Plato's Cratylus: Argument, Form, and Structure (Value Inquiry Book Series 168) (Value Inquiry Book) (Value Inquiry Book)

PLATO’S CRATYLUS Argument, Form, and Structure

VIBS Volume 168 Robert Ginsberg Founding Editor Peter A. Redpath Executive Editor Associate Editors G. John M. Abbarno Mary-Rose Barral Gerhold K. Becker Raymond Angelo Belliotti Kenneth A. Bryson C. Stephen Byrum H. G. Callaway Robert A. Delfino Rem B. Edwards William Gay Dane R. Gordon J. Everet Green Heta Aleksandra Gylling Matti Häyry Steven V. Hicks

Richard T. Hull Laura Duhan Kaplan Mark Letteri Vincent L. Luizzi Alan Milchman George David Miller Alan Rosenberg Arleen L. F. Salles John R. Shook Eddy Souffrant Tuija Takala Oscar Vilarroya Anne Waters John R. Welch Thomas F. Woods

a volume in Studies in Studies in the History of Western Philosophy SHWP Robert A. Delfino, Editor

PLATO’S CRATYLUS Argument, Form, and Structure

Michael W. Riley

Amsterdam - New York, NY 2005

Cover Design: Studio Pollmann The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements of “ISO 9706:1994, Information and documentation - Paper for documents Requirements for permanence”. ISBN: 90-420-1875-5 ©Editions Rodopi B.V., Amsterdam - New York, NY 2005 Printed in the Netherlands

To Karen, Julia, Johnny, and Deirdre

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CONTENTS List of Figures

ix

Foreword

xi

Preface

xiii

List of Abbreviations Introduction ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

xv 1

The Argument in the Cratylus in the Form of a Geometric Demonstration

13

Enunciation: Knowledge of Names, like Knowledge of Beautiful Things in General, is Difficult 383a–384c

27

I. Construction: Eikasia, Likeness-Making: The Appearance of Reasoning 384c–393b

31

II. Demonstration: Pistis, Belief: Heraclitean Dogmas, Socratic Demands 393b–408d

45

III. Demonstration: Dianoia, Systematic Reasoning: An Axiomatic Heraclitean Logos: A Phenomenal Philosophical Dictionary 408d–421c

75

IV. Demonstration: Noesis, Knowing: Knowledge as Identical with Perception 421d–436b

113

Reduction, Recapitulation : 436c–440c

129

Notes

135

Bibliography

139

Appendix

143

About the Author

145

Index

147

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LIST OF FIGURES Enunciation I. Construction: Eikasia II. Demonstration: Pistis. Name Groups 1–4 III. Demonstration: Dianoia. Name Groups 5–8 IV. Demonstration: Noesis Reduction Recapitulation Name Group 1 Name Group 2 Name Group 3 Heraclitus’ Cycle of Elements Plato’s Cycle of Gods as Elements Name Group 4 Name Group 5 Name Group 6 Name Group 7 Name Group 8

22 22 23 24 25 26 26 49 53 61 66 66 73 84 91 102 111

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FOREWORD Michael Riley has ventured to do in this book what others have rarely attempted since the days of the Neoplatonists. That was when Proclus, one of the last systematizers of the Greek philosophical tradition, in the fifth century CE, organized his discussion of four of the hypotheses in Plato’s Parmenides with his eye on the dimensions of the Divided Line in Book 6 of Plato’s Republic. Riley now proposes, without explicit reference to the Neoplatonists, to throw light on another difficult Platonic dialogue, the Cratylus, by finding an analogue for Plato’s procedure there in the same Divided Line. Unlike other critics primarily interested in the language theories, or rather theories of naming, made to vie with each other in the Cratylus, Riley’s concern is the structure of the work, especially the order in which Plato presents the principal topic, the origin and meaning of names. The Cratylus has troubled readers above all on two grounds. For one, readers attempting to plot Plato’s works along the lines of a chronological succession have often been doubtful about where to place the dialogue in the presumed arc of his philosophical development. Stylometry usually puts it among the earlier works, but it is by no means definite that a great writer’s progress can always be read from the variable particulars of his creative prose style. For another, the bulk of the Cratylus presents us with a seemingly disordered mass of etymology and phonology that has struck a number of scholars over the past few centuries as more of a joke, a Platonic paidia, than as a serious inquiry into verbal roots and phonetic changes. Riley dares to brave both of these obstacles head-on. For his argument, the chronological issue is irrelevant; and his explanation of what Plato is doing in the etymological segment of the dialogue rules out any overall presumption of paidia, though he fully appreciates Socrates’ customary incidental flashes of wit. The reliance on the Divided Line does not impose an interest in comparative dating, because Riley assumes that the advantages of the Line as a geometric expedient of orientation were known before Plato availed himself of its usefulness in the Republic. In that work, the subdivisions of the Line are counted on to prefigure the proportionate relations among the four elements of the epistemological scale, from imagining (eikasia) based on perception (aesthesis) at the bottom, through belief (pistis) and thinking (dianoia), to intelligence (noesis) at the apex of knowledge. Riley’s remarkable claim is that the etymological and phonological portion of the Cratylus, and indeed the whole dialogue, is structured in conformity with the upward reach of the Line; and that each part of the discussion, defined in this manner, and its constituents, are further subdivided in the same fourfold sequence. That is to say, the progression of the colloquy, and along with it the natural subunits of the inquiry, are analyzable as a passage comprising other passages through the four

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stages of Plato’s epistemic ladder. The sampling of word derivations whose order has in the past seemed fortuitous is on these grounds put into slots obeying a sequence significant in Plato’s thinking about the operations of the mind. We should not really be surprised, now that Riley has shown the way, to find Plato arguing by steps familiar from his teaching in other dialogues such as the Republic and the Theaetetus. At the same time, the apparent indisputability with which Riley manages to drop each of the lexical riddles into its preordained groove might well energize our skeptical antennae. It is hard, after all, to expect that Plato should have succeeded in securely cementing each building block of the new “science,” etymology, so its placement would answer to the scalar demands of his general epistemology. A rigid conformity to a pattern does not suit the superior limberness of Socrates’ investigative manner. Especially in the areas of pistis and dianoia, closely allied as they are in the Platonic corpus, one might anticipate some deviations from the proposed arrangement. Riley does find a procedural irregularity in at least one case. But exceptions from a putative rule cannot be recognized unless the rule has been advanced. Riley’s “scheme,” expounded in brisk prose, is an eyeopener that allows the reader to recognize a plausible sequence in the wealth of linguistic material examined in the Cratylus. Riley further highlights the various stages of his argument by means of tables and diagrams, with an extended Euclidean analysis furnishing a gallant coda. Riley is fully familiar with the modern authorities on the dialogue, and faces them respectfully in the presentation of his case. The faint shadow of Neoplatonic authoritarianism that hovers behind his proposal does not diminish its novelty and freshness. Among the varied theories and approaches rivaling one another and enlivening Platonic scholarship today, Riley’s entry must be regarded as a significant event. Some, to their loss, will reject his offering outright. Others, more fruitfully, will test its worth and appropriate its benefits. In the light of Riley’s study, the Cratylus will gain added stature as evidence for the larger identity of Platonic thought. Thomas G. Rosenmeyer University of California, Berkeley

PREFACE My interest in the Cratylus began when I read it as an undergraduate for a course in the Integral Liberal Arts Program at Saint Mary’s College. Two of my teachers from those halcyon days, who are now my colleagues in the Classics Department and Integral Program at Saint Mary’s, Albert Dragstedt and Joseph Lanigan, have both patiently heard and read the argument of this book in many stages. As a graduate student in the Classics Department at the University of Washington, Seattle, I received help and encouragement for my work on the Cratylus from many excellent teachers. These included Catherine Roth, who led the seminar on “How the Greeks thought about their language” for which I wrote the paper which has grown into this book, Pierre MacKay, who directed my dissertation on the Cratylus, John McDiarmid, Larry Bliquez, and Cecilia Luschnig, all of the Classics Department, and Marc Cohen of the Philosophy Department. In subsequent years, Robert Renehan of the Classics Department of the University of California at Santa Barbara, and Thomas G. Rosenmeyer of the Classics and Comparative Literature Departments of the University of California at Berkeley helped me with crucial parts of the manuscript. I want to express great thanks to Saint Mary’s College for two sabbaticals needed to complete this work. For help in the labyrinthine preparation of the manuscript I also thank Rodopi’s Series in the History of Western Philosophy editor, Robert Delfino, Belinda Cortright, Ann Thatcher, Elizabeth Cortright, and Elizabeth Boepple. Finally, my greatest thanks are for my wife Karen and children Julia, Johnny, and Deirdre, who have been endlessly helpful and hopeful about this book, which I now dedicate to them with love.

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LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS References to the Cratylus and other Platonic dialogues are by Stephanus numbers from the edition of John Burnet’s Platonis Opera. DK: References to Heraclitus and other presocratics are noted in the text by the abbreviation DK followed by fragment number from Hermann Diels and Walther Kranz, Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 6th ed., 1956). The abbreviations for other classical authors and their works that appear in the body of the text come from the Oxford Classical Dictionary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2nd edition, 1970) as follows:

Aris.Cat.: Aris.Met.: D.L.: Pl.Gorg.: Pl.Plt.: Pl.Rep.: Pl.Soph.: Pl.Theaet.: Plut.Quaest. Plat.:

Aristotle, Categories Aristotle, Metaphysics Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers Plato, Gorgias Plato, Politicus (Statesman) Plato, Republic Plato, Sophist Plato, Theaetetus Plutarch, Quaestiones Platonicae

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INTRODUCTION Alcibiades in Plato’s Symposium compares Socrates to a Silenus box. He thinks that a superficially whimsical and grotesque exterior conceals Socrates’ serious reality in the way small statues of flute-playing satyrs conceal images of the gods within them. This figure of speech equally expresses the way in which the ornate surfaces of Plato’s dialogues can frequently conceal their true and more philosophic character. In simpler cases, such as the Meno and the Charmides, initial topics such as virtue or courage occasion dialogues whose deeper concerns turn out to be definition and knowledge. In the Cratylus, things are more complex, for within Plato’s outer framework of hidden design, Socrates takes nearly two-thirds of the dialogue to build another sort of Silenus box. At first straightforward, Socrates’ conversation becomes unusually baffling in the Cratylus. Like his interlocutors, he initially appears interested in determining whether names have meaning by convention or by nature. He has entered their discussion in progress on how meaning is constituted in and for language. But shortly after he begins this investigation about how names mean, Socrates goes on a lengthy tangent that finally takes over and takes up most of the dialogue. The set of some 140 etymologies for 108 names that Socrates provides in this tangent consists of derivations almost entirely specious by modern standards. Louis Meridier lists only twenty successful or partially successful etymologies, about a seventh of the total.1 The value of the etymologies, though, does not have to depend only on their lexicographical success-rate. Accordingly, the search continues for what Thomas G. Rosenmeyer calls “some kind of positive program” for the etymological section.2 No known ancient commentator doubted the seriousness of the etymologies, as David Sedley points out.3 Pertinently, Rachel Barney observes concerning the etymologies that “whether [the etymologies] are good or plausible by modern standards is clearly beside the point, but what standards are appropriate is not so easy to discover.”4 Many of the derivations are fairly whimsical, some even fantastic or grotesque. The entire etymological section can appear oddly sprawling and disproportionate. Still, as the case that follows will illustrate in detail, Socrates carefully places each etymology, however correct or strange it may happen to be on linguistic grounds, within a simple, single, overarching design in the Cratylus. He follows this design strictly. By sticking closely to it, he illuminates many details in the development of his philosophical sense of the problem of knowing. My main purpose here is to demonstrate the design of the dialogue and the corresponding design of the etymological section within it. Once that design emerges in detail, it becomes possible to consider the function of the design in and for Socrates’ philosophical argument. Each of the etymologies

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PLATO’S CRATYLUS: ARGUMENT, FORM, AND STRUCTURE

then takes its philosophic place within the scheme of Socrates’ argument. The curious set of etymologies become together a sort of Silenus box that presents the dazzling, distracting, elaborate, and ornate surface of that argument. The argument follows a pattern of thought remarkably familiar, even fundamental, in Socrates’ discussion elsewhere in the dialogues, the systematic progression to knowledge along the four stages of the famous divided line analogy that dramatically concludes Republic 6 (509d ff). The divided line analogy directly follows and reexpresses the terms of Plato’s more famous analogy of the sun to the idea of the good (508a ff.). The most famous passage in all of Plato, the cave analogy (514a ff.), immediately follows, and in many ways follows from, the divided line analogy. Among other purposes for it, Plato uses the cave analogy to dramatize and develop a person’s progression toward knowledge along the four stages of the divided line. To produce the divided line analogy, Socrates divides a line into two unequal parts. One part corresponds to the intelligible class and realm of things and the other to the visible, tÕ mĜn nohtoà g{nouj te kai tÒpou tÕ d'aâ Ðratoà. He then divides each part in the same ratio in which he has split the whole, and the two parts of each realm correspondingly vary in their relative clarity and obscurity, safhnefv kai ¢safefv prÕj ¥llhla. The progression of the divided line has a system. In what follows, I frequently use the word “system” and its derivatives, because I primarily intend to show how the Cratylus as a whole and in detail works according to a system that Plato designs by means of the divided line. By “system” I mean the plan or design for a set of parts that makes it usable as a whole, which parts work together in correspondence. For instance, neither a wagon nor Hesiod’s famous list of the parts of a wagon (Works and Days, 454 ff.) is, in isolation, a system. Still, the wainwright’s method for putting the parts together is, so is Hesiod’s design and versification of the parts list, and so can be some, though not necessarily every, rhapsode’s way of recalling the list to recite it. Plato plans and arranges for his use the four parts of the line, the pairs of parts of the line, and the entire line. He makes them correspond with four stages of thought, one by one, in their relations by pairs, and with thought as a whole, even with results of thought, their relations by pairs, and their final aim and goal of knowing the good. His plan in the Cratylus follows strictly according to this set of correspondences. Readers already familiar with the details of the divided line and the use Plato makes of it in the Republic can pass over the next four paragraphs. The line has four segments, a shortest, a longest, and two equal to each other between the extremes (see Appendix). These four segments are analogous to four stages of mental development. The first involves sense perception more than the others, which progressively develop from their dependence on the senses until the fourth does not require it at all, aesqhtù pant£pasin oÙdeni. The first of the four parts of the line corresponds to eikasia, sensation

