The concept of mimēsis was ‘shared by most authors, philosophers and educated audiences in the classical period, in antiquity as a whole, and even later’, although it has probably never been developed into a well-articulated theory.Footnote 1 As far as we can judge from the extant evidence, the meaning of the expressions μίμησις and μιμέομαι differs from author to author and sometimes even from passage to passage. Ancient Greek views on mimēsis have often been discussed in modern scholarship, mainly within the field of history of art,Footnote 2 and it has been demonstrated repeatedly that the traditional English translation ‘imitation’ is not always appropriate for the ancient texts and that in many contexts it is rather misleading.Footnote 3 In the following study I aim to focus on this concept as it was employed in the oldest Greek cosmological and philosophical theories. As a rule, the study of these theories is complicated by their fragmentary state of preservation and by their distortion through the specifically Platonic views that were dominant among the later doxographers. I shall suggest that the Platonizing tendency still prevalent today, which tends to translate and interpret mimēsis as ‘imitation’ or ‘copy’, should be carefully revised in the light of the Hippocratic evidence and specifically in view of De victu, probably the oldest authentic, non-fragmentary, and non-Platonic document attesting the concept of mimēsis.
I open the discussion with a passage from Aristotle reflecting some difficulties with the concept of mimēsis. As we know from him and other doxographers, early Pythagoreans believed that things exist by imitation of numbers, and Aristotle compared the Pythagorean concept with that of Plato, according to which sensible (i.e. material and perishable) things exist by virtue of their participation in non-material and everlasting ideas:
Things of this other sort, then, he [i.e. Plato] called Ideas, and sensible things, he said, were all named after these, and in virtue of a relation to these; for the many existed by participation in the Ideas that have the same name as they. Only the name ‘participation’ was new; for the Pythagoreans say that things exist by ‘imitation’ of numbers (οἱ μὲν γὰρ Πυθαγόρειοι μιμήσει τὰ ὄντα ϕασὶν εἶναι τῶν ἀριθμῶν), and Plato says they exist by participation (μεθέξει), changing the name. But what the participation or the imitation of the Forms could be they left an open question.
(Arist. Metaph. 987b7–14)Footnote 4We are told here that the difference between the Pythagorean and the Platonic concepts was principally a terminological one, though Aristotle says that it remains unclear what either concept actually means. Accordingly, until quite recently the difference between the Platonic and Pythagorean concepts was believed to be terminological rather than conceptual. But Walter Burkert, who initiated a new critical approach to the pre-Platonic Pythagorean doctrines, has suggested in his revolutionary book Lore and Science in Early Pythagoreanism a remarkable interpretation of the topic deserving our attention. I quote the crucial passage connecting his argument with the Hippocratic evidence:
Evidently Aristotle knew the Pythagoreans had used the word μίμησις. He surely must have intended to belittle Plato's originality in the doctrines which Aristotle himself disliked. Thus the thought that this Pythagorean μίμησις was the same as μέθεξις, and therefore implied a theory of ideas, will be seen to be interpretation. Aristotle does give some clues as to how imitation can be understood without a theory of ideas. The word ‘immanence’ is no help, but he does say that the Pythagoreans supposed they saw ὁμοιώματα between things and numbers, and it is only natural to express such similarity or correspondence by the word μίμησις. Similarly, in the Hippocratic writings the relation of microcosm and macrocosm becomes a matter of ‘imitation’, but – and here is the surprising fact – this imitation may be turned either way. One may just as well say that the human body ‘imitates’ the cosmos as that the parts of the cosmos ‘imitate’ human organs. In the same way, either the arts imitate nature or nature imitates the arts. Imitation is a two-sided correspondence, which makes it possible to interpret separate things following the same pattern, but without implying differences of rank or a relationship of ontological priority.Footnote 5
Burkert uses the Hippocratic evidence in support of his own interpretation of early Pythagorean concepts, for which it obviously has important consequences. But he unfortunately does not sufficiently present and analyse the Hippocratic evidence itself upon which his conclusions concerning the Pythagoreans depend. Possibly as a consequence of this, his suggestion regarding the Hippocratic concept of mimēsis has remained more or less unnoticed (or perhaps deliberately ignored) by modern Hippocratic scholars, who still tend to read μίμησις in the Hippocratic treatises in the ‘Platonic’ sense (as I will call it for the sake of convenience): that is, as a relation of ontological priority, where one thing is imitated as a pattern or paradigm and the other imitates it as a copy (or a duplicate) derived from it.Footnote 6
Before proceeding to a more detailed analysis of Burkert's suggestion, I make two preliminary remarks concerning his claim. As for the assertion that ‘one may just as well say that the human body “imitates” the cosmos as that the parts of the cosmos “imitate” human organs’, the problematic point is that we do not have a single author who would explicitly confirm both these positions. The first position, as we will see shortly, is attested by De victu, and the second is attested by De hebdomadibus. Although one has to admit that these two treatises share similar ideas and probably drew on a common source,Footnote 7 they still provide two considerably different accounts most probably written by two different authors. They may also differ in time of origin, since, in comparison with the relatively consensual dating of De victu (between the end of the fifth and middle of the fourth century b.c.e.), the date of De hebdomadibus is still highly disputed.Footnote 8 To make matters even worse, De hebdomadibus survived in Greek only in fragments.Footnote 9 Hence, on the following pages I shall rely mainly on the evidence of De victu.Footnote 10
As for the second of Burkert's claims – that ‘either the arts imitate nature or nature imitates the arts’ – such a position can possibly be found in chapter 18 of De victu, providing that we can dismiss the interpretative objections raised by several commentators of the passage and that we reject one crucial emendation of the Greek text made by Joly in his editions of the treatise. I shall attempt to justify such an approach in the appendix to this paper. Meanwhile, in the first part I will focus on the concept of mimēsis as it appears in the microcosmic–macrocosmic analogies, and in the second part I will examine the phusis–technē analogies in general and their relevance to the dietetic account.
