Cratylus

Hermogenes. Now, though I am asking him and am exerting myself to find out what in the world he means, he does not explain himself at all; he meets me with dissimulation, claiming to have some special knowledge of his own about it which would, if he chose to speak it out clearly, make me agree entirely with him. Now if you could interpret Cratylus’s oracular speech, I should like to hear you; or rather, I should like still better to hear, if you please, what you yourself think about the correctness of names.

Socrates. Hermogenes, son of Hipponicus, there is an ancient saying that knowledge of high things is hard to gain; and surely knowledge of names is no small matter. Now if I had attended Prodicus’s fifty-drachma course of lectures, after which, as he himself says, a man has a complete education on this subject, there would be nothing to hinder your learning the truth about the correctness of names at once; but I have heard only the one-drachma course, and so I do not know what the truth is about such matters. However, I am ready to join you and Cratylus in looking for it. But as for his saying that Hermogenes is not truly your name, I suspect he is making fun of you; for perhaps he thinks that you want to make money and fail every time. But, as I said, it is difficult to know such things. We must join forces and try to find out whether you are right, or Cratylus.

Hermogenes. For my part, Socrates, I have often talked with Cratylus and many others, and cannot come to the conclusion that there is any correctness of names other than convention and agreement. For it seems to me that whatever name you give to a thing is its right name; and if you give up that name and change it for another, the later name is no less correct than the earlier, just as we change the names of our servants; for I think no name belongs to any particular thing by nature, but only by the habit and custom of those who employ it and who established the usage. But if this is not the case, I am ready to hear and to learn from Cratylus or anyone else.

Socrates. It may be that you are right, Hermogenes; but let us see. Whatever name we decide to give each particular thing is its name?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. Whether the giver be a private person or a state?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. Well, then, suppose I give a name to some thing or other, designating, for instance, that which we now call man as horse and that which we now call horse as man, will the real name of the same thing be man for the public and horse for me individually, and in the other case horse for the public and man for me individually? Is that your meaning?

Hermogenes. Yes, that is my opinion.

Socrates. Now answer this question. Is there anything which you call speaking the truth and speaking falsehood?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. Then there would be true speech and false speech?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. Then that speech which says things as they are is true, and that which says them as they are not is false?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. It is possible, then, to say in speech that which is and that which is not?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. But is true speech true only as a whole, and are its parts untrue?

Hermogenes. No, its parts also are true.

Socrates. Are the large parts true, but not the small ones, or are all true?

Hermogenes. All, in my opinion.

Socrates. Is there, then, anything which you say is a smaller part of speech than a name?

Hermogenes. No, that is the smallest.

Socrates. And the name is spoken as a part of the true speech?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. Then it is, according to you, true.

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. And a part of false speech is false, is it not?

Hermogenes. It is.

Socrates. Then it is possible to utter either a false or a true name, since one may utter speech that is either true or false?

Hermogenes. Yes, of course.

Socrates. Then whatever each particular person says is the name of anything, that is its name for that person?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. And whatever the number of names anyone says a thing has, it will really have that number at the time when he says it?

Hermogenes. Yes, Socrates, for I cannot conceive of any other kind of correctness in names than this; I may call a thing by one name, which I gave, and you by another, which you gave. And in the same way, I see that states have their own different names for the same things, and Greeks differ from other Greeks and from barbarians in their use of names.

Socrates. Now, Hermogenes, let us see. Do you think this is true of the real things, that their reality is a separate one for each person, as Protagoras said with his doctrine that man is the measure of all things—that things are to me such as they seem to me, and to you such as they seem to you—or do you think things have some fixed reality of their own?

Hermogenes. It has sometimes happened to me, Socrates, to be so perplexed that I have been carried away even into this doctrine of Protagoras; but I do not at all believe he is right.

Socrates. Well, have you ever been carried away so far as not to believe at all that any man is bad?

Hermogenes. Lord, no; but I have often been carried away into the belief that certain men, and a good many of them, are very bad.

