Complete Works
Page 21
HERMOGENES: I suppose so.
SOCRATES: Come now, consider where a rule-setter looks in giving names. Use the previous discussion as your guide. Where does a carpenter look in making a shuttle? Isn’t it to that sort of thing whose nature is to weave?
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
[b] SOCRATES: Suppose the shuttle breaks while he’s making it. Will he make another looking to the broken one? Or will he look to the very form to which he looked in making the one he broke?
HERMOGENES: In my view, he will look to the form.
SOCRATES: Then it would be absolutely right to call that what a shuttle itself is.
HERMOGENES: I suppose so.
SOCRATES: Hence whenever he has to make a shuttle for weaving garments of any sort, whether light or heavy, linen or woolen, mustn’t it possess the form of a shuttle? And mustn’t he put into it the nature that [c] naturally best suits it to perform its own work?
HERMOGENES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the same holds of all other tools. When a craftsman discovers the type of tool that is naturally suited for a given type of work, he must embody it in the material out of which he is making the tool. He mustn’t make the tool in whatever way he happens to choose, but in the natural way. So it seems that a blacksmith must know how to embody in iron the type of drill naturally suited for each type of work.
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And a carpenter must embody in wood the type of shuttle naturally suited for each type of weaving.
HERMOGENES: That’s right.
SOCRATES: Because it seems that there’s a type of shuttle that’s naturally [d] suited to each type of weaving. And the same holds of tools in general.
HERMOGENES: Yes.
SOCRATES: So mustn’t a rule-setter also know how to embody in sounds and syllables the name naturally suited to each thing? And if he is to be an authentic giver of names, mustn’t he, in making and giving each name, look to what a name itself is? And if different rule-setters do not make [e] each name out of the same syllables, we mustn’t forget7 that different blacksmiths, who are making the same tool for the same type of work, don’t all make it out of the same iron. But as long as they give it the same form—even if that form is embodied in different iron—the tool will be [390] correct, whether it is made in Greece or abroad. Isn’t that so?
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Don’t you evaluate Greek and foreign rule-setters in the same way? Provided they give each thing the form of name suited to it, no matter what syllables it is embodied in, they are equally good rule-setters, whether they are in Greece or abroad.
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Now, who is likely to know whether the appropriate form of shuttle is present in any given bit of wood? A carpenter who makes it or [b] a weaver who uses it?
HERMOGENES: In all likelihood, Socrates, it is the one who uses it.
SOCRATES: So who uses what a lyre-maker produces? Isn’t he the one who would know best how to supervise the manufacture of lyres and would also know whether what has been made has been well made or not?
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Who is that?
HERMOGENES: A lyre-player.
SOCRATES: And who will supervise a ship-builder?
HERMOGENES: A ship’s captain. [c]
SOCRATES: And who can best supervise the work of a rule-setter, whether here or abroad, and judge its products? Isn’t it whoever will use them?
HERMOGENES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And isn’t that the person who knows how to ask questions?
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And he also knows how to answer them?
HERMOGENES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And what would you call someone who knows how to ask and answer questions? Wouldn’t you call him a dialectician?
HERMOGENES: Yes, I would.
SOCRATES: So it’s the work of a carpenter to make a rudder. And if the [d] rudder is to be a fine one, a ship-captain must supervise him.
HERMOGENES: Evidently.
SOCRATES: But it’s the work of a rule-setter, it seems, to make a name. And if names are to be given well, a dialectician must supervise him.
HERMOGENES: That’s right.
SOCRATES: It follows that the giving of names can’t be as inconsequential a matter as you think, Hermogenes, nor can it be the work of an inconsequential or chance person. So Cratylus is right in saying that things have natural names, and that not everyone is a craftsman of names, but only [e] someone who looks to the natural name of each thing and is able to put its form into letters and syllables.
HERMOGENES: I don’t know how to oppose you, Socrates. It isn’t easy for me suddenly to change my opinion, though. I think you would be [391] more likely to persuade me if you showed me just what this natural correctness of names you’re talking about consists in.