I. ANALOGY OF MACROCOSM AND MICROCOSM
In order to open the discussion on the macrocosmic–microcosmic analogies in De victu, let me start with a brief summary of the first chapters of the treatise. Shortly after the author's exposition of his own attitude towards current discussions on dietetics and related topics (chapter 1), the most elementary dietetic principle is introduced (chapter 2), namely that health is due to correct correspondence between the quality and quantity of food and the quality and quantity of exercises (or any kinds of life activity, including, for instance, sleeping, bathing, or singing). He maintains that whoever wants to write properly on regimen must first acquire knowledge of human nature in general, which presupposes a clear determination of its primary constituents and their relations to each other, as well as to other factors influencing the human condition. In response to this demand, in the following chapters he introduces fire and water as two different but complementary elements by which all living beings are generated and sustained (chapter 3).Footnote 11 Fire represents the life activity and the organizing principle, while water stands for the nutritive counterpart of fire. Since nothing in this world can perish or come into being, all the phenomena understood as ‘becoming’ and ‘perishing’ by the majority of men, who ‘trust eyes rather than mind’ (chapter 4), should be correctly interpreted as the ‘mingling’ and ‘separating’ of certain everlasting seeds or portions of living bodies (which are, unfortunately, not clearly specified anywhere in the treatise). For dietetic purposes it is sufficient to know that each part of man (as well as human nature in general and also the natures of other animals and plants providing the nutrition of man) is ruled by the fire–water dynamics which constantly flow and oscillate between opposite extremes (chapter 6) according to many variables (chapter 2). Presupposing that all these variables can be reduced to the interaction of fire and water allows the author to provide an acceptable theoretical basis for the suggested dietetic therapy.
Chapters 7–10 describe how the everlasting seeds enter the human body, how they commingle and grow in men and women, and how, after achieving some maturity, they are separated in the form of male sperm and its female equivalent.Footnote 12 Then, after joining each other at the right place and at the suitable period,Footnote 13 a concoction of the seeds which has achieved the right harmonyFootnote 14 gets inflamed and the embryological process starts by drawing nourishment from ‘the food and breath that enter the woman’.Footnote 15 Fire forms the body into a structure of organs and passages out of the ‘available moisture inside’,Footnote 16 with some parts being solidified by fire into the compacted parts ‘called bones and sinews’.Footnote 17 In the innermost part of the body it makes a structure called κοιλίη. From the anatomical point of view, this organ or structure can be rendered in various ways, most specifically as ‘stomach’, or more generally as ‘belly’ including the stomach, intestines, and other organs of the digestive system. Most generally it can be understood as referring to all the innards of the human body, including the digestive organs, lungs, heart, and all other internal organs surrounded by the compact body of bones, muscles, and skin, as we can understand the ‘concretion of cold water and moist’ in chapter 10 (see below).Footnote 18 Out of this κοιλίη fire makes ‘the greatest passage’ which serves as a supply tunnel for ‘breath and nourishment’,Footnote 19 while in the rest of the body it makes some κοῖλαι called ϕλέβες.Footnote 20 And ‘in the middle of these’ it coagulates flesh out of the remaining water (i.e. nutrition).Footnote 21 This account culminates in chapter 10, where the mimetic principle is announced:
In a word, the fire arranged all things in the body by itself properly, as an ἀπομίμησις (apomimēsis) of the whole, small things in relation to great things and great things in relation to small things. [It made] the largest cavity (κοιλίη), a store room for dry water and moist, to give to all and to take from all, [having] the power of the sea, [providing] food for creatures suited to it, [bringing] destruction to those not suited. And around it [fire made] a concretion of cold and moist water, a passage for cold and warm breath, as an apomimēsis of the earth, which alters all things that fall into it. Consuming some things, and increasing others, it made a dispersion of fine water and of aerial fire, the invisible and the visible, a secretion from the formed substance, in which all things are carried and come to light, each according to its allotted portion. And in this fire made three circuits, extending to each other inwards and outwards: one extending towards the cavities (τὰ κοῖλα) of the moist [having] the power of the moon; another extending towards the outer circumference, towards the solid enclosure [having] the power of the stars; the middle circuit extends both inwards and outwards <having the power of the sun >.