Introduction

3

within a realm of shadows, both visible shadows and metaphorical or conceptual ones. These are the shadows of knowledge merely, but taken for knowledge truly, which represent by observable likeness in the case of sense perception and figurative comparison in the case of imagination. The second stage of the line represents pistis, belief and conviction resulting from natural corporeal things that make literal shadows and from every sort of humanly contrived thing, tÕ skeuastÕn Ólon g{noj, that make literal or figurative ones. The next stage of the line represents dianoia, systematic reasoning and understanding, such as geometry. The final stage of the line stands for noesis or episteme, knowledge independent of assumptions of any kind, the domain of pure mind, nous. The four stages of knowledge are in fact four different ways of looking at or approaching the same reality. Exactly specific and different subject matters appropriate to each stage do not exist. While sense perception of likeness is like a shadow of knowledge in the analogy, it does not thereby deal only with shadows and reflections. While dianoia operates in the same way as geometry, geometry is not its sole object and practice. We must proceed through all four stages of knowledge to reach knowledge in any field of study. Each scientific system will have a shadowing forth, at the first acquaintance with its tenets; also, a particular scientific system will explain shadows and reflections, for instance, optics. Eikasia and pistis express what is apparently true. The first makes guesses to represent reality, the second forms convictions and persuades by the use of concrete examples for the truth of the convictions. The mathematical equality of the pistis and dianoia sections suggests that, like induction and deduction, while in many ways different, they are in some other ways also alike. Dianoia and nous express truths that are not obvious. Dianoia assumes convictions about apparent reality as self-evident axioms and elaborates the logical consequences that are in accord, Ðmologoum{nwj (Pl.Rep. 510d), with such assumptions. The final stage, nous, transcends sense perception and assumption and, by means of the forms, apprehends what is fundamental and not hypothetical. The divided line models how a given conjecture passes through four stages in the mind. A thinker first considers its superficial likelihood, then its persuasiveness in particular cases. Next, he must consider how the hypothesis and its consequences interconnect. These consequences must all hang together and be in accord with one another in order to accord with any given conjecture. As in geometry, if consequences of the same assumption contradict one another, they invalidate the assumption. In the fourth and final stage, the thinker can verify the conjecture as a fact and contemplate its formal status. Plato does not make it explicit how someone reaches this fourth stage. Still, he does make it explicit from the requirements of dianoia as systematic reasoning, that a conjecture that produces contradictory consequences is thereby self-

4

PLATO’S CRATYLUS: ARGUMENT, FORM, AND STRUCTURE

contradictory, and so cannot be true. What knowledge of reality or fact consists in is not obvious from the divided line analogy. The analogy still makes it plain that a conjecture that leads to self-contradiction cannot lead to knowledge.5 Nowhere in the dialogues does Socrates give direct evidence for complete knowledge. He says neither that he himself has such evidence nor that he knows how it establishes knowledge. Everywhere, though, he insists that thinkers abide by strict standards of evidence for claims about knowledge of any kind. The highest of these standards of evidence for him are the ideas. The divided line maps four ways to use four sorts of standards of evidence, the last being ideas themselves. Socrates does not claim that ideas as such standards ever can guarantee knowledge. Insofar as he has a theory of ideas, and “theory of ideas” is not Socrates or Plato’s term to begin with, he has a descriptive sort of theory. Socrates uses the ideas here on the divided line as elsewhere in a description of the mind’s habits of thinking, not in a prescription for their success at knowing. In the Cratylus, Socrates designs the etymological section by means of the divided line. He also has a figurative use for this structure of thought. By his design, Socrates sustains and arranges the many curious etymologies for names so that they can figuratively contain and conceal something like images of the gods, namely allusions to accounts of what is to him fundamental and crucial. More obviously, these images are of his and others’, especially Heraclitus’, accounts of divine and human things as unchanging or changing in their being and seeming. Less obviously, these images are of Socrates’ peculiar account or expression of the fundamental problem of knowing such things at all, distinctly or in relation to other things. Socrates develops the problem of knowing here, as elsewhere, only to exclude as implausible some accounts of things. He suggests most directly here only a dream as grounds for establishing other accounts as plausible. In other dialogues, Socrates is more direct and substantive in expressing the problem of knowing and in composing such accounts for its solution as he considers plausible. Late in the Cratylus Socrates says only that he has “a dream that there exists the beautiful and the good and each individual thing in itself” (439cd). By the end of the dialogue, what Socrates has done with his whimsical etymological antics in the Cratylus to make this famous dream even a plausible assumption, is far from obvious. Still, how he methodically checks and scrutinizes another plausible assumption turns out in the Cratylus to be surprisingly and remarkably direct. From first to last in the dialogue, he plots a simple and practical way to scrutinize assumptions for their reliability within his or any other account of knowing anything in itself. To modern readers simplicity and practicality are far from obvious qualities of the bulk of the dialogue, its notorious etymological section. Many scholars approach or avoid the etymological section as a sort of strange and vast puzzle. Several have remarked upon the alarming amount of heavy-

Introduction

5

handed Socratic irony at the surface of the etymological section. Few appear genuinely entertained by much of this irony; some appear more irritated than amused or enlightened by it. As uncharacteristic of him as is Friedrich Schleiermacher’s reaction to the Cratylus, he probably most fully expresses the frustration of many scholars with the etymological section, if not with the entire dialogue. On the subject of the etymologies, Schleiermacher’s usual expository method gives way: A still more difficult task was it to defend the great man in the matter of the utterly false derivations and explanations of the words, when, alas!, among so many examples there is hardly one that can meet with toleration, to say nothing of support. For even though we may be disposed to excuse, and regret that the admirable philosopher, from fault of the times, was capable of producing so little instructive or sound upon so important a subject, still this resource can never suffice, because in fact the ignorance is too great, and even against our inclination something like a feeling of contempt will always enter into the surprise we feel, that one who laid so much stress upon the obligation we are under to know the variety and extent of our ignorance, should have plunged into such trifling and unmeaning play, upon a subject about which he manifestly knew nothing.6 Schleiermacher tries to work from his first reaction to the Cratylus to an unprejudiced reading of the dialogue. Still he can make no more of the etymological section than a topical satire against the grammarians of Plato’s day such as Antisthenes, whose works are in their substance lost. Many have followed Schleiermacher’s lead.7 Against them, Ronald Levinson makes the case, “that we lose more than is gained by introducing the many-valued term Antisthenes into the equation of the Cratylus.”8 A more general comment on the possible fulfillment of a search for Plato’s personal targets in the Cratylus comes from Gert Jan de Vries: For the etymologizing part there are no parallels in Plato’s work, and the doctrines that are attacked can hardly be identified. From a conversation with V. M. E. Goldschmidt I learned that he shares these views.9 Victor Moritz E. Goldschmidt has provided an excellent account of recognizable sources in the etymological section.10 While none so disdainfully as Schleiermacher, many scholars have made light of the Cratylus, primarily because of Plato’s apparently willful excesses in the etymological section. A. E. Taylor says the dialogue is little more than a “picture of Socrates in one of his more whimsical moods.”11 G. S. Kirk calls it “mainly jocular in intent.”12 Paul Friedländer calls it “a medley of

6

PLATO’S CRATYLUS: ARGUMENT, FORM, AND STRUCTURE

merry pranks.”13 To lengthen this list is easy. Making light of the Cratylus and its etymologies, though, has also provoked counterirritation. Thomas Taylor, the eighteenth-century Neoplatonist, says the etymologies mean to mock the philologians of Plato’s day: the truth of this account will be evident to every ingenuous mind, from barely reading the dialogue with attention; but is not even suspected by the verbal critic, who as usual decides on writings, which he is so far from having studied, that he has not even read them like a rational being.14 The etymological section is by far the greatest problem for those who argue for the philosophical worth of the Cratylus. One persistent tendency is to minimize the section’s importance and skirt the issue of its sprawling length.15 By such accounts, when Socrates does return to the ostensible topic of how and on what authority names are reliable, the point of origin of his extensive etymological tangent, he does so only to discredit the etymological section as entirely a digression. At the surface, then, the etymological section, the bulk of the dialogue, has appeared to some to be chaotic, an utter waste of time for philologists and philosophers. The dialogue’s defenders have made cases for an order to the series of etymologies. Goldschmidt holds that the etymologies are even an encyclopedia of “theories theologiques, cosmologiques, et morales ayant trait a la conception de flux perpetuel.”16 He divides the etymologies into three groups on the basis of Diogenes Laërtius’ division of the topics in Heraclitus’ book “into three logoi, on the universe (IJÕ ʌ©n), on politics, and on the divine” (D.L. 9.5). Robert Brumbaugh outlines an intriguing partial system of the etymologies and connects it to the order of the topics in the Timaeus and the account of language in the Seventh Letter.17 Further, several writers have provided new, convincing solutions to different problems of detail with and in this curious Platonic anomaly, including the problems of the purpose, tone, and value of some of Socrates’ etymological accounts. For instance, Sedley argues that many of the etymologies have an exegetical, if not always a philosophical, value for Socrates and Plato. He cites for comparison Plato’s purposeful etymologies in other dialogues such as the Timaeus, Laws, Republic, and Phaedrus. The Cratylus etymologies for Sedley are not just a catalogue of views on topics in literary, scientific, and philosophical traditions of interest to Socrates, but are even in the orderly arrangement of a “preconceived philosophical curriculum.”18 Other, fresh arguments accumulate in the tradition that the whole etymological section can have what Thomas Rosenmeyer says is still difficult to discern, a “kind of positive program.”19 Barney, for instance, recalls Friedrich Nietzsche’s agonistic Socrates and sets up an account of the etymologies as a sort of agon, a contest where Socrates is outperforming the “etymology mongers at

Introduction

7

their own game.” She elicits parallels for this “agonistic display” from the Protagoras, Menexenus, and Phaedo, and the doxa-fragments of Parmenides.20 Direct accounts of relations between the sense of the Cratylus and that of the Theaetetus by Mary Margaret MacKenzie and Sedley might help suggest further applications of this agon analogy.21 In the Theaetetus, Socrates “becomes” Protagoras and speaks for him against Socrates’ earlier arguments. In the Sophist as well, the Eleatic Stranger puts on a virtuoso and arguably agonistic display of dichotomous defining, only to illustrate its inadequacies later. In this way, distinct analogies of style, structure, and purpose have emerged already between the Cratylus and Plato’s early to middle dialogues, and can also continue to emerge between it and the middle to later dialogues. In this essay I argue primarily for Plato’s use of another sort of analogy, his mathematically simple divided line proportion (see Appendix), because he uses it from start to finish within an entire design of the Cratylus itself, including its enigmatic etymological section. I secondarily suggest how this internal principle of analogy within the Cratylus can help strengthen and clarify such analogous connections between the Cratylus and other Platonic dialogues as those I have briefly mentioned. My main purpose here is to open the design of the Cratylus and the Socratic Silenus box of its etymological section. First, I show in general, simple terms how Socrates constructs it, and then in some detail I illustrate its intricacy and, I hope, its entertainment value. I also try to open it sufficiently for the ongoing discussion of the Cratylus to include a sense of the details of the design of the entire etymological section in any account of the dialogue’s true philosophic character. While I am not more than provisionally and preliminarily providing such an account, the effort here may help make it plain what the extensive etymological tangent in the Cratylus can have to do with dialogues close to the center of Plato’s thought on knowledge and being, such as the Theaetetus, Sophist, Statesman, Parmenides, Republic, and Timaeus. For the first half of the Cratylus, scholia survive, though they are in part by one of his students, under the name of Proclus, the eminent Neoplatonist of the fifth century of the Common Era. These scholia interconnect the Cratylus and the dialogues just mentioned, and others, within Proclus’ labyrinthine account of Plato’s theology.22 The scholia do not provide a simple design or plan for the dialogue and they break off midway through the etymologies. Still, they make it plain that, and to some degree explain how, the Neoplatonists thought the Cratylus merited serious consideration. The text came fourth in their canon of twelve dialogues after the Alcibiades 1, Gorgias, and Phaedo, and before the Theaetetus, Sophist, Statesman, Phaedrus, Symposium, Philebus, Timaeus, and Parmenides. The first ten of these were to prepare their students for the last two dialogues, and most importantly the more analytic, more serious, and more crucial Parmenides.23

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The logical exercise in antinomy in the Parmenides that Zeno conducts with the young future tyrant Aristoteles is strikingly similar in its abrupt entry and departure from the dialogue, and in its intricate reticulation, to the etymological section of the Cratylus. According to Proclus in his commentary on the Parmenides, the exercise even follows the divided line in its arrangement of its second through fifth hypotheses.24 The form of the disciplined exercise section of the Parmenides, like the exercise in definition by division in the Sophist, while difficult to master, is still obviously a systematic exercise. Such systematic patterning of the outwardly wildly undisciplined etymological section is scarcely apparent. How much Plato ever intended it to be apparent is worth asking. Still, the more this systematic patterning emerges, the more diverting and the more available for discussion the dialogue becomes. I go straight to the Cratylus to determine the structure of the etymological section and its close conformity with Plato’s design and structure of the dialogue as a whole. Within this design and structure, Plato does not make direct references to Heraclitus until a third of the dialogue has passed (401d). Yet in light of those references, several earlier allusions in retrospect become recognizable, so that it becomes comparatively easy to argue that Plato has Heraclitus in mind throughout the dialogue. But Plato in the Cratylus never directly refers to the famous analogy from Republic 6 for his “dialectical frame of reference,” the four-stage divided line, of which I make extensive use in what follows.25 Still, when the Cratylus is nearly half over (407ac), in the etymological account for “Athena,” he alludes to all four stages of the line at once. Etymologies following for “Hephaestus” and “Ares” then allude in turn to Republic 7, the first to the cave analogy and the second to a distinct character trait of the guardians. Plato also systematically alludes in the etymologies for “day,” “yoke,” “binding,” and “harmful” (418a–419b) to his sun analogy for the idea of the good. The divided line analogy immediately follows and reexpresses the sun analogy in Republic 6. This crucial allusion to the sun analogy does not occur, though, until the second third of the Cratylus has almost passed (418a–419b). Even then, the allusion is far from obvious. Arguably, only by these late and cryptic allusions do any previous features of the design of the dialogue become definitely detectable. Still, I am proposing that Plato geometrically engineers the whole structure of the dialogue from start to finish by means of the divided line. Plato’s interest in geometry is obvious in the Meno, the Republic, and the Timaeus, so that he has an interest in it from the beginning to the end of his work. The form of the Cratylus, too, in keeping with Plato’s interests, emerges as a detailed development of a simple geometric pattern. Plato only refers to geometry and geometric reductio ad absurdum demonstration near the end of the dialogue (436ce); yet I am also proposing that he follows the form of a reductio proof for the entirety of the dialogue.

