Complete Works
Page 25
HERMOGENES: Yes.
SOCRATES: ‘Blaberon’ (‘harmful’) means that which is harming (blapton) the flow (rhoun). ‘Blapton’, in turn, signifies wanting to grasp (boulomenon [e] haptein). But grasping is the same as shackling, and the name-giver always finds fault with that. Now what wants to grasp the flow (to boulomenon haptein rhoun) would be most correctly called ‘boulapteroun’, but this has been beautified, as it seems to me, and so it is called ‘blaberon’.
HERMOGENES: What intricate names you come up with, Socrates! When you uttered the name ‘boulapteroun’ just now, you looked just as if you were whistling the flute-prelude of the Hymn to Athena! [418]
SOCRATES: I’m not responsible for them, Hermogenes; the name-givers are.
HERMOGENES: That’s true. But what about ‘zēmiōdes’ (‘hurtful’)? What does it mean?
SOCRATES: What does ‘zēmiōdes’ mean? See how right I was to say, Hermogenes, that people make huge changes in the meaning of names by adding or subtracting letters, and how even a very slight alteration of this sort can make a name signify the opposite of what it used to signify. ‘Deon’ (‘obligation’) is an example that has just occurred to me, and it reminds [b] me of what I was about to say to you about ‘zēmiōdes’. Our fine modern language has obliterated the true meaning of these names by so twisting them around that they now mean the opposite of what they used to, whereas the ancient language expresses clearly what they mean.
HERMOGENES: What do you mean?
SOCRATES: I’ll tell you. You know that our ancestors made great use of ‘i’ and ‘d’ (especially the women, who are the best preservers of the ancient language). But nowadays people change ‘i’ to ‘ē’ or ‘e’, which are supposed [c] to sound more grandiose.
HERMOGENES: They do?
SOCRATES: Yes. For example, people now call the day ‘hēmera’, but in very ancient times they called it ‘himera’ or ‘hemera’.
HERMOGENES: That’s true.
SOCRATES: You know then that only the ancient name expresses the namegiver’s meaning clearly? People welcome the daylight that comes out of the darkness and long for (himeirousin) it, and that’s why they named [d] it ‘himera’.
HERMOGENES: Evidently.
SOCRATES: But nowadays the name is so dressed up that no one can understand what it means. Although there are some who think the day is called ‘hēmera’ because it makes things gentle (hēmera).
HERMOGENES: So it seems.
SOCRATES: Do you also know that the ancients called a yoke ‘duogon’ not ‘zugon’?
HERMOGENES: Of course.
SOCRATES: Now, ‘zugon’ expresses nothing clearly, but the name ‘duogon’, on the other hand, is quite rightly given to whatever binds two animals [e] together so that they can pull a plough or cart (duoin agōgēn). Nonetheless, nowadays ‘zugon’ it is. And there are plenty of other examples.
HERMOGENES: Evidently.
SOCRATES: Similarly, ‘deon’ (‘obligation’), when pronounced in this way, seems at first to signify the opposite of all the other names for the good. After all, even though an obligation is a kind of good, ‘deon’ plainly signifies a shackle (desmos) and obstacle to motion, and so is closely akin to ‘blaberon’ (‘harmful’).
HERMOGENES: Yes, Socrates, it does plainly signify that.
SOCRATES: But not if you use the ancient name, which is much more likely to have been correctly given than the present one. If you replace [419] the ‘e’ with an ‘i’, as in the ancient name, it agrees with the earlier names of good things—for ‘dion’ (‘passing through’), not ‘deon’, signifies a good, and is a term of praise. So the name-giver didn’t contradict himself, and ‘deon’ (‘obligation’) is plainly the same as ‘ōphelimon’ (‘beneficial’), ‘lusiteloun’ (‘profitable’), ‘kerdaleon’ (‘gainful’), ‘agathon’ (‘good’), ‘sumpheron’ (‘advantageous’), and ‘euporon’ (‘lack of perplexity’), which are different names signifying what orders and moves. This is always praised, while what [b] restrains and shackles is found fault with. Likewise, in the case of ‘zēmiōdes’ (‘hurtful’), if you replace the ‘z’ with a ‘d’, as in the ancient language, it will be plain to you that the name was given to what shackles motion (doun to ion), since ‘dēmiōdes’ derives from that.