(Vict. 1.10/CMG 134.5–10)Footnote 22For the sake of clarity and in order to avoid the confusion caused by the standard translations ‘copy’ or ‘imitation’, I have left the crucial term apomimēsis in our passage untranslated.Footnote 23 For our discussion it is important to consider that the formula ‘small things in relation to great things and great things in relation to small things’ suggests some kind of reciprocity or mutual relationship of greater and smaller structures, and probably expresses the essence of the macrocosmic–microcosmic analogies.Footnote 24
The intention of the author – as I suppose – is to show that fire forms organs and structures in the body which resemble some of the macrocosmic structures in their shape or function. The capacity of the sea to assimilate and decompose organic materials (λαβεῖν παρὰ πάντων) and to provide nutrition (δοῦναι πᾶσι)Footnote 25 should apparently illustrate the digestive and nutritive capacity of the largest cavity (κοιλίη) in the centre of the body. I have already mentioned the difficulties in finding a specific anatomical equivalent for the term but, no matter what organ or anatomical structure corresponds to the expression κοιλίη here, its central position and also developmental priority over the other organs confirms the crucial role of nutrition in the suggested dietetic account based on the reciprocity of life activity and nutrition. The function of the central κοιλίη is illustrated with the potency of sea, which, according to this analogy, provides nutrition for living beings.Footnote 26 Accordingly, all the bodily organs (πάντα) are formed by fire into a functional organism, which should exercise the capacity first of all to digest various kinds of food, then to transform them into nutrition, and finally to use this nutrition for the physiological needs of the given organism, as is illustrated by ‘the earth which alters all things that fall into it’.
Towards the end of our passage the topic of the three circuits made by fire in the body (already introduced in chapter 9) is reiterated, and the circuits themselves are formulated as a concentric structure. Each of these circuits is connected with the power or potency (δύναμις) of some of the celestial bodies, namely the moon, sun, and stars.Footnote 27 The author does not explicitly say that the three bodily circuits are made as an apomimēsis of the orbits of stars, sun, and moon, but it is the δύναμις which concerns him here. None the less, the microcosmic–macrocosmic analogy between the circuits in the body and the orbits of celestial bodies seems to follow from the initial claim that fire arranged all things in the body ‘as an apomimēsis of the whole’. Here we have the clearest example in the treatise of the resemblance of the whole macrocosmic structure (not only its individual parts such as earth and sea in the preceding text) to the overall structure of human body.
The analogies between microcosm and macrocosm also play an important role in Book 4, in chapters 89 and 90, where they serve specific diagnostic purposes. At the beginning of chapter 89 the author suggests that seeing the heavenly bodies clear, dry, and in the proper order indicates health, whereas seeing anything contrasting with these conditions indicates illness of the body.Footnote 28 Immediately after this he reiterates what was already said in chapter 10: ‘The outer circuit belongs to the stars, the middle circuit to the sun, the circuit towards the cavities belongs to the moon.’Footnote 29 This sentence apparently serves as a reminder of the analogy between the macrocosm structured in three concentric spheres (moon–sun–stars) and the parallel arrangement of the human body.Footnote 30 This may provide a necessary condition for understanding the principles of dream diagnosis, since – from the diagnostic point of view – seeing heavenly bodies and other macrocosmic phenomena in our dreams may serve as a clue for the diagnosis of the dreamer's body. Health is signified, for instance, when the sun, moon, heavens, or stars in the dream appear to be ‘pure and bright’,Footnote 31 or when a heavenly body appears to be pure and bright and falls away from its orbit towards the east.Footnote 32 On the other hand, diseases are indicated whenever a heavenly body seems to be dark and dull, and to move towards the west, or into the sea, or into the earth, or upwards.Footnote 33 When the motion is upwards, it means fluxes of the head; when into the sea, diseases of the bowels; when into the earth, tumours growing in the flesh.Footnote 34
Some other examples of the diagnostic implication of the microcosmic–macrocosmic analogies are used in chapter 90: for instance, fruitless trees signify ‘corruption of the human seed’;Footnote 35 rivers in abnormal conditions indicate ‘a circulation of the blood’;Footnote 36 high water denotes excess of blood, low water deficiency of blood;Footnote 37 springs and cisterns implies ‘some trouble of the bladder’;Footnote 38 a troubled sea signifies ‘disease of the belly’;Footnote 39 to see the earth flooded by water or sea indicates ‘a disease, as there is much moisture in the body’.Footnote 40 It is ‘not good’ either, according to the author, ‘to see the earth black or scorched, but there is a danger of catching a violent, or even a fatal disease, for it indicates excess of dryness in the flesh’.Footnote 41 If the dreamer thinks that he is diving in a lake, in the sea, or in a river, ‘it is not a good sign, for it indicates excess of moisture’.Footnote 42
