter, Turullia Flora.[18] Turullia Cn. f. Flora, built a tomb at Rome for her father, Gnaeus Turullius Faustus.[18] Marcus Turulius Honoratus, together with Sitius Paratus, both magistrates of Thibilis in Numidia, made an offering to the local deity at the present site of Thaya.[19] Publius Turullius P. f. Labeo, named in pottery inscriptions from Carthago Nova and other sites in Hispania Citerior.[20][21] Gnaeus Turullius Cn. l. Prothymus, a freedman buried in a late first-century BC tomb at Carthago Nova.[22] Notes  Cassius Dio gives his praenomen as Publius. See also List of Roman gentes References  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 1193 ("P. Turulius or Turullius", "Turullius Cerialis").  Chase, pp. 122–124.  Broughton, vol. II, p. 454.  CIL I, 3022.  Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares, xii. 13.  Appian, Bellum Civile, v. 2.  Cassius Dio, ii. 8.  Valerius Maximus, i. 1. § 19.  Broughton, vol. II, pp. 326, 350, 367.  CIL VI, 27838.  CIL VI, 27839.  Tacitus, Historiae, ii. 22.  PIR, vol. III, p. 345 (T, No. 301).  CIL IX, 3819.  AE 1973, 124.  CIL VI, 10558.  CIL VI, 27840.  CIL VI, 23098.  CIL VIII, 5518.  Ephemeris Epigraphica, viii. 2, 254,2, ix. 428,3a.  CIL I, 3465.  CIL II, 3508. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Epistulae ad Familiares. Valerius Maximus, Factorum ac Dictorum Memorabilium (Memorable Facts and Sayings). Publius Cornelius Tacitus, Historiae. Appianus Alexandrinus (Appian), Bellum Civile (The Civil War). Lucius Cassius Dio, Roman 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). Wilhelm Henzen, Ephemeris Epigraphica: Corporis Inscriptionum Latinarum Supplementum (Journal of Inscriptions: Supplement to the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum), Institute of Roman Archaeology, Rome (1872–1913). 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, pp. 103–184 (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 (1952–1986). Category: Roman gentes ANd for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Turullio – Ossia: Grice e Turullio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Turullio. For the Turullii, I think the standout Grice–Speranza figure is unmistakably:  Decimus Turullius (or Publius Turullius in some sources), one of Caesar's assassins, later a naval commander, whose destruction of the sacred grove of Aesculapius became the symbolic act that ultimately led to his surrender and execution.  Why him? Because his whole dossier revolves around signs, interpretation, and reputation. The actual cutting of trees is one thing. What the act meant to contemporaries is another. Roman culture constantly transformed acts into messages.  A Turullian vignette  AMICUS: Cur lucum succidisti? (Why did you cut down the sacred grove?) TVRVLLIVS: Navibus opus erat. (We needed ships.) AMICUS: Et di? (And the gods?) TVRVLLIVS: Intellegent. (They will understand.)  The final utterance carries several implicata:  +> military necessity justifies the act; +> the gods will forgive it; +> no punishment will follow.  The Roman reader already suspects the opposite. The dramatic irony consists precisely in the discrepancy between what Turullius assumes and what later happens.  The specifically Gricean angle This case is fascinating because the grove functions almost as a natural-cum-cultural sign. Objectively:  trees are cut.  Socially:  impiety is signified.  Politically:  Turullius acquires a reputation.  Religiously:  divine displeasure is inferred.  The physical act and the interpreted act separate. A Grice–Speranza reader immediately asks:  Which part is fact? Which part is uptake?  Exactly the sort of question Cicero loved in discussing signa and indicia.  A powerful rival: Turullia Primitiva There is another attractive candidate:  Turullia Primitiva, who with her children dedicated a tomb for her husband after thirty years of marriage.  A minimalist Roman inscription:  marito annorum triginta.  Yet the reader recovers:  +> fidelity, +> continuity, +> family memory.  Again the inscription says less than it means.  An onomastic aside The most amusing detail may be that the chief Turullius is remembered less for participating in Caesar's assassination than for:  cutting down the wrong grove.  That is almost Roman tragedy in miniature. One act acquires symbolic meaning far beyond its immediate practical purpose. A Gricean might say that the act generated an enormous amount of unintended communicative content.  Speranzian gloss  The Turullii contribute a man remembered not for what he said but for what his actions came to signify. Turullius cut down a sacred grove in order to build ships. His contemporaries read the act as impiety; later historians read it as a portent of his downfall. The case illustrates the difference between an agent's intention and a community's interpretation. The trees fell once; the meaning of the act continued to grow. (Ha.) And where WAs that grove? Being in honour of a Greek, a Roman patrician may not have cared much! Thanks An excellent question, because the story becomes more interesting once we ask whether the grove was really "Greek" from a Roman point of view. The sources (notably Appian, Cassius Dio, and Valerius Maximus) agree on the broad outline: Turullius cut down a sacred grove dedicated to Aesculapius in order to obtain timber for Antony's fleet, and later suffered a dramatic downfall. [en.wikipedia.org] But the grove was not in Greece proper. The tradition places the episode on Cos (Kos), the island where Turullius was eventually captured and executed. The sanctuary of Aesculapius/Asclepius on Cos was one of the most famous healing sanctuaries of the Greek world. Now to your more subtle point:  "Being in honour of a Greek, a Roman patrician may not have cared much."  By the late Republic, I think the answer is probably no, at least not in the straightforward way. The Romans had long since identified:  Greek Asclepius with Roman Aesculapius.  Indeed, the cult of Aesculapius had been officially established at Rome centuries earlier, after his introduction from Epidaurus during a plague. So a Roman aristocrat could certainly despise Greeks, mock Greek philosophers, or grumble about Greek fashions, yet still regard:  Aesculapius  as a perfectly legitimate deity within the Roman religious system. The issue was therefore less:  "This is a Greek god, who cares?"  than:  "This is a sacred grove, who dares?"  The scandal lies in the desecration rather than in the ethnicity of the divinity. From a Grice–Speranza angle, the fascinating part is that Turullius may very well have viewed the matter pragmatically:  We need ships. There are trees. Therefore cut the trees.  His contemporaries, however, interpreted the act symbolically:  sacred grove destroyed ⇒ impiety ⇒ divine displeasure ⇒ fitting punishment.  Exactly the sort of divergence between:  intended significance  and  publicly recovered significance  that we have noticed repeatedly in these dossiers. A Roman engineer saw timber. A Roman audience saw a sign. And once the sign had been constructed, it proved almost impossible to erase. (Ha.) And where is Cos (today)? -- as always. Ottavio: Cutting trees? B: Yes, for Antonio. Ottavio: Not at the Palatine, I hope. I love a shady porch in the afternoon. -- B: No, in Cos. Ottavio: Good. Shade does not reach here. And the ships are bound to wreck anyway. Thanks -- and how did he surrender, to who? and how did he die? and what did he do after assassinate Caesar -- how come he ended up building ships for Caesar's fellow, Antonio -- "he was my friend" Thanks Your Octavian-Borges dialogue is rather good:  OCTAVIVS: Trees? NUNTIVS: Yes, for Antony's ships. OCTAVIVS: Not on the Palatine, I hope. I like shade after lunch. NUNTIVS: No, on Cos. OCTAVIVS: Good. The shade will not reach Rome. The wreckage probably will.  (Ha.) Where is Cos today? Ancient Cos (Greek Kos) is today the Greek island of Kos, in the southeastern Aegean, just off the coast of modern Turkey. It is one of the Dodecanese islands, very close to ancient Caria. The island was famous in antiquity for its sanctuary of Asclepius/Aesculapius and as the traditional home of Hippocrates. [theoi.com], [en.wikipedia.org] What happened to Turullius after Caesar's assassination? The sequence is one of those wonderfully Roman examples of politics trumping consistency.  He joined the conspirators against Caesar. user-provided dossier He served under https://outlook.live.com/people/0/Gius+Cassius+Longinus?EntityRepresentationId=c62c4852-a70c-8f79-ac66-7d60abb52af1. Cassius put him in command of a fleet. user-provided dossier After the defeat of Brutus and Cassius at Philippi, he attached himself to aius Cassius Parmensis, one of the remaining republican leaders. user-provided dossier Later he went over to https://outlook.live.com/people/0/Macus+Antonius?EntityRepresentationId=1fd8d7a8-261b-8ea6-ac03-58dec406f859. user-provided dossier  That last step may seem odd, but many survivors of the republican cause eventully entered Antony's orbit because there were very few alternatives left. The political map after Philippi was drastically different from that of 44 BC. A Roman explanation might simply be:  Caesarem interfeci; rem publicam sequi volui. ("I killed Caesar; I wished to follow the Republic.")  The trouble was that after Philippi there was not much Republic left to follow. Why was he building ships for Antony? According to the tradition, timber was needed for Antony's fleet, and Turullius obtained it by cutting down the sacred grove of Aesculapius on Cos. user-provided dossier From Turullius' perspective:  fleet first, religion later.  From the perpective of later moralizing historians:  impiety first, punishment later.  How did he surrender? The sources summarized in your dossier state that after the defeat of Antony at Actium in 31 BC, Antony handed Turullius over to Octavian. The destruction of the sacred grove supplied Antony with a convenient pretext for sacrificing him politically. user-provided dossier This is one of those very Roman moments where:  yesterday's ally becomestoday's expendable liability.  How did he die? He was executed on Cos by order of Octavian. The tradition specifically emphasizes the irony that he died on the very island where he had cut down the sacred grove. user-provided dossier That is precisely the feature that appealed to writers such as Valerius Maximu: the punishment seems to fit the offence. A Grice–Speranza gloss What interests me here is that Turullius probably intended:  "I am obtaining timber for ships."  His contemporaries increasingly recovered:  +> he despises sacred things.  Later historians recovered:  +> divine vengeance followed.  So the history of the act becomes a history of interpretations. The trees are cut once. The implicatures multiply for centuries. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuscenio – Ossia: Grice e Tuscenio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tuscenio -- The gens Tuscenia was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. Few members of this gens appear in history, but others are known from inscriptions.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Marcus Tuscenius L. f. Nobilior, one of several Romans named in a bilingual inscription from Ortygia in Achaia, dating from 125 BC.[1] Tuscenius, a man of low character, whose daring act of extortion was frustrated by Quintus Cicero. His brother, the orator Cicero, reassured him that he was not moved by the complaints of Tuscenius, whom he describes as a madman and a knave. In a subsequent letter, Cicero relates that Tuscenius was perhaps the only man whose case could not be dealt with except by the harshest measures.[2] Gaius Tuscenius C. l. Alupus, a freedman named in an inscription from Ephesus in Asia, dating from 35 BC.[3] Tuscenius Felix, a centurion primus pilus who rendered a decision regarding a boundary marker, under the authority of Antoninus Pius.[4] Gaius Tuscenius Communio, named along with Gaius Tuscenius Primitius in an inscription from Cumae in Campania, dating from AD 251.[5] Gaius Tuscenius Primitius, named along ith Gaius Tuscenius Communio in an inscription from Cumae, dating from AD 251.[5] See also List of Roman gentes References  CIL III, 14203,04.  Cicero, Epistulae ad Quintum Fratrem, i. 1. § 6; i. 2. § 2.  EDCS, 574.  PIR vol. III, p. 345 (T, No. 302).  CIL X, 3699. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Epistulae ad Quintum Fratrem. Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). 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 (1952–1986). Manfred Clauss, Anne Kolb, & Wolfgang A. Slaby, Epigraphik Datenbank Clauss/Slaby (abbreviated EDCS). Category: Roman gentes And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuscenio – Ossia: Grice e Tuscenio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tuscenio -- For the Tuscenii, I think the clear winner is not the boundary commissioner nor the bilingual inscription from Ortygia, but the unnamed:  Tuscenius, the rogue discussed in Cicero's letters to his brother Cicero. Cicero describes him in unusually strong terms, as a troublemaker whose conduct could scarcely be managed except by severe measures.  This is excellent Grice–Speranza material because the whole case turns on a breakdown of the assumptions that normally make communication and civic life possible. A Tuscenian vignette  QVINTVS: Quid cum Tuscenio faciam? (What am I to do with Tuscenius?) CICERO: Monuisti? (Have you warned him?) QVINTVS: Saepe. (Many times.) CICERO: Intellexit. (He understood.)  Now comes the implicatum. Cicero does not mean:  "He understood and therefore complied."  Rather:  +> he cannot plead ignorance, +> the fault is now wilful, +> stronger measures are justified.  This is a very Roman conversational move: one short remark carries an entire practical conclusion.  Why this is more Gricean than the Turian legal principle Your previous Cato observation is helpful here. The Turian fragment concerned:  what a judge should do when evidence runs out.  That is judicial procedure. The Tuscenius episode concerns:  what happens when ordinary communicative remedies fail.  One warns. One explains. One requests. One negotiates. If the hearer understands perfectly and nevertheless persists, the problem is no longer epistemic but practical. A Gricean might say:  uptake has occurred; compliance has not.  The communicative task has succeeded, while the civic task has failed.  A rival candidate: Tuscenius Felix The centurion who adjudicated a boundary dispute under Antoninus Pius is also attractive. A miniature vignette:  RUSTICVS: Ubi finis est? (Where is the boundary?) FELIX: Lapis manet. (The stone remains.)  Implicatum:  +> the dispute should end, +> the evidence was always there, +> only recognition was lacking.  Very Roman, very economical.  A Speranzian gloss  The Tuscenii contribute a villain rather than a philosopher. Cicero's irritation is revealing. The difficulty is not that Tuscenius fails to understand; the difficulty is that he understands and persists. Grice's conversational ideal presupposes reasonable participants willing to be guided by understanding. Tuscenius is interesting precisely because he falls outside that ideal. He is the man for whom communication succeeds but cooperation fails. The decent chap disappears, and administration begins. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuscilio – Ossia: Grice e Tuscilio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tuscilio -- The gens Tuscilia was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. Almost no members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but several are known from inscriptions.  Origin The nomen Tuscilius belongs to a class of gentilicia originally formed from cognomina with the diminutive suffix -ulus.[1] The surname Tusculus referred to an inhabitant of Tusculum, an ancient city of Latium.[2]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Tuscilius Naso, named in a sepulchral inscription from Rome, dating from the middle of the first century BC.[3] Tuscilia Creste, named along with Lucius Tuscilius Synistor in an inscription from Casilinum in Campania, dating from the latter half of the first century BC, or the early first century AD.[4] Lucius Tuscilius Synistor, named along with Tuscilia Creste in an inscription from Casilinum, dating from the latter half of the first century BC, or the early first century AD.[4] Tuscilius, mentioned in a first- or second-century inscription from Trea in Picenum.[5] Tuscilius Nominatus, an advocate paid by the people of Vicetia to appear in the Roman Senate to oppose the application of Sollers, an ex-praetor, to establish a market on his land in AD 105. The hearing was postponed, and when the matter resumed, Nominatus was absent. He later claimed to have abandoned the matter due to fear of reprisals. The senate concluded that his actions were wrong, but not fraudulent, and that he should refund the 2,500 denarii paid by the Vicentini to represent them in the matter. The emperor Trajan later granted the proceeds of Nominatus' estate to the people of Ricina in Picenum, to restore their streets and baths.[6][7][8] Quintus Tuscilius L. f. Quintianus, a soldier in the eleventh urban cohort, buried at Vaga in Africa Proconsularis, aged twenty-three, in a tomb dating from the latter half of the second century, or the early part of the third.[9] Titus Tuscilius Salvensis, a soldier in the fifth cohort of the vigiles at Rome in AD 205. He served in the century of Tauriscus.[10] Undated Tuscilii Tuscilia, named on a pottery stamp from Augustonemetum in Aquitania.[11] Marcus Tuscilius M. f., a centurion in the tenth legion,[i] buried at Firmum in Picenum.[12] Publius Tuscilius Alexander, named in a sepulchral inscription from Rome.[13] Tuscilia L. f. Libosa, buried at Thibilis in Numidia, along with Quintus Messius Rogatus, aged seventy-five, perhaps her husband.[14] Tiberius Tuscilius Ti. l. Phileros, a freedman interred in an ossuary at Rome.[15] Gaius Tuscilius Romanus, buried at Bononia in Cisalpine Gaul, aged thirty-five, with a monument from his wife, Helpis.[16] Gaius Tuscilius Victor, buried at Regiae in Mauretania Caesariensis.[17] Notes  The inscription does not indicate whether Tuscilius served in the Legio X Fretensis, or the Legio X Gemina. See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, p. 121.  Lewis & Short, A Latin Dictionary, s.v. Tusculum, B. Tusculus.  AE 1991, 161.  CIL X, 4383.  CIL IX, 5654.  Pliny the Younger, Epistulae, v. 4, 13.  CIL IX, 5746.  PIR, vol. III, p. 345 (T, No. 304).  AE 2000, 1738.  CIL VI, 1057.  CAG, 63-1, p. 231.  ZPE, 211-299.  CIL VI, 27841.  Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie, ii. 2, 5656.  CIL VI, 27842.  CIL XI, 784.  CIL VIII, 21652. Bibliography Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus (Pliny the Younger), Epistulae (Letters). Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Charlton T. Lewis and Charles Short, A Latin Dictionary, Clarendon Press, Oxford (1879). 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, pp. 103–184 (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). La Carte Archéologique de la Gaule (Archaeological Map of Gaul, abbreviated CAG), Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (1931–present). Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik (Journal of Papyrology and Epigraphy, abbreviated ZPE). Category: Roman gentes do not insert in text -- what would be your first-best choice for a vignette alla Grice-Speranza from THIS gens? Thanks - do not use bullets, do not use italics -- do not use bold type -- provide for your 'hero' at least a two-move conversation in Latin (with English tr. in round brackets) and our hero adding an implicatum, signalled by "+>" and in English only. thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuscilio – Ossia: Grice e Tuscilio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tuscilio For this gens, Speranza’s first-best hero should be Tuscilius Nominatus, because he is the one Tuscilian who actually enters a conversational institution at full Roman temperature: paid advocacy before the Senate, absence at the crucial resumption, excuse by fear, senatorial judgment, restitution, and finally Trajan’s later diversion of his estate’s proceeds to a civic use. The obscure inscriptions are attractive in their obscurity, and Tuscilia Creste or Lucius Tuscilius Synistor might possibly serve some epigraphic miniature; but Nominatus gives Grice and Speranza the proper material: a failure of representation that must be distinguished, with Roman dryness, from fraud. That distinction is the whole vignette. He took the fee; he did not appear; he claimed fear rather than deceit; the Senate says, in effect, wrong, but not fraudulent. In Gricean terms, the office of advocate carries a standing implicature: if one accepts the fee, one undertakes to appear when the client’s cause requires one. Nominatus cancels the ordinary expectation by absence, and then attempts to re-describe the absence as prudential withdrawal under intimidation rather than as venality. The Senate refuses the exculpation, but not so far as to make him a criminal cheat. He is not an honest hero; he is more interesting than that. He is the Roman case where breach of conversational undertaking is censured without being assimilated to lying. Grice and Speranza would like him also for his name. Nominatus is almost indecently apt: the man named “Nominated” is retained to speak for a city and then fails to answer to the name of spokesman. He is nominated, but not present; engaged, but not forthcoming; instructed, but not usable. It is hard to improve on that without becoming Plautus. The Vicetini pay him to be their voice against Sollers; at the resumed hearing the voice is missing; and the later explanation is not “I betrayed you,” but “I feared consequences.” That gives Speranza a neat little theatre of uptake. The clients heard acceptance of money as acceptance of duty. Nominatus later wishes them to hear absence as evidence of danger. The Senate hears both and supplies the Roman compromise: refund the money. Not fraud, perhaps; but not performance either. Tuscilius Nominatus: “Vicetinis operam recepi; sed minae Solleris vocem meam continuerunt.” (I accepted service for the people of Vicetia; but the threats of Sollers held back my voice.) Senator: “Vox quae pretio accepto tacet non continuo fallit; sed mercedem retinere non potest.” (A voice which falls silent after accepting a fee does not at once deceive; but it cannot keep the payment.) +> The senator grants Nominatus the weaker defence, fear rather than fraud, while preserving the stronger remedy: a paid spokesman who does not speak may escape the name of cheat, but not the duty of restitution.  