Introduction

9

That the apparently disorderly Cratylus should emerge as completely mathematically orderly is at first surprising. Once the general principles and the particular means that order it emerge, namely geometry in general and the divided line from Republic 6 in particular, the novelty should pass. First, Socrates’ use of geometry here is entirely elementary. In general, I argue that over the whole dialogue he superimposes the simple form of any geometric proof, namely an enunciation of a proposition, a construction to test it, a demonstration to show it, and a recapitulation of what was to be demonstrated, quod erat demonstrandum, to conclude. In particular, I argue that he uses the four part divided-line analogy repeatedly as a kind of handy scaffolding to frame up and design each stage and part of the dialogue’s general geometric form. The line analogy is quite simple to employ in designing and in remembering arguments. Socrates, or perhaps Plato, employs it to frame the discussion and demonstration in the Cratylus. Some problems exist here. First, to invoke a system in the Cratylus that derives from the divided line raises the problem of whether we ought to date the Cratylus before or after the Republic. Stylometric arguments, among others, favor the earlier dating, but arguments from the theory of ideas suggest the later. Mackenzie, for instance, argues for a late dating because the problems or “aporiai of the Cratylus have their counterparts in the Parmenides, the Theaetetus, and the Sophist.”26 Sedley even makes the case that the Cratylus does not in fact fit into “any one place” in the chronological scheme of the dialogues. He cites textual variations to establish “very good reason to assume that the Cratylus which we have is a second or later edition, incorporating changes made by Plato himself in later life” so that “the Cratylus is a possibly unique hybrid, a product of more than one phase of Plato’s thought.”27 I do not propose to resolve the problem here. Still, I argue for a divided line pattern in the Cratylus and point up uses of language and imagery of the theory of ideas as they appear in the Republic. I also elicit parallels for arguments and expressions in the Cratylus from later dialogues such as the Statesman, Theaetetus, Sophist, and Parmenides. Especially in discussing Cratylus 418e–421c in relation to Theaetetus 155d–156e, I provide examples of Plato’s language usage that look as if they furnish strong evidence for a later dating. Still, I am not sure such features of design, thought, and expression in common with these later dialogues require that late dating. On the one hand, to group the Cratylus with the late dialogues appears quite plausible. Thrasyllus assumes the late dating in the standard tetralogies of Platonic dialogues. On the other hand, the evidence may suggest either that the theory of ideas is earlier than many have supposed, or that the dialogue is later. What is most striking about the parallels to the Cratylus in the later dialogues is that they appear largely in figurative passages and especially in picturesque analogies. Such figurative speech may well derive from modes of discourse that Socrates

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employed which may be older still. The mathematics necessary to construct the divided line is presocratic. The analogy of the divided line itself may have been in such common use in Socrates’ and later in Plato’s spoken dialogue that Plato’s contemporaries could have understood references to it long before he wrote it down in the Republic. The same is true of the other analogies. The next problem arises in characterizing the correlations between the Cratylus and the other dialogues. We cannot know whether the Cratylus alludes or refers to other dialogues or the others allude or refer to it until the matter of dating the dialogue is settled. This is not so much of an issue if the dialogues early, middle, and late have something to refer or allude to besides each other, a sort of oral tradition in philosophy as in poetry. To note how recently Elroy L. Bundy has cleared Pindar’s odes of long-standing charges similar to those made against the Cratylus of lack of “linear unity,” abrupt transitions, excessive “personal preoccupations,” and “irrelevancies of other kinds” is instructive. As he says, “These myths have arisen from a failure to understand the conventional aspects of choral communications.” So too the myth of the incoherence of the etymological section could arise from failure to understand conventional aspects of philosophical dialogue.28 Such convention in Plato’s circle is certain, in Socrates’ likely, and considering the emphasis Pythagoreans such as Plato’s teacher, the mathematician Archytas, put on memory, probably far earlier still. I attempt, though, to confine my use of the terms “reference” and “allusion” to written works alone. To be fair, I must warn the reader of two things. First, since Plato’s clues to its detection come later in the dialogue, the structure of the Cratylus that I describe may appear at its outset merely forcibly imposed, especially in what I call the Enunciation and Construction. In part, this is because my argument reverses the order in which I detected this structure. First, the allusion in “Athena” halfway through the dialogue led me to look for the divided line structure, but only within the etymological section, where a full sense of structure is still most needful and useful. Once the structure of the etymological section (393b–421d) was manifest, the phonological section and concluding arguments (421d–440c) readily appeared to follow out the divided line system. It was only at the end that I saw how that system might also contain the prelude (383a–393b) to the etymologies within the design of a single geometric demonstration or proof. Readers should regard the divided-line structure as something here proposed for demonstration, not as taken for granted. The second warning is that at each stage of this account of the Cratylus, I recapitulate details of Plato’s scheme of argument from the Republic. I repeatedly synopsize and differentiate each of the steps and stages of argument in the Cratylus. In part, this is for the convenience of those readers who will be using the commentary selectively. This amount of recapitulation may strike readers of the whole work as complex and repetitious, but it should firmly establish the at first apparently remarkable claim: that the Cratylus,

Introduction

11

while no less than before “a joy-ride through a Heraclitean wonderland,” is also as orderly as a strict geometric proof.29 It will become apparent as the following sequential description unfolds that I am pointing out what I think is Plato’s conscious design for the dialogue. Plato’s design is simple, but intricately elaborated; apprehending it fully requires only the little geometry that the Appendix delineates. For that matter, recognizing and viewing the design does not even require the strict mathematics, which I nonetheless supply, of even so little geometry. The Cratylus is by any account a labyrinthine work, one of Plato’s strangest dialogues. Before making use of this commentary, readers should first read or reread the Cratylus to be aware of just how strange the dialogue appears at first sight. I hope the case here for the dialogue’s geometrical clarity and straightforwardness can then deepen instead of diminish that initial sense of strangeness. These considerations of the argument, form, and structure of the Cratylus can then assist readers in further considerations of the dialogue’s content and purpose. My purpose is to make the Cratylus less arcane even to beginning students of Plato. Accordingly, I have almost always translated and frequently also transliterated the Greek that I quote in the text, so that even those who do not read Greek can get a sense not only of the sounds, but also of the formants and roots that Socrates is cleverly manipulating. This is most useful when cognate or derivative English words share easily recognizable formants and roots with Greek ones. References to the Cratylus and other Platonic dialogues are by Stephanus numbers from the edition of John Burnet’s Platonis Opera.30 References to Heraclitus and other presocratics are noted in the text by the abbreviation DK followed by fragment number from Hermann Diels and Walther Kranz, Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker.31 Abbreviations for other classical authors and their works that appear in the body of the text come from the Oxford Classical Dictionary.32

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One THE ARGUMENT IN THE CRATYLUS IN THE FORM OF A GEOMETRIC DEMONSTRATION The Cratylus is a riddle about logos on a large scale. The dialogue is also full of riddles in and about logoi on a small scale, the notorious etymologies among them. The sense of the large riddle is figurative of the great problem of ambiguity in the logos or relation of becoming and being. As the dialogue opens, Hermogenes asks Cratylus, “Shall we discuss the logos in common with Socrates,” so the general problem of logos, what it means and is, is in the dialogue from the first line on. The small riddles as figures of speech depict a species of the general problem, namely, how names relate to things, for Hermogenes and Cratylus are seeking that logos or account. Socrates’ concerns are typically on a grander scale than those of his interlocutors. Socrates’ added sense of scale, large and small, in this dialogue is quite literal. He uses a geometer’s and an artisan’s sense of scale, one that takes logos in the sense of the geometer’s ratio and takes its compound, analogia, as same-relatedness or proportion. Socrates, a stonecutter’s son, knows the value of this sense of logos to all artisans. In the Cratylus, he will not confine his senses of logos to those related to speech alone. Dramatically the divine craftsman, Hephaestus, will stand in the dialogue as Socrates’ ally in the fight against taking logoi too lightly or too simplistically. By the geometric sense of scale in general, and the sense of the divided line’s proportions from Republic 6 in particular, Plato is designing the dialogue with its wild etymologies, depictions of the genus and species of ambiguity in logos. By repeating the proportions of the divided line, itself a repeated proportion, Plato on small and large scales and by intermediate scales as well, modulates a geometric design for the dialogue. He is following a geometric model to figure out the dimensions of the problem of the logos. Logos appears in the Cratylus to be a problem of which words alone cannot make sense, for they emerge as too ambiguous by themselves. While the content of meaning in speech appears, by figures of speech, chaotically indefinite within the dialogue, the pattern of depicting what appears indefinite is itself simple and definite. Later in this chapter, I provide an outline of the whole dialogue’s argument and diagrams of the elements of its structure. By means of them, it becomes possible virtually to plot the points of the Cratylus. Understanding the implications of Plato’s argument and design is a larger task, for it depends on interrelating the Cratylus with other Platonic dialogues, especially with the Theaetetus. The first point here is to bring the whole Cratylus into a single focus. Relating the Cratylus by allusion and analogy to

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Plato’s other dialogues then is possible in a new way. Once apparent, the dialogue’s form readily illustrates analogies with other dialogues. The main technique of relating form to form here will be modular design, which needs some general sketch. Modular design abounds in nature, art, and mathematics in common. A tree may illustrate the same pattern of veins in a leaf, leaves on a twig, twigs on a branch, and branches on a trunk. Musicians announce themes and develop them. Architects use the same proportions for foundations, as for individual rooms, as for windows. The application of proportions in painting has the result of the illusion of perspective. At another level, the proportions of the parabola appear in accord with a description of terrestrial gravitation. In physics, motions of atoms, solar systems, and galaxies bear significant correspondences. Modular design in general expresses sameness of proportions from small to large scales within system. It gives a sense of order and harmony, of fitness in the relation of part to whole. Throughout the dialogues, Plato uses and describes this sort of design, especially in his Timaeus.1 In that dialogue the main speaker, Timaeus, proposes an overarching system of proportions for all sorts of systems. In Euclidean geometry, proportion is analogia, correspondence, the sameness of ratios, logoi. Euclid’s theory of proportion, Book 5 of the Elements, derives largely from the work of Eudoxus, whose terms and ideas Plato knew. Plato indicates that each of the divided line’s stages can develop modularly in smaller stages with the line’s same proportions. In the cave analogy immediately following the divided line he provides four microcosmic stages within an image suiting the line’s first stage of eikasia, reasoning from likenesses. Plato’s cave dweller moves through the four stages of the divided line as he proceeds from beholding shadows on a wall to seeing puppets before a fire to seeing real phenomena in daylight to beholding the sun as source of light, itself a likeness of true being. After the cave analogy in Book 7 Socrates speaks of the education of the guardians. They will have to know a little geometry, and Socrates says why: [Geometers] speak quite ludicrously and necessarily so, for they make all their logoi and direct their activity as if toward practical activity and so speak of squaring and superimposing and adding, when in fact the goal of the whole study is knowledge (527a). Later Plato points out that they also have a dream of being, Ñneirrètousi mĜn peri tÕ ×n (533b). Their real aim is knowledge, again, and their art is the paradigm for systematic reasoning, such as those employ who engage in dianoia in the line’s third stage. Here in the Republic, by foolish images but with a serious belief about being, geometers reason systematically to get knowledge. They follow divided line stages within a single stage of the line.