All these examples of dream symbolism obviously raise two fundamental questions: what is the relation between particular macrocosmic objects and their bodily counterparts in general? And, specifically, what is the causal connection between the affected parts of the human body and their dream representations? With regard to the second question, it is presupposed that the mechanism of the symbolic representations is mediated by soul, which performs in dreams ‘all the functions of body and soul’ (Vict. 4.86). Simply said, ‘as the experiences of the body are, so are the visions of the soul when sight is cut off’.Footnote 43 But in order to answer the first question, something more has to be added. Supposing that the relation between the macrocosmic structures seen in dreams and the bodily organs is not simply a haphazard symbolism (at least not from the author's point of view), and that the passage in chapter 89 speaking about the three circuits in the body refers back to the embryological passage in chapter 10, it is most probable that the relation between the human body and macrocosm should be secured and explained by the concept of mimēsis.
According to the ‘Platonic’ reading, the microcosmic and macrocosmic phenomena should correspond to each other because all the bodily structures were made by fire ‘as an imitation of’ the macrocosmic objects, which is an explanation that poses serious interpretative difficulties. Why, for instance, should human seed be made ‘as a copy’ of fruiting trees rather than the other way round? (In other words, what is the ontological or cosmological priority of trees over humans and other animals?) And why should fire, while forming a human body, make organs (such as the bladder) as ‘an imitation’ of artificial objects (such as cisterns, ϕρέατα)? This would actually contradict the account in chapters 11–24, where – according to the same logic depending on the ‘Platonic’ reading (as I will illustrate in the next section) – arts and crafts should ‘imitate’ the natural processes and organic structures, but not vice versa.
Burkert's reading can save us from these difficulties, and for the purposes of the dream diagnosis it is perfectly sufficient. In order to interpret dream visions in relation to the bodily conditions, all we need to know is that the microcosmic and macrocosmic structures correspond to each other simply because they share certain universal principles immanently present at all levels of reality. The dreaming soul apparently follows these universal principles and visualizes the bodily states in the form of dream visions. We can remember our own visions, but, unless we are trained in dream interpretation, we cannot understand that they actually reflect our bodily state of health. In other words, by understanding the microcosmic–macrocosmic analogies we can learn from the visible (i.e. dream visions) about the invisible (i.e. the affections inside the body). Accordingly, to return to the embryological context of chapter 10, by understanding the visible natural structures and processes of the macrocosmic phenomena, we can learn about the structures and function of the inner organs of the human body, which are invisible to human sight. The principle of learning from the visible about the invisible will be announced in chapter 11, that is, immediately after the introduction of the mimetic principle in chapter 10, and before the extensive excursion into the analogies between phusis and technē in chapters 12–24, which I shall discuss next.
II. ANALOGY OF PHYSIS AND TECHNĒ
Drawing analogies between visible and invisible phenomena was a common methodological feature of early Greek science. Besides the famous dictum ὄψις τῶν ἀδήλων τὰ ϕαινόμενα ascribed to Anaxagoras,Footnote 44 similar ideas can be also found in the classical period in Herodotus, Democritus, Diocles of Carystus, and several Hippocratic treatises.Footnote 45 In De victu the difference between invisible and visible overlaps with the difference between phusis and technē, as we read at the beginning of chapter 11:
Men do not understand how to observe the invisible through the visible. For though the arts they employ are like the nature of man, yet they know it not. For the mind of the gods taught them how to make them [i.e. the arts] exactly like (μιμεῖσθαι) their own [functions],Footnote 46 and though they know what they are doing yet they know not what they are expressing. For all things are like, though unlike, all compatible though incompatible, conversing through not conversing, intelligent though without intelligence.