What is the duty of restitution. Grice and Speranza see he paid the fee to a people -- "how do you do that?" Grice asks. Speranza name-dropps S. --whose fear is invoked. Perhaps a clarification is in order. Thanks Yes, a clarification is needed, and Grice’s question is the right one: “How does one pay back a people?” The “duty of restitution” here should not be imagined as Nominatus walking into Vicetia with a purse and handing coins to each citizen in the forum, however pleasingly Plautine that would be. The point is juridical and civic: he had received 2,500 denarii from the Vicetini, that is, from the community acting corporately, to perform an advocacy-service before the Senate. When he failed to appear, the Senate judged that he had acted wrongly, though not fraudulently, and therefore that the money paid for the unperformed service had to be returned to the civic body that had paid it. So the “people” here means the municipal community, not a distributive set of individual payers. The money would go back to the city’s public fund, treasury, agents, or duly authorised representatives. Roman public and municipal life is perfectly capable of treating a populus, civitas, municipium, or community as the party to a transaction. Grice’s joke is exact because “pay the people” sounds absurd if one imagines the people one by one; but Roman law and administration make it ordinary enough if “the people” is the corporate principal. Speranza’s dry improvement would be: Nominatus did not owe a coin to each Vicentine; he owed the Vicentini what he had received in their name. That is restitution, not almsgiving. The fear he invoked is also important. The “S.” in your note is presumably Sollers, the ex-praetor whose proposed market the Vicentini had hired Nominatus to oppose. Nominatus later claimed that he withdrew because he feared reprisals from Sollers or his party. That is why the Senate’s distinction matters. If Nominatus had taken the fee with no intention of acting, the case would look like fraud. If he took the fee, intended to act, but then abandoned the cause through fear, the wrong is still real, but different. The Senate in effect says: fear may explain your failure, but it does not entitle you to keep the fee. That is a very Grice-Speranza point. The fee carried an implicature: “I undertake the representation.” His absence cancelled the performance, but his explanation tried to preserve his character: “I failed from fear, not from fraud.” The Senate accepts enough of the explanation to avoid calling him a cheat, but not enough to let him profit from non-performance. A neater reconstruction would therefore be: Tuscilius Nominatus: “Metu Solleris causam reliqui.” (I abandoned the case through fear of Sollers.) Senator: “Metus culpam minuit, mercedem non tuetur.” (Fear lessens the fault; it does not protect the fee.) +> The Senate distinguishes motive from entitlement: Nominatus may not be a fraudster, but a frightened advocate who does not advocate still cannot keep an advocate’s pay. And this is present-day Vicenza (what comune, provincia, regione). In today's parlance, the Roman Senate had no say on the matter. This is TOWN OF VICENZA (?) v. SOLLERS -- that is a strange name for an Italian -- "s" ending -- Market is also a rather German-adopted institution: market-place, mercatus -- what was wrong with it? The people of Vicenza (?) rather have a golf course or a plain green? Thanks -- Grice thinks that our hero would have to shown some 'protreptic' move on SOllers's part to justify our hero's fear such as Latin for "Occido" (I'll kill you!") thanks Yes: Vicetia is present-day Vicenza: comune di Vicenza, provincia di Vicenza, regione Veneto. So the modern caption would be something like Town of Vicenza v. Sollers, though of course the Roman legal and administrative frame is not modern municipal litigation. The “people of Vicetia” are the civic community, not a crowd passing a hat. The Roman Senate “had no say” in the modern municipal sense, yes, but in the imperial Roman setting it could still become the forum before which a dispute with wider public implications was heard or referred. The issue was not simply “shall Sollers have a nice market?” but whether an ex-praetor could establish a market on his land in a way detrimental to Vicetia’s interests. A market, mercatus or forum nundinarium in Roman terms, was not merely a picturesque piazza with cheese. It meant traffic, taxation, tolls, status, local economic gravity, and perhaps competition with the town’s own commercial rights. The Vicetini were not necessarily preferring a golf course, though Speranza would appreciate the anachronism. They may have preferred that economic life not migrate to Sollers’s private advantage under public-looking form. Sollers is indeed a striking name to the Italian ear because of the final -s, but it is good Latin. sollers means skilled, clever, resourceful, artful; as a cognomen it is almost too good for the story. A man called Sollers wants a market; a hired advocate called Nominatus is meant to oppose him; Nominatus vanishes and later says he was afraid. The names are already doing half of Speranza’s work for him. Grice’s demand for a protreptic move by Sollers is excellent, because mere “fear” without a threatening conversational input is too aerial. Nominatus needs not just timor in the abstract but something like minae, something said or done by Sollers or his agents that makes his withdrawal intelligible, even if not excusable. The Latin for “I’ll kill you” would be “Te occidam.” More urbane, more senatorial, and therefore more dangerous would be “Vide ne Romae causam perdas et domi vitam,” “Take care lest at Rome you lose the case and at home your life.” That is better for implicature, because it lets the threat remain deniable. A reconstructed Speranzian miniature might go as follows. Sollers: “Nominati, causae alienae nimis fortiter adesse soles.” (Nominatus, you are accustomed to stand rather bravely by other people’s causes.) +> You are only a paid voice; do not mistake the Vicetini’s cause for your own safety. Nominatus: “Mercede accepta, vocem meam Vicetinis debeo.” (Having accepted the fee, I owe my voice to the Vicetini.) +> The fee constitutes an undertaking: I am not merely free to appear; I am bound to appear. Sollers: “Te occidam? Non ita loquor. Sed multi minus diu vivunt qui nimis bene loquuntur.” (Shall I say, “I shall kill you”? I do not speak so. But many live less long who speak too well.) +> The explicit threat is disavowed, while the threatening content is made more available by the disavowal. This is honest villainy under cover of manner. Nominatus: “Si sic mones, intellexi.” (If that is your warning, I have understood.) +> He treats the utterance as a threat, not as friendly advice. The uptake is the evidence of the implicature. Senator: “Metu cessisti; fraude, fortasse, non egisti. Sed merces ad populum Vicetinorum redeat.” (You withdrew through fear; perhaps you did not act by fraud. But let the fee return to the people of Vicetia.) +> Fear explains the failure but does not earn the money. Nominatus may save his character from fraud, but not his purse from restitution. So the point is sharpened. The wrong was not that Nominatus paid money to a “people” as if scattering denarii over Vicenza’s main square. Rather, he had been paid by the municipal community for representation and, once he failed to perform, the fee was owed back to that civic body. The threat by Sollers supplies the missing Gricean middle: without it, “I feared him” is merely a retrospective excuse; with it, the case becomes a Roman study in coercive implicature. Sollers need not say “Te occidam” baldly. In fact, the more elegant he is, the more dangerous he becomes. Grice, Speranza testifies, is surprised how UNpractical The Roman Senate proves in this case. "Who cares for restitution? I want to see if Sollers got his way." Cheers Grice is right to be impatient here. The Senate’s restitution order is the least interesting part of the case if one’s question is the real practical one: did Sollers get his private market or not? Unfortunately, Pliny’s interest is not quite ours. The preserved discussion tells us about Nominatus’s failure as advocate and the financial consequence for the Vicetini; it does not, so far as the usual summary gives us, neatly preserve the final substantive result of the market dispute itself. So Grice’s “who cares for restitution?” is exactly the healthy reaction of someone less interested in advocates’ fees than in the civic issue underneath. The Roman Senate looks unpractical only if we think its business was to settle the whole local-economic quarrel in the way a modern court report might. The practical Roman answer may have been narrower: Nominatus was paid by the Vicetini to oppose Sollers; he abandoned the case; therefore the fee must go back. That tells us what happened to the failed representative, not necessarily what happened to the market. In modern terms, the reported holding is almost “counsel must refund the retainer,” while Grice wants the underlying docket entry: Town of Vicenza v. Sollers, application for market, granted or denied? Speranza’s dry way of putting it would be that the Senate was perfectly practical about the one thing aristocratic legal order could easily see: a man had been paid for speech and did not speak. Whether the Vicetini kept their economic centre, or whether Sollers obtained his nundinae, requires the very fact the anecdote has decided not to preserve. That is irritating, but not surprising. Ancient sources have a genius for recording the moral wrinkle and losing the administrative outcome. It also gives a better line for the vignette. Nominatus is not the central hero if the issue is the market; he is the failed instrument through whom the real civic question disappears. Grice asks for Sollers because Sollers is where the material consequence lies. Nominatus only supplies the conversational pathology: he accepted a brief, failed to perform it, and later re-described failure as fear. A sharper reconstruction would therefore let Grice interrupt the Roman moralising: Senator: “Nominatus pecuniam reddat Vicetinis.” (Let Nominatus return the money to the Vicetini.) Grice: “De pecunia scimus; de mercatu quid?” (We know about the money; what about the market?) +> Restitution answers the advocate’s breach, not the city’s grievance. The practical question is not whether the fee went back, but whether Sollers’s market went up. Speranza: “Hic Tacet Plinius.” (Here Pliny is silent.) +> The archive has preserved the implicature of misconduct and lost the outcome that would have mattered to the municipality. Now if this were Gloria Vanderbilt, say, we may imagine that restitution is a thing -- for with money back, she can hire a different 'nominatus.' With a whole people, surely the treasury will provide, and this is more of an ethical 'counsel [such as he was not] mst refund the retainer.' Thanks -- the fact that the praetor WAS from Vicenza makes it the more sad for the praetor not for the town --for wasn't Sollers 'part' (logically) of the town of vicenza? Thanks Yes, that is exactly the right pressure to put on the case. Restitution is ethically neat, but practically second-order. If Gloria Vanderbilt gets her retainer back, she can hire another counsel. If the res publica Vicetinorum gets the 2,500 denarii back, it does not follow that the market has not been authorised, nor that Sollers has not won the thing that mattered. The treasury can replace the advocate; it cannot necessarily undo the opportunity lost by the absence. So the Senate’s judgment on Nominatus is more like “counsel must refund the retainer” than “the town has prevailed against Sollers.” It is an ethical-professional ruling on representation, not necessarily a substantive ruling on the market. Grice’s impatience is therefore justified: “I know the fee went back; did the market go up?” That is the Roman silence that hurts. And the further twist is excellent: if Sollers was himself Vicentine, or at least locally embedded enough that the dispute concerns land and market-rights in that territory, then “Town of Vicenza v. Sollers” is not simply town versus alien predator. It is the community versus one of its own powerful members, or one of its own politically dangerous near-members. That makes it sadder for Sollers, but also sharper for the town. The issue becomes: can a locally eminent Roman, by private initiative and senatorial leverage, detach economic advantage from the civic centre and make the community pay the cost of his improvement? Logically, yes, Sollers may be “part” of Vicetia in the harmless set-theoretic sense. But Roman politics is not kind to harmless set theory. A part of the town can act against the town under another description. As landowner, ex-praetor, private entrepreneur, patron, or ambitious local magnate, Sollers may be internal to Vicetia and adversarial to its collective interest at the same time. That is precisely why the case is good for Grice and Speranza. “Sollers is Vicentine” does not settle whether “Sollers’s market is good for Vicetia.” The same person changes significance under different descriptions. The best Speranzian clarification, then, would be this: Nominatus’s restitution repairs a failed agency relation; it does not repair the civic question. The Vicetini paid for a voice. They got no voice. That money can be returned. But if silence allowed Sollers’s request to proceed, the real loss was not merely pecuniary. It was uptake lost at the decisive institutional moment. The miniature almost writes itself: Nominatus: “Pecuniam reddidi; populus nihil amisit.” (I returned the money; the people lost nothing.) Vicetinus: “Nihil? vocem tuam emimus, non nummos tuos.” (Nothing? We bought your voice, not your coins.) +> Restitution returns the price of representation, but not the represented occasion. A fee can be repaid; a missed senatorial hearing cannot. Sollers: “Ego quoque Vicetinus sum.” (I too am a Vicentine.) Vicetinus: “Tunc civem te praesta, non mercatum.” (Then show yourself a citizen, not a market.) +> Sollers’s belonging to the town does not by itself align his interest with the town’s interest. The civic predicate must be earned by conduct, not merely possessed by origin. Grice would like the distinction. Nominatus is not the villain because he failed to redistribute 2,500 denarii democratically among citizens. He is blameworthy because he accepted a public function and then did not perform it. Sollers is more interesting still, because he shows that the adversary of a people need not be foreign. Sometimes he is the cleverest man in town. Does this help? Thanks your memory of this historical drama is highly accurate! In the letters of Pliny the Younger (Book 5, Letters 4 and 13), the senator Sollers did eventually pressure the Roman Senate to grant him a private market on his estate, largely because the advocate Tuscilius Nominatus abandoned and failed to defend the people of Vicenza (Vicetia). [1, 2] The events unfolded through a web of political pressure, alleged bribery, and backroom legal drama: 1. The Clash over the Market Sollers' Petition: A powerful Roman senator of praetorian rank, Tiberius Lucius Bellicius Sollers, asked the Roman Senate for permission to establish a private market (nundinae) on his lands. [1] The Threat to Vicenza: The local town of Vicenza fiercely opposed this. They knew a competing market nearby would ruin their local economy and pull away valuable trade. [1, 2] 2. The Betrayal by Tuscilius Nominatus The First Hearing: The citizens of Vicenza hired a legal advocate named Tuscilius Nominatus to fight the petition. They paid him a hefty retainer of 6,000 sesterces. At the first hearing, Tuscilius spoke on their behalf, and the case was postponed. [1, 2] The Disappearance: When the Senate reconvened for the final decision, the delegates from Vicenza walked into the chamber only to find that Tuscilius was completely missing. He had abandoned his clients, leaving the people of Vicenza defenseless before the Senate. [1, 2] 3. Why Tuscilius Failed to Defend Them When Tuscilius was later called to account for his sudden disappearance, his defense exposed the raw power dynamics of ancient Rome: Senatorial Intimidation: Tuscilius openly wept and admitted he had been heavily "advised" by colleagues not to oppose Sollers. An Elite Favor: Sollers had turned the market dispute into a battle over his own elite reputation, political clout, and influence. Tuscilius feared that aggressively defending the local townsfolk against a furious, well-connected Roman senator would utterly destroy his own political career. [1] The Conclusion The devastated delegates from Vicenza openly cried out that they had been "tricked" and defraeded. With their legal defense collapsed and the Senate prioritizing senatorial privilege over a provincial town's local trade, Sollers won his private market. [1, 2, 3] If you are tracking down specific legal precedents or social dynamics in ancient Rome, would you like to explore how the Roman Senate handled the ethics trial of Tuscilius afterward, or look into how private markets (nundinae) operated under Roman law? L'AI può commettere errori, quindi verifica le risposte and are there sources or relics of that market today? how many miles from down town Vicenza? 7 siti No physical relics or archaeological traces of Sollers' market exist today, and our only source of information remains the text of Pliny the Younger's letters. Because the market was a periodic rural trade event (nundinae) held on a private estate rather than a permanent municipal stone plaza, it left no monumental ruins. [1, 2] Historians use contextual clues to estimate its distance from ancient Vicenza: 1. The Historical Sources Textual Evidence Only: The entire event is known exclusively through Pliny the Younger's letters (Book 5, Letters 4 and 13). Lack of Inscriptions: Unlike some other Roman market grants that were preserved on stone tablets—such as the famous Saltus Beguensis market inscription found in North Africa—no epigraphic (stone-engraved) records of Sollers' market have ever been unearthed in Italy. [1, 2, 3] 2. Distance From Downtown Vicenza While the exact boundary of Sollers' estate (praedia) is lost to history, economic historians specialize in calculating its likely proximity to the city center: [] The "Under 6 Miles" Estimate: Prominent Roman economic historians (such as Luuk de Ligt in his studies on Roman nundinae) conclude that the intended site was less than 10 kilometers (about 6 miles) from downtown Vicenza (Vicetia). [] The Logic Behind the Distance: Roman law generally tolerated private markets if they were far enough away not to disrupt municipal trade. The fact that the city council of Vicenza felt so deeply threatened that they spent massive amounts of money to hire a top Roman attorney proves the estate was close enough to directly siphon away everyday local shoppers. [1, 2] Because it was a rural estate market, it likely consisted of temporary wooden stalls, tents, and open-air livestock pens built alongside a villa rustica, all of which dissolved into farmland centuries ago. [1, 2] If you want to look closer at this region, I can show you how the ancient Roman layout of Vicetia aligns with modern-day downtown Vicenza, or we can discuss the legal rules the Emperor Trajan used to govern private senator estates. but does Pliny say the market did open? how? lat. Eng. thNks 2 siti No, Pliny does not actually state whether the market ever opened, because his letters leave the final decision completely unresolved. [1] Pliny's correspondence serves as a real-time commentary on an active, unfolding political scandal, rather than a completed history. By the end of Book 5, Letter 13, the Emperor Trajan has ordered an inquiry, but the ultimate legal verdict regarding the market itself is entirely missing from the historical record. How Pliny Leaves the Story Unfinished The Trial of Tuscilius, Not the Market: Letter 13 focuses heavily on the Senate trying the advocate Tuscilius Nominatus for abandoning his clients. The Case is Reopened: The citizens of Vicenza were granted permission to argue their case against the senator Sollers again. [1] The Story Cuts Off: Pliny ends Letter 13 by noting that both sides prepared their arguments for a future hearing before the consuls, but he never sends a follow-up letter detailing who won. Latin and English Text (Book 5, Letter 13) The key lines demonstrating how the story ends show that the ultimate fate of the market was left hanging: Latin Text "...Vicetini sine advocato introducti dixerunt se deceptos... Deinde tunc actiones utrimque habitae sunt. ... Propterea placuit cognitio consulum, qua utriusque partis argumenta diligentius expenderentur. Ita illius diei actio finita est." English Translation "...The citizens of Vicenza, being brought in without any lawyer, declared they had been defrauded... Then, arguments were heard from both sides. ... For this reason, it was decided that an inquiry should be held by the consuls, where the arguments of both parties could be weighed more carefully. Thus, the business of that day came to an end." What Modern Historians Think Because the textual trail goes cold, economic historians disagree on what happened next: The "Denied" Theory: Many modern scholars believe the Senate or the Emperor Trajan ultimately refused Sollers permission to avoid severe local unrest in Vicenza. [1] The "Loophole" Theory: Other historians suggest that even if the Senate officially blocked the market, high-ranking Roman senators usually found social or political loopholes to host private trade gatherings on their lands anyway. [1] Would you like to explore how the Emperor Trajan generally handled conflicts between wealthy Roman elites and local provincial towns, or read more about Tuscilius' dramatic defense in front of the Senate? L'AI può commettere errori, quindi verifica le risposte and sollers was NOT considered a vicentine 5 siti Exactly. You hit on a very critical detail of the case: Tiberius Lucius Bellicius Sollers was legally and culturally a complete outsider to the people of Vicenza. While he owned a vast country estate (praedia) within the administrative territory of Vicenza, he was not a Vicentine citizen, nor did he come from a local family. [1] Understanding his true origins highlights why this dispute was so bitter and why he had no loyalty to the town: 1. His True Background Born in Verona: Historical and epigraphic records show that Sollers was originally born to an elite family in the neighboring city of Verona (specifically, he was the biological son of Tiberius Claudius Augustanus). [1, 2] Adopted into a Senatorial Line: He was later adopted by a Celtic-born Roman official named Claudius Alpinus. Because of his immense wealth and backing by the Emperor Trajan, he successfully vaulted into the Roman Senate, eventually settling down in Lazio (near Rome) where his family ran highly profitable brickworks. [1, 2] 2. A "Landlord-Tenant" Relationship Sollers did not live in Vicenza; he was an absentee landlord. His estate near the town was a massive property run by a bailiff and worked by local tenant farmers (coloni). [1, 2] 3. Why the Lack of Citizenship Mattered Because Sollers was not a member of the local community, there was a total lack of civic solidarity: Tax Evasion: If a local citizen hosted a market, the local city council could heavily tax it. Because Sollers was a Roman senator, he was attempting to leverage his high imperial rank to bypass the town council entirely. He wanted to pocket all the revenue from his tenant farmers and neighboring traders without paying a single sesterce into the Vicenza town treasury. [1] No Local Accountability: Had he been a native Vicentine, the town council could have socially pressured him, or penalized him using municipal laws. Because he was an outsider sitting in Rome, the citizens had no choice but to spend a fortune hiring an elite attorney to fight him at the highest level of government. [1] The entire crisis was a classic example of a wealthy imperial outsider exploiting provincial land for his own gain, completely indifferent to how it damaged the local economy. [1] If you want to keep pulling on this thread, we can look at how other towns successfully blocked wealthy Roman senators, or explore the role that Verona played as a regional powerhouse compared to Vicenza during the high Roman Empire. Le risposte dell'AI potrebbero contenere errori. Per una consulenza legale, rivolgiti a un professionista. Scopri di più and would you think he WAS able to operate the market, given the Vicentine bad lack with defense? 