Socrates. Well, did you never think any were very good?

Hermogenes. Very few.

Socrates. But you did think them so?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. And what is your idea about that? Are the very good very wise and the very bad very foolish?

Hermogenes. Yes, that is my opinion.

Socrates. Now if Protagoras is right and the truth is as he says, that all things are to each person as they seem to him, is it possible for some of us to be wise and some foolish?

Hermogenes. No, it is not.

Socrates. And you are, I imagine, strongly of the opinion that if wisdom and folly exist, it is quite impossible that Protagoras is right, for one man would not in reality be at all wiser than another if whatever seems to each person is really true to him.

Hermogenes. Quite right.

Socrates. But neither do you believe with Euthydemus that all things belong equally to all men at the same time and perpetually, for on this assumption also some could not be good and others bad, if virtue and its opposite were always equally possessed by all.

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. Then if neither all things belong equally to all men at the same time and perpetually nor each thing to each man individually, it is clear that things have some fixed reality of their own, not in relation to us nor caused by us; they do not vary, swaying one way and another in accordance with our fancy, but exist of themselves in relation to their own reality imposed by nature.

Hermogenes. I think, Socrates, that is the case.

Socrates. Can things themselves, then, possess such a nature as this, and that of their actions be different? Or are not actions also a class of realities?

Hermogenes. Certainly they are.

Socrates. Then actions also are performed according to their own nature, not according to our opinion. For instance, if we undertake to cut anything, ought we to cut it as we wish, and with whatever instrument we wish, or shall we, if we are willing to cut each thing in accordance with the nature of cutting and being cut, and with the natural instrument, succeed in cutting it, and do it rightly, whereas if we try to do it contrary to nature we shall fail and accomplish nothing?

Hermogenes. I think the way is as you suggest.

Socrates. Then, too, if we undertake to burn anything, we must burn not according to every opinion, but according to the right one? And that is as each thing naturally burns or is burned and with the natural instrument?

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. And all other actions are to be performed In like manner?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. And speaking is an action, is it not?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. Then if a man speaks as he fancies he ought to speak, will he speak rightly, or will he succeed in speaking if he speaks in the way and with the instrument in which and with which it is natural for us to speak and for things to be spoken, whereas otherwise he will fail and accomplish nothing?

Hermogenes. I think the way you suggest is the right one.

Socrates. Now naming is a part of speaking, for in naming I suppose people utter speech.

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. Then is not naming also a kind of action, if speaking is a kind of action concerned with things?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. But we saw that actions are not merely relative to us, but possess a separate nature of their own?

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. Then in naming also, if we are to be consistent with our previous conclusions, we cannot follow our own will, but the way and the instrument which the nature of things prescribes must be employed, must they not? And if we pursue this course we shall be successful in our naming, but otherwise we shall fail.

Hermogenes. I think you are right.

Socrates. And again, what has to be cut, we said, has to be cut with something.

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. And what has to be woven, has to be woven with something, and what has to be bored, has to be bored with something?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. And then what has to be named, has to be named with something?

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. And what is that with which we have to bore?

Hermogenes. A borer.

Socrates. And that with which we weave?

Hermogenes. A shuttle.

Socrates. And that with which we must name?

Hermogenes. A name.

Socrates. Right. A name also, then, is a kind of instrument.

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. Then if I were to ask What instrument is the shuttle? Is it not that with which we weave?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. And what do we do when we weave? Do we not separate the mingled threads of warp and woof?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. And you could give a similar answer about the borer and the rest, could you not?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. And can you say something of the same kind about a name? The name being an instrument, what do we do with it when we name?

Hermogenes. I cannot tell.

Socrates. Do we not teach one another something, and separate things according to their natures?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. A name is, then, an instrument of teaching and of separating reality, as a shuttle is an instrument of separating the web?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. But the shuttle is an instrument of weaving?

Hermogenes. Of course.

Socrates. The weaver, then, will use the shuttle well, and well means like a weaver; and a teacher will use a name well, and well means like a teacher.