(Vict. 1.11/CMG 134.21–5)The Anaxagorean principle is announced here in a negative form, which implies some scepticism concerning the capacities of common men to understand the nature of the principle. But this difficulty can and should be overcome with the help of the following excursion into the phusis–technē analogies in chapters 12–24. Only after this long account (occupying about 20 per cent of the text of the first book!) does the author feel comfortable to continue with the embryological account interrupted in chapter 10. In this excursus he apparently aims to teach his readers how to use this methodological tool, and his explanation starts with a demarcation of a field in which they can practise this capacity, namely in the analogies between arts and crafts, on the one hand, and various aspects of human nature, on the other. The fact that these phenomena are analogical is explained by the idea that there is some unique capacity (i.e. μιμεῖσθαι τὰ ἑωυτῶν) which men have received from gods, even though they are mostly not aware of it.
It is remarkable that the principle of mimēsis is expressed in this passage in terms of ‘likeness’ (ὁμοίῃσιν, ὅμοια), which reminds us of Aristotle's account of the Pythagorean version of mimēsis (‘they saw ὁμοιώματα between things and numbers’).Footnote 47 In fact, the whole excursion into the phusis–technē analogies starts in chapter 12 with a claim that the author ‘will show that arts are like (ὁμοίας ἐούσας) the affections of man, both visible and invisible’,Footnote 48 and concludes in chapter 24 by saying that ‘all the arts have something in common (ἐπικοινωνέουσιν) with the nature of man’.Footnote 49 Moreover, the resemblance between the discussed arts and corresponding aspects of human phusis is not always expressed by the verb μιμέομαι, but it is also articulated by the phrases ταῦτα πάσχει,Footnote 50 ταῦτα πάσχουσι,Footnote 51 τοιαῦτα ἔχει,Footnote 52 or simply τωὐτό,Footnote 53 eventually ταὐτὰ διαπρήσσονται.Footnote 54
It seems that all these expressions are supposed by the author to be more or less synonymous with the verb μιμέομαι,Footnote 55 and that the aim of all these analogies is primarily to point out certain resemblances between two phenomena, of which – as a rule – one is a specific feature of human phusis and the other is some well-known or easily observable phenomenon which serves as an illustration for the first. The artificial procedures are supposed to be based on the same universal principles as the natural procedures, and understanding these universal principles in the technological context might facilitate the reader's understanding of the nature of the physiological processes, which are themselves necessary for appreciation and application of the dietetic treatment and prevention. This didactic strategy of the Hippocratic author is probably intended in all the examples of the phusis–technē analogies in chapters 12–24, even though some are easier to understand than others, and some unfortunately remain obscure and puzzling.
In chapter 12, the first analogy concerns the art of seercraft, which resembles (μιμεῖται) the nature and life of man in two specific points.Footnote 56 First, in seercraft, as well as in ordinary life situations, one can get knowledge of invisible things or future events by proper interpretation of visible phenomena or present events (for instance, by certain visible signs a man can realize that his wife is pregnant and can therefore expect offspring).Footnote 57 Second, in both cases only an experienced person (‘who knows’) can interpret things and events ‘always right’; without this experience one can only engage in guesswork (‘sometimes rightly and sometimes not’).
The topic of procreation is also discussed in chapter 22, where the fact that humans and animals, in the same periods (‘in one and the same revolution’), by the same organs (‘with the same tools’), and from the same nutrition (‘from the same materials’), produce various individuals (‘without two being alike’) is illustrated by the work of potters upon a spinning wheel: ‘On this wheel as it revolves they make pottery of every shape, and no two pieces are alike, though they are made from the same materials and with the same tools.’Footnote 58 The movement of the wheel, which ‘shifts neither forwards nor backwards, yet moves both ways at once’, is related to the revolution of the whole (τοῦ ὅλου περιϕορή), which makes the structure rather more complicated. Instead of two there are three members of the analogy: macrocosm (supposing that the words τοῦ ὅλου refer to the revolutions of the celestial bodies), technē (pottery), and phusis (i.e. the physiological periods of men and animals). The relationship between technē and phusis is expressed simply by ταὐτὰ πάσχουσι, whereas, for the relation between technē and macrocosm the author uses mimetic vocabulary, even though the exact reading is unclear and has to be emended.Footnote 59
In chapter 17, which sits approximately in the middle of the phusis–technē excursion, we find an analogy between building and dietetics, the subject of the whole treatise. The interpretation of this passage is facilitated by the fact that the wording is almost identical for technē and for phusis and that the whole passage is perfectly symmetrical between the example of building on the side of technē and that of human diet on the side of phusis. Builders are said to ‘fashion a harmony out of diverse materials’, by means of ‘moistening what is dry and drying what is moist’ and ‘dividing wholes and putting together what is divided’. Then the author says that ‘this resembles the regimen of man’ (δίαιταν ἀνθρωπίνην μιμέεται), and the same descriptions are repeated almost exactly.Footnote 60