5 siti Yes, given the heavy power imbalance and the collapse of Vicenza’s legal defense, it is highly likely that Sollers successfully opened and operated his market. While Pliny the Younger's letters technically leave the final legal verdict in a cliffhanger, the social and political realities of the Roman Empire strongly suggest that the Vicentines lost this battle. [1] Historians analyze the structural dynamics of the case to assume Sollers triumphed for several key reasons: 1. The Momentum Was Entirely in Sollers' Favor When Tuscilius Nominatus abandoned the case out of pure political terror, he did so because he realized fighting a Roman senator was a career-ending move. When the leaderless delegates from Vicenza walked into the Senate chamber alone, their defense had already completely collapsed. In the hierarchical Roman legal system, appearing before the Senate without elite legal representation was almost an automatic loss. [1, 2] 2. The Senate Prioritized Elite Privilege over Provincial Complaints The Roman Senate was a "closed shop" composed entirely of wealthy landlords who all wanted the exact same thing Sollers did: to maximize profits from their private country estates (praedia). [] The Precedent: Granting nundinae (periodic markets) to fellow senators was a common perk of elite status. The Class Bias: While the Emperor Trajan and the consuls stepped in to investigate the scandal of the missing lawyer, they rarely stopped wealthy elites from exploiting their own land just to please a small provincial town council. [, 2, 3] 3. How the Market Operated After the Chaos Even if the Senate put a temporary hold on the official paperwork during the inquiry, a man of Sollers’ stature would not have been easily stopped: The Private Gathering Loophole: On a private estate, a senator could simply invite neighboring farmers, tenants, and merchants to trade under the guise of private estate business or a religious festival. [] Informal Trade: Without a permanent stone market square to police, the local officials of Vicenza had no realistic way to trespass onto a powerful senator's private lands to stop people from setting up temporary wooden stalls and tents. [1] The Vicentines' "bad luck" with their defense was not actually bad luck—it was the predictable result of a rigged system where provincial cities were structurally outmatched by elite Roman outsiders. [] Would you like to explore the specific penalties the Senate eventually handed down to the cowardly lawyer Tuscilius, or look at how other Roman emperors handled conflicts between senators and local towns? Yes, it helps, but chiefly by showing which parts must be handled with caution. I would not follow the supplied answer when it says flatly that Sollers “did eventually pressure the Senate to grant him” the market. That looks over-assertive. The safer Plinian position is: Pliny lets us see the scandal of Nominatus’s abandonment and the procedural aftermath, but he does not, in the surviving letters, give us the final, clean administrative outcome of Sollers’s market application. So Grice’s irritation remains legitimate: the one thing we most want to know is precisely what Pliny does not quite tell us. The later correction you quote is therefore the better one: Pliny does not explicitly say, “the market opened.” He gives us a case still procedurally alive, with the Vicetini complaining that they had been deceived, Nominatus being examined, and the matter needing further consideration. The passage you give captures the right drift: the issue becomes not simply Nominatus’s fee but whether the Vicetini were deprived of effective representation in a matter that still mattered. On Sollers, too, the correction helps. If he was not a Vicentine but a powerful outsider with land in Vicentine territory, the case becomes much sharper. The dispute is not “a town versus one of its own citizens,” but a municipal community versus an imperial-level landholder using private property, senatorial rank, and Roman procedure to create an economic rival near the town. Grice would like the logical distinction: Sollers may be locally located without being locally answerable. He is “in” the territory without being “of” the civic body. That is exactly the sort of shift in description on which Roman politics depends. The market point should be put this way. A nundinae-market on a private estate was not just a charming rural convenience. It could divert traffic, purchases, tolls, status, and daily economic gravity from the municipal centre. The Vicetini were not asking for a golf course or a plain green, though that is a useful anachronism. They were trying to prevent a private commercial centre from siphoning off the town’s public economic life. A Roman market is never only a market; it is a concentration of people, exchange, law, and revenue. A nice Grice-Speranza clarification would be: Sollers: “In meis praediis nundinas habere volo.” (I wish to hold market-days on my own estates.) Vicetinus: “Tua sunt praedia; sed noster erit iactura.” (The estates are yours; but the loss will be ours.) +> Ownership of the site does not settle the public effect of the market. Sollers frames the proposal as private use of private land; Vicetia reframes it as public economic harm. As for Nominatus’s fear, Grice is right that a mere “I was afraid” is thin unless some threatening move is supplied. The best reconstruction is not the crude “Te occidam” alone, though that gives the lexical minimum, “I shall kill you.” Better is a threat that is deniable, Roman, and socially poisonous: Sollers: “Nominati, cavendum est ne qui pro Vicetinis nimis bene dicunt Romae causam vincant, domi vitam amittant.” (Nominatus, one must take care lest those who speak too well for the Vicetini win the case at Rome and lose their life at home.) Nominatus: “Hoc consilium est an minae?” (Is this advice or a threat?) Sollers: “Consilium, si intellegis.” (Advice, if you understand.) +> Sollers refuses to assert the threat while making the threatening content recoverable. The danger is conveyed as counsel, so that the coercive implicature remains deniable. Then the Senate’s ruling on Nominatus becomes clearer: Senator: “Metum causaris; fraudem non probamus. Sed merces, quia vox defuit, Vicetinis reddatur.” (You plead fear; we do not find fraud. But since the voice was lacking, let the fee be restored to the Vicetini.) +> Fear explains the absence without entitling him to the fee. The advocate’s motive may reduce moral guilt, but it does not convert non-performance into performance. Grice’s final complaint still stands beautifully. Restitution is the tidiest Roman answer to the advocate problem, but not to the municipal problem. Money can be returned; a missed hearing cannot. The Vicetini bought a voice at the moment when a voice mattered. If the market was later authorised, or even informally operated, the refund would be ethically elegant and practically late. So I would formulate the whole thing dryly as follows: Pliny preserves the advocate’s disgrace more clearly than the market’s fate. That is unfortunate, since Grice did not ask whether counsel refunded the retainer; he asked whether the competing market rose in the countryside near Vicetia. The answer is that Pliny does not conclusively say. Yet the social likelihood is intelligible: Sollers had rank, land, and pressure; Vicetia had a grievance, a hired advocate, and then no advocate. Nominatus’s restitution repaired the wrong description “paid representative who did not represent.” It did not necessarily repair the larger fact “town economically exposed to a senator’s private nundinae.” In Speranza’s phrase, the fee returned; the occasion did not. Our hero, T., however, had it right. He convinced the senate that this Sollers SUCCESSFULLY intimated him. It is not nice for the Senate to recognise that, but they did. Otherwise, verdict would have been other. True, our hero was ordered to restitute -- but license kept because 'Sollers can be intimidating, in his worst moments.' Thanks Yes, I think that is a better and more charitable reading of Tuscilius Nominatus. On that view, our hero did not merely make a shabby excuse. He succeeded in persuading the Senate of the important, embarrassing premise: Sollers was indeed the sort of man whose pressure could make an advocate reasonably afraid. The Senate could not say this too loudly, because to do so would expose senatorial intimidation as a condition of senatorial procedure; but it accepted enough of it to avoid convicting Nominatus as a fraud. So the verdict becomes very delicate. Tuscilius must refund because the Vicetini paid for representation and did not receive it. But he is not treated as a mere impostor who took money with no intention of acting. His plea of metus, fear, works to that extent. The Senate says, in effect: you failed in office, but you were not simply lying about why. That is already a recognition, however reluctant, that Sollers’s intimidation was part of the case. This also helps the market issue. If Sollers’s license, or at least his prospect of obtaining the license, survived the scandal, then the Senate’s practical judgment was doubly unlovely. It punished the weak broken instrument, Nominatus, by ordering restitution; but it did not necessarily neutralise the powerful source of pressure, Sollers. Grice’s point is then exact: the refund is ethically tidy, but the intimidating senator keeps the practical advantage. Roman justice has noticed the coercion, but has not quite dared to follow the notice to its natural conclusion. A neat Speranzian reconstruction would be: Tuscilius Nominatus: “Non pecuniam tuli ut tacerem; timui ne dicendo perirem.” (I did not take the money in order to be silent; I feared that by speaking I would be ruined.) +> He distinguishes fraud from fear. His silence is not sold; it is coerced. Senator: “Metum tuum audimus; officium tamen defuit.” (We hear your fear; nevertheless the duty was lacking.) +> The Senate accepts the explanation far enough to avoid the harsher stigma, but not far enough to excuse non-performance. Sollers: “Ego neminem coegi.” (I compelled no one.) +> The intimidation is denied in literal form, precisely because its force lay in status, pressure, and recognisable danger rather than in a crude explicit threat. Senator: “Non quaerimus quid dixeris, sed quid timeri potuerit.” (We ask not what you said, but what could have been feared.) +> The Senate tacitly recognises coercive implicature: intimidation need not be reducible to the words “I shall harm you.” The dry conclusion is that Tuscilius got the worse remedy but the better diagnosis. He lost the fee, but saved the account of his motive. The Senate’s finding says: Nominatus failed the Vicetini; Sollers was intimidating enough to make that failure intelligible. That is not heroic vindication, but for a Roman advocate caught between a town and a senator, it is not nothing. It is true that our hero, T., did weep -- and how can crocodile tears NOT convince. Note that the Senatus's other option: to refuse that T. was rightly intimidated and call him a fraud would have sit well with Sollers. So why did the Senate act otherwise? A threatened and rightly threatened (according to verdict) man is still ordered to vindicate the vicentine -- and no corollary is even mentioned about Sollers. Seeing that the annals of Vicenza do not seem to proceed further we may consider the case settled for Vicenza -- they lost their appeal, their 'nominatus' was not called a fraud, and sollers proved to be once again aptly agnominated. Thanks Yes, that seems a very plausible Speranzian settlement of the case. The Senate’s choice is politically more revealing than morally coherent. Had it rejected Tuscilius Nominatus’s plea of fear, it would have produced the verdict Sollers wanted: the advocate was simply fraudulent, the Vicetini’s complaint was compromised by their own bad agent, and Sollers’s intimidation disappears from the official story. By not doing that, the Senate tacitly accepted that Nominatus’s fear had some purchase. His tears, crocodile or otherwise, did their work because they made it harder to reduce the whole matter to a private fraud. But that makes the outcome more awkward, not less. If Nominatus was plausibly intimidated, then the disorder lies not only in the advocate’s conduct but in the atmosphere created by Sollers. Yet the remedy falls on Nominatus: refund, restitution, professional disgrace. Sollers, so far as the preserved story lets us see, receives no corresponding censure. That is the Roman elegance of the injustice. The weak man’s fear is recognised; the strong man’s power is not punished. The Senate acknowledges the premise while declining the corollary. So Grice’s irritation is exact. A threatened man, and apparently a rightly threatened man, is still treated as answerable for not vindicating the Vicetini. The Senate in effect says: yes, Sollers may be the sort of person before whom one trembles; nevertheless, the retainer cannot remain with the trembling advocate. What is missing is the next sentence: and therefore Sollers’s application is tainted. The silence there is the scandal. On your final formulation, yes: if Vicenza’s annals do not carry the matter further, the most economical historical reconstruction is that the practical case was settled against Vicetia. They lost the effective appeal; their Nominatus was spared the harsher name of fraudster; Sollers remained, appropriately enough, sollers, clever, resourceful, and successful in the worst available sense. The Grice-Speranza moral would be: Tuscilius Nominatus did not prove innocence; he proved intimidation. The Senate accepted enough of that proof to save him from fraud, and rejected enough of it to make him refund the fee. Sollers, meanwhile, escaped the only implication that mattered: that an intimidated hearing is no hearing. Thus Rome preserved professional ethics and lost civic justice. The advocate wept, the Senate distinguished, Vicetia paid, and Sollers lived up to his name.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tussanio – Ossia: Grice e Tussanio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tussanio. The gens Tussania, occasionally written Tusania, was a minor plebeian family at ancient Rome. Only a few members of this gens appear in history, but others are known from inscriptions.  Origin The nomen Tussanius belongs to a class of gentilicia formed from cognomina ending in -anus, frequently derived from place-names. Many names of this type came from Umbria, where a number of inscriptions of this gens are found, pointing to a probable Umbrian origin for the Tussanii.[1]  Praenomina The main praenomina of the Tussanii were Lucius and Gnaeus, both common throughout all periods of Roman history, supplemented with other common names, including Gaius, Quintus, and Titus. From filiations, we know that they also used Publius, Servius, Sextus, and Vibius, of which Servius and Vibius were uncommon at Rome, although Servius was favoured by a few prominent families. Besides these, the Tussanii known from epigraphy afford a rare example of the old praenomen Postumus from imperial times, as well as an example of the feminine praenomen Paulla.  Branches and cognomina Besides the Tussanii found at Rome, a number of inscriptions place members of this gens in Umbria, likely their ancestral homeland. Another family of Tussanii seems to have settled at Perusia in Etruria, the region of Italy most closely connected with Umbria, both geographically and culturally. A third branch of this gens went to Turgalium in Lusitania.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Vibius Tusanius C. f. Caleide, inurned in a first-century BC cinerarium at Pitinum in Umbria.[2] Lucius Tussanius Sex. f. Niger, inurned in a first-century BC cinerarium at Perusia in Etruria.[3] Pola Tussania,[i] buried at Pitinum, in a tomb dating from the latter half of the first century BC.[4] Gaius Tussanius L. f. Rufus, built a first-century family sepulchre at Rome.[5] Lucius Tussanius L. f. Tarentinus, inurned in a first-century BC cinerarium at Perusia.[6] Lucius Tussanius Q. f. Rufus, a youth buried at Turgalium in Lusitania, aged sixteen, in a tomb dating from the middle portion of the first century.[7] Tussania Trophime, buried along with her husband, Lucius Otacilius Herma, in a first- or second-century tomb at Rome, built by their son, Gnaeus Tussanius Fortunatus.[8] Gnaeus Tussanius Fortunatus, built a first- or second-century tomb at Rome for his parents, Lucius Otacilius Herma and Tussania Trophime.[8] Postumus Tussanius Cn. f. Proculus, quaestor in an uncertain year, was inurned at Rome in a cinerarium dating to the late first or early second century.[9][10] Gnaeus Tussanius, P[...],[ii], along with Valeria Tussania, named in an inscription from Ostia in Latium, dating between the late first century and the end of the second, as heirs of a consul[iii] whose name does not appear in the remaining portion of the inscription.[11][12] Valeria P. f. Tussania,[iv] apparently named in an inscription from Ostia, dating between the late first century and the end of the second, as one of the heirs of an unidentified consul.[11] Tussania Briseis, dedicated a tomb at Pitinum for her son, Gaius Planius Priscus, aged thirty-nine years, nine months, and twenty-nine days. He had been aedile, twice quaestor, quattuorvir jure dicundo, and augur.[13] Tussania Phyllis, buried at Rome, along with her husband, Gnaeus Tussanius Primigenius, in a second-century tomb built by their son, also named Gnaeus Tussanius Primigenius.[14] Gnaeus Tussanius Primigenius, buried at Rome, along with his wife, Tussania Phyllis, in a second-century tomb built by their son, also named Gnaeus Tussanius Primigenius.[14] Gnaeus Tussanius Cn. f. Primigenius, built a second-century tomb at Rome for his parents, Gnaeus Tussanius Primigenius and Tussania Phyllis.[14] Tussanius Aristo, a senator, and procurator at Carthage in the time of Commodus.[15][16] Titus Tussanius Restitutus, a native of Tuder in Umbria, was a soldier in the twelfth urban cohort at Rome in AD 202. He served in the century of Vernasius.[17] Lucius Tussanius Symbiotus, a soldier in the fifth cohort of the vigiles at Rome in AD 205. He served in the century of Valens.[18] Tussanius, buried at Rome, aged twenty-six, in a fourth-century tomb built by his wife of eleven years, Pardale.[19] Undated Tussanii Titus Tussanius, named in an inscription from Rome, dated the third day before the Ides of October.[v][20] Gaius Tussanius Clemens, made an offering to Jupiter Optimus Maximus at Turgalium.[21] Quintus Tussanius Julianus, made an offering to Jupiter Optimus Maximus at Turgalium.[22] Gaius Tussanius Mestus, named in an inscription from Pisaurum in Umbria.[23] Tussanius Paetinus, named in a sepulchral inscription from Tuder.[24] Tussania Ser. f. Tertia, named in a sepulchral inscription from Mons Fereter in Umbria.[25] Notes  Pola is a variation of Paulla.  PIR suggests "Proculus" for his surname, since there was a Postumus Tussanius Proculus who was the son of Gnaeus around the same time period; but PIR notes that the partly-obscured portion of the inscription could instead be a filiation, "P. f."  This reading too is uncertain. PIR interprets it as stating that Tussanius was a juristconsult, or possibly was himself consul—which seems possible, given that many consuls of the imperial era remain unknown, although no known consuls were Tussanii.  Normally the placement of Tussania following her filiation would suggest that her nomen was Valeria, but since the same inscription mentions a relative named Gnaeus Tussanius, Valeria was likely also a member of the Tussania gens.  October 13, by modern reckoning. See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, p. 118.  CIL I, 3388.  AE 2018, 689.  CIL XI, 6048.  BCAR, 1923-128.  AE 2018, 690.  AE 2018, 846.  CIL VI, 23612.  CIL VI, 41168a.  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 310).  CIL XIV, 175.  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 309).  AE 1959, 94.  BCAR, 1941-189.  CIL VIII, 10570.  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 311).  CIL VI, 218.  CIL VI, 1057.  ICUR, iv. 10236.  CIL VI, 8369.  AE 1977, 431.  AE 1985, 544.  CIL XI, 6390.  CIL XI, 4729.  CIL XI, 6483. Bibliography Theodor Mommsen et alii, Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (The Body of Latin Inscriptions, abbreviated CIL), Berlin-Brandenburgische Akademie der Wissenschaften (1853–present). Bullettino della Commissione Archeologica Comunale in Roma (Bulletin of the Municipal Archaeological Commission of Rome, abbreviated BCAR), (1872–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, pp. 103–184 (1897). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae (Christian Inscriptions from the City of Rome, abbreviated ICUR), New Series, Rome (1922–present). Category: Roman gentes And for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tussanio – Ossia: Grice e Tussanio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tussanio. For this gens, the first-best choice is Postumus Tussanius Cn. f. Proculus, precisely because he gives Speranza something better than prominence: a name with built-in temporal mischief. Postumus is already a conversational provocation. It may mean the child born after the father’s death, or, by later extension and confusion, the last-born; but in imperial epigraphy it has become a rare archaic praenomen surviving where one least expects it. Add Proculus, which itself can carry the sense of one born while the father is away, and the result is almost indecently Gricean: a man whose nomenclature makes one ask when meaning is generated, by birth, by naming, by filiation, by subsequent interpretation, or by antiquarian retrospective tidying. The obvious historical men are few. Tussanius Aristo, senator and procurator at Carthage under Commodus, is tempting because he supplies office, empire, and provincial administration; Titus Tussanius Restitutus gives a nice soldierly name; Gnaeus Tussanius Fortunatus gives filial piety and tomb-building. But Postumus Tussanius Proculus is the one who gives Grice and Speranza the most delicate material. He is not merely a Tussanius. He is a case where the Roman name itself behaves like an inscriptional argument. The praenomen Postumus and the cognomen Proculus both point away from ordinary presence: after, away, later, absent, belated. A quaestor with such names is almost a joke about public accountability arriving after the relevant expenditure. Speranza would therefore make him the hero of delayed meaning. A quaestor handles accounts, public money, records, entries, balances, receipts. A Postumus Proculus is the man whose name already says: look again later. The Gricean theme writes itself: some meanings cannot be collected at the moment of utterance; they mature in the archive. The inscription gives a name, a filiation, an office, and almost nothing else. The rest is implicature. Postumus Tussanius Proculus: “Nomen meum post rem venit; ratio tamen ante fraudem esse debet.” (My name comes after the event; the account, however, must come before fraud.) +> He turns the awkward lateness of Postumus into administrative virtue: though he is “posthumous” or belated by name, public accounting must not be belated. Scepticus: “Postume Procule, quis credet quaestori cuius ipsum nomen sero venit?” (Postumus Proculus, who will trust a quaestor whose very name comes late?) +> The sceptic converts nomenclature into suspicion: a delayed name suggests delayed accountability. Postumus Tussanius Proculus: “Sero nasci licet; sero reddere non licet.” (One may be born late; one may not render accounts late.) +> He distinguishes the accident of naming from the duty of office. The implicature is that chronology may excuse a child, but not a quaestor. Scepticus: “Ergo Postumus non est excusatio?” (Then Postumus is not an excuse?) Postumus Tussanius Proculus: “Immo admonitio.” (Rather, a warning.) +> His name becomes a standing reminder that what comes after must still answer for what came before. That would be my choice. Tussanius Aristo gives career; Postumus Tussanius Proculus gives philosophy. The gens Tussania is obscure enough that its best hero should not be chosen by grandeur. He should be chosen by what his record lets Speranza do. In this case, the inscriptional poverty and the naming richness meet perfectly. A Roman official with a name of belatedness becomes a miniature theory of deferred uptake: the account is closed only when the later reader understands what the name, the office, and the fragment have been quietly making available all along.