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The divided line as itself a repeated proportion easily lends itself to a modular development and correspondence. Plato in the Cratylus is trying to bring logoi into a kind of correspondence, as he tries to make definitions and etymologies of words correspond by analogy with the perpetual flux of phenomena. Logoi in speech are not just like relations in mathematics, nor are analogies in speech just like geometrical analogiai. Obvious points perhaps, but for Plato reasoning geometrically is the model of a kind of reasoning necessary to get to knowledge. By another analogy may follow, then, that logoi in speech that do not allow for development according to analogy with geometric demonstration cannot lead to knowledge. In any case, the parts of geometric demonstration are all present by analogy and in order in the Cratylus. While Socrates’ mood in the Cratylus is a playful and baffling one, his model of reasoning is serious and direct. The coupling of jokes with seriousness and of form with formlessness is Plato’s way of expressing the difficult issue of a logos for what being has to do with becoming, or the changeless forms have to do with change. He means the reader to dwell on it. He juxtaposes language’s figurative definitions with geometry’s definite figures to show the limits of reasoning by either language or geometry alone and to show the need, if not the means, for bringing their senses into higher correspondence. While language appears ridiculous on a geometric scale in the Cratylus, geometry itself appears ridiculous by the standards of linguistic usage in the passage cited from the Republic (527a). Socrates’ geometric play at his own expense in the Cratylus has been difficult for modern readers to discern, while his wordplay at the expense of Hermogenes and Cratylus, and through them Protagoras and Heraclitus, among others, has been all too notorious. Accordingly, I make some preliminary observations about geometry here. In his commentary on the first book of Euclid’s Elements Proclus gives the four essential parts of a proposition in geometry as the enunciation, the construction, the demonstration, and the recapitulation.2 A geometer announces what he wishes to prove or construct, builds his model, points out the features needed to make the stated point, then recapitulates it. Proclus does not mention diagrams as essential to geometric proofs or propositions. Euclid’s proofs have this four-step form even though Proclus did not name the steps until long after Euclid wrote. Plato, too, well knew the steps of geometric proof, and in his turn, before the time of Euclid. Plato’s is the first name associated with a special kind of proof, the geometric technique of analysis, though whether he invented it is doubtful. Proclus says Plato transmitted the technique to Leodamus, of Thasos, who is the ostensible addressee of the spurious Epistle 11. In analysis, Proclus says the thinker “carries the thing sought up to an acknowledged principle, ¢rc¾n Ðmologoum{nhn.”3 Pappus,

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another commentator on Euclid, of the fourth century of the Common Era, explains more fully that in analysis: we assume that which is sought as if it were already done, and we inquire what it is from which this results, and again what is the antecedent cause of the latter, and so on, until by so retracing our steps we come upon something already known or belonging to the class of principles.4 Geometric analysis is exactly what Plato has in mind when he describes geometers at the third stage of the divided line in the Republic. He says there that they proceed from axioms to conclusions “in agreement with, Ðmologoum{nwj, what they have set down as the starting point of their examination,” (510cd). Proofs by way of the indirect method of reductio ad absurdum are a variety of geometric analysis. In reductio proofs an inappropriate or impossible design has implications that demonstrate that something is absurd, ¥topon, in order to establish its opposite. When, near the end of the Cratylus (436ce), Socrates compares the consequences of assuming that knowing a name is the same as knowing a thing to the absurd, ¥IJoʌov, consequences of a faulty geometric diagram, he is referring to a technique intentional in reductio proof. Socrates’ comparison is also intentional, having ramifications for the whole dialogue. The Cratylus as a whole follows the design of a reductio proof: enunciation, construction, demonstration, and recapitulation. The enunciation, construction, and recapitulation are relatively straightforward. Its demonstration, though, is intricate. It has three distinct and elaborate parts before it concludes in a strikingly simple reductio argument. Proclus does not detach such a concluding reductio argument from demonstration as a separate essential part of a proof. For one thing, not all proofs are reductio proofs. Still, the concluding reductio in the Cratylus is so decisive that I have treated it separately. Besides this dramatic concluding reductio reasoning, within the Cratylus as a largescale reductio proof are many smaller scale reductiones on a modular structuring principle. I first briefly describe how the module, Plato’s famous divided line, works within the dialogue as an example of a repeated proportion (see Appendix). Then I turn to the particular steps in the dialogue that are analogous to geometric enunciation, construction, demonstration, reductio, and recapitulation. Preliminarily I indicate only how the divided line works as a modulating and patterning device within the general analogy of the stages of a geometric proof in the Cratylus. The pattern is quite simple, although its description will appear complex at first. The following outline of the argument of the Cratylus tracks and represents the dialogue’s geometric order by the main section titles, Enunciation, Construction, Demonstration Parts 1, 2, and 3, Reductio, and Recapitulation. Each main section has four parts, 1 through 4, in the order of

The Argument in the Cratylus

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the divided line. On the small scale, as if the line were squared, each of the four parts of the Construction and the Demonstration sections itself has four parts, A through D. The divided line’s order in the pattern even on the small scale in the Cratylus is almost perfectly regular, for it varies only once, serving in the Recapitulation to point dramatically to Socrates’ dream of being. In the Recapitulation when Socrates switches the dianoia and pistis segments of the line, their provable mathematical equality in length alone allows him to make this switch. Nothing compels him to make the switch. By choosing to make the switch, he dramatically indicates that in other senses the two ways of thinking laid out in the sections are equal. He is indicating among other things that believing and reasoning on hypotheses are of equal importance or worth in every investigation. For instance, in the ongoing discussion of names, his belief in his dream can sustain his further investigations even when his systematic maintenance of Cratylus’ naturalistic Heraclitean hypothesis, by which he has made tremendous progress, has reached an apparent impasse. On the large scale the Construction (I) and three parts of the Demonstration (II, III, IV) themselves also correspond in order to the four stages of the line. Together Construction and Demonstration comprise four sections of four by four sections. A diagram, not necessary according to Proclus, is no harder to imagine than a checkerboard. The outline corresponds to the chapter and section titles of Chapters Two through Seven of this commentary. Argument in the Cratylus in the Form of a Geometric Demonstration ENUNCIATION: Knowledge of names, like knowledge of beautiful things in general, is difficult 383a–384c 1. Eikasia: A natural rightness of names (Cratylus) 383ab 2. Pistis: The appeal to convention and usage (Hermogenes) 383b 3. Dianoia: A systematic account (Cratylus) 383b–384a 4. Noesis: The problem of knowledge (Socrates) 384bc I. CONSTRUCTION: Eikasia, Likeness-making: The appearance of reasoning 384c–393b 1. Ethos and Nomos 384c–386e A. Nomos in naming 384c–385a B. Truth, falsity, and/or different opinions 385b–386a C. Systematic implications of a Protagorean nomos 386ad D. Socrates’ alternative: fixed essence 386de 2. Ethos in actions 386e–388c A. Activities and their natures 386e–387c B. Activities and their tools 397d–388a C. Activities as systems 388bc

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D. Activities and their need for toolmakers 388cd 3. Nomos in actions 388d–391b A. Observing nomos and perceiving a form to produce 388d–389c B. Nomos and manifesting an idea in a production 389c–390a C. Evaluating a production for its fitness 390bc D. The need for knowing the form of fitness in names 390d–391b 4. Standards for knowing the natural fitness of names 391b–392e A. A sophistic standard 391bc B. A poetic standard 391de C. A judicious standard 392ac D. A limit to proportional reasoning 392c–393b II. DEMONSTRATION, Part 1: Pistis, Belief: Heraclitean dogmas, Socratic demands 393b–408d 1. Generations in relation to genus 393b–394e A. The principle of natural similarity and giving names 393be B. How to apply the principle of similarity 393e–394c C. Applying the principle consistently 394cd D. Why the principle is inadequate 394de 2. Genera in relation to logos 394e–397a A. Natural and unnatural aspects of individuals and families 394e–395e B. A logos for a family containing different genera 395e–396b C. Systematic demands on the Zeus-logos 396b D. How knowledge could come from a logos 396b 3. Logoi in relation to analogy: Up and down the ways of analogy in naming 397a–400d A. The pattern of reasoning about names 397ad B. Middle terms in correlations of divine and human 397e–398e C. Combination and separation within analogies 398e–399c D. Analogy and the limits of expression 399d–400d 4. Analogies in relation to ultimate being: naming and knowing the gods 400d–408d A. The divine flux of being 400d–402d B. The cycle of life and death 402d–404e C. The harmony of bow and lyre 404e–406b D. Socratic noesis and/or Heraclitean Logos: seriousness and/or comedy 406b–408d III. DEMONSTRATION, Part 2: Dianoia, systematic reasoning: An axiomatic Heraclitean logos; a phenomenal philosophical dictionary 408d–421c 1. The Logos in natural phenomena; Heraclitean natural science 408d–410e A. Heavenly motions in Heraclitean terms: “sun”; “moon”; “month”; “stars” 408d–409c B. Inexplicable elements: “fire”; “water” 409de C. Explicable elements: “air”; “ether”; “earth” 410ab

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D. The natural cycles in accord with logos: “seasons”; “year” 410ce 2. The Logos in thought and behavior 411a–413e A. Intellectual states and aims in keeping with the Logos: names relating knowledge to the good 411a–412b B. Swift justice consistent with the Zeus-Logos: “justice” 412ce C. The just as sunlike and systematic of discord: “the just” 413ad D. A counter-flux; the difference of the sexes: “courage”; “male”; “female” 413d–414a 3. The Logos for contrariety and opposition: axiomatic Heraclitean good 414a–418d A. Same and different arts of imitation: “flourishing”; “craft” 414ad B. A mechanistic solution: “device”; “cowardice”; “virtue”; “vice” 414e–415e C. A flood of consequences of the hypothesis of flux: “fair”; “foul”: “advantageous”; “harmful” 416a–417e D. An idea of the good excluded by the assumption of flux: “day”; “yoke”; “binding”; “harmful”; 418a–419b 4. The Logos as ultimate unity and axiomatic self-contradiction 418e–421d A. The range of the passions: “pleasure”; “pain”; “desire” 418e–420b B. The variety of opinion : “opinion”; “thoughtlessness” 420bc C. Relation of free will and necessity: “voluntary”; “necessary” 420de D. Linking the final to the fundamental: “true”; “false”; “being”; “not-being”; “essence”; “name” 421ad IV. DEMONSTRATION, Part 3: Noesis, knowing: knowledge as identical to perception 421d–436b 1. The imitation of essence 421d–425a A. An account of the good in doubt 421d–422a B. Belief in a single principle of correctness 422bd C. Systematizing mimesis 422e–424b D. The need for classification of letters 424b–425b 2. Sound as sense 425b–428a A. Providing an appearance of classification 425bc B. The comic and tragic dependence on opinion 425d–426b C. A natural phonetic mimetic system 426c–427d D. The need to test theory 427e–428a 3. Name as thing 428b–433d A. An epic task 428be B. Denial of true and false names 428e–430b C. Possible systematic inconsistency 430c–432a D. Problems for name as identical copy 432b–432d 4. Perception as knowledge 432d–436c A. Cratylus’ preference for representational names 432d–433d B. Conventional paradoxes for natural mimetic names 433d–434e

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C. Successful representation by like and unlike 434e–435d D. Denying inconsistency 435d–436c REDUCTION: The absurdity of flux as a model of logos 436c–439a 1. Eikasia: Likeness to geometric absurdity 436cd 2. Pistis: Counter opinions to Cratylus 436d–438a 3. Dianoia: System in names depends on knowledge of things 438ad 4. Noesis: Knowing things without names 438d–439a RECAPITULATION: the dream of being as necessary for Logos 439a–440c 1. Eikasia: Names as likenesses 439ab 2. Dianoia: Systematically inconsistent names 439bc 3. Pistis: The dream-belief of form 439ce 4. Noesis: Necessity of idea for knowledge, knowers, knowns 439e–440c The four-stage developments of Enunciation, Reductio, and Recapitulation are not complex, but they frame a quite complex Construction and Demonstration. The Construction culminates in the image of the divine craftsman Hephaestus in combat with the flux of the river Scamander, and is itself an image or model of reasoning to gauge the progress made in the Demonstration to follow. The Demonstration contains the outlandish etymological section, which falls into two sections, and a phonological section, the attempt to make sense of letters in themselves. The pistis division, II, the first part of the etymological section, contains four groups of names, each of which has four stages, too. These names are almost entirely from epic, legend, and belief. As Hephaestus battling the river emerges in the Construction, so he reemerges with Athena as serious divinity set against the tricky Hermes and the ludicrous Pan of the way up and down in II. The dianoia division, III, forms the second part of the etymological section and it, too, contains four groups of names, each of which has four stages. These names are of the subject matters of different kinds of scientific and systematic reasoning. This section culminates in inexplicable terms for binding, moving, and flowing, something like the Hephaestus versus Scamander opposition again. Chapters Four and Five detail why and how the name groups develop into and out of each other. In general, in both halves of the etymological section the names have explanations that portray and sometimes parody Heraclitean notions. All of the etymologies together constitute a sort of Heraclitean philosophical dictionary. They show a full range of ambiguous and riddling expressions, so the problem of ambiguity in logos can attain its dimensions. Socrates is showing how much the Logos of Heraclitus must express. The noesis division, IV, is the phonological section of the Cratylus following the inexplicable names for binding, moving, and flowing. After almost effortlessly reeling off the other etymologies, Socrates says he cannot explain these terms. He would have to invoke a barbaric origin for the words, and that would not be in the spirit of the contest, which encourages, instead of discourages,

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inquiry, “For I say that barbaric origin is likely enough for some words . . ., but the game, the agon, does not provide for evasions. Instead we must consider these issues in earnest” (421cd). Games are full of plays, as Socrates’ etymologies are full of wordplay, but to be interesting, games require skill and effort, with rules to develop excellence. In IV, the rules by which Socrates plays are the demands set up in his Construction to test Heraclitean expressions against standards of the divided line. He again proceeds in four stages, as follows: (1) the problem of imitation of essence in speech; the need for division, diairesis, in accord with essence, ousia, of letters into classes 421d–425b; (2) a hypothetical system of the classes, eide, of letters, his opinions on which Socrates would not be surprised to discover in error 425b–427e; (3) ways how the letter system can be systematically consistent but wrong, unless names and things are identical 428b– 432b; (4) reasons why knowledge must be the same as perception if, as Cratylus insists, knowing a name is the same as knowing a thing 433e–435d. Again, the outline above indicates that each of the four stages in IV has four stages, as do I, II and III. The Demonstration ends just before Socrates in his Reductio invokes a comparison with faulty geometric diagrams. The Reduction of Cratylus’ specious assertion that knowledge is perception of names is again in four simple steps. The Recapitulation is also in four steps, but alters the order of the divided line everywhere else apparent in the dialogue, putting the third stage before the second; for it first refers the problems with names to inconsistency in systematically reasoning namemakers, then appeals to a dream-opinion of true being to preserve the possibility of knowledge, knowers, and knowns. The concerns of the dialogue somehow, not yet accountably, have become considerably more than nouns by this point. The geometric and divided line progressions of the Cratylus and Socrates’ modular argumentation are complete. The dialogue next concludes with a simultaneous hail and farewell. Socrates invites Cratylus to further serious discussion of the problems of names and things, knowledge and perception, and being and becoming. Cratylus asserts that he still holds to the views of Heraclitus. In an envoi the resting, dream-believing, Socrates bids farewell to the departing and quite unconvinced Cratylus. The following charts indicate the dialogue’s plan and argument. They include all the terms and topics that suffer Socrates’ etymologizing antics. They include some terms from Plato’s text that indicate which of the divided line’s four stages of reasoning a given passage involves. They also crossreference passages from Plato’s other dialogues and Heraclitus’ philosophical fragments that I discuss later. By making the parts of the dialogue easier to perceive and interconnect, the charts show in another way the progression of the dialogue found in the preceding outline. The charts should make the track of argument, especially through the wilds of the etymological section, much easier to recognize and to remember.