As for the ‘moistening what is dry and drying what is moist’ sentence (which is picked up in another two analogies),Footnote 61 it should be repeated that all the dietetic prescriptions presented in De victu are based on the assumption that various activities and various kinds of food cool or warm or moisten or dry the human body.Footnote 62 The goal of the suggested dietetic account is to achieve and maintain the equilibrium of moistness and dryness, coldness and hotness in our body by dietetic means.Footnote 63 All foods, exercises (or activities), and other dietetic constants (gender, specific individual nature) and variables (age, seasons, winds) are catalogued, organized, and analysed according to these qualities or according to the capacities to produce these qualities in the human body. The next sentence (‘dividing wholes and putting together what is divided’Footnote 64) reflects the author's assumption that any natural whole (namely animals, including humans, and their nutrition, i.e. other animals or plants) should be explained from its parts, and that organic parts naturally incline to unify into wholes. The author has already introduced and used this principle in his methodological preface (chapter 2), where he claimed that knowledge of human nature consists in knowledge and discernment of its primary parts (μέρεα), and also in the subsequent analysis of human nature (chapter 3), where these ‘parts’ are identified as two elements: fire and water.Footnote 65 The physiological theory underlying the dietetic account can be understood as a kind of methodological ‘mereology’. It concerns mainly the relations of parts to whole and the relations of part to part within a whole, as it is most explicitly stated in the opening sentence of chapter 6: ‘Into man enter parts of parts and wholes of wholes, containing a mixture of fire and water …’.Footnote 66
The last characteristic supporting the analogy between building and human regimen concerns the principle of the unity of opposites. This principle appears at the beginning of the analogy in connection with builders (‘out of diverse materials fashion a harmony’) and again at the end of the chapter, where it probably covers the activities of the builders as well as the dietetic procedures (‘all these, being diverse, are harmonious’). This last formulation of the principle may also refer to various other topics discussed in the treatise, including the concept of harmony, which is the topic of the next analogy in chapter 18 (discussed in the appendix). For instance, the equilibrium of opposite qualities (moist and dry) is considered to be the healthy state, which can be articulated in two different ways: the first one is the dietetic reciprocity of food and exercise – in modern terms, ingested nutrition and the expenditure of energy.Footnote 67 Another, rather philosophical articulation of the healthy equilibrium speaks about the elemental harmony of fire and water.Footnote 68
The analogy in chapter 21 is also perfectly symmetrical and illustrates the principles of growth and development of men by the work of statue-makers.Footnote 69 Both processes are expressed in terms of ‘drying the moist and moistening the dry’, ‘taking from that which is in excess and adding to that which is deficient’, and ‘growing from the smallest to the tallest’. The first sentence of the analogy opens with a claim that ‘statue-makers make a mimēsis of the body without the soul, as they do not make intelligent things, using water and earth’. Here, more than in any other of the phusis–technē analogies, it is appropriate to translate mimēsis as ‘a copy’, since a statue of a man apparently is a kind of imitation of human body in its appearance (and only in the appearance, i.e. without soul, πλὴν ψυχῆς). But we should not overlook the fact that the core of this analogy is not the resemblance between the exterior form of the man and the statue but rather between the processes leading to, and procedures involved in, the construction of a statue and the development of a human individual. In this rests the identity of the art of sculpture with the things experienced by man (ταὐτὰ πάσχει ὁ ἄνθρωπος).
To conclude, I have tried to show that the concept of mimēsis as it is employed in De victu verifies the characterization of the Hippocratic evidence suggested by Burkert, namely that it represents a ‘two-sided correspondence, which makes it possible to interpret separate things following the same pattern, but without implying differences of rank or a relationship of ontological priority’. This concept is used in De victu to connect and explain different levels of reality, ‘small things in relation to great things and great things in relation to small things’, which are structured in harmonic compositions. The same principle is also employed within the discussion of the analogies between phusis and technē, which – as I suggest – serves the author of De victu as a didactic tool for explaining the concept of human nature which underlies the dietetic account.