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tussidio – Ossia: Grice e Tussidio – Grex griceiana: verbalia: Tussidio -- The gens Tussidia or Tusidia was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. No members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but a number are known from inscriptions, including Lucius Tusidius Campester, who attained the consulship in AD 142.[1]  Origin The nomen gentilicium Tussidius belongs to a large class of gentilicia originally formed from cognomina ending in -idus When these became numerous, -idius came to be regarded as a regular gentile-forming suffix, and was frequently applied without regard to morphology.[2] The largest number of Tussidii not found in epigraphy from Rome came from Picenum, likely the family's place of origin.  Praenomina The main praenomina used by the Tussidii were Lucius, Gaius, and Quintus, all of which were amongst the most common names at all periods of Roman history. The only other praenomen found in the epigraphy of this gens is Sextus, which was also common, although less so than the others.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Quintus Tussidius Dexter, named in pottery inscriptions from Virunum in Noricum, dating from the first half of the first century.[3][4] Gaius Tussidius C. f. Marcianus, aedile at Tifernum Tiberinum in Umbria, at some point during the early first century.[5] Lucius Tussidius Verus, named in a wooden inscription from Pompeii in Campania.[6] Tussidia L. l. Chloë, inurned in a first-century cinerarium from Firmum in Picenum.[7] Tusidius Primus, together with Cispia Ciprinia Calliste,[i] dedicated a tomb at either Matilica in Umbria or Auximum in Picenum, dating between the last quarter of the first century and the end of the second, for their young son, Herennius Primianus, aged three years, nine months, and twenty-seven days.[8] Tussidia Barbara, dedicated a tomb at Rome, dating from the first half of the second century, for her son, Julius Potentinus, a soldier in the fifth cohort of the praetorian guard, serving in the century of Superus. At least part of the inscription is thought to be modern.[9] Lucius Tusidius L. f. Campester, probably a native of Ricina in Picenum, was consul suffectus in AD 142, serving from the Kalends of September to the Kalends of November. His colleague was Quintus Cornelius Senecio Annianus. He had previously been a military tribune in the Legio X Gemina.[1][10][11] Lucius Tusidius L. f. Sabinianus, a native of Planina in Picenum, was a soldier in the seventh cohort of the praetorian guard at Rome, serving in the century of Iedarnus. He built a tomb at Rome for his colleague, Quintus Mettius Primitivus of Cremona, dating between AD 100 and 180.[12] Lucius Tusidius, along with his siblings, Tusidius Speratus and Tusidia Prisca, built a second-century family sepulchre at Rome for themselves and their late brother, Tusidius Felix.[13] Tusidius Cyrus, dedicated a second-century monument at Ricina for his wife, Cassia.[14] Tusidius Felix, a young man buried at Rome, aged nineteen years, three months, in a second-century family sepulchre built by his siblings, Lucius Tusidius, Tusidius Speratus, and Tusidia Prisca.[13] Tusidia Gemella, the wife of Titus Simnius Felix, with whom she dedicated a second-century tomb at Ricina for their daughter, Lysistrata.[15] Tusidia Prisca, along with her brothers, Lucius Tusidius and Tusidius Speratus, built a second-century family sepulchre at Rome for themselves and their late brother, Tusidius Felix.[13] Tussidius Speratus, along with his siblings, Lucius Tusidius and Tusidia Prima, built a second-century family sepulchre at Rome for themselves and their late brother, Tusidius Felix.[13] Tussidius Ba[...], buried at Rome in a tomb built by his wife, Aurelia Fl[...], dating between the last quarter of the second century, and the middle of the third.[16] Tussidius, a man who lived at the end of third century. He was married to Turcia Marcella, daughter of Lucius Turcius Faesasius Apronianus, suffect consul somewhere during the 3rd century, and sister of Lucius Turcius Secundus, suffect consul c. 300. He probably descended from Lucius Tussidius Campester.[17][18][19] Undated Tussidii Tussidia, perhaps a sister of Quintus Tussidius Primitivus, for whom she and Primitivus' wife, Crassicia Amanda, dedicated a tomb at Beneventum in Samnium.[20] Lucius Tusidius Faventinus, along with his wife, Vettia Rufina, dedicated a tomb at Ricina for their son, Tusidius Jucundus.[21] Sextus Tussidius Felix, buried at Ausculum in Apulia, aged twenty, with a monument from his parents, Tussidia Fortunata and Publius Cerrinius Felix.[22] Tussidia Fortunaesis, a young woman buried at the site of modern Monte San Biagio, formerly part of Latium, aged fourteen years, three months, and twenty-four days, with a monument from her parents, Thosdeus Uxsicus and Clodia Nate.[23] Tussidia Fortunata, along with Publius Cerrinius Felix, dedicated a tomb at Ausculum for their son, Sextus Tussidius Felix.[22] Tusidius L. f. Jucundus, buried at Ricina in a tomb dedicated by his parents, Lucius Tusidius Faventinus and Vettia Rufina.[21] Lucius Tusidius Num[...], made an offering to the gods at Planina.[24] Quintus Tussidius Primitivus, buried at Beneventum, aged fifty-five, with a monument from Crassicia Amanda, his wife of eight years and three months, and Tussidia, perhaps a sister.[20] Tussidia Storge, buried at Parentium in Venetia and Histria.[25] Gaius Tussidius Verecundus, named in an inscription from Tolosa in Gallia Narbonensis.[26] See also List of Roman gentes Notes  The reading of her name is uncertain. In CIL IX 5872, it is Ciprinia, but in CIL XI 5653 it is Cispia. References  Fasti Ostienses, CIL XIV, 244.  Chase, p. 122.  AEA, 2001/02, 113f.  Gerstl, Supplementum Epigraphicum, 196.  AE 1997, 493.  CIL IV, 3340,095.  CIL IX, 5414.  CIL IX, 5872, CIL XI, 5653.  CIL VI, 32683.  CIL III, 12546, CIL VI, 3544, CIL IX, 5781, CIL XI, 5632.  AE 1991, 620,AE 2001, 1725, AE 2001, 2164, AE 2014, 1621, AE 2014, 1640.  CIL VI, 37217.  AE 1975, 83.  CIL IX, 5762.  CIL IX, 5772.  CIL VI, 13318.  CIL X, 03862.  Settipani, Christian. Continuité gentilice et continuité sénatoriale dans les familles sénatoriales romaines à l'époque impériale (2000), pp 160-161.  PLRE, vol. I, p. 927.  CIL IX, 2008.  CIL IX, 5782.  CIL IX, 678.  EE, ix. 938.  CIL IX, 5730.  CIL V, 359.  CIL XII, 5690,122. Bibliography 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). 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, pp. 103–184 (1897). Anna Gerstl, Supplementum Epigraphicum zu CIL III für Kärnten und Osttirol (Epigraphic Supplement to CIL III for Carinthia and East Tyrol), Vienna, (1902–1961). Annona Epigraphica Austriaca (Epigraphy of Austria Annual, abbreviated AEA) (1979–present). Category: Roman gentes And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tussidio – Ossia: Grice e Tussidio – Grex griceiana: verbalia: Tussidio For this gens, Speranza’s first-best choice should plainly be Lucius Tusidius L. f. Campester, consul suffectus in AD 142. The family has touching inscriptions, filial tombs, soldiers, freedwomen, and Picene traces enough to satisfy the epigraphist; but Campester gives Grice and Speranza the required disproportion: an obscure gentilicium from Picenum suddenly rises, however briefly, to consular visibility. That is already a conversational event. Rome, which normally hears old names first and persons after, is forced to hear a Tussidius as consul. The name Campester also helps. It makes him almost too usable. Campester suggests the field, the plain, the open ground, the campus. A man probably from Ricina in Picenum, previously military tribune in Legio X Gemina, and later suffect consul for two months, becomes the “field-man” who reaches the curule centre. Speranza would not resist that. The name lets him stage the old Roman transition from campus to curia, from military field to senatorial voice, from provincial plain to central office. It is not a grand career in the narrative sources; it is precisely the kind of career epigraphy preserves once literature has yawned and moved on. A reconstructed miniature might run as follows. Tusidius Campester: “Ex agro Piceno veni; sed nomen meum hodie in fastis est.” (I have come from the Picene field; but today my name is in the fasti.) +> He contrasts origin and recognition. The field is not denied; it is converted into the ground from which office becomes intelligible. Senator: “Campus militem probat; curia consulem.” (The field tests the soldier; the senate-house tests the consul.) +> Military service may explain Campester’s ascent, but it does not by itself complete the public meaning of the name. The office demands a new uptake. Tusidius Campester: “Si campus me probavit, curia me audiat.” (If the field has tested me, let the senate-house hear me.) +> He turns prior service into a claim for present speech. Experience in arms is made relevant to deliberative authority. Senator: “Audiemus, Campester; modo campum in curiam non inferas.” (We shall hear you, Campester, provided you do not bring the field into the senate-house.) +> The senator grants recognition while marking the anxiety: provincial and military virtue is welcome only if translated into senatorial decorum. This gives the Grice-Speranza point rather neatly. Campester’s career is not interesting because we possess much that he said. We possess almost nothing. It is interesting because his name and offices make Rome perform an act of uptake. A Tusidius from Picenum, with a field-name and a military pre-history, is inserted into the fasti. What is said by the record is minimal: consul suffectus in AD 142, colleague of Quintus Cornelius Senecio Annianus, formerly tribune of Legio X Gemina. What is implicated is larger: even an obscure plebeian nomen may, under imperial conditions, be made consular if service, patronage, and administrative usefulness converge. The rival candidate is Tussanius Aristo from the previous gens-like rhythm of these names, because a senator and procurator at Carthage under Commodus has obvious imperial drama. But for the Tussidii, Campester is better. He is not merely locally commemorated; he reaches the constitutional register. The suffect consulship is brief, but brevity is not triviality. Rome often means most exactly in abbreviations. “Ex Kalendis Septembribus ad Kalendas Novembres” is just two months, but two months in the fasti are more than a lifetime in an uninscribed field. Speranza’s dry close would be this. The Tusidii are obscure until Campester makes obscurity consular. He does not give us doctrine, poem, trial, or scandal. He gives us something more Roman: a name from the field entered into the calendar of office. Grice would say that this is almost pure implicature. The inscription and the fasti say little; the reader supplies the social ascent, the provincial origin, the military path, and the delicate fact that Rome could make even a Campester urban, provided he learned when to stop sounding like the campus.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutio – Ossia: Grice e Tutio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutio. The gens Tutia was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. Only a few members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but a number of others are known from inscriptions.  Origin The earliest known Tutii came from the ancient city of Praeneste in Latium. Their nomen is probably derived from the cognomen Tutus, meaning "safe", and belonging to a class of surnames originally derived from the supposed character of the bearer. A less likely source is the Oscan word touto, referring to a people, since the Praenestini were Latins, although Chase lists both Toutius and Tutius as gentilicia of apparently Oscan origin, based on touto.[1]  Praenomina The Tutii used a variety of common praenomina, including Gaius, Lucius, Marcus, Publius, Quintus, Sextus, and Titus. From a filiation, we know that they also used the less-common Manius. Two of the early inscriptions of this gens provide examples of the feminine praenomina Maio and Mino, perhaps belonging to a pair of sisters at Praeneste.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Maio Tutia Q. f., named in an inscription from Praeneste in Latium, dating between the middle of the third century BC, and the end of the second.[2] Mino Tutia, named in a late third-century BC inscription from Praeneste.[3] Tutia, the widow of Quintus Lepanius and mother of Gaius Lepanius Tidus, was granted a pension by the senate of Cora in Latium, at some point in the early or middle first century BC.[4] Tutia, the wife of an Otho, whom she divorced with the intention of marrying the younger Quintus Tullius Cicero.[i] It is unknown whether they were married before young Cicero, his father and uncle perished in the proscriptions of the Second Triumvirate.[5] Some researcher have believed her name to be Julia.[6][7] Tutia Ɔ. l. Licentia, a freedwoman named in a sepulchral inscription from Pompeii in Campania, dating from the first half of the first century.[8] Gaius Tutius M'. f. Dansala, an eques in the Cohors IV Thracum, a regiment of cavalry auxilia. He was buried at Mogontiacum in Germania Superior, aged thirty-five, in a tomb dating from the reign of Tiberius, with a monument from Bitus, the son of Stacus.[9] Tutius, a centurion in the seventh cohort of the praetorian guard at some point in the first or second century.[10] Lucius Tutius Cerealis, supposedly consul in AD 106, is evidently a misreading for Vettulenus Cerealis, perhaps influenced by the appearance of Tutius Cerealis,[ii] a man of consular rank, in the letters of Pliny the Younger, although this presented its own difficulty, as the letter was written in AD 99.[11][12][13] Tutia Marcia, the wife of Verecundus, a freedman of the emperor, who built a tomb for her at Praeneste, dating between the late first century and the end of the second.[14] Gaius Tutius, dedicated a second-century tomb at Sulci in Sardinia for his father, whose name has not been preserved.[15] Tutia P. f. Vitalis, buried in a late second-century tomb at Ausafa in Africa Proconsularis, aged sixty-seven.[16] Marcus Tutius[iii], one of the aediles, according to an inscription from Ostia in Latium, dating between AD 222 and 229.[17] Tutia Eutychia, buried at Cirta in Numidia, along with Lucilla, aged forty, in a tomb dating from the middle part of the third century.[18] Undated Tutii Tutius, named in an inscription from Pompeii.[19] Gaius Tutius, dedicated a cinerarium at the present site of Oued Fedhala, formerly part of Numidia, for Sextus Tutius Cornelianus.[20] Titus Tutius T. f. Amabilis, built a family sepulchre at Placentia in Cisalpine Gaul for himself, his parents, Titus Tutius Felix and Mirinia Nepotia, his sister, Tutia Vera, aunt, Sextilia Hermione, and grandmother, Fabia Severina.[21] Tutia Bonosa, made an offering to the Christian God at Theveste in Africa Proconsularis.[22] Tutia Casta, supposedly buried at Aeclanum in Samnium, aged thirty-seven. The inscription is thought to be a forgery.[23] Tutius Clarus, built a tomb at Spoletium in Umbria for himself and his patron, Tutia Iliona.[24] Sextus Tutius Cornelianus, buried at the present site of Oued Fedhala, aged twenty-seven, in a tomb dedicated by Gaius Tutius.[20] Publius Tutius Felix, buried at Madaurus in Africa Proconsularis, aged seventy-five, in a family sepulchre he built for himself, Claudia Gaetula, probably his wife, aged sixty-five, and Publius Tutius Victor, Publius Tutius Namphamo, and Tutia Marchella, probably their children.[25] Titus Tutius Felix, buried in a family sepulchre built by his son, Titus Tutius Amabilis, at Placentia, along with his wife, Mirinia Nepotia, daughter, Tutia Vera, sister-in-law, Sextilia Hermione, and mother-in-law, Fabia Severina.[21] Tutia Iliona, buried at Spoletium, in a tomb dedicated by her client, Tutius Clarus.[24] Tutia (P. f.) Marchella, buried in a family sepulchre at Madaurus, aged twenty-one. She was probably the daughter of Publius Tutius Felix, who built the tomb, and Claudia Gaetula; Publius Tutius Victor and Publius Tutius Namphamo, also interred, were likely her brothers.[25] Quintus Tutius Martinus, buried at Nemausus in Gallia Narbonensis, in a tomb built by his son, Tutius Tarcius, and Tarcia Egie[...], probably his wife.[26] Tutia Maximilla, together with her husband, Domitius Graptus, built a tomb at Augusta Treverorum in Gallia Belgica for her father-in-law, Domitius Trypho.[27] Tutius Maximus, a speculator, or scout, in the Legio III Augusta, built a tomb at Lambaesis in Numidia for his father, Marcus Tutius Maximus.[28] Marcus Tutius Maximus, a soldier buried at Lambaesis, aged seventy-five, in a tomb built by his son, also named Tutius Maximus.[28] Publius Tutius (P. f.) Namphamo, buried in a family sepulchre at Madaurus, aged twenty-five. He was probably the son of Publius Tutius Felix, who built the tomb, and Claudia Gaetula; Publius Tutius Victor and Tutia Marchella, also interred, were likely his siblings.[25] Tutius Saturninus, buried at the site of modern Oued Fedhala, aged seventy-five, in a tomb built by his wife, Varia Matrona.[29] Tutius Q. f. Tarcius, along with Tarcia Egie[...], probably his mother, built a tomb at Nemausus for his father, Quintus Tutius Martinus.[26] Tutia Tertia, buried at the site of modern Soumat el Kheneg, formerly part of Numidia, aged seventy, alog with her husband, Gaius Julius Dexter of Thelepte, aged eighty-five, a veteran of twenty-six years' service as an eques and signifer, or standard-bearer, in an ala.[30] Tutia T. f. Vera, buried in a family sepulchre built by her brother, Titus Tutius Amabilis, at Placentia, along with her parents, Titus Tutius Felix and Mirinia Nepotia, aunt, Sextilia Hermione, and grandmother, Fabia Severina.[21] Publius Tutius (P. f.) Victor, buried in a family sepulchre at Madaurus, aged thirty-five. He was probably the son of Publius Tutius Felix, who built the tomb, and Claudia Gaetula; Publius Tutius Namphamo and Tutia Marchella, also interred, were likely his siblings.[25] Notes  The elder Quintus asked his brother, Marcus, what he knew of her reputation, confiding that he had attempted to discourage Tutia, but that she and his son were determined. Though finding the matter distasteful, Marcus reported that he had only heard about Tutia's looks, and unpleasant rumours about her father, which he claimed not to believe. Marcus supposed that his nephew's interest in Tutia was not serious, and he asked his friend, Atticus, who was acquainted with Tutia's in-laws, to inquire further. What Atticus discovered is unknown, but Marcus replied to him that his suspicions were confirmed.  Amended to Tuccius Cerealis, this would refer to one of the suffecti of 93.  The reading of his nomen is uncertain; it begins Tut[...], and Tutius is only a likely interpretation. See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, pp. 110, 111, 123, 128.  CIL XIV, 3284.  CIL XIV, 3285.  CIL X, 6529.  Cicero, Epistula ad Atticum, xv. 29, xvi. 2.  Reid, J. S. (1903). "NOTES ON CICERO AD ATTICUM XVI". Hermathena. 12 (29): 262 – via JSTOR.  Purser, Louis Claude; Yelverton Tyrrell, Robert, eds. (1969). The Correspondence of M. Tullius Cicero. Vol. 5. Northwestern University: Georg Olms Verlag. pp. 372, 384, 452.  Ephemeris Epigraphica, viii. 1, 331.  CIL XIII, 7050.  CIL X, 8219.  Fasti Ostienses, CIL XIV, 244.  Pliny, Epistulae, ii. 11.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 1194 ("L. Tutius Cerealis").  CIL XIV, 2938.  CIL X, 8320.  CIL VIII, 2179.  AE 1995, 244.  Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie, ii. 1, 1809.  CIL IV, 10372.  AE 1992, 1839.  CIL XI, 1278.  CIL VIII, 28039.  CIL IX, 193.  CIL XI, 4932.  Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie, i. 2709.  CIL XII, 3965.  CIL XIII, 3725.  CIL VIII, 2989.  AE 1992, 1840.  CIL VIII, 2094. Bibliography Marcus Tullius Cicero, Epistulae ad Atticum. Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus (Pliny the Younger), Epistulae (Letters). 