SOCRATES: My dear Hermogenes, I don’t have a position on this. You have forgotten what I told you a while ago, namely that I didn’t know about names but that I would investigate them with you. And now that we are investigating them, you and I, at least this much is clearer than before, that names do possess some sort of natural correctness and that it isn’t every man who knows how to name things well. Isn’t that right? [b]
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: So our next task is to try to discover what this correctness is, if indeed you want to know.
HERMOGENES: Of course I do.
SOCRATES: Then investigate the matter.
HERMOGENES: How am I to do that?
SOCRATES: The most correct way is together with people who already know, but you must pay them well and show gratitude besides—these are the sophists. Your brother Callias got his reputation for wisdom from [c] them in return for a lot of money. So you had better beg and implore him to teach you what he learned from Protagoras about the correctness of names, since you haven’t yet come into any money of your own.
HERMOGENES: But it would be absurd for me to beg for Protagoras’ “Truth,” Socrates, as if I desired the things contained in it and thought them worthwhile, when I totally reject them.
SOCRATES: Well, if that doesn’t suit you, you’ll have to learn from Homer [d] and the other poets.
HERMOGENES: And where does Homer say anything about names, Socrates, and what does he say?
SOCRATES: In lots of places. The best and most important are the ones in which he distinguishes between the names humans call things and those the gods call them. Or don’t you think that these passages tell us something remarkable about the correctness of names? Surely, the gods call things [e] by their naturally correct names—or don’t you think so?
HERMOGENES: I certainly know that if they call them by any names at all, it’s by the correct ones. But what passages are you referring to?
SOCRATES: Do you know where he says that the Trojan river that had single combat with Hephaestus is “called ‘Xanthos’ by the gods and ‘Skamandros’ by men”?8
HERMOGENES: I certainly do.
[392] SOCRATES: And don’t you think it’s an awe-inspiring thing to know that the river is more correctly called ‘Xanthos’ than ‘Skamandros’? Or consider, if you like, when he says about a certain bird that
The gods call it ‘chalcis’ but men call it ‘cymindis’.9
Do you think it’s an inconsequential matter to learn that it is far more correct to call this bird ‘chalcis’ than to call it ‘cymindis’? What about all the similar things that Homer and the other poets tell us? For example, [b] that it is more correct to call a certain hill ‘Murine’ than ‘Batieia’?10 But perhaps these examples are too hard for you and me to figure out. It is easier and more within human power, I think, to investigate the kind of correctness Homer ascribes to ‘Skamandrios’ and ‘Astyanax’, which he says are the names of Hector’s son. You know, of course, the lines to which I refer.11
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Which of the names given to the boy do
you suppose Homer thought was more correct, ‘Astyanax’ or ‘Skamandrios’?
HERMOGENES: I really can’t say. [c]
SOCRATES: Look at it this way. If you were asked who gives names more correctly, those who are wiser or those who are more foolish, what would you answer?
HERMOGENES: That it is clearly those who are wiser.
SOCRATES: And which class do you think is wiser on the whole, a city’s women or its men?
HERMOGENES: Its men.
SOCRATES: Now you know, don’t you, that Homer tells us that Hector’s son was called ‘Astyanax’ by the men of Troy?12 But if the men called him [d] ‘Astyanax’, isn’t it clear that ‘Skamandrios’ must be what the women called him?
HERMOGENES: Probably so.
SOCRATES: And didn’t Homer also think that the Trojans were wiser than their women?
HERMOGENES: I suppose he did.
SOCRATES: So mustn’t he have thought that ‘Astyanax’ was a more correct name for the boy than ‘Skamandrios’?
HERMOGENES: Evidently.
SOCRATES: Well, let’s investigate why it is more correct. Doesn’t Homer himself suggest a very good explanation when he says
He alone defended their city and long walls?13 [e]
For because of this, you see, it seems correct to call the son of the defender ‘Astyanax’ or lord of the city (astu, anax) which, as Homer says, his father was defending.
HERMOGENES: That seems right to me.
SOCRATES: It does? You understand it, Hermogenes? For I don’t understand it yet myself.
HERMOGENES: Then I certainly don’t.