Even though my concern in this article has been limited to the Hippocratic text, I hope that the results of this analysis may also throw some light on pre-Aristotelian modalities of mimēsis in general and specifically on the contrast between Pythagoreans and Plato, as suggested by Burkert. But this topic deserves further and more detailed exploration, and the same applies to the evident parallels between De victu and the early Pythagoreans, which have been repeatedly suggested but not as yet thoroughly discussed.Footnote 70
APPENDIX: THE ANALOGY OF MAKING MUSIC AND COOKING
In chapter 18 we find probably the most complicated and problematic phusis–technē analogy, which deserves special attention. Since another typically Pythagorean topic, namely the concept of harmony, emerges here, let me first turn back to the passage in chapter 8, where achieving harmony by the concoction of male and female seeds is said to be a requirement for the successful development of a human embryo. The passage reads as follows:
When it has moved to a different place, if it attains correct harmony (ἁρμονίη) containing three concords, συλλαβή, δι' ὀξέων, and διὰ πασῶν, it lives and grows using the same nourishments as before. But if it does not attain harmony, and the low-pitched elements do not become concordant with the high-pitched in the first concord or the second or that which runs through all (τὸ διὰ παντός), if just one of them is faulty the whole tuning is useless, as there can be no consonance. But they change from the greater to the less in an untimely fashion, because they do not know what they do.Footnote 71
The last sentence describes what happens when the harmony is not achieved. In such a case the embryos change ‘from the greater to the less’: that is, they ‘perish from the light into Hades’, as common men say, but, more precisely, it should be said that they ‘separate and diminish’ (chapter 5). All living and mortal organisms undergo such a change, sooner or later, as they ‘fulfil their allotted destiny’ (τὴν πεπρωμένην μοίρην ἕκαστον ἐκπληροῖ).Footnote 72 In the present case, however, this happens to the embryos ‘in an untimely fashion’ or ‘before their destiny’ (πρὸ μοίρης).Footnote 73 The reason for this is that they are ignorant of what they do (διότι οὐ γινώσκουσιν, ὅ τι ποιέουσιν), which implies that there is some degree of consciousness (and accordingly the possibility of its failure) in every living part of any body (πάντα … γνώμην ἔχοντα, ἀγνώμονα). This occurs in the same or a comparable way as it does in mature men, who don't know what they do when they imitate nature in the arts they practise (γινώσκοντας ἃ ποιέουσι, καὶ οὐ γινώσκοντας ἃ μιμέονται). In view of that, our passage implies that the capacity to perceive harmony is inherent in every human individual that has succeeded in developing into a fully functional organism.
As for the musical terminology used in this passage, it should be recognized that the harmonic intervals are not suggested here in any mathematical formula, as it is often presupposed in the Pythagorean accounts,Footnote 74 but rather in expressions appropriate to the practice of making music.Footnote 75 As suggested by Andrew Barker, the expressions συλλαβή, δι' ὀξέων, and διὰ πασῶν refer rather to the way in which one can produce intervals on a particular stringed instrument than to any mathematical proportions.Footnote 76 In any case, for the following interpretation it is important to realize that harmony in the embryological development was achieved by fire ‘according to nature’ (κατὰ ϕύσιν).Footnote 77
Harmony is a natural principle, which underlies not only the development of the human body, but also – as we read in the analogy in chapter 18 – musical arrangements and culinary compositions. The analogy of music and cooking in chapter 18 starts as follows:
Ἁρμονίης συντάξιες ἐκ τῶν αὐτῶν οὐχ αἱ αὐταὶ, ἐκ τοῦ ὀξέος καὶ ἐκ τοῦ βαρέος, ὀνόματι μὲν ὁμοίων, ϕθόγγῳ δὲ οὐχ ὁμοίων. τὰ πλεῖστον διάϕορα μάλιστα συμϕέρει, τὰ δὲ ἐλάχιστον διάϕορα ἥκιστα συμϕέρει. εἰ δὲ ὅμοια πάντα ποιήσει τις, οὐκέτι τέρψις. αἱ πλεῖσται μεταβολαὶ καὶ πολυειδέσταται μάλιστα τέρπουσιν. μάγειροι ὄψα σκευάζουσιν ἀνθρώποισι διαϕόρων, συμϕόρων, παντοδαπὰ συγκρίνοντες, ἐκ τῶν αὐτῶν οὐ ταὐτὰ, βρῶσιν καὶ πόσιν ἀνθρώπῳ. εἰ δὲ πάντα ὅμοια ποιήσει, οὐκ ἔχει τέρψιν· οὐδ' εἰ ἐν τῷ αὐτῷ πάντα συντάξειεν, οὐκ ἂν ἔχοι ὀρθῶς.
(Vict. 1.18/CMG 138.15–21)From the same [components] come harmonious compositions that are not the same, from the high and from the low, which are alike in name but not alike in sound. Those that are most diverse make the best harmony; those that are least diverse make the worst. If anyone composed a piece all on one [component], it would fail to please. It is the greatest changes and the most varied that please the most. Cooks prepare for men dishes, disagreeing while agreeing, mixing together things of all sorts, from things that are the same, things that are not the same, to be food and drink for man. If the cook makes all alike there is no pleasure in them; and it would not be right either if he were to compound all things in one dish.