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. Whose work will the weaver use well when he uses the shuttle?

Hermogenes. The carpenter’s.

Socrates. Is every one a carpenter, or he who has the skill?

Hermogenes. He who has the skill.

Socrates. And whose work will the hole-maker use when he uses the borer?

Hermogenes. The smith’s.

Socrates. And is every one a smith, or he who has the skill?

Hermogenes. He who has the skill.

Socrates. And whose work will the teacher use when he uses the name?

Hermogenes. I cannot tell that, either.

Socrates. And can you not tell this, either, who gives us the names we use?

Hermogenes. No.

Socrates. Do you not think it is the law that gives them to us?

Hermogenes. Very likely.

Socrates. Then the teacher, when he uses a name, will be using the work of a lawgiver?

Hermogenes. I think so.

Socrates. Do you think every man is a lawgiver, or only he who has the skill?

Hermogenes. He who has the skill.

Socrates. Then it is not for every man, Hermogenes, to give names, but for him who may be called the name-maker; and he, it appears, is the lawgiver, who is of all the artisans among men the rarest.

Hermogenes. So it appears.

Socrates. See now what the lawgiver has in view in giving names. Look at it in the light of what has gone before. What has the carpenter in view when he makes a shuttle? Is it not something the nature of which is to weave?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. Well, then, if the shuttle breaks while he making it, will he make another with his mind fixed on that which is broken, or on that form with reference to which he was making the one which he broke?

Hermogenes. On that form, in my opinion.

Socrates. Then we should very properly call that the absolute or real shuttle?

Hermogenes. Yes, I think so.

Socrates. Then whenever he has to make a shuttle for a light or a thick garment, or for one of linen or of wool or of any kind whatsoever, all of them must contain the form or ideal of shuttle, and in each of his products he must embody the nature which is naturally best for each?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. And the same applies to all other instruments. The artisan must discover the instrument naturally fitted for each purpose and must embody that in the material of which he makes the instrument, not in accordance with his own will, but in accordance with its nature. He must, it appears, know how to embody in the iron the borer fitted by nature for each special use.

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. And he must embody in the wood the shuttle fitted by nature for each kind of weaving.

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. For each kind of shuttle is, it appears, fitted by nature for its particular kind of weaving, and the like is true of other instruments.

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. Then, my dear friend, must not the law-giver also know how to embody in the sounds and syllables that name which is fitted by nature for each object? Must he not make and give all his names with his eye fixed upon the absolute or ideal name, if he is to be an authoritative giver of names? And if different lawgivers do not embody it in the same syllables, we must not forget this ideal name on that account; for different smiths do not embody the form in the same iron, though making the same instrument for the same purpose, but so long as they reproduce the same ideal, though it be in different iron, still the instrument is as it should be, whether it be made here or in foreign lands, is it not?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. On this basis, then, you will judge the law-giver, whether he be here or in a foreign land, so long as he gives to each thing the proper form of the name, in whatsoever syllables, to be no worse lawgiver, whether here or anywhere else, will you not?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. Now who is likely to know whether the proper form of shuttle is embodied in any piece of wood? The carpenter who made it, or the weaver who is to use it ?

Hermogenes. Probably the one who is to use it, Socrates.

Socrates. Then who is to use the work of the lyre-maker? Is not he the man who would know best how to superintend the making of the lyre and would also know whether it is well made or not when it is finished?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. Who is he?

Hermogenes. The lyre-player.

Socrates. And who would know best about the work of the ship-builder?

Hermogenes. The navigator.

Socrates. And who can best superintend the work of the lawgiver and judge of it when it is finished, both here and in foreign countries? The user, is it not?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. And is not this he who knows how to ask questions?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. And the same one knows also how to make replies?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. And the man who knows how to ask and answer questions you call a dialectician?

Hermogenes. Yes, that is what I call him.

Socrates. The work of the carpenter, then, is to make a rudder under the supervision of the steersman, if he rudder is to be a good one.

Hermogenes. Evidently.