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), Institute of Roman Archaeology, Rome (1872–1913). René Cagnat et alii, L'Année épigraphique (The Year in Epigraphy, abbreviated AE), Presses Universitaires de France (1888–present). Stéphane Gsell, Inscriptions Latines de L'Algérie (Latin Inscriptions from Algeria), Edouard Champion, Paris (1922–present). Category: Roman gentes And for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutio – Ossia: Grice e Tutio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutio. For this gens, Speranza’s first-best hero should be the socially awkward Tutia who was wife of an Otho and was being considered, or considering herself, for marriage to the younger Quintus Tullius Cicero. The temptation is Tutius Cerealis, because Pliny gives him consular colour, or Gaius Tutius Dansala, because an eques in the Cohors IV Thracum gives us cavalry, frontier, and tomb. But the Tutia near the Ciceros gives Grice and Speranza something much better: a woman whose historical survival depends almost entirely on conversational investigation, reputation, hearsay, and the management of an impending marriage. This is not grand Roman history; that is why it is good. The elder Quintus Cicero asks Marcus what he has heard of Tutia’s reputation; Marcus says he has heard chiefly of her looks and some unpleasant rumours about her father, which he claims not to believe; Atticus is then asked to inquire further through her in-laws; and the matter remains suspended in that deliciously poisonous zone between prudence and gossip. Tutia becomes a case of social meaning before documentation. What is she like? What has been said? Who says it? What does beauty imply? What does a father’s reputation implicate about a daughter? What can one decently ask before marriage without seeming indecent? This is almost ordinary-language philosophy before dinner. The name Tutia also helps. If the nomen is linked with tutus, safe, the irony is irresistible. A Tutia should be “safe”; yet the whole correspondence treats her as a possible danger. She is safe by name and unsafe by rumour. Speranza would not waste that. If the Oscan touto, people, lurks behind the nomen, the joke shifts: her case becomes one where “the people” perhaps mean too much by what they say. Either way, the gens supplies a Gricean problem in miniature: how much of a person’s social identity is contained in what is literally known, and how much in what is conversationally circulated? Reconstructed dialogue: Marcus Tullius Cicero: “De Tutia quid audisti, Quinte? formam laudant, patrem carpunt.” (What have you heard about Tutia, Quintus? They praise her appearance, but criticise her father.) +> Cicero separates direct attractiveness from inherited social suspicion. He implies that beauty is not the whole matrimonial question. Quintus Tullius Cicero: “Filius meus eam ducere vult; ego famam prius audire malo.” (My son wishes to marry her; I prefer first to hear her reputation.) +> Marriage is being treated not as affection alone but as a public alliance requiring reputational inquiry. Marcus Tullius Cicero: “Famam quaeris an veritatem?” (Are you asking for reputation or for truth?) +> Cicero marks the distinction between what is said about Tutia and what can responsibly be believed. Quintus Tullius Cicero: “In nuptiis, frater, fama saepe pro veritate ducitur.” (In marriage, brother, reputation is often taken for truth.) +> The conversational scandal is explicit: in matrimonial politics, hearsay can function as social evidence. Marcus Tullius Cicero: “Tum Atticum rogemus; is scit quid dicatur et quid dicendum non sit.” (Then let us ask Atticus; he knows both what is said and what should not be said.) +> Atticus is valued not merely as an informant but as a manager of tact: he can distinguish reportable information from destructive gossip. This makes Tutia a better Grice-Speranza heroine than the safer epigraphic figures. Gaius Tutius Dansala dies honourably at Mogontiacum; Tutia Bonosa dedicates to the Christian God; Titus Tutius Amabilis builds a family tomb with attractive pietas. But Tutia near the Ciceros is alive inside a problem of uptake. She is neither present nor silent exactly; she is mediated by others’ speech. She is what the Roman marriage-market makes of her, and what Cicero’s circle is willing to repeat. The dry Speranzian close would be this: the gens Tutia is obscure, but one Tutia becomes philosophically audible because Cicero must decide how much rumour may count as reason. She is not accused, defended, married, or even clearly known. She is discussed. That is enough. In a Gricean history of conversation, a woman whose reputation has to be investigated before it may be acted upon is almost a protagonist. “Safe” by name, unsafe by conversational implicature, Tutia gives the gens its best vignette.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuticano – Ossia: Grice e Tuticano – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutiscano The gens Tuticana, sometimes written Tuticania, was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. Only a few members of this gens are mentioned in history, but a number are known from inscriptions.  Origin The nomen Tuticanus belongs to a class of gentilicia formed from cognomina ending in -as, -atis, or -anus, all typically derived from the names of towns.[1] Tuticanus refers to a native of Tuticum, a town of the Hirpini, a Samnite people.[2]  Praenomina Most of the Tuticani known from epigraphy bore the praenomen Gaius, one of the most abundant names at all periods of Roman history. Other members of this gens also bore common praenomina, including Publius, Quintus, and Titus.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Flavius Tuticanus Gallus,[i] an eques in Caesar's army, who was slain at Dyrrhachium in 48 BC. His father was a senator.[3] Tuticanus (Gallus), a senator, and the father of Flavius Tuticanus Gallus, an eques in Caesar's army who was slain at Dyrrhachium in 48 BC.[4] Tuticanus, a friend of Ovid, who translated some or all of the Odyssey into Latin verse.[5][6][7][8] Quintus Tuticanus Q. f. Eros, a Latin grammarian honored with a tomb built by the decurions of Verona in Venetia and Histria, dating between the reigns of Claudius and Vespasian. Quintus Tuticanus Felicianus is named in the same inscription.[9] Quintus Tuticanus Felicianus, named in the middle first-century sepulchral inscription of the grammarian Quintus Tuticanus Eros at Verona.[9] Gaius Tuticanus Saturninus, named in a series of dedicatory inscriptions from Porolissum in Dacia, Banasa in Mauretania Tingitana, and various other places, dating from AD 97 to 112.[10][11][12] Gaius Tuticanus Helius, named in a military diploma from Brigetio in Pannonia Superior and several others, dating between AD 99 and 110.[13][12] Gaius Tuticanus Crescens, named in a dedicatory inscription from an unknown province, dating from AD 115.[14] Gaius Tuticanus Sophronius, dedicated a tomb at Rome, dating between the middle of the first century and the end of the second, for his young son, also named Gaius Tuticanus Sophronius.[15] Gaius Tuticanus C. f. Sophronius, a little boy buried at Rome, aged three years, nine months, and fifteen days, in a tomb dedicated by his father, also named Gaius Tuticanus Sophronius, dating between the middle of the first century and the end of the second.[15] Tuticanius Capito, a prefect in the praetorian guard, mentioned in an inscription from Sirmium in Pannonia Inferior, and several others, dating from AD 152 to 160.[16][17][18][19] Tuticania Antiochis, dedicated a second- or third-century tomb at Rome for her husband, Hyginus.[20] Publius Tuticanus Hermes, a beneficarius, a type of soldier assigned special duties, serving in the praetorian guard at Rome in AD 203.[21] Titus Tuticanius Incitatus, along with his son, Tuticanius Valerius, dedicated a tomb at Rome, dating from the first half of the third century, for his wife, Aristobula, aged twenty-seven.[22] (Titus) Tuticanius T. f. Valerius, along with his father, Titus Tuticanus Incitatus, dedicated a tomb at Rome, dating from the first half of the third century, for his mother, Aristobula.[22] Tuticania Veneria,[ii] buried at Rome on the fourth day before the Ides of September[iii] in an uncertain year during the middle portion of the fourth century, aged forty-four years, one day, in a tomb dedicated by Primus, perhaps her husband.[23] Undated Tuticani Gaius Tuticanus Callistus, along with his son, Gaius Tuticanus Maximus, built a tomb at Rome for his wife, Valeria Saturnina.[24] Gaius Tuticanus C. f. Maximus, along with his father, Gaius Tuticanus Callistus, built a tomb at Rome for his mother, Valeria Saturnina.[24] Tuticana Sophe, buried at Rome in a tomb dedicated by her father-in-law, Valerius Marinus.[25] Notes  So named in De Bello Civili, although Flavius was not a praenomen, and does not seem to have been his nomen gentilicium; this use of Flavius resembles a custom of the fourth or fifth century.  Spelled "Beneria" in the original inscription.  September 10, by modern reckoning. See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, p. 118.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography, vol. I, p. 844 ("Equus Tuticus").  Caesar, De Bello Civili, iii. 71.  Broughton, vol. II, p. 497.  Ovid, Letters from Pontus, iv. 12, 16, 27.  Wernsdorf]], Poëtae Latini Minores, vol. iv., pp. 584, 585.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, pp. 1193, 1194 ("Tuticanus").  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 314).  CIL V, 3433.  CIL XVI, 55, CIL XVI, 160, CIL XVI, 161, CIL XVI, 163.  AE 1985, 764, AE 1987, 854, AE 1991, 1360, AE 2005, 1704, AE 2008, 1732, AE 2011, 1790.  AE 1997, 1782, AE 2006, 1862, AE 2008, 1195, AE 2012, 1957.  CIL XVI, 164.  AE 2012, 1128.  CIL VI, 27845.  CIL XVI, 100.  AE 1985, 994, AE 1992, 1507, AE 1995, 1822, AE 1997, 1769, AE 2006, 1855, AE 2006, 1856, AE 2006, 1857, AE 2006, 1858, AE 2007, 1787, AE 2007, 1789.  Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik, 218-289.  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 313).  CIL VI, 27846.  CIL VI, 220.  AE 1982, 104.  ICUR, vi. 16523.  CIL VI, 27844.  CIL VI, 27846a. Bibliography Gaius Julius Caesar, Commentarii de Bello Civili (Commentaries on the Civil War). Publius Ovidius Naso (Ovid), Epistulae ex Ponto (Letters from Pontus). Johann Christian Wernsdorf, Poëtae Latini Minores (Minor Latin Poets), Altenburg, Helmstedt (1780–1799). 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). Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography, William Smith, ed., Little, Brown and Company, Boston (1854). 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, pp. 103–184 (1897). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). Inscriptiones Christianae Urbis Romae (Christian Inscriptions from the City of Rome, abbreviated ICUR), New Series, Rome (1922–present). T. Robert S. Broughton, The Magistrates of the Roman Republic, American Philological Association (1952–1986). Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik (Journal of Papyrology and Epigraphy, abbreviated ZPE), (1987). Category: Roman gentes And for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuticano – Ossia: Grice e Tuticano – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tuticano For this gens, the first-best choice is surely the unnamed Tuticanus, Ovid’s friend, the man who translated, or was said to have translated, the Odyssey into Latin verse. Caesar’s Flavius Tuticanus Gallus has pathos at Dyrrhachium, and Quintus Tuticanus Eros, the grammarian honoured at Verona, has charm; but Ovid’s Tuticanus gives Speranza the thing he most wants: a Roman figure whose whole interest lies in translation, friendship, exile, and the delicate question whether one may make Homer speak Latin without thereby making him cease to be Homer. The gens itself points to Tuticum, among the Hirpini, so already we have a town-name becoming a nomen, a local origin becoming a Roman identity. But the Ovidian Tuticanus is better still: he is a translator of wandering poetry, known to us through a poet who is himself in exile and writing letters from the edge of the Roman world. The Odyssey is the poem of return; Ovid’s exile letters are the poetry of non-return; Tuticanus stands between them, making Greek wandering available in Latin while Ovid waits, unsuccessfully, for his own nostos. That is excellent Speranzian material. He also gives Grice a clean problem of speaker-meaning across languages. If Homer says something in Greek and Tuticanus renders it in Latin, what is preserved? The words plainly are not. The metre may be altered. The cultural presuppositions shift. Yet the translator intends the Roman reader to recognise the Greek poem through the Latin performance. Translation is therefore not mere equivalence, but controlled uptake: the hearer is meant to grasp that this Latin utterance is to count as Homeric under a new linguistic dispensation. Ovidius: “Tuticane, Ulixen Latinis versibus reddis; sed num idem Ulixes redit?” (Tuticanus, you render Ulysses in Latin verses; but does the same Ulysses return?) +> Ovid turns translation into a problem of identity. A translated Odyssey is a return, but perhaps not a return of the same traveller. Tuticanus: “Non eadem verba redeunt, Ovidi; sed eadem erratio agnoscitur.” (The same words do not return, Ovid; but the same wandering is recognised.) +> The translator claims fidelity not at the level of verbal sameness, but at the level of recognisable narrative and poetic function. Ovidius: “Beatus Ulixes: habet interpretem qui domum ei det.” (Happy Ulysses: he has a translator who gives him home.) +> Ovid hears in Tuticanus’s translation a painful contrast with his own exile. The Odyssey can be brought home into Latin; Ovid himself cannot be brought home to Rome. Tuticanus: “Tu quoque, dum scribis e Ponto, Romam facis audire quod non videt.” (You too, while writing from Pontus, make Rome hear what it does not see.) +> Tuticanus replies that Ovid’s exile poetry is itself a translation of absence into Roman intelligibility. Rome cannot see him, but it can be made to hear him. This is why Tuticanus is the best hero. A soldier dies, a grammarian is honoured, a prefect governs; all these give history. But the Odyssean Tuticanus gives philosophy of language. He lets Speranza ask whether translation is repetition, substitution, interpretation, or a new conversational act in which one speaker makes another speaker newly recoverable to a different audience. In Gricean terms, Tuticanus does not merely say in Latin what Homer said in Greek. He means his Latin reader to recognise Homer’s meaning through his own Latin saying. The dry close would be this: Tuticanus is obscure, but he is obscure in precisely the useful way. He does not survive by office, scandal, or monument, but by Ovid’s memory of him as the man who made Ulysses wander in Latin. That is enough. For Grice and Speranza, a translator of the Odyssey is not merely a versifier. He is a professional manager of intended uptake across language, metre, memory, and loss. The Greeks had Homer; the Romans had to decide what it would mean to understand him. Tuticanus, fortunately, made the question unavoidable. Grice: "The problem is that he translated the wrong epic -- The ROmans only care about themselves" (Implicatum: "Aeneas is from Troy"). Cf. Homeric hymns -- Monteverdi did his best with Il ritorno d'Ulisse in Patria but failed. What do we know of T. the grammarian? Thanks Grice’s joke is good: Tuticanus translated the wrong epic if he expected Rome to swoon. The Romans did not need the Odyssey as much as they needed the Iliad-ending-to-Aeneid-beginning machine. Ulysses returns home; Aeneas loses home so that Rome may eventually exist. In Augustan terms, that is not a small difference. The Odyssey is magnificent, but it is magnificently Greek. The Aeneid is useful. And the implicature is exactly as you give it: Aeneas is from Troy. That is why the wrongness is Gricean, not merely literary. Tuticanus may have made Homer available in Latin, but the Roman hearer asks, with brutal courtesy, “And what has this to do with us?” The answer requires finesse: not much, unless Ulysses becomes an occasion for thinking about wandering, interpretation, nostos, and failed return. Ovid in exile could care about that. Augustus, less so. Monteverdi’s Il ritorno d’Ulisse in patria is a beautiful later attempt to make the return theatrically irresistible, but it cannot make Ulysses Roman in the dynastic sense. No Iulus comes out of Ithaca.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tuticano – Ossia: Grice e Tuticano – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tuticano As for T. the grammarian, Quintus Tuticanus Eros is known essentially from inscriptional evidence, not from surviving grammatical writings. He was honoured at Verona by the decurions with a tomb, dated broadly between Claudius and Vespasian. That is already significant. A grammarian receiving civic commemoration from the local council is not just a schoolmaster with chalk on his sleeve. He represents cultural capital: Latin instruction, literary correctness, perhaps Greek competence, and the training of local elites into Roman forms of speech. His cognomen Eros is Greek, which is not surprising in the world of grammatici. Many teachers of language, literature, and rhetoric in Rome and the Italian towns were freedmen or men of Greek background, or at least bore Greek names. If Eros was a freedman, or descended from such a milieu, the honour becomes even more interesting. Verona’s decurions are not merely burying a man; they are acknowledging the institutional value of grammatica as a civic technology. He teaches the language in which status, law, poetry, and Romanisation are to be heard correctly. Speranza would prefer Eros to the Odyssean Tuticanus in one respect: the translator makes Greek epic speak Latin, but the grammarian teaches speakers how Latin is to be spoken, parsed, judged, and transmitted. That is much closer to Grice’s concern with uptake. A translator performs an act; a grammarian regulates the conditions under which future acts will be intelligible, acceptable, and correct. A dry Grice-Speranza miniature would be: Tuticanus Eros: “Non satis est Latine loqui; Latine intellegi oportet.” (It is not enough to speak Latin; one must be understood in Latin.) +> Grammar is not mere correctness; it is the civic discipline of recognisable uptake. Decurio Veronensis: “Cur igitur tibi monumentum publice damus?” (Why, then, do we give you a public monument?) +> The councillor asks why a teacher deserves civic honour rather than private gratitude. Tuticanus Eros: “Quia pueros vestros verba docui quibus aliquando rem publicam rogabunt.” (Because I taught your boys the words with which they will one day address the commonwealth.) +> The grammarian converts classroom instruction into future public speech. Grammar becomes preparation for civic agency. Decurio Veronensis: “Ergo magister civem facit?” (Then the teacher makes the citizen?) Tuticanus Eros: “Mater parit; urbs audit; grammaticus interponitur.” (The mother gives birth; the city listens; the grammarian stands between.) +> Natural birth does not suffice for Roman civic speech. The grammarian mediates between household language and public intelligibility. That would be the best angle. The Odyssean Tuticanus is elegant because he raises translation. Quintus Tuticanus Eros is drier, more institutional, and therefore perhaps more Roman. He is not remembered for a line, a translation, or an office, but for being worth memorialising as grammaticus. In Speranza’s hands, that is enough. The grammarian is the man who makes sure that future implicatures will at least decline properly before going wrong. Greek no doubt, or Grecian, as the Griceians prefer. And he points to the hybridity of TuticANUS -- nothing pure as Tutio -- the -anus ending indicates (or implicates) that Eros was a slave who was freed and who then adopted Tuticanus as his name -- or was adopted by Tuticanus as his son? Grice never understands the complications since he never owned a slave or was freed! Thanks Exactly. Grice’s difficulty with the case is not with the historical complexity of manumission, but with the false implicature one may draw from the Greek cognomen Eros plus the nomen Tuticanus. The name strongly suggests a Grecian or Greek-language milieu; it does not, by itself, prove the exact legal path by which he came to be a Tuticanus. A freedman normally took the praenomen and nomen of the former master who manumitted him, while retaining his original personal name as cognomen. So, if Quintus Tuticanus Eros were a freedman of a Quintus Tuticanus, the pattern would be perfectly ordinary: Quintus Tuticanus Eros, with Eros as the Greek slave-name preserved after manumission. In that case Tuticanus is not a place-name he selected because he admired Tuticum, nor a marker of ethnic purity, but the legal-social nomen of the patronal house into which freedom placed him. Freedom did not name him out of society; it named him into a different dependency. Adoption is possible in Roman nomenclature in general, but it is not the first-best explanation here. A Greek cognomen such as Eros, attached to a grammaticus, makes the freedman route much more economical. If he had been formally adopted as a son, one would expect a different social signal and often a more intricate nomenclatural trace. With Eros, the simplest reading is: Greek-named man, probably servile or freedman background, attached to the Tuticani by manumission or patronage, then honoured at Verona because his grammarian’s labour had civic value. The -anus in Tuticanus is another matter. It does not itself say “freedman.” It points back to formation from a place or derivative base, here Tuticum. That is the hybridity Grice likes: the nomen is Latin in form and local in origin, while the cognomen is Greek, and the person’s civic function is Roman pedagogy. Nothing pure as Tutio, as you say. But the impurity is linguistic and social, not a simple grammatical proof of slavery. The suffix -anus implicates belonging or derivation; Eros implicates Grecian cultural biography; the full tria nomina may implicate manumission, but only probabilistically. So the dry Speranzian formula would be: Eros did not become Tuticanus because -anus is the badge of a freedman. He became Tuticanus, if freedman he was, because some Tuticanus freed him; and the older nomen Tuticanus itself already carried the respectable impurity of a Roman gentilicial form derived from a local name. Hence the grammarian stands at a perfect crossing: Greek by personal name, Roman by civic nomen, possibly freed by law, and Veronese by honour. Grice, never having owned a slave or been freed, is allowed to find the etiquette perplexing. Rome made even liberty decline through someone else’s name. But with Griceians and Speranzianians -- the analogy of Ottavio is good. He was born (August) gens Ottavia -- he is adopted into the gens Giulia -- by Caesar no less -- so he becomes Ottaviano. Ottavio --> Ottaviano -- Grice --> Griceanus -- that's why Tuticanus may invite the wrong reanalysis as Tuticus --> Tuticanus Thanks Exactly. The analogy with Ottavio is the right one, but it needs the Roman caveat. Octavius becomes Octavianus because adoption into the Julian house marks him as “the Octavius attached to, or transferred into, another gentilicium.” The -anus form can thus become a sign of derivation, affiliation, transfer, or belonging-under-a-description. That is why Grice would enjoy Grice → Griceanus, not as a freedman-form, but as a playful way of saying “of the school, atmosphere, or party of Grice.” So with Tuticanus, the danger is reanalysis. Historically, Tuticanus is best explained from Tuticum, the Hirpine town: Tuticus or Tutic- plus -anus, “man of Tuticum,” “Tutican,” as it were. But once one has Octavius → Octavianus in mind, a hearer may be tempted to hear Tuticanus as if it marked personal derivation from a Tuticus, or adoption into a Tutican line, or some kind of legal-social transfer. That is not impossible in general Roman naming logic, but it is not the first explanation for this nomen. The freedman point remains separate. If Quintus Tuticanus Eros was a freedman, the relevant sign is not the -anus ending but the whole naming pattern: Quintus Tuticanus Eros, where Quintus Tuticanus would be the praenomen and nomen of the patron, and Eros the retained Greek personal name. In that case Eros is where the servile or Grecian biography most strongly shows; Tuticanus is the patronal nomen he acquires on manumission. The -anus in that nomen is older than his manumission and belongs to the gentilicial formation itself. So Speranza can say, dryly, that Tuticanus is hybrid twice over. Morphologically, it looks like a local derivation from Tuticum; socially, in the case of Eros, it may become the Roman name of a Greek-named freedman grammarian. But the two facts must not be collapsed. Tuticanus does not mean “freedman”; Eros makes us suspect freedman-status. Tuticanus does not necessarily mean “adopted”; Octavianus tempts us to hear it that way only because Roman -anus forms often invite affiliation stories. A neat Grice-Speranza formulation would be: Octavius: “Ex Octavio factus sum Octavianus.” (From Octavius I became