HERMOGENES: What about ‘hēdonē’ (‘pleasure’), ‘lupē’ (‘pain’), and ‘epithumia’ (‘appetite’), Socrates, and others like them?
SOCRATES: I don’t think there is any great difficulty about them, Hermogenes. Hēdonē (pleasure) seems to have been given its name because it is an activity that tends towards enjoyment (hē onēsis), but a ‘d’ has been inserted and we call it ‘hēdonē’ instead of ‘hēonē’. ‘Lupē’ (‘pain’) seems to [c] derive from the weakening (dialusis) the body suffers when in pain. ‘Ania’ (‘sorrow’) signifies what hinders (hienai) motion. ‘Algēdōn’ (‘distress’) seems to me to be a foreign name deriving from ‘algeinos’ (‘distressing’). ‘Odunē’ (‘grief’) seems to be named after the entering in (endusis) of pain. It is clear to everyone that pronouncing the name ‘achthēdōn’ (‘affliction’) is like giving motion a burden (achthos) to carry. Chara (joy) seems to have been so called because it is an outpouring (diachusis) or good movement of the soul’s flow (rhoē). ‘Terpsis’ (‘delight’) comes from ‘terpnon’ (‘delightful’), [d] which, in turn, comes from that which glides (herpsis) through the soul like a breath (pnoē). By rights it is called ‘herpnoun’, but over time its name has been changed to ‘terpnon’. Euphrosunē (lightheartedness) needs no explanation, since it is clear to everyone that it derives its name from the movement of the soul that well accords (eu sumpheresthai) with that of things. By rights it is called ‘eupherosunē’, but we call it ‘euphrosunē’. Nor is there any difficulty about epithumia (‘appetite’), for it is clear that its name derives from the power that opposes the spirited part of the soul (epi ton thumon iousa), while ‘thumos’ (‘spirit’, ‘anger’) derives from the [e] raging (thusis) and boiling of the soul. The name ‘himeros’ (‘desire’) derives from what most drives the soul’s flow. It flows with a rush (hiemenos rhei) and sets on (ephiemenos) things, thus violently dragging the soul because [420] of the rush of its flow. And so, because it has all this power, it is called ‘himeros’. ‘Pothos’ (‘longing’), on the other hand, signifies that it isn’t a desire (or flow) for what is present but for what is elsewhere (pou) or absent. So, when its object is absent, it is given the name ‘pothos’, and, when its object is present, it is called ‘himeros’. Erōs (erotic love) is so called because it flows in from outside, that is to say, the flow doesn’t belong to the person who has it, but is introduced into him through his eyes. Because [b] of this it was called ‘esros’ (‘influx’) in ancient times, when they used ‘o’ for ‘ō’, but now that ‘o’ is changed to ‘ō’, it is called ‘erōs’. So, what other names do you think are left for us to examine?
HERMOGENES: What do you think about ‘doxa’ (‘opinion’) and the like?
SOCRATES: ‘Doxa’ (‘opinion) either derives from the pursuit (diōxis) the soul engages in when it hunts for the knowledge of how things are, or it derives from the shooting of a bow (toxon). But the latter is more likely. At any rate, ‘oiēsis’ (‘thinking’) is in harmony with it. It seems to express [c] the fact that thinking is the motion (oisis) of the soul towards every thing, towards how each of the things that are really is. In the same way, ‘boulē’ (‘planning’) has to do with trying to hit (bolē) some target, and ‘boulesthai’ (‘wishing’) and ‘bouleuesthai’ (‘deliberating’) signify aiming at something (ephiesthai). All these names seem to go along with ‘doxa’ in that they’re all like ‘bolē’, like trying to hit some target. Similarly, the opposite, ‘aboulia’ (‘lack of planning’), seems to signify a failure to get something (atuchia), as when someone fails to hit or get what he shot at, wished for, planned, or desired.
