Cratylus (398-402)

Socrates. Well, he says of it:

But since Fate has covered up this race,

They are called holy spirits under the earth,

Noble, averters of evil, guardians of mortal men.

Hes. WD 122 ff

Hermogenes. What of that?

Socrates. Why, I think he means that the golden race was not made of gold, but was good and beautiful. And I regard it as a proof of this that he further says we are the iron race.

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. Don’t you suppose that if anyone of our day is good, Hesiod would say he was of that golden race?

Hermogenes. Quite likely.

Socrates. But the good are the wise, are they not?

Hermogenes. Yes, they are the wise.

Socrates. This, then, I think, is what he certainly means to say of the spirits: because they were wise and knowing (δαήμονες) he called them spirits (δαίμονες) and in the old form of our language the two words are the same. Now he and all the other poets are right, who say that when a good man dies he has a great portion and honor among the dead, and becomes a spirit, a name which is in accordance with the other name of wisdom. And so I assert that every good man, whether living or dead, is of spiritual nature, and is rightly called a spirit.

Hermogenes. And I, Socrates, believe I quite agree with you in that. But what is the word hero?

Socrates. That is easy to understand; for the name has been but slightly changed, and indicates their origin from love (ἔρως).

Hermogenes. What do you mean?

Socrates. Why, they were all born because a god fell in love with a mortal woman, or a mortal man with a goddess. Now if you consider the word hero also in the old Attic pronunciation,[*] you will understand better; for that will show you that it has been only slightly altered from the name of love (Eros), the source from which the heroes spring, to make a name for them. And either this is the reason why they are called heroes, or it is because they were wise and clever orators and dialecticians, able to ask questions (ἐρωτᾶν), for εἴρειν is the same as λέγειν (speak). Therefore, when their name is spoken in the Attic dialect, which I was mentioning just now, the heroes turn out to be orators and askers of questions, so that the heroic race proves to be a race of orators and sophists. That is easy to understand, but the case of men, and the reason why they are called men (ἄνθρωποι), is more difficult. Can you tell me what it is?

Hermogenes. No, my friend, I cannot; and even if I might perhaps find out, I shall not try, because I think you are more likely to find out than I am.

Socrates. You have faith in the inspiration of Euthyphro, it seems.

Hermogenes. Evidently.

Socrates. And you are right in having it; for just at this very moment I think I have had a clever thought, and if I am not careful, before the day is over I am likely to be wiser than I ought to be. So pay attention. First we must remember in regard to names that we often put in or take out letters, making the names different from the meaning we intend, and we change the accent. Take, for instance, Διὶ φίλος; to change this from a phrase to a name, we took out the second iota and pronounced the middle syllable with the grave instead of the acute accent (Diphilus). In other instances, on the contrary, we insert letters and pronounce grave accents as acute.

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. Now it appears to me that the name of men (ἄνθρωπος) underwent a change of that sort. It was a phrase, but became a noun when one letter, alpha, was removed and the accent of the last syllable was dropped.

Hermogenes. What do you mean?

Socrates. I will tell you. The name man (ἄνθρωπος) indicates that the other animals do not examine, or consider, or look up at (ἀναθρεῖ) any of the things that they see, but man has no sooner seen—that is, ὄπωπε—than he looks up at and considers that which he has seen. Therefore of all the animals man alone is rightly called man (ἄνθρωπος), because he looks up at (ἀναθρεῖ) what he has seen (ὄπωπε).

Hermogenes. Of course. May I ask you about the next word I should like to have explained?

Socrates. Certainly.

Hermogenes. It seems to me to come naturally next after those you have discussed. We speak of man’s soul and body.

Socrates. Yes, of course.

Hermogenes. Let us try to analyze these, as we did the previous words.

Socrates. You mean consider soul (ψυχή) and see why it is properly called by that name, and likewise body (σῶμα)?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. To speak on the spur of the moment, I think those who gave the soul its name had something of this sort in mind: they thought when it was present in the body it was the cause of its living, giving it the power to breathe and reviving it (ἀναψῦχον), and when this revivifying force fails, the body perishes and comes to an end therefore, I think, they called it ψυχή. But—please keep still a moment. I fancy I see something which will carry more conviction to Euthyphro and his followers; for I think they would despise this attempt and would consider it cheap talk. Now see if you like the new one.

Hermogenes. I am listening.

Socrates. Do you think there is anything which holds and carries the whole nature of the body, so that it lives and moves, except the soul?

Hermogenes. No; nothing.

Socrates. Well, and do you not believe the doctrine of Anaxagoras, that it is mind or soul which orders and holds the nature of all things?

Hermogenes. I do.

Socrates. Then there would be an admirable fitness in calling that power which carries and holds (ἔχει) nature (φύσιν) φυσέχη and this may be refined and pronounced ψυχή.

Hermogenes. Certainly; and I think this is a more scientific explanation than the other.

Socrates. Yes, it is. But it seems actually absurd that the name was given with such truth.

Hermogenes. Now what shall we say about the next word?