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ENUNCIATION 1. EIKASIA 383a “Shall we try to talk?” ¢nakoinwsèmeqa. Names by nature or by convention.

2. PISTIS 383b Socrates “Socrates”; Cratylus “Cratylus”; but Hermogenes not “Hermogenes.”

3. DIANOIA 384a Is Cratylus witholding what he understands, dianoelsqai?

4. NOESIS 384b To know, maqeln, beautiful things like names is hard: put efforts together: eej tÕ koinÕn.

I. CONSTRUCTION: EIKASIA, LIKENESS-MAKING 1. EIKASIA

2. PISTIS

3. DIANOIA

4. NOESIS

A. 384c Nomos by convention “man” = horse, “horse” = man.

A. 387a Actions like cutting, burning (DK 22 B 58), speech, naming appear to have natures, œf£nhsan.

A. 388d Nomos as natural appears to be origin of names. Nomothete looking, bl{pwn.

A. 391b Sophists as knowers, œʌȚıIJĮµȑvȦv, but this is absurd, ”Atopoj.

B. 385a Belief in truth and falsity in a statement and its parts.

B. 387d Different tasks have proper tools.

B. 389c As carpenter to a form, ïŮîøÏ, of a shuttle, each toolmaker looks to idea, ed{a, of tool.

B. 391d Yet poetic wisdom, wondrously, qaumasfon, separates divine and human names.

C. 385e Can anyone at all measure all things? No; for true is not false, good is not bad, wise is not foolish.

C. 388b Trades distinguish, diakrfnomen, as weaving, naming, teaching.

C. 390b Tool users judge toolmakers, as weaver, harper, navigator.

C. 392a Set of distinctions in proportion. divine : human:: Xanthus : Scamander. Craftsman god battles flux.

D. 386d Essence, oÙsfan, must be fixed, or else we are dragged up and down, ¥nw kai k£tw (DK 22 B 60).

D. 388c For a loom a weaver relies on a carpenter; for an awl a leatherworker on a smith; a teacher on whom for words and names?

D. 390d So a dialectician, one who knows, œpist£menoj, judges the name-setter. Who is one who knows?

D. 392c Wise : foolish:: men : women:: Astyanax : Scamandrios (!) False! Iliad 6, 402, (DK 22 B 79) “I don’t know. Do you?”

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The Argument in the Cratylus

II. DEMONSTRATION, PART 1: PISTIS, BELIEF 1. EIKASIA 2. PISTIS 3. DIANOIA 4. NOESIS A. 393a “Astyanax” “Hector” “Archepolis”

A. 394e “Orestes” “Agamemnon” “Atreus” “Pelops”; ⁄gguj Ðrèn “Tantalus”

A. 397a “gods” Ðrèntej . . . qeln

A. 400d “Hestia” ¢pefkasma “Rhea” (“Kronos”, “Zeus”) “Tethys” “Poseidon”

B. 394c “Agis” “Polemarchos” “Eupolemus” (generalship, tÕ peistikÒn, Pl.Plt. 304c)

B. 395e “Zeus” 2-in-1 Logos

B. 397e “daimons” in Hesiod’s poetic account and as daˇmonej, “knowing” (DK 22 B 25)

B. 402d “Pluto, Hades” “Demeter” “Hera” “Persephone”

C. 394c “Iatrocles” “Acesimbrotos” (men of science)

C. 396b “Kronos” Dianoia as a means to the achievement of pure Nous

C. 398e “heroes”: eros (Cf. dianoetic eros; Eryximachus, Sym. 187) “Diphilos”

C. 404e “Apollo” “Muses” “Leto” “Artemis”

D. 394d “Theophilos” “Mnesitheos” (mind)

D. 396b “Uranus” looking up, ¥nw

D. 399d “humans” ¢nalogfzetai

Problem at end of 1: generation of similars not guaranteed

Problem at end of 2: mythology incoherent or inspiration overpowering

D. 406b “Dionysus” “Aphrodite” “Pallas Athena” (Pl.Rep. 509d ff.) “Hephaestus” (Pl.Rep. 515e) “Ares” (Pl.Rep. 535c) “Hermes”<”Iris”> (Theaet. 155d) “Pan” (DK 22 B 60)

“soul” (a) noeln (b) diakosmoàsan “body” (a) tin{j fasin (b) eekÒna

Problem at end of 3: divided line in reverse

Problem at end of 4: deceptive, 2-in1, ludicrous logos: true and false confounded

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PLATO’S CRATYLUS: ARGUMENT, FORM, AND STRUCTURE

III. DEMONSTRATION, PART 2: DIANOIA, SYSTEMATIC REASONING 1. EIKASIA

2. PISTIS

A. 408d “sun” (Pl.Rep. 528b ff., DK 22 B 100) “moon” “month” “stars” (DK A 14) (Pl.Rep. 516ab)

A. 411a Socrates as oracular, dokî manteÚesqai: “good sense” “judgment” , “wit” “self-control” “knowledge” “understanding” “wisdom,” “good” (Gorg. 507c)

A. 414a “flourishing” ¢peik£zein t¾n aÜxhn “craft” “mirror” “sphinx” (Soph. 235d ff., 265d ff.)

A. 419b “pleasure” (4 synonyms) “pain” (4 synonyms) “joy” (4 synonyms)

B. 409d “fire” “water” “dogs” (Pl.Rep. 389a ff.)

B. 412c “Justice” as some think, ¹goàntai

B. 414e “device,” “vice” “cowardice” “virtue” “bad,” “foul”

B. 420b “opinion” (4 synonyms) (DK 22 B 51)

C. 410a “air” “aither” “earth”

C.413a “The Just”; System and discord; Sun, fire, heat, nous (Phaedo 96a ff.)

C. 416a “fair” (4 synonyms) “foul” (4 synonyms) “advantage” “disadvantage”

C. 420d “free will” “necessity”

D. 410c “seasons” (DK 22 B 100) tÕ eekÕj eed{nai “year” (DK 22 B 32)

D. 413d “courage” “man”; “male” “woman”; “female”

D. 417e “day” ed{a “yoke” “binding” “harmful” (Pl.Rep. 507e ff..)

D. 421a “true, false” “essence, name” “be, not-be” (DK 22 B 8) (Pl.Theaet. 155d)

Problem at end of 1: a logos like “Zeus”

Problem at end of 2: the counterflux within the flux

3. DIANOIA

Problem at end of 3: an idea of the good excluded by flux

4. NOESIS

Problem at end of 4: names for motion, flux, binding, account of “good” in doubt

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The Argument in the Cratylus

IV. DEMONSTRATION, PART 3: NOESIS 1. EIKASIA

2. PISTIS

3. DIANOIA

4. NOESIS

A. 421d Greek names like barbarian; earlier sense of “good” as “admirable and swift,” ¢gaqÒn as ¢gastoà and qooà, dubious

A. 425b “Do you think (pisteÚeij) you can divide words?ґ” “We guess about opinions (įȩȖµĮIJĮ... İețȐȗoµİv).”

A. 428b Ajax : Socrates : Achilles : Cratylus. Socrates in doubt, amazed, qaum£zw . . . ¢pfstw. Look fore and aft.

A. 433e Name as likeness, ehkwn, unlike number, can be a bit inexact, says Socrates. Cratylus still prefers exact, perfect names.

B. 422b Need for skepticism; accord of belief in one principle of correctness

B. 425d Socrates finds his views comical. It is time to be like the tragedian and make a myth

B. 428e Is crafting right and wrong likenesses like making mistaken opinions? Denial of true and false names

B. 434e Naming like painting, wrong letter like wrong color; lambda and rho in “hardness” paradoxical unless by custom, ⁄qoj.

C. 422e System of mimesis: up and down, running, animal calls, music, graphics, naming

C. 426c System of letters: rho “moving”; iota “subtle”; sigma, phi, psi, zeta “shaking”; delta, tau “binding.”

C. 430c Systematic uncertainty in painting, naming, nomos. 5 uses of dianomˇ, dian{mein.

C. 435a Custom, ⁄qoj, expresses sense, dianooàmai, by like or unlike sounds; no likenesses for numbers. 4 uses of dianooàmai

D. 424b Need for diairesis, įȚĮȚȡȑıİȦȢ, to imitate thing in accordance with essence; need to divide letters into classes, kat¦ ehdh

D. 427e Does it work? Hermogenes wants Cratylus to learn from, m£qVj, Socrates or to teach them. Socrates says that to find himself wrong would not amaze him, oÙk ¨n qaum£zoimi.

D. 432b If names exactly copy things, Cratylus’ name will copy his soul, mind, and body. To conclude that Cratylus’ name is also a double of Cratylus is laughable.

D. 435d “To know, {pfstasqai, a name is to know a thing.” Proof for Cratylus of nomothete’s rightness is harmony of names, sÚmfwna.

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REDUCTION 1. Eikasia 436c Cratylus counterfoiled; as in geometric diagrams, from consistency the absurd may follow. Compatibility is not proof of correctness.

2. Pistis 437a Another account: knowing, œpistˇmh, as fixity, gsthsij. Use of arithmetic to test for majority opinion not an apt guide to correctness of names.

3. Dianoia 438b For a nomothete to be consistent and systematic, he needs to know things before naming them. We cannot distinguish, diakrinoàmen, true from false names as Cratylus wants to.

4. Noesis 438e Things can be known in themselves and so without names. Reality is better than imitation.

RECAPITULATION 1. Eikasia 439a Likely way to get to know is by things. Some names are likenesses of things, but likeness, eekÒna, is not dependable as a basis for judgment.

2. Dianoia 439c If name-setters thought things were in flux, they fell into flux by systematic reasoning, dianoˇqentej, dianohqÁnai.

3. Pistis 439cd Socrates’ dream of the beautiful, the good, and each thing in itself with its own form, tÁj aÙtoà ed{aj

4. Noesis 439e If things have sameness, they cannot change without loss of form, aÙtÕ tÕ eŮdoj, without which there can be no knowledge, knowns, or knowers.

Readers and viewers of the foregoing sketch of the plan of the Cratylus may, if not must, at first be unconvinced. Even those who remain unconvinced about the detailed geometric sense of the dialogue, may get much use out of the simple patterning within it of the otherwise bafflingly complex etymological section. After all, it remains by far the strangest realm of mystery in the dialogue, even one of the strangest in all the dialogues. That it has a thorough, systematic continuity is a surprise. That we can read it closely in systematic continuity with the straightforward arguments preceding and following is frosting on the cake.

Two ENUNCIATION: KNOWLEDGE OF NAMES, LIKE KNOWLEDGE OF BEAUTIFUL THINGS IN GENERAL, IS DIFFICULT 383A–384C The dialogue opens as Hermogenes asks Cratylus if he would like to have Socrates “discuss the logos in common,” ¢nakoinwsèmeqa tÕn lÒgon, with them. Which logos? At this point Plato is purposely making logos general. In the course of the dialogue, he will test several senses of logos, among them “argument,” the Logos of Heraclitus, “word,” and “speech,” and he will seek for their correspondences. Logos will not emerge into full definition in the Cratylus, though many of the problems in talking about logos will come forward. This first use of logos, then, is ambiguous, even if Hermogenes links it in a moment to definite arguments, because Plato is illustrating the problem of ambiguity with the term. In the dialogue Socrates will proceed to take up logos, along with a Protagorean account of how words mean things, and a Heraclitean logos, the assumption that all is in flux and its consequences. He shows from their consequences how the Protagorean and Heraclitean accounts fall apart. He breaks them down or analyzes them by putting together consequences from them that lead to absurdity, a synthesis in the etymological sense of the term. His personal account of logos in speech is not obvious, but his view that logos in speech is consonant with a geometer’s sense of logos is certain and plain from the dialogue he frames to follow Hermogenes’ question. He applies the pattern of geometric proof to the discussion of the logos he picks up and puts together in the Cratylus. Hermogenes’ question may appear casual, but Socrates is about to consider it formally. When Cratylus accepts admitting Socrates to “discuss the logos in common,” he is allowing Socrates to inspect his and Hermogenes’ apparently contradictory accounts of the sense of logos. In the dialogue that follows, Socrates will take their previous accounts apart. What for Hermogenes is a question, is a claim for Socrates. “Shall we?” becomes “we shall” as Socrates transforms the previous discussion, making a new case for how to discuss their logos in common and, more generally, for how to take apart and put together logos. After he hears a summary of the claims being set forth, Socrates implies his newly formulated views on how to discuss, put together, and take apart logos. The stages of the divided line show up in this initial presentation of claims and views in the following arrangement, as I subsequently explain.