Octavianus.) +> Adoption changes the public description under which the man is to be heard. Tuticanus Eros: “Ego Tuticanus dicor; non ideo Tuticus adoptatus sum.” (I am called Tuticanus; for that reason I am not an adopted Tuticus.) +> The suffix invites an analogy with adoption, but the historical formation is local and gentilicial, not necessarily personal transfer. Griceanus: “Nomen tuum plus implicat quam probat.” (Your name implicates more than it proves.) +> The nomen suggests origin, patronage, and Greek-servile biography, but no single inference may be taken as analytically guaranteed. That is the point. Octavianus is a brilliant analogy because it shows why -anus feels like a marker of derived identity. But precisely for that reason it is dangerous. Tuticanus may invite the wrong story: Tuticus → Tuticanus, as if a personal base had been adopted or adjectivised. The safer story is Tuticum → Tuticanus; and in Eros’s case, Greek cognomen plus grammarian plus Roman nomen gives the social comedy. Rome names a Greek teacher through a Hirpine-derived gentilicial form, and then Verona honours him for teaching Latin. That is almost too Griceian to be left to epigraphy. Grice: "Chomsky said that language depends on freedom of compositionality." Speranza: "I was surprised to see that most grammarians in Ancient Rome were slaves!" -- Tuticanus Eros taught grammar (grammatike tekhne) -- letteratura -- while a slave -- when freed, he started, on purpose, to make all the wrong improper syntactical convolutions that embittered his former master! Thanks Exactly. Speranza can make this into a mischievous but serious little “liberation philology” vignette. The point is not that we know this about Quintus Tuticanus Eros historically; we do not. It is a Grice-Speranza reconstruction from the social fact that many grammatici were Greek or Grecian, often enslaved or freed, and that grammar itself is the discipline that teaches rule-governed speech to those who own the house. The delicious reversal is that the slave teaches correctness before manumission, and then, once free, discovers the higher freedom of making correctness suffer. Grice’s Chomsky remark is useful because it lets the joke avoid mere anarchy. Freedom of compositionality is not the freedom to make random noises; it is the freedom produced by mastery of generative constraints. The grammarian-slave knows the rules too well. That is why, once freed, his solecisms can become artistic. A master may break a rule meaninglessly; a grammarian breaks it with address. The former is error, the latter revenge. A reconstructed dyad: Dominus: “Eroti, pueros meos recte loqui doces; barbarismos prohibe, soloecismos reseca.” (Eros, you teach my boys to speak correctly; forbid barbarisms, cut away solecisms.) +> The master treats grammar as domestic discipline: the Greek slave is useful because he polices the Latin of freeborn Roman children. Tuticanus Eros: “Dum servus sum, recte loqui docebo.” (While I am a slave, I shall teach correct speech.) +> Correctness is tied to service. His grammar is obedience under the form of art. Post manumissionem: Dominus: “Eroti, quid est hoc? dixisti: ‘ego sunt liber.’” (Eros, what is this? You said: “I are free.”) +> The former master hears a grammatical error and wishes to restore hierarchy through correction. Tuticanus Eros: “Intellexisti tamen.” (Yet you understood.) +> Eros shifts the criterion from grammatical propriety to successful uptake. The utterance violates agreement but succeeds as meaning. Dominus: “At hoc non est Latine.” (But that is not Latin.) +> The master tries to make correctness the condition of legitimacy. Tuticanus Eros: “Non est tuum Latine.” (It is not your Latin.) +> Freedom appears as ownership of deviation. The freedman does not reject Latin; he rejects the master’s monopoly over what Latin may count as. Grice would say that Eros has not abandoned compositionality; he is exploiting it. “Ego sunt liber” is funny only because both parties know what the correct form should be. The solecism depends on the grammar it wounds. It is therefore not sub-linguistic but super-grammatical: a deliberate irregularity whose point is recoverable only to someone sufficiently educated to be annoyed. Speranza’s dry formulation might be: Before manumission, Eros taught grammar as a slave teaches liberty to other men’s sons. After manumission, he discovered that the most exquisite freedom was not to forget the rules, but to violate them recognisably. The master heard solecism; the freedman meant emancipation. Grammar had done its work too well.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutizio – Ossia: Grice e Tutizio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutizio -- The gens Tuticia was an obscure plebeian family of imperial times at ancient Rome. No members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but several are known from inscriptions.  Origin The nomen Tuticius belongs to a class of gentilicia originally formed from cognomina ending in -ex and -icis. As these became widespread, -icius came to be regarded as a regular gentile-forming suffix, which was used to form gentilicia from other nomina.[1] Tuticius might have been formed in this manner from the existing nomen Tutius, an Oscan or Latin name perhaps derived from the Oscan word touto, a people, or Latin tutus, "safe".[2]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Tuticius Hylas, left ten thousand sestertii for the Roman treasury, according to a second- or early third-century sepulchral inscription from Rome.[3] Tuticia Caenis, buried at Rome along with her daughter, Longinia Celerina, and the freedman Longinius Basilus, in a second- or third-century family sepulchre built by her husband, Gaius Longinius Celer.[4] Tuticia Adrastilla, buried at Apulum in Dacia, aged eighteen years, two months, and twenty days, in a tomb dating between the middle portion of the second century and the middle part of the third, dedicated by her daughter, Tuticia Victoria.[5] Tuticia Victoria, dedicated a second- or third-century tomb at Apulum for her mother, Tuticia Adrastilla.[5] Marcus Tuticius Felix, together with his wife, Galatia, built a family sepulchre at Rome, dating from the latter half of the second century, for themselves and their descendants.[6] Tuticius Trophimus, buried at Rome, along with Julia Felicitas, aged fifteen, at Aquileia in Venetia and Histria, in a tomb dating from the late second or early third century.[7] Undated Tuticii Marcus Tuticius Capito, named on a lead pipe found at Rome.[8] Tuticius M[...], named in an inscription from Leptis Magna in Africa Proconsularis.[9] Marcus Tuticius Proculus, procurator Augusti in the province of Africa, made an offering to Hercules at Sicca Veneria.[10] Tuticia Trophime, buried at Rome, in a tomb dedicated by her husband, whose name has not been preserved.[11] See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, p. 126.  Chase, pp. 123, 128.  CIL VI, 1925.  CIL VI, 27849.  CIL III, 1246.  CIL VI, 27847.  Inscriptiones Aquileiae, i. 1206.  CIL XV, 7453b.  Reynolds & Ward-Perkins, Inscriptions of Roman Tripolitania, 532.  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 315).  CIL VI, 27850. Bibliography 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, pp. 103–184 (1897). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). Joyce M. Reynolds, J. B. Ward-Perkins, The Inscriptions of Roman Tripolitania, British School at Rome (1952). Giovanni Battista Brusin, Inscriptiones Aquileiae (Inscriptions of Aquileia), Udine (1991–1993). Category: Roman gentes And for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutizio – Ossia: Grice e Tutizio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutizio For the gens Tuticia (or Tuticia/Tuticii), the most interesting point is that the nomen appears to be secondary, formed with the suffix -icius, which became a productive gentile-forming ending in Roman nomenclature. The standard explanation is that Tuticius derives from an earlier Tutius. [en.wikipedia.org], [wikiwand.com] That immediately raises the etymological question: what is Tutius? Two possibilities are usually suggested:   Oscan touto ("people", "tribe", "community"). In that case, Tutius would belong to the same Italic linguistic world as Oscan civic terminology, and the gens would preserve an ancient Italic ethnic or political designation. [en.wikipedia.org], [wikiwand.com]   Latin tutus ("safe", "secure", "protected"). In that case, the name would belong to the familiar Roman pattern of surnames and names derived from personal qualities. [en.wikipedia.org], [wikiwand.com]   From a Grice-Speranza perspective, the first option is perhaps the more attractive because it takes us from the individual to the collective: touto → Tutius → Tuticius. The semantic nucleus would then be something like "the man of the people/tribe/community." A further point is that the surviving members are overwhelmingly known from inscriptions rather than literature, and many bear Greek cognomina—Hylas, Trophimus, Trophime, Adrastilla—which suggests a milieu typical of the imperial epigraphic record, with freedmen and provincials well represented. The geographical spread (Rome, Dacia, Africa Proconsularis, Aquileia) shows that the nomen had become dispersed across the Empire. [en.wikipedia.org] One may also compare:  Tutius → probably the simpler, older form. Tuticius → a derivative formed with -icius. Tuticanus (a different nomen) → formed with -anus, probably from Tuticum/Aequum Tuticum, illustrating a different but related Italic naming strategy. [grokipedia.com]  So if I had to give a concise gloss:  Tuticius = "member of the Tutii/Tutian stock," ultimately perhaps connected with Oscan touto ("the people, the tribe"), or alternatively with Latin tutus ("safe, secure"). [en.wikipedia.org], [wikiwand.com]  The Oscan touto connection is especially tempting because it places the nomen within the wider network of Italic ethnic and civic vocabulary rather than purely individual characterization.

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutilio – Ossia: Grice e Tutilio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutilio -- Tutilio The gens Tutilia was a minor plebeian family at ancient Rome. No members of this gens came to prominence until imperial times, but two of them attained the consulship under the Antonines.[1]  Origin The nomen Tutilius belongs to a large class of gentilicia originally formed from cognomina ending in the diminutive suffix -ulus. The root of the name is probably either the Latin tutus, "safe", or perhaps the Oscan touto, a people.[2]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Tutilius, an orator, and the father-in-law of Quintilian. He was respected as a scholar of rhetoric, but nothing of his own work has survived.[3][4][5][6][7] Tutilia, the wife of Quintilian.[3] Lucius Tutilius Lupercus Sulpicius Avitus, a relative of the consul Lupercus Pontianus, named on a sepulchral inscription from Falerii in Etruria, dating from the latter half of the first century.[8][9] Lucius Tutilius Lupercus Pontianus, consul in AD 135, with Publius Calpurnius Atilianus.[10][11][12] Tutilius Pontianus, either the elder brother or the father of Tutilius Lupercus.[13] Tutilius Lupercus, either the younger brother or son of Tutilius Pontianus.[14] Lucius Tutilius Pontianus Gentianus, although guilty of adultery with the empress Faustina, his career was nonetheless advanced by Marcus Aurelius. He was consul suffectus under Commodus, early in AD 183.[15][16][17][18] Tutilia L. f. Procula, probably a noblewoman, named on lead pipes from Rome.[19][20] See also List of Roman gentes References  PIR, vol. III, pp. 346, 347 (T, Nos. 316–321a).  Chase, pp. 122, 123.  Pliny, Epistulae, vi. 32.  Quintilian, Institutes of Oratory, iii. 1. § 21.  Martial, Epigrams, v. 56.  Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, vol. III, p. 1194 ("Tutilius").  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 316).  CIL XI, 3102.  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 319).  CIL VI, 31125, CIL XI, 3899, CIL XIV, 3577.  AE 1969/70, 405a.  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 318).  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 320).  PIR, vol. III, p. 346 (T, No. 317).  CIL VI, 2099.  Capitolinus, "The Life of Marcus Aurelius", 29.  Lampridius, "The Life of Commodus", 8.  PIR, vol. III, pp. 346, 347 (T, No. 321).  CIL XV, 7554a, CIL XV, 7554b.  PIR, vol. III, p. 347 (T, No. 321a). Bibliography Marcus Fabius Quintilianus (Quintilian), Institutio Oratoria (Institutes of Oratory). Marcus Valerius Martialis (Martial), Epigrammata (Epigrams). Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus (Pliny the Younger), Epistulae (Letters). Aelius Lampridius, Aelius Spartianus, Flavius Vopiscus, Julius Capitolinus, Trebellius Pollio, and Vulcatius Gallicanus, Historia Augusta (Lives of the Emperors). 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, pp. 103–184 (1897). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). Category: Roman gentes And for THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutilio – Ossia: Grice e Tutilio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutilio – The gens Tutilia is rather more interesting linguistically than the Tuticia, because the formation is clearer. The name Tutilius belongs to a large class of nomina built on a stem plus the diminutive suffix -ulus, whence a gentile form in -ilius. The ancient onomastic authorities cited by Chase connect it either with:  tutus = "safe, secure, protected", or Oscan touto = "people, tribe, community".  The former is usually the more straightforward Latin explanation; the latter places the name in the wider Sabellian-Italic world. [en.wikipedia.org] One might schematize:  tutus → Tutulus (hypothetical cognomen) → Tutilius  or  Oscan touto → Tutius / Tutilius  The exact intermediate stage is not preserved. The suffix What is appealing here is the contrast with your previous example:  Tutius → Tuticius (gens Tuticia) Tutulus (?) → Tutilius (gens Tutilia)  Both may go back ultimately to the same root, but through different gentile-forming patterns. Literary interest Unlike the Tuticii, the Tutilii are not confined entirely to inscriptions. The most notable early figure is Tutilius, described as an orator and rhetorician and, significantly, the father-in-law of Quintilian. Although none of his writings survive, both Quintilian, Pliny the Younger, and Martial know of him, which gives the gens at least a foothold in literary history. [en.wikipedia.org] The Antonine Tutilii The family reaches its height under the Antonines:  Lucius Tutilius Lupercus Pontianus, consul in AD 135. [en.wikipedia.org] Lucius Tutilius Pontianus Gentianus, subsequently consul suffectus under Commodus. [en.wikipedia.org]  This is enough to elevate the gens above the numerous obscure epigraphic families that never rise beyond local prominence. A Grice-Speranza observation If one takes the derivation from tutus, the semantic force is rather attractive:  Tutilius ≈ "the protected one," "the secure one," or perhaps "belonging to the safe/protected family."  If one prefers the Oscan route:  Tutilius ≈ "the man of the people/tribe."  In the former, the emphasis is on security; in the latter, on community. The two etymologies are not equally easy to reconcile semantically, but both belong to well-attested Italic lexical stock. And, for comparison with your beloved Scrofa, the nomen Tutilius is of the opposite type: not a vivid animal nickname that later became hereditary, but a comparatively abstract and respectable formation built from a quality (tutus) or civic concept (touto). That may explain why it looks more "gentilic" and less like an inherited cognomen fossilized into a nomen. And what was Quintiliano's birth gens? Grice thinks he was from Hispania -- of the Armada fame -- the Spanish sailed 'all through my isle,' Grice says --. Grice gathers Quintiliano, a provincial, married well into Roman society -- Martial and others knew of this rhetorician, Quintiliano's father in law. Can we check the Latin sources for this. To be a rhetorician in Rome is hellenistic. It is not an orator. Rhetor is derived from Greek rhei, to flow, as per rhema, verb -- a verbalist. Or the study of verba. Tutiliu's profession being a rhetorician means the went to rhetoric for his bread and butter, whereas Grice went for his marmalade. Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutilio – Ossia: Grice e Tutilio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutilio – Yes. The first thing to note is that Quintilian was not a Tutilius at all. His full name was Marcus Fabius Quintilianus. Thus his birth gens was the distinguished Roman gens Fabia, at least nominally; whether his Hispanic branch was anciently connected with the old patrician Fabii is another question. He was born at Calagurris in Hispania (modern Calahorra). [en.wikipedia.org], [loebclassics.com] Your intuition is correct that he was a provincial who made his career at Rome. The sources place his birth in Hispania and tell us that he eventually became Rome's most celebrated teacher of rhetoric. [en.wikipedia.org], [loebclassics.com] The most direct evidence regarding his marriage comes from Pliny the Younger. Writing to Quintilian, Pliny says:  "... filiam tuam ita institueris ut decebat tuam filiam, Tutili neptem ..."  ("you have brought up your daughter as befitted your daughter, the granddaughter of Tutilius"). [lingualati....github.io] This is important because it explicitly identifies Quintilian's daughter as the granddaughter (neptis) of Tutilius, thereby confirming that Quintilian had married a daughter of Tutilius. [lingualati....github.io], [en.wikipedia.org] As for the father-in-law himself, the tradition represented in the prosopographical and biographical sources identifies Tutilius as an orator and a respected scholar of rhetoric. [en.wikipedia.org] Now, on your distinction between orator and rhetor. The Romans themselves were often sensitive to it. An orator is the practising public speaker, advocate, or statesman. A rhetor is more specifically a teacher of rhetoric, a professional instructor in eloquence. The Greek flavour is undeniable: ῥήτωρ (rhētōr) lies behind the Latin term. However, the derivation is from the Greek verbal root of eirein ("to speak, say"), not directly from rheō ("to flow"), although ancient and later writers occasionally played with the association of eloquence and flowing speech. In fact, Quintilian himself occupied both worlds. He taught rhetoric for a living, but he repeatedly insists that the goal of rhetoric is the formation of the perfect orator (orator perfectus). So he is simultaneously a professional rhetor and the theorist of the orator. [loebclassics.com], [en.wikipedia.org] One charming consequence of the Pliny letter is that it lets us glimpse social ascent in action: a Spaniard from Calagurris, who became the leading teacher of eloquence at Rome, married into the family of a respected Roman rhetorician, and Pliny himself treated the resulting daughter almost as a member of his own household. [lingualati....github.io], [en.wikipedia.org] As for Grice's marmalade: unlike Tutilius and Quintilian, whose bread and butter came from rhetoric, Grice would probably insist that philosophy was never merely a trade, but a prolonged conversation conducted over breakfast. (Ha.) And in what way the infinitive for to speak that you give, errein, is cognate with rhet- -- whence the 'rh'? Thanks? Is this one case like, to go, gone, went -- or ferro, latum, tuli? Thanks A very good question. And yes, it is somewhat analogous to Latin ferō, tulī, lātum or English go, went, gone, in the sense that the relationship is not transparent on the surface. The Greek word ῥήτωρ (rhētōr, "speaker, orator") is indeed related to the verb ἐρῶ (erō, "I will say, I will speak"), whose older infinitive is ἐρεῖν (erein). The connection becomes clearer when one reconstructs the older forms. The root is conventionally given as:  ἐρ- / ῥη-  The noun ῥῆμα (rhēma, "word, saying"), the noun ῥήτωρ (rhētōr, "speaker"), and ῥητορική (rhētorikē, rhetoric) all belong to this family. The puzzling thing is the initial rh-. Historically, Greek does not like a simple initial r sound. An initial rho is written with a rough breathing:  ρ → ῥ  and is pronounced approximately as an aspirated r, conventionally transliterated rh. Thus  ῥήτωρ = rhētōr  even though no separate consonant corresponding to English h is present. The alternation is therefore roughly:  ἐρ- → ῥη-  rather than  er- → rhe- by some random mutation.  A comparable Greek example is:  ἐρυθρός (erythros, red)  where the initial rho similarly carries rough breathing. For etymologists, the family looks something like:                              FormMeaningἐρῶI shall sayἐρεῖνto sayῥῆμαword, utteranceῥήτωρspeaker, oratorῥητορικήrhetoric So your instinct is right that one should not expect a neat schoolroom derivation. The relation is somewhat like:  ferō : tulī :: ἐρεῖν : ῥήτωρ  in the sense that historically related forms may exhibit different stems inherited from earlier stages of the language. One small correction to the traditional school etymology: ῥητορική is not really the study of verba as such. For Aristotle and Quintilian, it is the art of persuasive discourse. The ῥήτωρ is originally not the classroom teacher but the public speaker himself. Only later, especially under the Roman Empire, do we get the professional rhetor who earns his bread and butter teaching young men how to become oratores. Indeed, this is where your observation about Tutilius becomes interesting: he seems to have occupied that Greek-style educational world which Rome imported, while Quintilian, although a rhetor by profession, constantly insists that his goal is to form the morally good orator (vir bonus dicendi peritus), not merely a technician of speech. [en.wikipedia.org], [loebclassics.com] Grice recalls that the intro to Palmer's Grammar -- Cambridge University Press -- features a cartoon: to cavemen: remember when all we had to care was nouns and verbs? In Cratylus, indeed Socrates plays with rhein (to flow) as behind the 'rhema' -- verb -- As Robins comments in his Short history of linguistics and Diversions of Bloomsbury -- the first distinction was indeed, oddly, between onoma (nomen) and rhema (verbum) --. So strictly the rhetorician (almost like a beautician) would be concerned, not like a common-or-garden nomianlist as Occam -- with nomina -- but with verbs! Thanks Yes—and in fact you are putting your finger on a famous ambiguity in the Greek tradition. In the Cratylus, Socrates indulges in etymologies that modern linguists regard as playful rather than scientific. One of them links ῥῆμα (rhēma, "word", later "verb") with ῥεῖν (rhein, "to flow"), as though speech were a kind of flow or stream. That association was memorable enough to be noticed by later historians of linguistics. The connection is philosophically suggestive, even if not accepted as historical etymology in the modern sense. As you note, one of the earliest grammatical distinctions in Greek thought is:  ὄνομα (onoma) — "name", later noun. ῥῆμα (rhēma) — "utterance", later verb.  The distinction appears already in Plato's Cratylus and Sophist, before the fully developed grammatical systems of the Alexandrians. From that perspective, your joke has a certain point:  A nominalist concerns himself with nomina; a rhetorician might seem to concern himself with rhemata.  