Socrates. And the work of the lawgiver, as it seems, is to make a name, with the dialectician as his supervisor, if names are to be well given.

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. Then, Hermogenes, the giving of names can hardly be, as you imagine, a trifling matter, or a task for trifling or casual persons: and Cratylus is right in saying that names belong to things by nature and that not every one is an artisan of names, but only he who keeps in view the name which belongs by nature to each particular thing and is able to embody its form in the letters and syllables.

Hermogenes. I do not know how to answer you, Socrates; nevertheless it is not easy to change my conviction suddenly. I think you would be more likely to convince me, if you were to show me just what it is that you say is the natural correctness of names.

Socrates. I, my dear Hermogenes, do not say that there is any. You forget what I said a while ago, that I did not know, but would join you in looking for the truth. And now, as we are looking, you and I, we already see one thing we did not know before, that names do possess a certain natural correctness, and that not every man knows how to give a name well to anything whatsoever. Is not that true?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. Then our next task is to try to find out, if you care to know about it, what kind of correctness that is which belongs to names.

Hermogenes. To be sure I care to know.

Socrates. Then investigate.

Hermogenes. How shall I investigate?

Socrates. The best way to investigate, my friend, is with the help of those who know; and you make sure of their favour by paying them money. They are the sophists, of Protagoras altogether, should desire what is said in such a Truth, as if it were of any value.

Socrates. Then if you do not like that, you ought to learn from Homer and the other poets.

Hermogenes. Why, Socrates, what does Homer say about names, and where?

Socrates. In many passages; but chiefly and most admirably in those in which he distinguishes between the names by which gods and men call the same things. Do you not think he gives in those passages great and wonderful information about the correctness of names? For clearly the gods call things by the names that are naturally right. Do you not think so?

Hermogenes. Of course I know that if they call things, they call them rightly. But what are these instances to which you refer?

Socrates. Do you not know that he says about the river in Troy which had the single combat with Hephaestus,whom the gods call Xanthus, but men call ScamanderHom. Il. 20.74?

Hermogenes. Oh yes.

Socrates. Well, do you not think this is a grand thing to know, that the name of that river is rightly Xanthus, rather than Scamander? Or, if you like, do you think it is a slight thing to learn about the bird which he says gods call chalcis, but men call cymindis,Hom. Il. 14.291 that it is much more correct for the same bird to be called chalcis than cymindis? Or to learn that the hill men call Batieia is called by the gods Myrina’s tomb, and many other such statements by Homer and other poets? But perhaps these matters are too high for us to understand; it is, I think, more within human power to investigate the names Scamandrius and Astyanax, and understand what kind of correctness he ascribes to these, which he says are the names of Hector’s son. You recall, of course: the lines which contain the words to which I refer.

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. Which of the names of the boy do you imagine Homer thought was more correct, Astyanax or Scamandrius?

Hermogenes. I cannot say.

Socrates. Look at it in this way: suppose you were asked, Do the wise or the unwise give names more correctly?

Hermogenes. The wise, obviously, I should say.

Socrates. And do you think the women or the men of a city, regarded as a class in general, are the wiser?

Hermogenes. The men.

Socrates. And do you not know that Homer says the child of Hector was called Astyanax by the men of Troy; so he must have been called Scamandrius by the women, since the men called him Astyanax?

Hermogenes. Yes, probably.

Socrates. And Homer too thought the Trojan men were wiser than the women?

Hermogenes. I suppose he did.

Socrates. Then he thought Astyanax was more rightly the boy’s name than Scamandrius?

Hermogenes. So it appears.

Socrates. Let us, then, consider the reason for this. Does he not himself indicate the reason most admirably? For he says— He alone defended their city and long walls.Hom. Il. 22.507 Therefore, as it seems, it is right to call the son of the defender Astyanax (Lord of the city), ruler of that which his father, as Homer says, defended.

Hermogenes. That is clear to me.

Socrates. Indeed? I do not yet understand about it myself, Hermogenes. Do you?