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PLATO’S CRATYLUS: ARGUMENT, FORM, AND STRUCTURE 1. Eikasia: A Natural Rightness of Names (Cratylus) 383ab

Hermogenes reports Cratylus’ logos: the rightness of a name has a natural constitution. Its rightness does not depend on any consensus or synthesis, xunq{menoi, about pronunciation, and in fact is natural in Greek and barbarian tongues in spite of phonetic differences (383ab). Apparently, all names make sense in the same way. 2. Pistis: The Appeal to Convention and Usage (Hermogenes) 383b Cratylus’ reported view is that Cratylus’ name is “Cratylus,” Socrates’ “Socrates,” but Hermogenes’ name is not “Hermogenes,” even if everybody commonly calls him that (383b). Common usage and opinion is of no purpose in judging names, to Hermogenes’ temporary dismay. Hermogenes will still take great delight in a wide variety of opinions in the dialogue to follow, especially in the etymological section. 3. Dianoia: A Systematic Account (Cratylus) 383b–384a Cratylus will not reveal to Hermogenes the sense of what he is saying. Instead he toys with him ironically, İeȡȦvİȪİIJĮȚ, and, according to Hermogenes, pretends to have a systematic account, dianoelsqai, for his knowledge (383b). Later in the dialogue, Cratylus will listen to Socrates develop a version of this system throughout the etymologies but will not thereafter accept his account of its unreliability. 4. Noesis: The Problem of Knowledge (Socrates) 384bc “‘Beautiful things are difficult’ insofar as knowing them goes,” says Socrates, adapting an old adage to his interests. The Sophists offer knowledge of names at a price that Socrates is unwilling to pay. Knowledge, maqeln, is difficult though, and requires their common effort, eej tÕ koinÕn kataq{ntaj. By combining their forces they can find whether Cratylus or Hermogenes is right. Cratylus presents the image of an account, which provides for all names, leads to confused opinion and belief, is in need of a systematic account somewhere outside the reach of sophistic leveling, and poses a difficulty in coming to know. Next Hermogenes presents another image of an account, namely the account Cratylus rejects, a convention theory for names. The image of Socrates’ account comes from seeing the four stages of these introductory approaches to the logos as a single, fourfold progression like that of the divided line. In Socrates’ approach the logos in and about names will be like things that are fine and lofty, beautiful things.

Enunciation 383a–384

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Accordingly, he says that it also poses the problem of knowledge of beautiful things in general, not just the particular problems at hand concerning names. Here Plato, through Socrates, enunciates a general proposition that he will elaborate systematically for the rest of the dialogue: knowledge of names in particular, like knowledge of beautiful things in general, is difficult. The difficulties of knowing in general and of knowing names in particular never disappear in the Cratylus. Still, some ways in which and why names and naming are difficult become more apparent in the course of the dialogue. While in the opening scene of the Cratylus Socrates enunciates the general difficulty of linking naming to knowing, Plato prepares readers for the particular difficulties by introducing Hermogenes and Cratylus. From the outset, Hermogenes relies on convention and opinion. As convention and opinion vary, so he will vary in the dialogue. Later, in the etymological section, he will allow all sorts of opinions about all sorts of names to impress him. He will thereby illustrate some of the difficulties consequent upon constantly changing our minds, upon being uncritical about opinions, not just names. Cratylus, on the other hand, appears already to think unvaryingly. He will not change his mind about the incorrectness of Hermogenes’ name. He will not vary in his view, though he has not yet stated it within earshot of Socrates, that a particular nature governs names and naming. Later he will illustrate difficulties consequent upon not changing our minds, upon taking an unvarying systematic theory for an infallible account of facts about nature and naming. According to Aristotle, Cratylus greatly influenced Plato by acquainting him with the teachings of Heraclitus even before Plato became Socrates’ pupil (Aris.Met. A 6, 987a32 ff.). Many have argued that Plato accordingly portrays Cratylus in the dialogue as he knew him, as an older Cratylus whose theory of names in some way or another stems from and bears out an axiomatic Heraclitean flux. David Sedley, though, argues persuasively that the dialogue instead presents Cratylus as he was before Plato knew him, as a younger Cratylus who is just becoming interested in the flux thesis as a direct result of his interest in naming. This argument “obviates the need, often felt by interpreters, to explain how Cratylus’ linguistic thesis was somehow the product of his Heracliteanism. Plato makes it clear that in fact it was precisely the other way around.”1 From the first page of the dialogue, the reader already has a vague sense of Cratylus’ theory of naming, but gets no clue that it depends on or otherwise relates to the theory of flux until more than three quarters of the dialogue pass (428c). Even then, Sedley thinks that Cratylus arguably has this interest only because Socrates himself by his etymologies has generated it. Cratylus’ manner of argument alone, and so not the substance or origin of his argument about names and flux, will be at issue in what follows. Whether Cratylus’ linguistic thesis precedes or follows his Heracliteanism does not bear greatly on his manner of arguing. Borrowing a distinction from Aristotle (Aris.Cat. 8, 9a4 ff.), if

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he is younger, Cratylus in the dialogue already has a marked disposition to stubbornness, and if he is older, his stubbornness has become his habitual trait. The systematizing Cratylus will eventually emerge in the dialogue as tenaciously holding on to what Rachel Barney calls “probably the essential thought to be extracted from the etymological declamation,” that “there is a perfectly general and systemic way in which the names we use indicate that things are in flux.”2 Still, he will not be able to move beyond this thought to see that it can not guarantee that all things in all ways are in fact in flux; for if they were in flux, as Socrates argues at the end of the dialogue (in 439e– 440b), there could be no knowing, no knowers, and no knowns at all, nothing guaranteed. Socrates can see that names indicate in a deceptive way, as Barney argues. For Socrates as for Plato the etymologies become “a sort of metaphor for this structural weakness of language,” because “in Plato’s view language misleadingly indicates things to be in flux.”3 The dialogue concludes ironically, then, but not pointlessly, in an understanding more about how names do not work than about how they do. In many other dialogues, even if Socrates does not establish the truth about a topic, he still makes some things plain about his standards for testing claims of such truth. Likewise, here in the Cratylus, although he does not find the truth about how names work, he still shows what standards he thinks that claims about such truth will have to meet. The irony of the dialogue’s conclusion is present from what I am calling its Enunciation. Hermogenes senses and says that Cratylus is being ironic as the dialogue begins. Socrates is also at ironies here. He combines the commonplace adage, “Beautiful things are difficult,” with the complex issue of knowledge. He is playing with meaning, but he is playing by rules and with standards. For Socrates riddling speech, sophistic doctrines, old sayings, the logos, or any logos, all bring up the difficult goal of knowledge, the fourth stage of his divided line. Each logos, then, has a reference to this goal, the standard of knowledge. Socrates turns to the construction of a model for reasoning to knowledge of and by any logos. In his construction, he repeatedly invokes the standards of artisans as his model for reckoning. Attempting to contain the conflict of Hermogenes and Cratylus within his standards for reasoning, he modulates their discussion with his artisan’s sense of proportion. The Construction section of the dialogue gives a model of how to apply an artisan’s sense of form to ambiguous logos.

Three I. CONSTRUCTION: EIKASIA, LIKENESSMAKING: THE APPEARANCE OF REASONING 384C–393B This section of the dialogue corresponds to the first section of the divided line, eikasia, or reasoning by likeness, at best an uncertain process. The Construction has four distinct stages, following the line’s order. The first makes convention, nomos, the source of rightness in names, and man the measure of it, but problematically (384c–386d). The second shows why the namemaker must also be a “usage-setter” in Thomas Rosenmeyer’s coinage, a title that “carries the hint of setting into place, of firm establishment, which underscores the kinship of onoma and nomos,” and avoids “the translation ‘namegiver,’ with its implication of the name or usage being handed over readily” (387a–388c).1 In the third, Socrates takes nomos in names in a systematic way to correspond with law and rule in art and science, and so generalizes the problem of measurement (388d–390d). The last stage shows at once the image of Hephaestus the craftsman wrestling with the river of change from the Iliad and a detailed example of faulty use of proportion in measuring fitness in names for Astyanax, the son of Hector (391b–392c). The four-stage progression is then from appearance as conventional usage, to opinions, to system, and finally to a model for reasoning to knowledge. By design, though, the model leads to error, as in geometry’s reductio proofs. The whole Construction shadows forth how Socrates will proceed into his flood of etymologies and puns like an artist, like Hephaestus. His scale also will be epic as he there contrives to confound the flux of judgment. His model of proportional reasoning at the end of the Construction is a sort of Trojan Horse. Early in the Construction section of the Cratylus (385e ff.). Socrates emphasizes the need for some polar oppositions to hold firm in speech and thought. He gets Hermogenes to agree that oppositions between gods and human beings, true and false, good and bad, and wisdom and folly are necessary. If these dichotomies break down because of Protagorean reasoning, Hermogenes says that he cannot accept Protagoras’ notion that man is the measure of all things. At the end of the Construction (391d–393b) Socrates again reasons from dichotomies; this time he uses dichotomy in a feigning and deceptive argument, and at that, an argument whose deceptive quality, even, requires for its detection a sense for the details of the Iliad. Why? To answer this question I first look briefly at the way Socrates reasons from polar opposites within its historical context.

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The earliest Greek authors frequently distinguish polar opposites and draw conclusions from their distinctions by an “archaic logic,” as Raymond Adolph Prier calls it.2 Prier uses the term “archaic” in this context to mean “fundamental,” instead of “antiquated” or “primitive.” This archaic logic developed in the historical era during which Hesiod and the presocratics flourished. Hesiod sets up whole series of opposite pairs. His art goes beyond style, approaching a philosophic method for plainly distinguishing good from evil and truth from falsity. Some of the presocratics have ideas about the nature of the balance between such opposites as Hesiod describes. Parmenides, for instance, distinguishes the way of truth from the way of seeming, then correlates the distinction to one between fixed being and changing phenomena. Empedocles in turn describes a continual and reciprocal alternation of control by the polar opposites love and strife correlative to motion and stasis. For him, the balance between opposites is not simple, but the changing product of tension and motion. When Socrates reasons from dichotomies prior to talking about Astyanax, he creates an atmosphere of this archaic logic of opposites. He speaks like Hesiod because he makes rigorous distinctions within the context of epic poetry. By positing a realm of truth unreckonable by mortals, of divine names, versus an inferior realm where no certainty exists, of human names, he suggests the way that Parmenides reasons. He can also be providing Empedoclean overtones by portraying a divine struggle between forces of flux and forces of fixity. Primarily, though, Socrates chooses the river image to prepare for his later introduction of Heraclitus, the most famous presocratic exponent of the realm of flux. Why Socrates uses the river image does not become fully explicit until he names Heraclitus and takes up several of his doctrines a little later in the dialogue. Still, Socrates means this allusion to bear on the way he will treat Heraclitus later. Heraclitus, unlike the other archaics mentioned here, somehow links opposites instead of rigorously separating them.3 He puts dichotomies together within a sort of proportion to emphasize their sameness instead of difference. He unifies opposites by means of comparisons to standards so high that humanly observable distinctions become negligible in their light. When he reasons by such comparisons, he synthesizes opposites, because he treats them as if they were the same. For example, when he compares it with divine wisdom, he can say that human wisdom is tantamount to childish folly (DK 22 B 79). To make such comparisons, though, can be extremely misleading, as Socrates is pointing out in the fourth stage of the Construction when, just prior to the etymologies, he compares the wise and the foolish Trojans. Socrates separates the Trojans into two classes by means of comparative adjectives. Even if he uses those comparatives absolutely and so without strictly comparative force, they still suggest how Heraclitus tends to unify opposites by means of comparison. Socrates brings about a special kind of

I. Construction: Eikasia, Likeness-Making 384c-393b

33

unity by his comparisons; namely, one of truth with falsehood, for he gets Hermogenes to infer a false account of the names of Hector’s son and accept it as true. Socrates’ particular comparisons are misleading in the Cratylus, to prepare for his later gibes at supposedly Heraclitean reasoning. His tone remains playful. He is making more fun of the confusion of those who claim to be able to understand and expound the sense of Heraclitus than of Heraclitus himself. Similarly Theodorus, though not Socrates, summarily denounces Heracliteans in the Theaetetus, but Theodorus’ Protagorean notions do not emerge as coherent either. For Socrates in the Cratylus the problem is subtler. It comes in taking Heraclitus (or naming) too simplistically or too unambiguously. This is negative advice that does not specify any alternative ways to interpret or understand Heraclitus (or naming) . 1. Ethos and Nomos 384c–386e: Synopsis Socrates and Hermogenes discuss naming by convention as usage by ethos and nomos. They deal in order with varying appearances, confusion in opinions, systematic limits, and the need for correspondence to certain essence. Socrates excludes by reductio the specter of confusion of the way up and the way down, and so suggests that the statements of Heraclitus, whom he does not name, cannot make sense any more than those of Protagoras and Euthydemus, whom he does. Socrates introduces ethical concerns about good and evil to effect this first small-scale reductio within his grander design. For him, ethos, like nomos, has a particular reference to naming only in keeping with the essence of ethics in general, even if at first sight ethics and naming may not appear to have much to do with each other. A. Nomos in Naming 384c–385a Hermogenes says that he can only think that names are right according to convention and agreement. He claims that they can change with varying conventional usage, nÒmJ kai ⁄qei, of speakers, and do not have any intrinsic natural correctness. Socrates paraphrases Hermogenes’ view. He might call a man “horse” or a horse “man,” so one same thing could have two real names, one by private convention and the other by public. B. Truth, Falsity, and/or Different Opinions 385b–386a Hermogenes thinks speaking truth and speaking falsity exist, and so true and false speech, lÒgoj, the true with true parts, the false with false parts. The smallest part of logos is name, he agrees, so true names and false names exist. Richard Robinson observes that this argument contains “a fallacy of division.”