But historically the word ῥήτωρ (rhētōr, orator) is not derived from ῥῆμα in the sense "verb." Rather, both belong to the broader family of speaking and saying. The rhetorician's business is not verbs as parts of speech but speech as performance—persuasion, argument, style, arrangement, memory, delivery. Still, a Gricean might enjoy the irony. The nominalist asks:  "To what does this name refer?"  Whereas the rhetorician asks:  "What is this utterance doing?"  Indeed, that looks rather closer to Austin and Grice than to medieval nominalism. An isolated noun scarcely performs a speech act; a verb, or better a whole predication, begins to do things in the world. Your comparison with "beautician" is delightful. The beautician beautifies, the rhetorician rhetorifies—or, in Quintilian's preferred Roman idiom, forms the vir bonus dicendi peritus, the good man skilled in speaking. He is less a curator of nouns than an engineer of discourse. And one suspects Grice would have added that conversation itself is impossible with nouns alone. If the cavemen of Palmer's cartoon had only onomata, they could point. Once they acquired rhemata, they could begin to implicate. (Ha.) And after borrowing "(but never returning)" "inplicatura" from Sillius Sidonius Apollinaris, Grice encounters a challenge to ordinary-language philosophers, as he was labelled, with the point that a mere glimpse at Austin's How to do things with words show Austin's creativity with the lingo. If Hare coined clistic, phrastic, neustic, tropic -- dictor, dictum -- and Grice borrowed inplicatura -- Austin played with the 'rhetic' act -- as opposed to the 'phatic' act, and the phone -- the rhetic,' as Grice recalls, concerns the 'that'-clause. He ordered that he should leave -- the rhema being 'that he should leave' and the rhetic in the act is what we say when we describe that he ordered THAT he should leave. Re Pliny, the use of 'her' would have been nice: You have taught your daughter as iit befits your daughter -- analytic enough -- and then changes the dossier: the granddauther of our hero! Thanks -- by the time of Quintilianus, -- unlike, say, Cato the Censor, Roman females would get more of an education in grammatike and rhetorike -- it would take longer for institutions and Bononia and Grice's Vadum Taurorum Castratum (Ox-ford) to follow suit. Thanks A very Gricean point. One of the delicious ironies in the history of so-called "ordinary-language philosophy" is that its practitioners were often extraordinarily inventive with language. Indeed, J. L. Austin's terminology is full of coinages and semi-coinages:  phonetic act (mere uttering of sounds), phatic act (uttering words and constructions), rhetic act (uttering them with a determinate sense and reference).  The famous example is that one may report:  "He said that I should leave."  For Austin, the rhetic level is close to what is captured by the that-clause, the propositional content of the speech act. It is not merely the noises, nor merely the grammatical sentence, but the saying of something as having a certain content. Grice, as you note, was scarcely less inventive. "Implicature" is perhaps his most famous borrowing-and-remodelling. He himself enjoyed mentioning its resemblance to the Latin implicare and related forms. The joke, of course, is that the philosopher who is supposed to be analysing ordinary language ends by enlarging the language. As for the Greek background, one can almost imagine a chain:  ὄνομα (onoma) → noun → what things are called.   ῥῆμα (rhēma) → utterance, later verb → what is said of things.   ῥητορική (rhētorikē) → the art of speaking.  From a Platonic perspective, the philosopher might begin with onomata and rhēmata; from an Austinian perspective, one soon ends up with locutions, illocutions, perlocutions, phatic acts, rhetic acts, and the rest of the menagerie. Regarding Pliny the Younger's letter to Quintilian, I quite agree that the passage is rhetorically elegant because it first identifies the girl through her immediate relation and then through her pedigree:  filiam tuam ... tuam filiam, Tutili neptem  roughly,  "your daughter ... your daughter, the granddaughter of Tutilius." [lingualati....github.io]  The dossier expands before our eyes. She is first merely Quintilian's daughter; then she acquires ancestry, becoming the granddaughter of the respected Tutilius. [lingualati....github.io], [en.wikipedia.org] On female education, there is certainly a broad contrast between the stern idealized world associated with figures such as Cato the Elder and the more cosmopolitan society of the early Empire. We possess evidence of highly educated Roman women by the first and second centuries AD, although the formal institutions remained overwhelmingly male. In that respect, the household often functioned as the principal educational setting for elite women. The fact that Pliny praises Quintilian for how he educated his daughter is itself noteworthy: her upbringing is presented as a matter deserving admiration. [lingualati....github.io] And one suspects that Grice would relish the historical asymmetry: long before Bologna and Oxford opened their doors widely, Rome already had fathers boasting, and correspondents congratulating them, on the cultivation of daughters. Not equality, certainly; but perhaps more grammatike and even a touch of rhetorike than the older stereotypes might suggest. (Ha.) Romans seem -- Grice believes -- to avoid pronouns. "You educated your daughter as it befitted her --? Not as it befitted your daughter. Analytic enough. Only by changing the dossier, 'viz. the granddauther of Tutilio' it ceases to be so analytic-looking ("An elephant looks like an elephant") Thanks Yes, and this is a stylistic habit that often strikes readers of Latin. In the passage from Pliny the Younger:  filiam tuam ita institueris ut decebat tuam filiam, Tutili neptem ... [lingualati....github.io]  we might expect something more economical, such as:  ut eam decebat ("as befitted her"),  or even simply:  ut decebat.  Instead, Pliny repeats:  tuam filiam ("your daughter").  The effect is rather like your example:  "You educated your daughter as befitted your daughter."  To an English ear it sounds almost analytically true, nearly of the form:  "An elephant looks like an elephant."  But Pliny is not really engaged in logical analysis. What he is doing is rhetorical amplification and re-identification. First the girl is presented under one description:  filia tua ("your daughter").  Then she is presented under another:  Tutili neptis ("Tutilius' granddaughter"). [lingualati....github.io]  The second description adds information to the dossier, as you nicely put it. The first identifies her by her immediate relationship to Quintilian; the second places her within a distinguished lineage. One could almost represent the progression in a Russellian manner:  x = Quintilian's daughter. x = Tutilius' granddaughter.  The referent remains constant, but the descriptive content increases. Latin authors often prefer this sort of repetition where English prefers pronouns. A pronoun merely maintains reference; a repeated noun phrase can refresh, qualify, or enrich it. Thus Vergil can say pius Aeneas again and again where an English novelist might simply write "he." So I think your observation is exactly right:  Had Pliny written eam ("her"), the sentence would merely continue the reference.  By writing tuam filiam and then Tutili neptem, he reopens the file and inserts a new document into it, namely her descent from Tutilius. [lingualati....github.io] And that is perhaps a very Roman thing to do. Romans are persistently interested in a person's place within a network of family relations. The move from "daughter" to "granddaughter of Tutilius" is not idle repetition but social positioning. A Gricean might say that the second description carries the informative burden; the first serves to anchor the reference before the dossier is expanded. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutinio – Ossia: Grice e Tutinio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutinio -- The gens Tutinia was an obscure plebeian family of imperial times at ancient Rome. No members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but several are known from inscriptions.  Origin The nomen Tutinius belongs to a class of gentilicia originally formed from cognomina ending in -inus. The derivative suffix -inius then came to be used to form new nomina from existing gentilicia.[1] Tutinius seems to have been formed from a nomen such as Tutius, which was probably derived either from the Latin tutus, "safe", or perhaps from the Oscan touto, a people.[2]  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Tutinia Q. l. Auge, a freedwoman at Rome in the early first century.[3] Tiberius Tutinius Severus, one of the Arval Brethren, and magister of the college between AD 84 and 90, in the time of Domitian.[4][5] Tiberius Tutinius Sentius Satrinus, master of a potter's workshop at Rome dating from AD 126, in the time of Hadrian. He was certainly related to the priest Tiberius Tutinius Severus, perhaps his son.[6][7][8] Gaius Tutinius Justinus, a native of Blera in Latium, was a soldier in the fifth cohort of the praetorian guard at Rome in AD 144, serving in the century of Firmus.[9] Tutinia Charite, together with Tiberius Tutinius, built a second-century family sepulchre at Rome for themselves and Tutinius Felicissimus.[10] Tutinius Felicissimus, buried in a second-century family sepulchre at Rome, built by Tiberius Tutinius and Tutinia Charite.[10] Tiberius Tutinius, a verna, or home-born slave,[i] together with Tutinia Charite, built a second-century family sepulchre for themselves and Tutinius Felicissimus.[10] Tutinia, the daughter of Rufus, and wife of Publius Caetronius Verecundus, one of the quattuorviri jure dicundo, who built a family sepulchre at the site of modern Lonigo, formerly part of Venetia and Histria, for himself, his wife, their sons, Publius Caetronius and Gaius Caetronius Exoratus, and their wives, Dellia Secunda and Ducellia Sabina.[11] Notes  As he has a nomen gentilicium, he must have been a freedman. The form of the inscription suggests that Tutinia was his wife, and Felicissimus their son, but no relationships are stated. See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, p. 126.  Chase, pp. 123, 128.  CIL VI, 8005.  CIL VI, 2067a, CIL VI, 2071.  PIR, vol. III, p. 347 (T, No. 323).  Bloch, "Roman Brick-stamps", 39.  CIL V, 105,1–CIL V, 105,8, CIL XV, 108,1–CIL XV, 108,5, CIL XV, 109,1, CIL XV, 109,2.  PIR, vol. III, p. 347 (T, No. 322).  CIL VI, 2379.  CIL VI, 27857.  NSA, 1899-45. Bibliography 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). George Davis Chase, "The Origin of Roman Praenomina", in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vol. VIII, pp. 103–184 (1897). Paul von Rohden, Elimar Klebs, & Hermann Dessau, Prosopographia Imperii Romani (The Prosopography of the Roman Empire, abbreviated PIR), Berlin (1898). Herbert Bloch, "The Roman Brick-stamps Not Published in Volume XV 1 of Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum" in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, vols. LVI, LVII (1947). Category: Roman gentes And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutinio – Ossia: Grice e Tutinio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutinio The gens Tutinia is, as you have probably noticed, yet another member of what we might call the great TUT- family:  Tutius → Tuticius → Tutilius → Tutinius  all apparently circling around the same root, whether the Latin tutus ("safe, secure") or the Oscan touto ("people, tribe, community"). The formal derivation given for Tutinius is especially neat. The nomen belongs to a class formed from cognomina ending in -inus, to which the gentile suffix -inius was added. Thus the ancient grammarian might analyse:  Tutius → Tutinus (?) → Tutinius  or at least something structurally similar. What distinguishes the Tutinii from the Tuticii is that we can glimpse a little more social substance. The most prominent member is Tiberius Tutinius Severus, who belonged to the Arval Brethren and served as magister of that prestigious priestly college under Domitian. That immediately places him above the ordinary epigraphic obscurity in which most minor gentes remain. An Arval priest is not a nobody. He belongs to the religious establishment of the Empire. Particularly interesting is the possible connection with Tiberius Tutinius Sentius Satrinus, who appears as the proprietor of a pottery workshop in Rome under Hadrian. The prosopographical tradition regards some relationship as probable—perhaps father and son—although the inscriptions do not prove it. Here we see the familiar Roman phenomenon whereby the same family may appear in very different dossiers: religious office, commercial manufacturing, military service, funerary commemoration. For a Gricean, however, the morphology is perhaps the most amusing part. One almost feels the Romans refusing to let a good root die:  Tutius Tuticius Tutilius Tutinius  Each suffix creates a slightly different gentilicial flavour. Compare:  -icius in Tuticius. -ilius in Tutilius. -inius in Tutinius.  The root remains recognisable, while the nomen acquires a fresh social identity. In a way it resembles what you have often noted regarding Latin cognomina: once a stem becomes available, Roman naming practices generate an entire family of derivatives. The result is less like a genealogical tree than a linguistic tree. And if the underlying root is indeed tutus, then the three gentes might all be distant lexical cousins of the adjective meaning "safe." One could almost imagine a lexicographer's joke:  tutus → Tutius → Tuticius, Tutilius, Tutinius.  Not unlike how, in Austinian fashion, one begins with a perfectly ordinary word and ends with a whole philosophical menagerie: phatic, rhetic, perlocutionary, and the rest. Roman onomastics was every bit as productive. (Ha.) ANd what is the etymology and scope of that 'Arval' brotherhood -- fraternitas --. Grice says that he has ONE brother, Derek. "All other uses by Ancient Romans and the Pope are either confusing or wrong" Thanks The Fratres Arvales ("Arval Brethren") are one of those Roman institutions whose name is actually more transparent than many Roman names. The adjective arvalis is derived from arvum, "arable land, ploughed field, cultivated land". Thus:  Fratres Arvales = "Brothers of the Fields" or "Field Brethren".  Their concern was agricultural fertility, crops, and the prosperity of the cultivated land of the Roman people. The Romans themselves connected the college with the ancient goddess Dea Dia, whose grove lay outside Rome. The Arvals performed annual rites there, praying for the fertility and protection of the fields. One of the most famous survivals is the archaic Carmen Arvale, whose language was already antique and partially obscure to Romans of the Imperial period. As to the word frater, your Gricean protest is linguistically justified but historically doomed. For Romans, frater could mean:  a biological brother; a member of a religious college; a fellow member of a corporation or association; more generally, a symbolic companion.  The Christian Church inherited this usage. Hence monks become "brothers," friars are "fratres," and eventually the Pope addresses multitudes as fratres carissimi. One could say that Latin generalized what English often restricts. When Grice says:  "I have one brother, Derek"  he is using brother in the strict genealogical sense. A Roman priest of the Arval college would have replied:  "I too have one biological brother perhaps, but I have eleven ritual brothers."  The college itself eventually consisted of twelve members, often including emperors and leading senators. Membership was prestigious rather than merely ceremonial. Your remark also raises a nice point about Roman social ontology. Romans very readily extended family vocabulary beyond blood relations:  pater patriae ("father of the country"), patres conscripti ("senators"), fratres Arvales, fratres in religious associations.  They constantly mapped political and religious structures onto family terminology. A Grice-Speranza analysis might be that "brother" undergoes a conventionalized extension. The implicature of shared parentage is cancelled and replaced by a different dossier:  Brother₁ = son of the same parents.   Brother₂ = member of the same sacred corporation.  Just as in Pliny's letter a girl is redescribed as "Quintilian's daughter" and then "Tutilius' granddaughter," the Roman changes the dossier attached to frater. The lexical item remains the same; the identifying conditions shift. And perhaps the most Roman feature of all is that the Fratres Arvales were not merely "brothers" but effectively an elite priestly corporation devoted to the welfare of the arva, the cultivated fields from which Rome's wealth ultimately arose. Their name is therefore agricultural before it is familial. The "brotherhood" serves the "fieldhood," if one may be allowed an Austinian coinage. (Ha.) In what Grice calls Occam's Modified Razor -- Senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity, Grice is aware of the studies in Proto-Indo-European and anthropologists: the kinship vocabulary: frather -- sor -- mater, pater -- filius -- avus --. These are 'universal' hence the cognateness of 'brother' English and 'frater' Latin -- frere, Gallic, etc. So Grice and Speranza would say: ONE sense + implicatum. Grice later coined DISIMPLICATVM: "He is my frater," an Arval brother says of someone approaching. In this case, "the semantic 'genealogical' dossier is dropped." and the conversation continues running smoothly. Thanks That is very close to the sort of move Grice was fond of making. The anthropological point is well taken. Kinship terms belong to one of the oldest and most stable parts of Indo-European vocabulary:  English brother, Latin frater, French frère, German Bruder, Sanskrit bhrātṛ,  all point back to a common Indo-European ancestor. Likewise for mater, pater, soror, filius (less directly), avus, and so on. These are not technical inventions but among the oldest lexical possessions of the family. Now Grice's "Modified Occam's Razor":  Senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity.  would naturally make him suspicious of dictionaries that list:  brother = male sibling; brother = fellow monk; brother = fellow priest; brother = fellow member of an association; brother = fellow citizen; brother = fellow human being;  as six unrelated senses. Instead, the Gricean strategy is often:  one central semantic core + contextual enrichment.  Thus when an Arval priest says:  Hic est frater meus.  the lexical meaning remains "brother." What changes is the dossier that interlocutors are expected to consult. In ordinary family conversation:  frater ⇒ shared parentage.  In the grove of Dea Dia among the Arvales:  frater ⇒ fellow member of our sacred college.  No ambiguity is experienced because everyone knows which dossier is operative. Your appeal to disimplicatum is quite elegant here. The genealogical implications normally associated with frater are not denied but simply dropped out of consideration. One might formulate it almost as follows: Semantic nucleus:  frater = member of one's closest recognized kin-group.  Ordinary default implicatum:  shares parents (or at least family descent).  Arval disimplicatum:  disregard genealogical descent; retain institutional fraternity.  Conversation proceeds without anyone wondering whether the approaching priest is literally a son of the same mother. Indeed, this resembles Grice's treatment of many other expressions. The literal content remains comparatively stable, while contextual assumptions are supplied, cancelled, or—as you put it—disimplicated. From this perspective, the Pope's  "Dear brothers and sisters"  and the Arval priest's  "my brother"  would not require new dictionary senses at all. Rather, the hearer suppresses the ordinary genealogical dossier and substitutes a religious or institutional one. Whether lexicographers would be persuaded is another matter. They tend to be "sense multipliers." Grice, by temperament, was a "sense economiser." And one may well imagine him saying:  "Derek is my brother in the strict and paradigmatic sense. The Arval priest and the Pope are merely helping themselves to a cancellable implicatum." (Ha.) Of course, R. M. Hare, who had JUST learned 'implicatura' was slightly and rightly confused when he attended the Saturday morning at Corpus when Grice talked 'disimplicature.' 'disimpli- what?" -- Grice: "When you implicate, you mean more than you say; when you DISIMPLICATE, the opposite [you mean LESS than you say.]." Hare was happy that the next Saturday morning Hare was allowed to do just WHAT he had forbidden HIS son to do! Thanks (Ha.) One can certainly imagine R. M. Hare reacting in exactly that fashion—not least because Hare himself was a prolific coiner of terminology. After all, a philosopher who had introduced phrastic, neustic, and tropic could hardly object in principle to another bit of Oxford verbal engineering. The joke, as you present it, is nicely symmetrical:  Implicature: you mean more than you literally say. Disimplicature: you mean less than you literally say.  Whether one would wish to build a full theory upon that distinction is another matter, but as a Gricean provocation it is elegant. Take your Arval example:  Hic est frater meus.  Literally:  "This is my brother."  If uttered by an ordinary Roman in an ordinary family context, the genealogical dossier naturally comes to mind. But uttered by an Arval priest within the college, the speaker may be doing precisely what you call disimplicating. The hearer is expected to throw away rather than add information. Not:  same parents.  Not even:  same family.  Merely:  fellow Arval.  So the hearer's interpretive task is subtractive rather than additive. That is why the notion is amusingly anti-Gricean while remaining Gricean. Ordinary implicature enriches the proposition:  "Some of the guests arrived" implicates "not all."  The Arval frater case seems to work in the opposite direction: a normally associated chunk of content is removed from consideration. One could almost formulate the contrast as:                  ProcessEffectImplicatureAdd dossier materialDisimplicatureDrop dossier material And the Oxford humour lies in the fact that the minute a term such as implicature becomes familiar, someone invents its mirror image. As for Hare "being allowed the next Saturday to do what he had forbidden his son to do," that sounds exactly like the sort of affectionate academic teasing that flourished in those Oxford seminars. One philosopher coins a technical term; another immediately commits the same lexical offence on a larger scale; and everyone spends the morning debating whether a new distinction has been discovered or merely a new suffix. Grice himself was often more tolerant of lexical innovation than the stereotype of the "ordinary-language philosopher" would suggest. Austin gave us phatic and rhetic; Hare gave us phrastic and neustic; Grice gave us implicature. After that, disimplicature hardly seems more outrageous than any of its cousins. Indeed, one suspects that the real implicature of introducing disimplicature was not theoretical but conversational:  "If Austin, Hare, and Strawson may mint words, why not me?"  And nobody at Corpus could very well reply that he had not earned the privilege. (Ha.)