HERMOGENES: The pace of investigating seems to be quickening, Socrates! [d]
&n
bsp; SOCRATES: That’s because I’m coming to the finishing post! But I still want to investigate ‘anankē’ (‘compulsion’) and ‘hekousion’ (‘voluntary’), since they’re next. The name ‘hekousion’ expresses the fact that it signifies yielding and not resisting, but yielding, as I said before, to the motion (eikon tōi ionti)—the one that comes into being in accord with our wish. ‘Anankaion’ (‘compulsory’) and ‘antitupnon’ (‘resistant’), on the other hand, since they signify motion contrary to our wish, are associated with ‘error’ and ‘ignorance’. Indeed, saying ‘anankaion’ is like trying to get through a ravine (ankē), for ravines restrain motion, since they are rough-going, filled with bushes, and hard to get through. It’s probably for this reason that [e] we use ‘anankaion’ in the way we do—because saying it is like trying to get through a ravine. Nonetheless, while my strength lasts, let’s not stop using it. Don’t you stop, either, but keep asking your questions.
[421] HERMOGENES: Well, then, let me ask about the finest and most important names, ‘alētheia’ (‘truth’), ‘pseudos’ (‘falsehood’), ‘on’ (‘being’), and—the subject of our present conversation—‘onoma’ (‘name’), and why it is so named.
SOCRATES: Do you know what ‘maiesthai’ means?
HERMOGENES: Yes, it means ‘to search’ (‘zētein’).
SOCRATES: Well, ‘onoma’ (‘name’) seems to be a compressed statement which says: “this is a being for which there is a search.” You can see this more easily in ‘onomaston’ (‘thing named’), since it clearly says: “this is a being for which there is a search (on hou masma estin).” ‘Alētheia’ (‘truth’) [b] is like these others in being compressed, for the divine motion of being is called ‘alētheia’ because ‘alētheia’ is a compressed form of the phrase “a wandering that is divine (alē theia).” ‘Pseudos’ (‘falsehood’) is the opposite of this motion, so that, once again, what is restrained or compelled to be inactive is reviled by the name-giver, and likened to people asleep (katheudousi)—but the meaning of the name is concealed by the addition of ‘ps’. ‘On’ (‘being’) or ‘ousia’ (‘being’) says the same as ‘alētheia’ once an ‘i’ is added, since it signifies going (ion). ‘Ouk on’ (‘not being’), in turn, is [c] ‘ouk ion’ (‘not going’), and indeed some people actually use that name for it.
HERMOGENES: I think you’ve hammered these into shape manfully, Socrates. But suppose someone were to ask you about the correctness of the names ‘ion’ (‘going’), ‘rheon’ (‘flowing’), and ‘doun’ (‘shackling’) …
SOCRATES: “How should we answer him?” Is that what you were going to say?
HERMOGENES: Yes, exactly.
SOCRATES: One way of giving the semblance of an answer has been suggested already.48
HERMOGENES: What way is that?
SOCRATES: To say that a name has a foreign origin when we don’t know what it signifies. Now, it may well be true that some of these names are [d] foreign, but it is also possible that the basic or ‘first’ names are Greek, but not recoverable because they are so old. Names have been twisted in so many ways, indeed, that it wouldn’t be surprising if the ancient Greek word was the same as the modern foreign one.
HERMOGENES: At any rate, it wouldn’t be at all inappropriate for you to respond that way.
SOCRATES: No, it probably wouldn’t. Nevertheless, it seems to me that “once we’re in the competition, we’re allowed no excuses,”49 but must investigate these names vigorously. We should remember this, however: if someone asks about the terms from which a name is formed, and then [e] about the ones from which those terms are formed, and keeps on doing this indefinitely, the answerer must finally give up. Mustn’t he?
HERMOGENES: That’s my view, at any rate.
SOCRATES: At what point would he be right to stop? Wouldn’t it be when [422] he reaches the names that are as it were the elements of all the other statements and names? For, if these are indeed elements, it cannot be right to suppose that they are composed out of other names. Consider ‘agathos’ (‘good’), for example; we said it is composed out of ‘agaston’ (‘admirable’) and ‘thoon’ (‘fast’).50 And probably ‘thoon’ is composed out of other names, and those out of still other ones. But if we ever get hold of a name that isn’t composed out of other names, we’ll be right to say that at last we’ve [b] reached an element, which cannot any longer be carried back to other names.
HERMOGENES: That seems right to me, at least.
SOCRATES: And if the names you’re asking about now turn out to be elements, won’t we have to investigate their correctness in a different manner from the one we’ve been using so far?
HERMOGENES: Probably so.
SOCRATES: It is certainly probable, Hermogenes. At any rate, it’s obvious that all the earlier ones were resolved into these. So, if they are indeed elements, as they seem to me to be, join me again in investigating them, [c] to ensure that I don’t talk nonsense about the correctness of the first names.
