Cratylus (435-437)

Cratylus. Yes.

Socrates. Then if you recognize my meaning when I speak, that is an indication given to you by me.

Cratylus. Yes.

Socrates. The indication comes from something which is unlike my meaning when I speak, if in your example σκληρότης the lambda is unlike hardness; and if this is true, did you not make a convention with yourself, since both like and unlike letters, by the influence of custom and convention, produce indication? And even if custom is entirely distinct from convention, we should henceforth be obliged to say that custom, not likeness, is the principle of indication, since custom, it appears, indicates both by the like and by the unlike. And since we grant this, Cratylus—for I take it that your silence gives consent—both convention and custom must contribute something towards the indication of our meaning when we speak. For, my friend, if you will just turn your attention to numbers, where do you think you can possibly get names to apply to each individual number on the principle of likeness, unless you allow agreement and convention on your part to control the correctness of names? I myself prefer the theory that names are, so far as is possible, like the things named; but really this attractive force of likeness is, as Hermogenes says, a poor thing, and we are compelled to employ in addition this commonplace expedient, convention, to establish the correctness of names. Probably language would be, within the bounds of possibility, most excellent when all its terms, or as many as possible, were based on likeness, that is to say, were appropriate, and most deficient under opposite conditions. But now answer the next question. What is the function of names, and what good do they accomplish?

Cratylus. I think, Socrates, their function is to instruct, and this is the simple truth, that he who knows the names knows also the things named.

Socrates. I suppose, Cratylus, you mean that when anyone knows the nature of the name—and its nature is that of the thing—he will know the thing also, since it is like the name, and the science of all things which are like each other is one and the same. It is, I fancy, on this ground that you say whoever knows names will know things also.

Cratylus. You are perfectly right.

Socrates. Now let us see what this manner of giving instruction is, to which you refer, and whether there is another method, but inferior to this, or there is no other at all. What do you think?

Cratylus. I think there is no other at all; this is both the best and the only method.

Socrates. Do you think this is also the method of discovering realities, and that he who has discovered the names has discovered also the things named; or do you think inquiry and discovery demand another method, and this belongs to instruction?

Cratylus. I most certainly think inquiry and discovery follow this same method and in the same way.

Socrates. Let us consider the matter, Cratylus. Do you not see that he who in his inquiry after things follows names and examines into the meaning of each one runs great risks of being deceived?

Cratylus. How so?

Socrates. Clearly he who first gave names, gave such names as agreed with his conception of the nature of things. That is our view, is it not?

Cratylus. Yes.

Socrates. Then if his conception was incorrect, and he gave the names according to his conception, what do you suppose will happen to us who follow him? Can we help being deceived?

Cratylus. But, Socrates, surely that is not the case. He who gave the names must necessarily have known; otherwise, as I have been saying all along, they would not be names at all. And there is a decisive proof that the name-giver did not miss the truth, one which you must accept; for otherwise his names would not be so universally consistent. Have you not yourself noticed in speaking that all names were formed by the same method and with the same end in view?

Socrates. But that, Cratylus, is no counter argument. For if the giver of names erred in the beginning and thenceforth forced all other names into agreement with his own initial error, there is nothing strange about that. It is just so sometimes in geometrical diagrams; the initial error is small and unnoticed, but all the numerous deductions are wrong, though consistent. Every one must therefore give great care and great attention to the beginning of any undertaking, to see whether his foundation is right or not. If that has been considered with proper care, everything else will follow. However, I should be surprised if names are really consistent. Let us review our previous discussion. Names, we said, indicate nature to us, assuming that all things are in motion and flux. Do you not think they do so?

Cratylus. Yes, and they indicate it correctly.

Socrates. Let us first take up again the word ἐπιστήμη (knowledge) and see how ambiguous it is, seeming to indicate that it makes our soul stand still (ἵστησιν) at things, rather than that it is carried round with them, so it is better to speak the beginning of it as we now do than to insert the epsilon and say ἐπεϊστήμ; we should insert an iota rather than an epsilon. Then take βέβαιον (firm), which expresses position and rest, not motion. And ἱστορία (inquiry) means much the same, that it stops (ἵστησιν) the flow. And πιστόν (faithful) most certainly means that which stops (ἱστόν) motion. Then again, anyone can see that μνήμη (memory) expresses rest (μονή) in the soul, not motion. On the other hand, ἁμαρτία (error) and ξυμφορά (misfortune), if you consider merely the form of the names, will appear to be the same as σύνεσις (intellect) and ἐπιστήμη and all the other names of good significance. Moreover, ἀμαθία (ignorance) and ἀκολασία (unrestraint) also appear to be like them; for the former, ἀμαθία, seems to be τοῦ ἅμα θεῷ ἰόντος πορεία (the progress of one who goes with God), and ἀκολασία seems to be exactly ἀκολουθία τοῖς πράγμασιν (movement in company with things). And so names which we believe have the very worst meanings appear to be very like those which have the best. And I think we could, if we took pains, find many other words which would lead us to reverse our judgement and believe that the giver of names meant that things were not in progress or in motion, but were at rest.

Cratylus. But, Socrates, you see that most of the names indicate motion.

Socrates. What of that, Cratylus? Are we to count names like votes, and shall correctness rest with the majority? Are those to be the true names which are found to have that one of the two meanings which is expressed by the greater number?

Cratylus. That is not reasonable.