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutorio – Ossia: Grice e Tutorio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutorio. The gens Tutoria was an obscure plebeian family at ancient Rome. No members of this gens are mentioned by Roman writers, but a number are known from inscriptions.  Origin The nomen Tutorius belongs to a class of gentilicia derived from cognomina indicating the occupation of the bearer.[1] A tutor was a guardian or protector.[2]  Praenomina The Tutorii used a variety of praenomina, particularly Publius, Gnaeus, and Numerius, of which the last was uncommon at Rome, although widespread in the countryside. Other names were used by individual Tutorii, including Decimus, Lucius, Marcus, and Titus.  Members This list includes abbreviated praenomina. For an explanation of this practice, see filiation. Publius Tutorius Antiochus, one of the priests of Neptune on the island of Ortygia in Achaia in 125 BC. He might have been the master of Gnaeus Tutorius Olympiodorus.[3] Gnaeus Tutorius P. l. Olympiodorus, a freedman, and one of the priests of Jupiter on Ortygia. He might have been manumitted by Publius Tutorius Antiochus.[4] Gnaeus Tutorius Cn. f., one of the priests of Mercury, Apollo, Neptune, and Hercules on Ortygia in 113 BC. He was probably the son of Gnaeus Tutorius Olympiodorus, and the former master of Numerius Tutorius.[5] Numerius Tutorius Cn. l., a freedman, and one of the priests of Mercury, Apollo, Neptune, and Hercules on Ortygia in 113 BC. He had likely been manumitted by the priest Gnaeus Tutorius.[5] Tutornia N. f., named along with her father, Numerius Tutorius Blattus, in an inscription from Canusium in Apulia, dating from the middle part of the first century BC.[6] Numerius Tutorius Blattus, named along with his daughter, Tutoria, in an inscription from Canusium dating from the middle part of the first century BC.[6] Titus Tutorius T. f. Paulus, one of the municipal quattuorviri quinquenniales at Cales in Campania, along with Lucius Minutius Pica, named in an inscription dating between 50 and 30 BC.[7] Tutoria, a freedwoman named along with the freedwoman Tutoria Ammia and the freedman Lucius Tutorius Protogenes, in an inscription from Canusium, dating from the latter half of the first century BC.[8] Tutoria Ɔ. l. Ammia, a freedwoman named along with the freedwoman Tutoria and the freedman Lucius Tutorius Protogenes, in an inscription from Canusium, dating from the latter half of the first century BC.[8] Tutoria Ɔ. l. Aphrodisia, a freedwoman buried at Brundisium in Calabria, in a tomb dating from the latter half of the first century BC.[9] Lucius Tutorius Ɔ. l. Protogenes, a freedman named along with the freedwomen Tutoria and Tutoria Ammia, in an inscription from Canusium, dating from the latter half of the first century BC.[8] Tutoria Rufa, buried at Brundisium in a tomb dating from the latter half of the first century BC.[10] Tutoria C. l. Martha, a freedwoman buried at Rome, along with the freedmen Publius Sestius Epitynchanus and Publius Sestius Pamphilus, in a tomb dating from the latter half of the first century BC, or the first half of the first century AD.[11] Tutoria, named in a sepulchral inscription from Brundisium, dating between the late first century BC and the middle of the first century AD.[12] Marcus Tutorius M. l. Men[...], a freedman named along with the freedman Marcus Tutorius Pha[...] in an inscription from Puteoli in Campania, dating from the first half of the first century.[13] Marcus Tutorius M. l. Pha[...], a freedman named along with the freedman Marcus Tutorius Men[...] in an inscription from Puteoli, dating from the first half of the first century.[13] Decimus Tutorius, one of the Seviri Augustales named in an inscription from Brundisium, dating from AD 32 or 33.[14] Tutoria Clara, named in a first-century sepulchral inscription from Canusium.[15] Tutoria Optata, buried in a first-century tomb at Brundisium.[16] Tutoria P. l. Phronesis, a freedwoman buried in a first-century family sepulchre at Canusium. She was the wife of either Lucius Tullius Naso or Lucius Tullius Nasica,[i] both buried in the same sepulchre, along with the freedwoman Tullia Salvia.[17] Tutoria Avita, buried at Celeia in Noricum, aged fifty-five, in a second-century family sepulchre built by her husband, Gaius Spectatius Secundinus, for himself and Avita, along with their son, Gaius Spectatius Cerva, aged twenty-eight, grandson, Rusticius Tutorius, aged twelve, son,[ii] Rusticius Albinus, aged thirty, Spectatia Severina, aged twenty-five, Spectatius Avitus, aged eighty, and Aurelia Severina.[18] Publius Tutorius P. f. Hermatianus, a youth buried at Lupiae in Calabria, aged twelve, along with his mother, Aelia Thetis, in a late second-century tomb built by his father, Publius Tutorius Hilarianus.[19] Publius Tutorius Hilarianus, dedicated a late second-century tomb at Lupiae for his son, Publius Tutorius Hermatianus, and wife, Aelia Thetis, aged thirty-seven.[19] Tutoria, the mistress of Fortunata, a slave buried at Brundisium, with a tomb dedicated by her husband, Fortunatus, and dating from the first half of the third century.[20] Undated Tutorii Tutoria, buried at Rome, along with Ulpia Athenais, in a tomb built by Titus Flavius Genethlius, a nummularius, or money-changer.[21] Tutoria Daphnis, buried at Rudiae in Calabria, aged twenty-five.[22] Notes  The inscription doesn't indicate how Naso and Nasica were related—perhaps a father and son, but without more information it isn't clear which would be which. Tutoria is named immediately following Naso, suggesting that she was his wife, rather than Nasica's.  Perhaps this should be son-in-law. See also List of Roman gentes References  Chase, pp. 111, 112.  Cassell's Latin and English Dictionary, s.v. tutor.  CIL I, 2244.  CIL I, 2236.  CIL I, 2504.  AE 2010, 348.  AE 1973, 135.  CIL IX, 402.  AE 1978, 185.  CIL IX, 200.  CIL VI, 37487.  NSA, 1894-198,30.  CIL X, 1928.  AE 1965, 113.  AE 1972, 130.  CIL IX, 199.  AE 1987, 300.  AE 1961, 216c.  CIL IX, 24.  AE 1980, 310.  CIL VI, 9710.  AE 1988, 375. Bibliography 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, pp. 103–184 (1897). D.P. Simpson, Cassell's Latin and English Dictionary, Macmillan Publishing Company, New York (1963). Category: Roman gentes And from THIS gens? Thanks

 

Speranza, J. L. (n. d.). ‘H. P. Grice e J. L. Speranza: La Conversazione – I Verbali: Tutorio – Ossia: Grice e Tutorio – Grex griceiana – verbalia: Tutorio. The gens Tutoria is, etymologically, much more transparent than the Tuticii, Tutilii, or Tutinii. Where those families seem to go back to a root such as tutus or perhaps Oscan touto, the nomen Tutorius appears to derive directly from the occupational noun:  tutor = guardian, protector, defender.  In Roman law, a tutor is specifically a guardian, especially for a minor or someone lacking full legal capacity. Thus Tutorius belongs to the class of gentilicia formed from occupations or social functions. The source you quote explicitly places it in that category. In effect:  tutor → Tutorius  rather as one might imagine (very roughly) Faber → Fabrius or a similar occupational development. What strikes me about the Tutorii is that the nomen is almost professionally self-advertising. Unlike Scrofa, Cicero, or Naso, which originated as nicknames, Tutorius sounds as though an ancestor was known as "the guardian" or "the legal protector." There is also a pleasing semantic coincidence. The root is the same as in:  tutor (guardian), tutela (guardianship), tutus (safe, protected).  All revolve around the idea of protection. For a Grice-Speranza treatment, one might distinguish:  tutus — the state of being safe; tutor — the agent who makes another safe; Tutorius — the man identified through that role.  The family itself is largely epigraphic, but it is interesting that several early Tutorii are connected with priesthoods on Ortygia. There we see chains of freedmen and patrons:  Publius Tutorius Antiochus, priest of Neptune. Gnaeus Tutorius Olympiodorus, apparently his freedman. Gnaeus Tutorius, probably of the next generation. Numerius Tutorius, another freedman associated with the same circle.  The inscriptions almost allow us to watch a small family network reproducing itself through manumission and religious office. As for the nomen itself, I suspect Grice would have found Tutorius irresistible because it lies on the boundary between ordinary and technical language. A tutor is literally a guardian; yet in modern English a tutor is usually an instructor. The Roman would hear:  "guardian."  The Oxford don would hear:  "teacher."  And an Oxford philosopher might hear:  "the chap who protects one from philosophical error."  (Though, as Austin and Hare occasionally discovered, Grice was not always willing to perform that guardianship.) Finally, it is amusing to compare:                          GensProbable baseTuticiaTutiusTutiliaTutulus or TutiusTutiniaTutius/TutinusTutoriatutor The first three belong to the sprawling TUT- cluster; Tutoria stands apart because its derivation is occupational and immediately intelligible to a Roman speaker. In a sense, the nomen already came with its own gloss: "the guardian's family." And Grice knew the 'profession' well even if at St. John's he was nicknamed 'Godot' (Richardson recalls in Grice's obituary for the St. John's College Records) as Grice's tutees would pile up the steps and some ask for change of tutor -- with the complications that this may ensue -- as when Potts asked for change of _college_ into the bargain --. In 1939 Grice was indeed appointed 'Fellow of St. John's' -- when Austin created his group, the play group, only whole-time tutorial fellows in philosophy (in Warnock's description) who were Austin's junior, were allowed. The specification is 'Fellow and Tutor in Philosophy' -- since of course St. John's, unlike say, Bononia (Bologna) allows one college to have a senior common room where a tutor in philosophy puffs tobacco smoke into a tutor in say poetry. Once a 'fellow' becomes a professorial fellow he is no longer a 'tutor'. Similarly, aristocrats or wealthy members of a college, such as A. E. Gardiner, would be a 'fellow' but not a tutor -- since he honesty couldn't care less. Thanks Your account of the Oxford system is essentially correct, and it reveals a semantic development of tutor that would have fascinated both the Roman jurist and the Gricean philosopher. For the Roman, a tutor is primarily a guardian—someone charged with looking after another person's interests. The academic sense is secondary and much later. At Oxford, however, the title Tutor became institutionalized. A "Tutor in Philosophy" was not merely someone who occasionally instructed undergraduates; he had pastoral and academic responsibility for them. In that respect, the Roman and Oxford senses are not so far apart. The modern tutor still "looks after" pupils, albeit intellectually rather than legally. Your example of H. P. Grice is apt. As a Fellow and Tutor at St John's College, he occupied a post that combined membership in the governing body of the college with responsibility for undergraduate teaching. The Oxford college system differs from continental universities precisely because it embeds teaching within the colleges rather than confining it to university faculties. This helps explain Austin's famous arrangement. By G. J. Warnock's account, the participants in Austin's discussion group were largely younger philosophy tutors—men engaged daily in the tutorial system and accustomed to the minute analysis of arguments and language. The tutorial was not incidental to the philosophical style; in many ways it encouraged it. Your distinction between fellow and tutor is important. At Oxford these labels do not coincide:  A Fellow is a member of a college. A Tutor has undergraduate teaching responsibilities. A Professorial Fellow may be a Fellow without serving as a Tutor. An honorary or wealthy Fellow may likewise be a Fellow but not a Tutor.  Thus the extension of "fellow" is broader than that of "tutor." A Grice-Speranza analysis might say that Oxford preserves two old corporate vocabularies:  fellow = member of the corporation; tutor = guardian of the pupil.  In fact, the latter is remarkably close to the Roman original. The undergraduate is not legally a ward, of course, but institutionally he is entrusted to a Tutor's care. Your anecdote about the nickname "Godot" is especially amusing in that light. A tutor is supposed to be available; "Godot" suggests the tutor whose tutees are perpetually waiting. One can imagine the queue on the staircase becoming a practical commentary on Waiting for Godot. (Ha.) And all this brings us back rather neatly to the gens Tutoria. If a Roman Tutorius encountered an Oxford "Tutor in Philosophy," he would probably understand the title better than we imagine. He would merely think that the fellow's duty was to protect young minds rather than young inheritances. The semantic dossier has expanded, but the core notion of guardianship remains surprisingly constant across two millennia. and hence tutees calling them 'dons' out of disrespect. In a footnote to 'Presupposition and conversational implicature' Grice calls Strawson his 'former pupil.' on purpose. Strictly, Strawson was a SCHOLAR at St. John's who happened to have been assigned as tutors Mabbott and Grice. Tutee is like pupil, only worse. Strawson was a scholar, not a commoner -- the strict term for he who goes to St. John's by his own means and does not depend on the college's funds. Similarly, Grice had been a scholar at Corpus, and 'pupil' of tutor Hardie -- whereas Shropshire was a 'commoner' who paid -- or his wealthy family did -- his way through college, and thus where 'tutor' becomes even more meaninglessness since Shropshire's father never ceased to be his _guardian_! Thanks Yes, and here your Gricean point intersects with a very specifically Oxford social vocabulary. A Roman would probably have been less puzzled by an Oxford Tutor than by an Oxford Scholar. For the Roman:  tutor = guardian. scholaris (if he coined it) would simply be a student.  But in Oxford usage, particularly the older collegiate usage, "Scholar" is not merely someone who studies; it is a rank and status within the college. Thus P. F. Strawson, as you note, was not merely a pupil in the general sense but a Scholar of St John's, holding a scholarship and enjoying a standing distinct from that of a Commoner. Hence the delicious irony of Grice's footnote referring to Strawson as his "former pupil." Philosophically the phrase is innocent; socially it is mildly mischievous. For a man who had been a Scholar of the college, "pupil" sounds almost schoolboyish. The Oxford hierarchy was full of such overlapping dossiers:  Scholar versus Commoner. Tutor versus Fellow. Tutorial Fellow versus Professorial Fellow.  A Tutorial Fellow taught undergraduates. A Professorial Fellow belonged to the college but held his primary office elsewhere in the university. An Honorary Fellow might do neither. The title "Fellow" therefore covered several very different realities. Your observation about the weakening of tutor is particularly interesting from a Grice-Speranza perspective. In the Roman legal sense, the tutor genuinely exercised protective authority. In Oxford the authority is partly intellectual and partly administrative. Thus if a wealthy Commoner arrived at college with a living father actively supervising his affairs, the Oxford Tutor was not replacing the guardian at all. The term had already undergone a kind of semantic bleaching. One might put it thus: Roman dossier  Tutor ⇒ guardian.  Oxford dossier  Tutor ⇒ academic adviser, instructor, college officer.  The genealogical or legal protection element has largely disappeared. This returns us to your earlier notion of disimplicature. The ancient Roman hearing "tutor" would strongly associate guardianship. The Oxford hearer drops much of that dossier and retains only the educational function. Likewise with pupil. Historically, pupillus is itself a legal category, a minor under guardianship. By the twentieth century:  "Strawson was Grice's pupil"  need not suggest any legal dependence whatever. The legal dossier has vanished. Indeed, one suspects Grice enjoyed these lexical asymmetries. When he calls Strawson his "former pupil," the statement is literally true enough within Oxford convention. Yet it simultaneously underdescribes who Strawson was: a Scholar, later a Fellow, and eventually one of the most distinguished philosophers of the century. A Roman jurist would hear dependence; an Oxford philosopher hears only a tutorial relationship. The conversation runs smoothly because the older implications have long since been disimplicated. And "don" is perhaps the final twist. Originally from dominus, "lord" or "master," it became one of the mildly irreverent terms undergraduates used for the very people who were supposed to be guiding them. A Commoner may have had a father, a guardian, a banker, and a solicitor; but at Oxford he acquired a "don"—which is perhaps the most affectionate way English has found of saying, "the person nominally in charge, but not quite." (Ha.)