SOCRATES: But, my good friend, didn’t Homer also give Hector his name? [393]
HERMOGENES: What if he did?
SOCRATES: Well, it seems to me that ‘Hector’ is more or less the same as ‘Astyanax’, since both names seem to be Greek. After all, ‘lord’ (‘anax’) and ‘possessor’ (‘hektōr’) signify pretty much the same, since both are names for a king. Surely, a man possesses that of which he is lord, since it is clear that he controls, owns, and has it. But perhaps you think I’m [b] talking nonsense, and that I’m wrong to suppose that I’ve found a clue to Homer’s beliefs about the correctness of names.
HERMOGENES: No, I don’t think you’re wrong. You may well have found a clue.
SOCRATES: At any rate, it seems to me that it is right to call a lion’s offspring a ‘lion’ and a horse’s offspring a ‘horse’. I’m not talking about some monster other than a horse that happens to be born from a horse [c] but one that is a natural offspring of its kind. If, contrary to nature, a horse gave birth to a calf, it should be called a ‘calf’, not a ‘colt’. And if something that isn’t a human offspring is born to a human, I don’t think it should be called a ‘human’. And the same applies to trees and all the rest. Don’t you agree?
HERMOGENES: I agree.
SOCRATES: Good. But you had better watch out in case I trick you, for by the same argument any offspring of a king should be called a ‘king’. But it doesn’t matter whether the same thing is signified by the same [d] syllables or by different ones. And if a letter is added or subtracted, that doesn’t matter either, so long as the being or essence of the thing is in control and is expressed in its name.
HERMOGENES: How do you mean?
SOCRATES: It’s something fairly simple. You know that when we speak of the elements or letters of the alphabet, it is their names we utter, not the letters themselves, except in the case of these four e, u, o, and ō.14 We make names for all the other vowels and consonants, as you know, by [e] uttering additional letters together with them. But as long as we include the force or power of the letter, we may correctly call it by that name, and it will express it for us. Take ‘bēta’, for example. The addition of ‘ē’, ‘t’, and ‘a’ does no harm and doesn’t prevent the whole name from expressing the nature of that element or letter which the rule-setter wished to name, so well did he know how to give names to the letters.
HERMOGENES: I believe you’re right.
SOCRATES: Doesn’t the same argument apply to ‘king’? For a king will [394] probably be the son of a king, a good man the son of a good man, a fine man the son of a fine one, and so on. So, unless a monster is born, the offspring of a kind will be of the same kind and should be called by the same name. But because of variation in their syllables, names that are really the same seem different to the uninitiated. Similarly, a doctor’s medicines, which have different colors and perfumes added to them, appear different to us, although they are really the same and appear the same to a doctor, who looks only to their power to cure and isn’t disconcerted by [b] the additives. Similarly, someone who knows about names looks to their force or power and isn’t disconcerted if a letter is added, transposed, or subtracted, or even if the force a name possesses is embodied in different letters altogether. So, for example, in the names ‘Hector’ and ‘Astyanax’, which we were discussing just now, none of the letters is the same, except ‘t’, but they signify the same anyway. And what letters does ‘Archepolis’—[c] ‘Ruler-of-a-city’—have in common with them? Yet, it expresses the same thing. Many other names signify simply king; others signify general, for example, ‘Agis’ (‘Leader’), ‘Polemarchus’ (‘War-lord’), ‘Eupolemus’ (‘Good-warrior’); and still others signify doctor, for example, ‘Iatrocles’ (‘Famous-healer’) and ‘Acesimbrotus’ (‘Healer-of-mortals’). And we might perhaps find many others, which differ in their letters and syllables, but which have the same force or power when spoken. Is that plain to you or not?
HERMOGENES: Certainly. [d]
SOCRATES: Then those that are born according to nature should be given the same names as their fathers.
HERMOGENES: Yes.
SOCRATES: What about the ones that are born contrary to nature, those that are some form of monster? For instance, when a good and pious man has an impious son, the latter shouldn’t have his father’s name but that of the kind to which he belongs, just as in our earlier example of a horse having a calf as offspring?