Socrates. You mean body (σῶμα)?

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. I think this admits of many explanations, if a little, even very little, change is made; for some say it is the tomb (σῆμα) of the soul, their notion being that the soul is buried in the present life; and again, because by its means the soul gives any signs which it gives, it is for this reason also properly called sign (σῆμα). But I think it most likely that the Orphic poets gave this name, with the idea that the soul is undergoing punishment for something; they think it has the body as an enclosure to keep it safe, like a prison, and this is, as the name itself denotes, the safe (σῶμα) for the soul, until the penalty is paid, and not even a letter needs to be changed.

Hermogenes. I think, Socrates, enough has been said about these words; but might we not consider the names of the gods in the same way in which you were speaking about that of Zeus a few minutes ago, and see what kind of correctness there is in them?

Socrates. By Zeus, Hermogenes, we, if we are sensible, must recognize that there is one most excellent kind, since of the gods we know nothing, neither of them nor of their names, whatever they may be, by which they call themselves, for it is clear that they use the true names. But there is a second kind of correctness, that we call them, as is customary in prayers, by whatever names and patronymics are pleasing to them, since we know no other. Now I think that is an excellent custom.

Socrates. So, if you like, let us first make a kind of announcement to the gods, saying that we are not going to investigate about them—for we do not claim to be able to do that—but about men, and let us inquire what thought men had in giving them their names; for in that there is no impiety.

Hermogenes. I think, Socrates, you are right; let us do as you say.

Socrates. Shall we, then, begin with Hestia, according to custom?

Hermogenes. That is the proper thing.

Socrates. Then what would you say the man had in mind who gave Hestia her name?

Hermogenes. By Zeus, I think that is no more easy question than the other.

Socrates. At any rate, my dear Hermogenes, the first men who gave names were no ordinary persons, but high thinkers and great talkers.

Hermogenes. What then?

Socrates. I am sure the names were given by men of that kind; and if foreign names are examined, the meaning of each of them is equally evident. Take, for instance, that which we call οὐσία (reality, essence); some people call it ἐσσία, and still others ὠσία. First, then, in connection with the second of these forms, it is reasonable that the essence of things be called Hestia; and moreover, because we ourselves say of that which partakes of reality it is, (ἔστιν), the name Hestia would be correct in this connection also; for apparently we also called οὐσία (reality) ἐσσία in ancient times. And besides, if you consider it in connection with sacrifices, you would come to the conclusion that those who established them understood the name in that way; for those who called the essence of things ἐσσία would naturally sacrifice to Hestia first of all the gods. Those on the other hand, who say ὠσία would agree, well enough with Heracleitus that all things move and nothing remains still. So they would say the cause and ruler of things was the pushing power (ὠθοῦν), wherefore it had been rightly named ὠσία. But enough of this, considering that we know nothing. After Hestia it is right to consider Rhea and Cronus. The name of Cronus, however, has already been discussed. But perhaps I am talking nonsense.

Hermogenes. Why, Socrates?

Socrates. My friend, I have thought of a swarm of wisdom.

Hermogenes. What is it?

Socrates. It sounds absurd, but I think there is some probability in it.

Hermogenes. What is this probability?

Socrates. I seem to have a vision of Heracleitus saying some ancient words of wisdom as old as the reign of Cronus and Rhea, which Homer said too.

Hermogenes. What do you mean by that?

Socrates. Heracleitus says, you know, that all things move and nothing remains still, and he likens the universe to the current of a river, saying that you cannot step twice into the same stream.

Hermogenes. True.

Socrates. Well, don’t you think he who gave to the ancestors of the other gods the names Rhea and Cronus had the same thought as Heracleitus? Do you think he gave both of them the names of streams merely by chance? Just so Homer, too, says—

Ocean the origin of the gods, and their mother Tethys;

Hom. Il. 14.201, 302 and I believe Hesiod says that also. Orpheus, too, says—

Fair-flowing Ocean was the first to marry,

and he wedded his sister Tethys, daughter of his mother.

Orpheus FrSee how they agree with each other and all tend towards the doctrine of Heracleitus.

Hermogenes. I think there is something in what you say, Socrates; but I do not know what the name of Tethys means.

Socrates. Why, the name itself almost tells that it is the name of a spring somewhat disguised; for that which is strained (διαττώμενον) and filtered (ἠθούμενον) represents a spring, and the name Tethys is compounded of those two words.

Hermogenes. That is very neat, Socrates.

Socrates. Of course it is. But what comes next? Zeus we discussed before.

Hermogenes. Yes.

Socrates. Let us, then, speak of his brothers, Poseidon and Pluto, including also the other name of the latter.

Hermogenes. By all means.

Socrates. I think Poseidon’s name was given by him who first applied it, because the power the sea restrained him as he was walking and hindered his advance; it acted as a bond (δεσμός) of his feet (ποδῶν). So he called the lord of this power Poseidon, regarding him as a foot-bond (ποσί-δεσμον). The e is inserted perhaps for euphony.