It is not entirely clear whether the first sentence speaks about harmonious arrangements as they appear in cooking as well as in musical arrangements, or whether it refers specifically to music. I suggest that the second option is more probable, since it makes the structure of this part of the analogy satisfactorily symmetrical (and in its structure similar to the analogies in chapters 17 and 21 mentioned above), and also because it seems to be supported by the expressions ἐκ τοῦ ὀξέος καὶ ἐκ τοῦ βαρέος. In both cooking and making music, harmonic structures are achieved by skilful combinations of different (and in a way opposite) components. The recipients of these compositions are pleased by the variety rather than uniformity (εἰ δὲ ὅμοια πάντα ποιήσει τις, οὐκ ἔνι τέρψις), and the more variety there is, the more pleasure there is (τὰ δὲ ἐλάχιστον διάϕορα ἥκιστα συμϕέρει), and vice versa.
The analogy then continues as follows:Footnote 78
κρούεται τὰ κρούματα ἐν μουσικῇ τὰ μὲν ἄνω, τὰ δὲ κάτω. γλῶσσα <ν> μουσικὴ μιμεῖται διαγινώσκουσα <ν> μὲν τὸ γλυκὺ καὶ τὸ ὀξὺ τῶν προσπιπτόντων, καὶ διάϕωνα καὶ σύμϕωνα. κρούεται δὲ τοὺς ϕθόγγους ἄνω καὶ κάτω, καὶ οὔτε τὰ ἄνω κάτω κρουόμενα ὀρθῶς ἔχει οὔτε τὰ κάτω ἄνω· καλῶς δὲ ἡρμοσμένης γλώσσης τῇ συμϕωνίῃ τέρψις, ἀναρμόστου δὲ λύπη.
(Vict. 1.18/CMG 138.21–6)The notes struck while playing music are some high, some low. The tongue resembles music in distinguishing of the things that touch it, the sweet and the acid, the discordant from the concordant. Its notes are struck high and low, and it is well neither when the high notes are struck low nor when the low are struck high. When the tongue is well in tune the concord pleases, but there is pain when the tongue is out of tune.
The structure of this analogy as a whole was repeatedly considered to be problematic. Diller was disturbed by the fact that the author speaks about two different arts or crafts and that it is not clear which of the two should be the imitating one and which the imitated. The author is therefore, as Diller claimed, ‘unsure of his own conception’. Instead of being consistent with his own conception, he provides in this passage a mere ‘Nebeneinanderstellung’.Footnote 79 Nor was Koller happy with the passage, explicitly suggesting that we should expect to read γλῶσσαν μουσικὴ μιμεῖται here. The problem of both these interpreters evidently rests on their presupposition that, according to the main thesis, the arts and crafts ‘imitate’ human nature, and, since the tongue is a natural organ and music an art, music cannot ‘imitate’ the tongue. Accordingly, the claim is, there must be something wrong with the text.Footnote 80 Koller's argument unfortunately convinced Joly to change the Greek text from γλῶσσα μουσικὴν μιμεῖται διαγινώσκουσα (as it is attested by MS θ) to γλῶσσαν μουσικὴ μιμεῖται διαγινώσκουσαν, which has no manuscript support, but solves the interpretative difficulty expressed by Diller and Koller. Joly has revealed a discrepancy between the two Greek manuscripts, since M reads γλῶσσα μουσικὴ μιμεῖται, and has suggested that it provides evidence of an intermediate stage between the original reading (responding to Koller's objection) and the corruption transmitted by the following tradition.Footnote 81 This emendation unfortunately occurs both in the Budé edition published in 1967Footnote 82 and in the CMG edition published in 1984.Footnote 83
With all due respect to the contributions of Joly as editor and interpreter of De victu, in this case an interpretative difficulty was deliberately replaced by a false philological dilemma. In order to reconstruct the Hippocratic text, two main manuscripts (θ and M) and one Latin translation (P) are usually decisive. Unlike in other similar cases when MSS θ and M disagree, in this case Joly does not indicate in the apparatus criticus the reading of P, the ninth-century manuscript with Latin translation, which is considerably older than both main Greek manuscripts and can possibly be dated back to the sixth century c.e.Footnote 84 There is an obvious reason for not doing so, since P actually supports the evidence of θ and reads lingua musicam imitatur.Footnote 85 Joly as the co-editor of the editio princeps of P was well aware of this evidence.Footnote 86 Nevertheless, in both his editions of De victu he gave preference to a conjecture which goes against the evidence of two out of three main manuscripts. His solution rests only on the corrupted reading of M, which itself needs to be amended. The story of ‘un texte intermédiare’ is apparently made ad hoc in support of the emendation suggested by Koller on purely interpretative grounds. Following Burkert's suggestion, there is no need to be concerned with the priority of one side of the analogy over the other.Footnote 87 And there is, as I suggest, no need to be troubled by the fact that two arts are compared to each other, since the analogy with phusis (i.e. principles of harmony) is present in both technai, and a similar procedure where more than one technē serves as an illustration of some aspect of phusis is used in other analogies as well, as for instance in chapters 15, 19, 20, and 24.