HERMOGENES: You have only to speak, and I will join in the investigation so far as I’m able.
SOCRATES: I think you agree with me that there is only one kind of correctness in all names, primary as well as derivative, and that considered simply as names there is no difference between them.
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Now, the correctness of every name we analyzed was intended [d] to consist in its expressing the nature of one of the things that are.
HERMOGENES: Of course.
SOCRATES: And this is no less true of primary names than derivative ones, if indeed they are names.
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: But it seems that the derivative ones were able to accomplish this by means of the primary ones.
HERMOGENES: Apparently.
SOCRATES: And if the primary names are indeed names, they must make the things that are as clear as possible to us. But how can they do this when they aren’t based on other names? Answer me this: If we hadn’t a [e] voice or a tongue, and wanted to express things to one another, wouldn’t we try to make signs by moving our hands, head, and the rest of our body, just as dumb people do at present?
HERMOGENES: What other choice would we have, Socrates?
SOCRATES: So, if we wanted to express something light in weight or above us, I think we’d raise our hand towards the sky in imitation of the very [423] nature of the thing. And if we wanted to express something heavy or below us, we’d move our hand towards the earth. And if we wanted to express a horse (or any other animal) galloping, you know that we’d make our bodies and our gestures as much like theirs as possible.
HERMOGENES: I think we’d have to.
SOCRATES: Because the only way to express anything by means of our [b] body is to have our body imitate whatever we want to express.
HERMOGENES: Yes.
SOCRATES: So, if we want to express a particular fact by using our voice, tongue, and mouth, we will succeed in doing so, if we succeed in imitating it by means of them?
HERMOGENES: That must be right, I think.
SOCRATES: It seems to follow that a name is a vocal imitation of what it imitates, and that someone who imitates something with his voice names what he imitates.
HERMOGENES: I think so.
[c] SOCRATES: Well, I don’t. I don’t think this is a fine thing to say at all.
HERMOGENES: Why not?
SOCRATES: Because then we’d have to agree that those who imitate sheep, cocks, or other animals are naming the things they imitate.
HERMOGENES: That’s true, we would.
SOCRATES: And do you think that’s a fine conclusion?
HERMOGENES: No, I don’t. But then what sort of imitation is a name, Socrates?
SOCRATES: In the first place, if we imitate things the way we imitate them [d] in music, we won’t be naming them, not even if the imitation in question is vocal. And the same holds if we imitate the things music imitates. What I mean is this: each thing has a sound and a shape, and many of them
have a color. Don’t they?
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: It doesn’t seem to be the craft of naming that’s concerned with imitating these qualities, however, but rather the crafts of music and painting. Isn’t that so?
HERMOGENES: Yes.
[e] SOCRATES: And what about this? Don’t you think that just as each thing has a color or some of those other qualities we mentioned, it also has a being or essence? Indeed, don’t color and sound each have a being or essence, just like every other thing that we say “is”?
HERMOGENES: Yes, I think they do.
SOCRATES: So if someone were able to imitate in letters and syllables this being or essence that each thing has, wouldn’t he express what each thing itself is?
[424] HERMOGENES: He certainly would.
SOCRATES: And if you were to identify the person who is able to do this, in just the way that you said the first was a musician and the second a painter, what would you say he is?
HERMOGENES: I think he’s the namer, Socrates, the one we’ve been looking for from the beginning.
SOCRATES: If that’s true, doesn’t it seem that we are now in a position to investigate each of the names you were asking about—‘rhoē’ (‘flowing’), ‘ienai’ (‘going’), and ‘schesis’ (‘restraining’)—to see whether or not he has grasped the being or essence of each of the things they signify by imitating its being or essence in the letters and syllables of its name. Isn’t that so? [b]
HERMOGENES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Come, then, let’s see if these are the only primary names or if there are many others.
HERMOGENES: For my part, I think there are others.
SOCRATES: Yes, there probably are. But how are we to divide off the ones with which the imitator begins his imitation? Since an imitation of a thing’s being or essence is made out of letters and syllables, wouldn’t it be most correct for us to divide off the letters or elements first, just as those who set to work on speech rhythms first divide off the forces or powers of [c] the letters or elements, then those of syllables, and only then investigate rhythms themselves?