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He suspects “Plato saw or at least felt that it is a bad argument” and accordingly notes that in Sophist 263ab Plato said “truth value is a character of statements and that statements divide into names and predicates (ÑnÒmata kai ˛ˇmata, 262c), and he did not say names have a truth value.”4 A dramatic point, perhaps, shows Hermogenes, the proponent for the moment of Protagorean subjectivity, incapable of recognizing the fallacy. As private and public names may differ and yet both be true, so, Socrates next says, different Greeks have different dialects, and Greek itself differs from barbaric tongues. Socrates asks if such differences in names mean that real things, t¦ Ônta, have different essences for each person. Socrates quotes Protagoras saying that “man is the measure (m{tron) of all things” and interprets it to mean that “As things appear to me so they are to me, and as they appear to you so they are to you.” As an alternative to the confusion consequent from separate realities he asks Hermogenes what he thinks of things’ having a fixed reality, tina bebaiÒnta tÁj oÙsfaj. C. Systematic Implications of a Protagorean nomos 386ad Hermogenes is confused, but believes in real distinctions between good and bad men and that the good are wise and the bad foolish. These distinctions cannot be maintained based on Socrates’ interpretation of Protagoras, Hermogenes agrees, and much less so on the view of Euthydemus that all things are alike simultaneously and eternally for everybody. On Euthydemus’ view, no distinctions at all are possible. D. Socrates’ Alternative: Fixed Essence 386de If Euthydemus is wrong and Protagoras is wrong, then everything has some fixed essence, oÙsfan . . . b{baion. This essence does not vary for individual persons, nor do they invent it. Things do not vary every which way “dragged up and down, ¥nw kai k£tw, by our fancies, but exist of themselves in relation to essence, that unique character in virtue of which they have being.” (386e) 2. Ethos in Actions 386e–388c: Synopsis Since names have to do with real things by reductio, so next the activity of naming is put on the scale of real trades. Socrates takes the trades in four stages to show their natures, their tools, their systematic similarities as ways of sorting things out, and their mutual dependence on the knowledge of toolmakers. The common usage of trades as an analogy for naming shows the need for a knowing namemaker, but cannot characterize him. As a group, artisans have opinions derived from the knowledge of others.

I. Construction: Eikasia, Likeness-Making 384c-393b

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A. Activities and Their Natures 386e–387c Activities, like the things themselves that they belong to, form a single class of being, Ğn ti eŮdoj tîn Ôntwn. They have an essence, so we perform them according to their natures and not according to individual fancy. Cutting and burning, for instance, cannot be performed according to just any view or opinion, but must be performed according to the right one. Likewise, activities have appropriate instruments. Speaking is an activity with a relation to things. It has its nature and tools, as does naming. Socrates echoes Heraclitus, who says that doctors cut and burn their patients, and then demand fees they do not deserve, since their cures are no better than diseases (DK 22 B 58). The allusion to Heraclitus is still remote; as is the one just previously to the way up and down, but both allusions anticipate Socrates’ later references to Heraclitus by name. B. Activities and Their Tools 387d–388a As actions appeared, œf£nhsan, to have essences, the activity of naming proceeds not just as we will it to, but in accord with the nature of things, Î p{fuke t¦ pr£gmata, if the account of naming is in agreement with the previous remarks, еoȜoȖoȪµİnon. Weaving uses a shuttle as a tool, and piercing an awl. Socrates here moves from the realm of appearance to the realm of opinion where agreement is vital. C. Activities as Systems 388bc With the shuttle, the weaver’s tool, the weaver sorts out what is put together, diakrfnomen; with the awl likewise. With names also, “We teach each other something and we sort things out in accord with their natures, diakrfnomen.” A name is then a didactic and diacritical tool to sort out essence as a shuttle sorts out threads. Socrates speaks about ways of taking apart things that are put together. He is stretching his material, the logos, on the frame of the divided line in whose third stage, dianoia, people reason systematically. This reasoning is for knowledge of essence; similarly, Socrates’ notion of the instructive name is systematic and diacritical in the Cratylus. D. Activities and Their Need for Toolmakers 388cd A weaver uses the shuttle well when he weaves well; a teacher uses names well when he teaches well. The weaver requires a carpenter to make his shuttle and the hole-puncher a smith to make his awl. Whom does the teacher require to make names? Hermogenes cannot answer. He needs the nomos itself, says Socrates.

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In this passage, when separating tools lead to proper combination, they are well used. Taking apart and putting together are different and alike, different as phases or aspects but alike as within single arts. Socrates here is making the art of naming like other arts, but he differentiates it from them, too. Where the arts or trades require toolmakers as standard-setters, naming will take nomos beyond Hermogenes’ sense of “convention” all the way to “law” and “rule of thought.” Such a sense of nomos, as Robinson observes, keeps it on the side of nature, physis, to which Hermogenes and Cratylus earlier opposed it.5 That nomos and nature are not antithetical is an idea found elsewhere in Plato’s writings. As E. R. Dodds states: “The antithesis is in his (Plato’s) view a false one: nÒmoj is rooted in fÚsij; the social and the natural order are expressions of the same divine law—which reveals itself as law because it can be stated in mathematical terms.”6 Socrates’ defense of the practicability of measures in his ideal state is even that social regulations were devised there in accord with nature, kat¦ fÚsin œtfqemen tÕn nÒmon (Pl.Rep. 5, 456c). Socrates uses nomos at this point in the Cratylus so that it cannot languish into meaning simple “convention” and from there into an individual subjectivity that makes all conversation pointless by taking away any grounds for evaluating opinion. 3. Nomos in Actions 388d–391b: Synopsis Socrates has not accounted for the introduction of nomos. He has reasoned in four stages but reached a problem that demands a higher and more general account. He proceeds to give a four-step account of nomos that leads again to a problem which will similarly demand a yet higher account. The namemaker is like the lawmaker, the nomothetes. Both rely on observation. Like other artisans, both look to form, eŮdoj, and an idea, ed{a, to make tools. Tool-users in turn systematically evaluate these tools. Names require a dialectician to evaluate them, for he is the someone who knows, œpist£menoj, their uses. The problem the third stage of Construction as a whole sets for the fourth is finding this someone who knows what the correct use of names is. A. Observing nomos and Perceiving a Form to Produce 388d–389c “Nomos gives names, don’t you think?” Socrates asks. By doing so, he suddenly employs a sense of nomos new to the dialogue, the prescriptive sense of law. Nomos as conventional usage, Hermogenes’ sense of nomos, though abandoned earlier as a source of meaning for names, remains quite useful for a practical description of how names work. It becomes manifest that Socrates and Hermogenes have earlier dismissed only a possibly Protagorean interpretation of nomos, but not nomos itself. Socrates uses nomos as the authoritative

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principle for the immediately introduced nomothetes, usually “lawgiver” but here in another new sense of authority, “namemaker,” or instead, “namesetter,” or “usage-setter,” as Rosenmeyer’s English coinages express this curious use of nomothetes.7 Accordingly, the name-user, the teacher, uses the work of the nomothete, someone with the status of the lawgiver and the rarest of artisans. The name-setter as lawgiver looks to a thing’s form, as a carpenter looks to the form of shuttle to fix a shuttle instead of looking at the broken shuttle. Then a shuttle in itself, aÙtÕ Ö ⁄stin kerkfj, has a form, tÕ eŮdoj, which supplies the nature, t¾n fÚsin, which the artisan must embody in his production, tÕ ⁄rgon. Plato makes up a word for namemaker here, Ñnomatourgoà, to specify his new sense of nomothetes with a rhetorical flourish. He is talking about a philosophical sort of looking, bl{pwn, and has dropped a broad hint that Socrates provides the paradigm for such looking. Plato is being playfully indirect in a dialogue relying on and playing off the model of indirect proof by way of reductio ad absurdum. When Socrates links the onomatourgos and the nomothete at the outset of this dianoia stage of construction, he links nomos and the third stage of the line. This linking appears also in divided line-like progressions in the Gorgias and the Symposium. In Gorgias 464c Socrates constructs two fourfold paths of being, one positive, the way of true bodily and spiritual health, the other negative, of the false appearance of health. At the third stage of true health is nomothetics or legislation, nomoqetik¾ t{cnh, as opposed to sophistic. Similarly, Diotima in the Symposium, 2l0a, describes in four stages a dialectic of desire according to its objects that culminates in knowledge of the beautiful. The third stage of this development is the love of laws, nÒmoi. Interestingly, the place of nomos in both these arrangements is strictly analogous to the progression of the divided line. Nomos in both has the sense of law, and as the subject of systematic thought, is a nomos which leads to justice and knowledge instead of confusion. Socrates has, in the Cratylus, called his name-setter a nomothete and so given nomos the status of law instead of convention. B. Nomos and Manifesting an Idea in a Production 389c–390a Artisans in general, like smiths in particular, look for the tool naturally suited to each thing. So the name-setter as nomothete has to know how to put into sounds and syllables the name appropriate by nature to every single thing. He does this by looking to the essence of name. Not all name-setters use the same syllables, but this should not disguise “the name itself.” Smiths use different metals in different lands, but they still keep a same idea in mind, t¾n ĮÙIJ¾Ȟ eį{ĮȞ, and their tools are for the same tasks. Evaluating a master name-setter, Greek or barbarian, proceeds always the same way, by looking to how well he

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gives the form, İŮįȠj, of the name which is appropriate to each thing in whatever syllables. Nomos and nature, opposed by Hermogenes at the dialogue’s outset, here in the work of the nomothete are together in producing a common sense in varying expressions. To see their common sense, like that of all products of and by nomos and nature, though, there must be an expert. C. Evaluating a Production for its Fitness 390bc The weaver judges the carpenter, the lyre player judges the lyre maker, and the navigator judges the shipbuilder. The tool user in general knows whether the tool has the appropriate form, IJÕ ʌȡȠıˇțȠn İŮįȠj. The tool user best superintends the toolmaker. In naming, the nomothete’s evaluator is someone who knows how to ask questions, Ð œȡȦIJ©Ȟ œʌȚıIJ£µİȞȠȢ. The same person also best knows how to answer questions—the dialectician. The trades as systems rely on the knowledge of master artisans; naming taken systematically on the analogy of the trades requires the knowledge of the master dialectician. D. The Need for Knowing the Form of Fitness in Names 390d–391b A carpenter has to follow the instruction of the pilot to make an excellent rudder. The name-setter as a sort of lawgiver needs the dialectician to supervise his work. Socrates says that the task is serious and it appears that Cratylus is right in insisting on a natural fitness in names that correspond to the forms of things. Hermogenes wants to hear about this natural fitness of names from Socrates, who will offer only to help Hermogenes look for it. Socrates has run out of ways to proceed on his analogy of common systematic workings of the trades. If Hermogenes wants to know, œʌȚșȣµİlȢ İeį{ȞĮȚ, he will have to seek out what kind of rightness the rightness of names is. 4. Standards for Knowing Natural Fitness of Names 391c–392e: Synopsis Socrates has been qualifying the nomos-account of names and, by reductio, excluding a Protagorean nomos, while trying to bear out an artisan’s and lawmaker’s nomos. Socrates proceeds to take up a series of standards for evaluating names. First, he looks to the Sophists, but Hermogenes finds this absurd. Next, he looks to the poets and gets a distinction between divine and human names, namely as better and worse. Then he projects a comparison of human names to bear out the same distinction by analogy or proportion. Finally, he provides an example of reasoning by proportion and uses it to lead Hermogenes into error. By misleading him, Socrates sets up a way to qualify any nature-account of names supposedly alternative to Hermogenes’ account of names by con-

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vention. By reductio Socrates is excluding a Heraclitean nature in flux, while trying to bear out an ideal changeless nature. Up to this point he has in three stages patterned his reasoning after the proportions of the divided line, but he completes his pattern with an ironic and parodying example of another kind of proportional reasoning, Heraclitus’. Socrates will demonstrably put Heraclitus to the test in the etymological and phonological parts of the dialogue. At the end of those parts, there will be no way to tell Heraclitean sense from nonsense. As the etymologies begin, only a careful study of the model of misleading proportional reasoning shows the way to tell Socratic and ironic sense from rigmarole. The consequences of employing the Heraclitean model are under scrutiny, its consequences for logos in the general sense and for particular logoi. Plato’s effects are intentionally comic on the large and the small scale. A. A Sophistic Standard 391bc Socrates says the best way to proceed is with the help of those who know, œʌȚıIJĮµ{ȞȦȞ. The Sophists taught Hermogenes’ brother Callias for a price, and if Hermogenes cannot afford it, Callias can teach him. But Hermogenes rejoins, if Protagoras’ book Truth is in general worthless, what particular value could he find in it? Such a course of study of names would be absurd, ”ǹIJȠʌȠȢ. This passage at once neatly introduces proportional thinking, the problem of appropriate scale, and absurd methods of reasoning at once. Socrates asks why should not the proportion Sophists : Callias :: Callias : Hermogenes obtain. The whole Protagorean measuring system is off, Hermogenes appears to be answering, in general and so in particular. Sophistry leads to absurdity. Sophistry is not all that leads to absurdity here. B. A Poetic Standard 391de Socrates says that he and Hermogenes should turn to Homer and the other poets to find those who know about names. Homer divides the names men use from those that the gods use for the same things. This Socrates considers a great and wondrous thing, șĮȣµĮıfȠȞ. The gods use right names, names that are natural, ijÚıİȚ. Hermogenes agrees that if they use names, naturally they use right ones. He wants examples. Socrates mentions the river at Troy, which battled in single combat with Hephaestus. Homer says men call it Scamander, but the gods call it Xanthos. (391de) Wonder, IJÕ șĮȣµ£ȗİȚȞ, in the Theaetetus is the first principle of philosophy, its arche (155d). Here in the Cratylus a wondrous division of names begins something more like mock-philosophy, for it soon leads to the etymologies, but the divine–human opposition is serious for Socrates nonetheless. In view of that opposition, he is attacking the assumptions that lead to the confusion in the etymologies. As Hephaestus battles the river in the Iliad,