HERMOGENES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Therefore the impious son of a pious father should be given [e] the name of the kind to which he belongs.
HERMOGENES: That’s right.
SOCRATES: Then he shouldn’t be called ‘Theophilus’ (‘God-beloved’) or ‘Mnesitheus’ (‘Mindful-of-god’), or anything of that sort, but something that signifies the opposite, if indeed names are to be actually correct.
HERMOGENES: That’s absolutely right, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Thus the name ‘Orestes’ (‘Mountain-man’) is surely correct, Hermogenes, whether it was given to him by chance or by some poet, who displayed in his name the brutality, savagery, and ruggedness of his nature.
HERMOGENES: It seems so, Socrates. [395]
SOCRATES: And his father’s name also seems to accord with nature.
HERMOGENES: It does.
SOCRATES: Yes, for Agamemnon is someone who worked hard and persevered, bringing his plans to completion because of his virtue or excellence. The stay of his army in Troy and his perseverance there is a sign of this. And thus the name ‘Agamemnon’ signifies that this man is admirable (agastos) for holding his ground (epimonē). The name ‘Atreus’ also seems to be correct; for both his murder of Chrysippus and his cruelty to Thyestes [b] were damaging and destructive (atēra) to his virtue. However, the meaning of his name is somewhat distorted and obscure, so that it doesn’t express his nature to everyone. But to those who understand about names it adequately expresses what ‘Atreus’ means. For whether the name accords with his stubbornness (ateires), or his boldness (atrestos), or his destructiveness (atēros), [c] it is correctly given to him. I think Pelops also has a fitting name; for ‘Pelops’ signifies he who sees only what is near at hand (pelas, opsis).
HERMOGENES: How is that?
SOCRATES: Because, according to legend, he didn’t think about or foresee what the long-term consequences of murdering Myrtilus would be for his entire fa
mily, or all the misery that would overwhelm them. In his eagerness to win Hippodameia by any available means, he saw only what was ready [d] to hand and on the spot—that is to say, what was nearby (pelas). Everyone would agree, too, that ‘Tantalus’ was given correctly and according to nature, if what’s said about its bearer is true.
HERMOGENES: What’s that?
SOCRATES: They say that many terrible misfortunes happened to him in his life—the last of which was the total overthrow of his country—and that, in Hades, after his death, he had a stone suspended (talanteia) over [e] his head, in wondrous harmony with his name. It’s exactly as if someone had wished to name him ‘Talantatos’ (‘Most-weighed-upon’) but had disguised the name and said ‘Tantalus’ instead. In some such way, in any case, the chance of legend supplied him with this name. His father, who is said to have been Zeus, also seems to have had an altogether fine name [396] given to him—but it isn’t easy to figure out. That’s because the name ‘Zeus’ is exactly like a phrase that we divide into two parts, ‘Zēna’ and ‘Dia’, some of us using one of them and some the other.15 But these two names, reunited into one, express the nature of the god—which is just what we said a name should do. Certainly, no one is more the cause of life (zēn), whether for us or for anything else, than the ruler and king of all things. Thus ‘Zēna’ and ‘Dia’ together correctly name the god that is [b] always the cause of life (di’ hon zēn) for all creatures. But, as I say, his name, which is really one, is divided in two, ‘Dia’ and ‘Zēna’. When one hears that Zeus is the son of Cronus, one might find that offensive at first, and it might seem more reasonable to say that he is the offspring of a great intellect. But in fact Cronus’ name signifies not a child (koros), but the purity and clarity of his intellect or understanding.16 According to legend, he was the son of Uranus (Heaven), whose name is also correctly given, for the sight of what is above is well called by the name ‘ourania’ (‘heavenly’)—looking at the things above (horōsa ta anō)—and astronomers say, Hermogenes, that that results in purity of intellect. If I could remember [c] Hesiod’s genealogy, and the even earlier ancestors of the gods he mentions, I wouldn’t have stopped explaining the correctness of the names he gives them, until I had tested this wisdom which has suddenly come upon me—I do not know from where—to see whether or not it holds up till the end. [d]