The relevant passages in the third book of the Rhetoric are far more in number. What arouses wonder (to thaumaston) is pleasing; metaphor manifests itself (phainesthai) when we examine (skopein) a possible correspondence or analogy. The talent for metaphor is not something that can be learned from others, and therefore it is not a matter of mere imitation but of invention. The examples he gives of analogy are not in the least banal, as in the famous example (1405a) in which pirates refer to themselves as “purveyors.” The rhetorical move is persuasive because it insinuates that the plunderer and the merchant share a characteristic in common, since both of them facilitate the transfer of goods from a source to the consumer. The identification of the characteristic they share (in addition to being brazen) is daring, because other discordant characteristics, such as the opposition between a peaceful means and a violent one, are narcotized, but it is undeniably ingenious and provokes surprise, encouraging us to reconsider the role of the pirate in the economy of the Mediterranean.
Aristotle declares that metaphors should be drawn from things that are not evident, just as in philosophy the sagacious mind recognizes, discovers, perceives (theorein) similarities between distant things (1412a 12). On the other hand, in 1405b he says that metaphors imply enigmas. When, apropos of the asteia (1410b 6 et seq.), he says that the poet calls old age kalámen or “a withered stalk,” he specifies that such a metaphor is productive of a knowledge (gnosis) through their common genus, inasmuch as both belong to the genus of things that have lost their bloom. Elegant enthymemes are those which help us learn in a new and rapid way and, in this as in other cases, the verbum cognoscendi used is manthanein, to learn. Those enthymemes are efficacious that are understood little by little as they are spoken and were previously unknown, or those we understand only at the end. In such cases we say that gnosis gínetai (“knowledge comes to be”). Moreover, the obvious metaphor, which is not at all striking, is rejected. When the metaphor makes us see things the opposite from the way we thought they were, it becomes evident that we have learned something, and our mind seems to say: “That’s the way it was, and I was mistaken about it.”
Metaphors, then, “put the thing before our eyes” (to poiein to pragma pro ommaton). This notion of “putting something before our eyes” is repeated several other times in the text, and Aristotle appears to insist on it with conviction: a metaphor is not a mere transfer but a transfer that is immediate in its evidence—but clearly unfamiliar, unexpected, thanks to which things are seen in action (1410b 34), or better, signified in action.
As for the many examples provided by the text, especially those that concern similes (1406b 20 et seq.), it is certainly difficult to say whether they may have sounded bold to the ears of Aristotle’s contemporaries, but all of them appear to be examples of original witticisms. The same can be said of the passage on the asteia (1411b 22). All the examples are provocative and so little used previously that they are attributed to a specific author. To call triremes painted millstones and taverns the mess-rooms of Attica is a fine way to show something in a new light.
But what is it that metaphor as a cognitive mechanism makes us see in a fresh light? Things themselves, or the way we were accustomed to seeing (and representing) things?
It appears that it is only in contemporary culture that we have realized that, in order to be understood, metaphors often require us to reorganize our categories. As Black (1979: 39–40) remarks, “some metaphors enable us to see aspects of reality that the metaphor production helps to constitute. But that is no longer surprising if one believes that the world is necessarily a world under a certain description—or a world seen from a certain perspective. Certain metaphors can create such a perspective.”35
Still, when Aristotle said that the invention of an effective metaphor “puts before our eyes” for the first time an unfamiliar relationship between two things, he meant that metaphor compels us to reorganize our knowledge and our opinions. Let us return to the Rhetoric (1405a) and the metaphor by which pirates are said to be purveyors or suppliers. Now, before the appearance of this metaphor there was nothing to associate an honest merchant who acquires, transports by ship, and resells his merchandise with a pirate who steals someone else’s merchandise. The astuteness of the metaphor consists in compelling us to identify a hierarchical organization of property that, on a lower level, distinguishes a violent action from a pacific one, but, on the higher level, lumps together genera and species of those who transport merchandise upon the sea. In this way the metaphor unexpectedly suggests a socially useful role for the pirate, at the same time leading us to suspect that there may be something not altogether above board about the transactions of the merchant. In this way, the categorical field becomes reorganized no longer on the basis of moral or legal considerations but on the basis of economic activity.
We have already remarked how, in seeking various explanations for the eclipse, Aristotle tried out various “ontologies” (and we are not going too far in using the term in the quintessentially modern sense we just recognized). Similarly, when, in On the Parts of Animals, he must decide, on the basis of empirical observations, which of the various biological phenomena are causes and which effects, Aristotle finds himself faced with the fact that ruminants (animals, that is, with four stomachs) have horns and lack upper incisors—with the embarrassing exception of the camel, which is a ruminant lacking upper incisors, but without horns.
Aristotle first proposes a definition whereby horned animals are animals which, since they have four stomachs—which makes internal rumination possible—have redirected the hard matter of the teeth into the formation of horns. In order to make the camel fit into this categorical organization, Aristotle must suppose that it did not need to redirect the hard matter into horns (because, being large, it had no need for further protection), but instead it deflected it to the gums and palate (Figure 1.19).
Figure 1.19
But why are ruminants the way they are? The fact that they are ruminants explains why they have horns, but having horns does not explain why they are ruminants. Faced with the need to define the category of ruminants, Aristotle puts forward the hypothesis that ruminants have deviated the hard matter from the mouth to the head for reasons of defense and have developed four stomachs as a consequence (Figure 1.20).
Figure 1.20
As we can readily see, these two definitions presuppose two different categorical organizations, in the first of which it is the fact of being a ruminant that determines the deviation of the incisors and makes possible the development of horns, in the other it is the deviation of the incisors for the purposes of defense that produced the four stomachs. The truth is that Aristotle, in suggesting a number of hypotheses regarding causes and effects, in no way attempts to construct pseudo-Porphyrian trees. He merely shows extreme flexibility in selecting as a genus what was previously a species and vice versa. In other words, he never tells us that the definition is based on an underlying ontological structure, rather what he does is to propose a methodology of division that makes an adequate definition possible. It is not the underlying tree that makes the definition possible, it is the definition that imposes an underlying tree, frequently ad hoc. But in his theory of metaphor Aristotle goes still further: he suggests that a creative and original use of language obliges us to invent a new ontology—and therefore, we might add, to enrich to some degree our encyclopedia.
Naturally, the new ontology is only valid as far as the comprehension of the creative text that imposes it is concerned. But we are entitled to suppose that, once the creative text has imposed a new ontology, however local, somehow or other it leaves a trace in our encyclopedia.
1.8.2. Joycean Ontologies
In my essay “The Semantics of Metaphor” (in Eco 1984c), a kind of reduced ontology was constructed, made up of all the expressions that appear in a certain section of Joyce’s Finnegans Wake, and an attempt was made to justify the various puns as passages among a series of phonetic, synecdochic, metonymic, or metaphoric associations.
The experiment was intended to demonstrate how, starting from whatever point of the textual universe one might chose as a sample, one could attain, by multiple and continuous pathways, as in a garden of forking paths, any other point.
In the schema presented in Figure 1.21,36 we may observe how the term Neanderthal evokes by phonetic association three other terms: meander, Tal (German for “valley”) and tale (“story,” in English), which combine to form the punning coinage cited in the book, meandertale. In the associative trajectory,