Hermogenes. No, by Zeus, I do not.

Socrates. But, my good friend, did not Homer himself also give Hector his name?

Hermogenes. Why do you ask that?

Socrates. Because that name seems to me similar to Astyanax, and both names seem to be Greek. For lord (ἄναξ) and holder (ἕκτωρ) mean nearly the same thing, indicating that they are names of a king; for surely a man is holder of that of which he is lord; for it is clear that he rules it and possesses it and holds it. Or does it seem to you that there is nothing in what I am saying, and am I wrong in imagining that I have found a clue to Homer’s opinion about the correctness of names?

Hermogenes. No, by Zeus, you are not wrong, in my opinion; I think perhaps you have found a clue.

Socrates. It is right, I think, to call a lion’s offspring a lion and a horse’s offspring a horse. I am not speaking of prodigies, such as the birth of some other kind of creature from a horse, but of the natural offspring of each species after its kind. If a horse, contrary to nature, should bring forth a calf, the natural offspring of a cow, it should be called a calf, not a colt, nor if any offspring that is not human should be born from a human being, should that other offspring be called a human being; and the same applies to trees and all the rest. Do you not agree?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. Good; but keep watch of me, and do not let me trick you; for by the same argument any offspring of a king should be called a king; and whether the same meaning is expressed in one set of syllables or another makes no difference; and if a letter is added or subtracted, that does not matter either, so long as the essence of the thing named remains in force and is made plain in the name.

Hermogenes. What do you mean?

Socrates. Something quite simple. For instance, when we speak of the letters of the alphabet, you know, we speak their names, not merely the letters themselves, except in the case of four, ε, υ, ο, ω. We make names for all the other vowels and consonants by adding other letters to them; and so long as we include the letter in question and make its force plain, we may properly call it by that name, and that will designate it for us. Take beta, for instance, The addition of e(η), t(τ), a(α) does no harm and does not prevent the whole name from making clear the nature of that letter which the lawgiver wished to designate; he knew so well how to give names to letters.

Hermogenes. I think you are right.

Socrates. Does not the same reasoning apply to a king? A king’s son will probably be a king, a good man’s good, a handsome man’s handsome, and so forth; the offspring of each class will be of the same class, unless some unnatural birth takes place; so they should be called by the same names. But variety in the syllables is admissible, so that names which are the same appear different to the uninitiated, just as the physicians’ drugs, when prepared with various colors and perfumes, seem different to us, though they are the same, but to the physician, who considers only their medicinal value, they seem the same, and he is not confused by the additions. So perhaps the man who knows about names considers their value and is not confused if some letter is added, transposed, or subtracted, or even if the force of the name is expressed in entirely different letters. So, for instance, in the names we were just discussing, Astyanax and Hector, none of the letters is the same, except T, but nevertheless they have the same meaning. And what letters has Archepolis (ruler of the city) in common with them? Yet it means the same thing; and there are many other names which mean simply king. Others again mean general, such as Agis (leader), Polemarchus (war-lord), and Eupolemus (good warrior); and others indicate physicians, as Iatrocles (famous physician) and Acesimbrotus (healer of mortals); and we might perhaps find many others which differ in syllables and letters, but express the same meaning. Do you think that is true, or not?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. To those, then, who are born in accordance with nature the same names should be given.

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. And how about those who are born contrary to nature as prodigies? For instance, when an impious son is born to a good and pious man, ought he not, as in our former example when a mare brought forth a calf, to have the designation of the class to which he belongs, instead of that of his parent?

Hermogenes. Certainly.

Socrates. Then the impious son of a pious father ought to receive the name of his class.

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. Not Theophilus (beloved of God) or Mnesitheus (mindful of God) or anything of that sort; but something of opposite meaning, if names are correct.

Hermogenes. Most assuredly, Socrates.

Socrates. As the name of Orestes (mountain man) is undoubtedly correct, Hermogenes, whether it was given him by chance or by some poet who indicated by the name the fierceness, rudeness, and mountain-wildness of his nature.