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so in the etymologies Socrates battles the assumption that all is in flux. When he quotes the passage from the Theomachy of Iliad 20, Plato reminds the reader of the massive array of divine force before the walls of Troy. In the Theomachy, four pairs of gods engage in battle. In every pair, a god of craft and intelligence fights against a god of elemental force and raw power. Apollo fights the sea, Poseidon. Athena fights Ares Enyalios, the roaring battle fury. The huntress Artemis fights Hera, perhaps originally an earth goddess, though for Plato a sky goddess, but in any case a deity from the domain of elemental force.8 Hermes prepares to fight Leto, but decides not to. This pair would otherwise be the apparent exception to the pattern, since Leto does not represent elemental force, even though Hermes does represent craft. Finally, and most importantly for the Cratylus, the blacksmith Hephaestus fights the river Scamander. The forces of flux are in conflict with craft and intelligence in this passage. They combat with the god of medicine, prophecy, archery, and music, and with the far less illustrious divine limping blacksmith. In the Cratylus only Hephaestus, always the odd man out among the gods and the most mundane of divine artisans, represents craft and intelligence against the flux. Socrates allies himself with Hephaestus elsewhere in the dialogues (Pl.Rep. 389a, Laws 920e). Socrates traces his ancestry to Daedalus in the Euthyphro (11bc), and Daedalus, in turn, is an ancestor of Socrates and descendant of Hephaestus in the possibly spurious Alcibiades 1 (l2la). Here in the Cratylus, Socrates’ artisans have all opposed randomness and worked from ideas of unchanging essence. They cannot confuse the up with the down (386e). Hephaestus becomes the divine model for the artisan as dialectician, Socrates, in his battle with the flux and the unity of the way up and down and with their confusing advocate, Heraclitus. From the views of poets, Socrates next moves to the systematic application of Homer’s divine–human distinction. C. A Judicious Standard 392ac Socrates provides two more cases of Homer’s analysis of divine and human names, names for a bird, chalkis or kymindis, and names for a hill, Batieia or Myrine. In all three pairs of divine and human names for the same things the divine names better represents the nature of the things. Differing human names for same things are more appropriate to human investigation, ¢ȞșȡȦʌȚȞèIJİȡȠȞ įȚĮıț{ȥĮıșĮȚ. Such names are also in Homer, as the names “Scamandrios” and “Astyanax” for Hector’s son. Hermogenes cannot see how Homer evaluated the two names. He does concede, though, that the more judicious, ijȡȦȞȚµȦIJ{ȡȠȣȢ, are more likely to give more correct, ÑȡșÒIJİȡȠȞ, names than the more foolish, ¢ijȡȠȞİıIJ{ȡȠȣȢ. Socrates has moved from the divine scale to the human. He will not deal with absolutes, thinking it more appropriate to deal with relative judgments. His use of comparative adjectives in their grammatically absolute sense brings

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out ambiguity and subtlety in this shift of scale. Does it mean that as gods are to men so are the wise to the foolish? Socrates will make Hermogenes think so. Built into this kind of proportion is a considerable problem. Here, for instance, it might appear that even men who are wise are also foolish, as compared with the gods. Hermogenes, who will try to evaluate the names of Hector’s son wisely, will be quite badly fooled. The logos or relation of divine names to human names may be repeated in the relation of wise human names to foolish, and the two logoi so form a single analogia or proportion, but stark limits exist on using this proportion as a standard of reasoning. Before turning to those limits, I will note how Socrates’ choice and treatment of the three pairs of names, Xanthos and Scamandrios, Myrine and Batieia, and chalkis and kymindis, point to another interesting dichotomy. The “better” names are all Greek words; the “worse” are non-Greek, except for Batieia. In Homer, the divine and human name division sets forth a Greek and barbarian opposition in most cases. This Greek and barbarian opposition may well be in Plato’s mind in the Cratylus from the outset of the etymologies. Within the etymological section Socrates considers it a shoddy device, a mechane (4l6a4, 425d5, 426a2), to attribute barbaric origin to words with no traceable etymological source. The later use of this fallback on the barbarians as a source suggests an indictment of Heraclitean explanations for the way things are. Socrates says the words for fire (4l0a), motion, flux, binding (421c), and bad (416a), are of barbaric origin: Heraclitus’ cosmic and physical principles, then, the principles of the etymological system as a whole, and badness all have one origin. Other words have foreign origin in the Cratylus, but they are only unusual, ȟİȞȚțèȢ, as opposed to barbaric, ȕĮȡȕĮȡȚțèȢ: çij{ȜȚµȠȞ (417c), ¢ȜȖȘįèȞ (419c), and țfȞȘıȚȢ (426c). Even some native Greek words are ȟİȞȚțèȢ because of their unusual development: “Hestia” (401c), “Leto” (406a), “Athena” (407b), and “sophia” (412b). Socrates is not objecting to a linguistic principle of discerning foreign and otherwise unusual words in a language, but to “barbaric” principles of thought, that the universe is fire and that all is in flux. D. A limit to proportional reasoning 392c–393b Socrates proceeds to baffle and mislead Hermogenes: Socrates: As a class, then, do the women in cities or the men appear wiser to you? Hermogenes: The men. Socrates: Then, as you know that Homer says that the son of Hector was called Astyanax by the Trojans, is it clear that the women called him Scamandrios since the men called him Astyanax? Hermogenes: So it appears.

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PLATO’S CRATYLUS: ARGUMENT, FORM, AND STRUCTURE Socrates: Then Homer also thought the men of Troy wiser than their wives? Hermogenes: That is what I think. Socrates: So he thought Astyanax a more appropriate name for the boy than Scamandrios? Hermogenes: It appears so. (386cd)

The name means “city-ruler,” “astu-anax,” appropriate to the son since his father protected the city, says Socrates. Both “Astyanax” and “Hector” mean about the same thing, Socrates explains, since the element anax, “ruler,” and Hector, “holder,” both refer to kingly functions. From the earlier comparison of gods and men and the wise and the foolish, Socrates moves here to compare a man and a child. He has by allusion laid out his argument in the frame of Heraclitus’ proportional expression: “A man is foolish in comparison with divinity, just as a child is in comparison with man” (DK 22 B 79). In the Cratylus, the same comparisons of god to man, wise to foolish, and man to child, are within a proportional frame of reasoning. Socrates’ use of the frame of proportional reasoning is much different from Heraclitus’; for Socrates uses the frame to show that it can collapse into ambiguity and nonsense. If a thing truly is its opposite, if the ordered universe is as random as a heap of unassorted particulars (DK 22 B 124), if expressions like “day, night; Winter, Summer; war, peace; plenty, famine” (DK 22 B 67) are purely contingencies, speech and thought are powerless. Heraclitus is probably not merely demeaning humanity in his proportional expressions. Instead, his point appears to be to exalt logos and divinity and keep humanity in its place. To use the proportional framework at all, though, can be extremely misleading, as Socrates illustrates at several levels here. First, in Iliad 6, 402, Homer says that Hector alone called his son Scamandrios while “the others,” Ƞd ¥ȜȜȠȚ, called him Astyanax. Homer’s “the others” can be men and women even though the article is masculine. When Socrates says “by the Trojans,” the article is the same for men and women. Plato here appears quite carefully to take any outright error of memory away from Socrates and to distribute the blame for the mistaken conclusion about the meaning of Homer’s text. While Hermogenes has been too ready and uncritical in answering Socrates’ questions, at the same time Socrates has framed those questions to mislead him. The variation in the Cratylus from Homer’s authority on this point has dramatic significance in the dialogue. Plato is making another gibe at the followers of Protagoras for their inattention to detail when he has Socrates get Hermogenes to grant that he thinks the women used the name Scamandrios, since the men used the name Astyanax, for the son of Hector.

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Hermogenes has inferred not incorrectly, but in error nonetheless. His conclusion follows correctly and directly from premises, but one of the premises, that just the men called the boy Astyanax, is itself incorrect. Socrates has trapped Hermogenes. When Hermogenes concludes that those he assumes are the more foolish, the women of Troy, called the son of Hector Scamandrios, he has forgotten that those he considers the wiser also called him Astyanax. Hector’s use of the name Scamandrios apparently had nothing at all to do with gender or relative intelligence. Socrates uses the proportional frame to exalt Astyanax, the child, instead of demeaning him. This is possibly at cross-purposes with the tendency of Heraclitus, but patently, no standard way controls how to use his proportion. It can be put in the service of any opinion. Finally, Astyanax was murdered in childhood and never lived to bear out the comparison with his father, another hint of the ambiguous nature of reasoning by analogy or proportion. “The people must fight for the nomos as for their city-wall” (DK 22 B 44), says Heraclitus, as Socrates perhaps recalls in his explanation of “Astyanax.” But the explanation of the name will not provide an adequate principle of naming in Socrates’ first group of names, and no more will a Heraclitean nomos or logos make sense throughout the Demonstration to follow. Socrates is making the case for another nomos here, one based on the ideas, as nomos in the trades is (390a). The allusions to Heraclitus throughout the Construction are unsettled. The way up and down is opposed to fixed being (386e). Cutting and burning has to be done properly (387a), though Heraclitus says cutting and burning are no better that the diseases they are supposed to cure. Hephaestus battles a river (391e), and so appears like the typical artisan with his eye on fixed being instead of on the flux of Heraclitean phenomena. The proportion of gods to men, wise to foolish, and a man to a boy (391d–392d) looks something like DK 22 B 79, but here it not only has a completely different tone but also leads to a mistake. Socrates may be indicating that the struggle for a nomos for naming is like fighting for a city-wall (392d); yet the nomos he employs, like the city-wall Hector defended, is built only to fall. When Heraclitus emerges by name from within the tumultuous etymological section and Socrates notes that the names of the gods have a Heraclitean significance, Socrates will appear surprised to see him there (401e), but Plato has prepared the reader for the arrival of Heraclitus. As Socrates set the trap for Hermogenes in the argument immediately preceding the etymologies and in a sense producing them, so Plato has set the trap for Heraclitean thinking in the entire Construction section. The small-scale mock-Heraclitean proportion is the last step in Plato’s larger scale pattern of serious reasoning in the Construction. The model of thought in the Construction offers four stages of reasoning, each of them again taken in four stages. This is as a whole a first stage in another and larger scale four-stage

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development. As a vague sort of Heraclitean reasoning has emerged at the end of the first stage, the Construction, so it must be tested according to the divided line model, in the second, third, and fourth stages. It must move from a tentative likeness of reasoning in the Construction to a firm set of beliefs, thence to a coherent system, and finally to knowledge itself in the three stages of the Demonstration. If Socrates is going to accept it as the truth, Heraclitean logos will have to meet the demands of Plato’s divided line just as the Construction has preliminarily set them forth. Socrates in the etymological and phonological sections of the Demonstration sets up an extraordinary gauntlet of problems for the powers of Heraclitean thinking to run. Whether speech and logoi representing Heraclitean concepts can run that gauntlet remains in doubt for the rest of the dialogue. Hermogenes has agreed already that it would be absurd to accept parts of Protagoras’ Truth while rejecting the whole. He dismisses the proportion: “As the Sophists are to Callias, so Callias can be to Hermogenes.” Still, Socrates appears to have gotten him to accept a Heraclitean” proportion: “As divine names are to human, so wise human names are to foolish human names.” In order to show how to reject the whole of this kind of “truth,” Socrates will show the absurdity of all its parts in the etymological section. The etymological section takes as long as it does in order to exhaust the full range of incorrectly reasoning from proportion.

Four II. DEMONSTRATION: PISTIS, BELIEF: HERACLITEAN DOGMAS, SOCRATIC DEMANDS 393B–408D By analogy to a geometric proof, the Cratylus turns to its Demonstration. As the Construction fits as a whole into eikasia, reasoning by likeness, the Demonstration follows the divided line’s divisions, first into pistis, belief, then to dianoia, systematic reasoning, and finally to noesis, knowledge itself. The pistis division, II, is the first part of the etymological section. It contains four groups of names each of which has four stages, too, as the outline and chart in Chapter One indicates. Slightly amplified charts for each stage and name-group follow the individual accounts of these stages in this and the following chapter. In four stages that correspond to the segments of the divided line, the four groups of names in II represent what a belief in the logos of Heraclitus implies. The names and accounts of names in these groups come mainly from epics, legends, and myths about heroes and gods. In this way, Socrates chooses them to cover a wide range of the figures and concepts of traditional Greek beliefs. The first group of names starts with the clue from Homer, where Greek literature begins, and where tendencies to folk etymology are already in evidence. The second proceeds to names that Socrates has taken from choral and tragic poetry, and some from Hesiod. In the third, he moves in direct reference and almost as if along the line of literary history to topics and notions of Anaxagoras, the Sophists, and the Orphics. Socrates combines the literary allusions and references of these three groups at the beginning of the fourth. There he names, quotes, and paraphrases Heraclitus as the chief source of the doctrine of perpetual flux. He further says Homer, Hesiod, and Orpheus, authorities representing each of the preceding groups of names, all point in the same direction as Heraclitus. This reinforces the unity of all four groups. The second and third groups of names contain allusions to Heraclitus and the first treats of topics of importance to him as well. 1. Generations in Relation to Genus 393b–394e: Synopsis From his just previous treatment of Astyanax, Socrates begins by deriving a principle of naming offspring like parents, and then applies it to all generated things. In a first set of names, he speaks of how to use this principle properly with names of rulers. In second and third sets he extends the principle to

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names of generals and doctors. A fourth group, the sons of religious men are his examples of how the principle can break down. Because his like-begets-like principle is insufficient, Socrates will need some more general way to assign names. A. The Principle of Natural Similarity and Giving Names (393be) Socrates follows up the clue from Homer that “Hector” and “Astyanax” are fit names, like father like son. So, to call the offspring of a lion a lion, of a horse a horse is right, as long as the offspring has the nature of the parent. If, contrary to nature, ʌĮȡ¦ ijÚıȚȞ, a horse begets a cow, we should call the offspring by its own nature and not by either parent’s; likewise in the case of trees and everything else. The particular arrangement of syllables and letters is not crucial as long as the essence of the thing is plain, ¹ ȠÙıfĮ. In the names for the letters of the alphabet, the force of the letter must come across. The b in “beta” is more crucial, but the additional letters, e, t, and a, are also necessary for the name “beta” and do no harm as long as they do not obscure the letter’s nature, ijȪıȚn. Nature or essence, then, is the crucial thing for names to express. The demands on the identification of ousia will be typically Socratic, as they were earlier, when essence had to be constant and not dragged up and down at a whim (386d). The statement of principle at the outset of the demonstration refers to names and to letters as having natures. The etymological section, II and III, will deal with the nature of names, the phonological section, IV, with the nature of letters. From the outset, Socrates indicates the range that the demonstration sets out to cover. Socrates is following the clue from Homer, he says, but he is leaving some clues, too. B. How to Apply the Principle of Similarity 393c–394c The same reasoning, Ð ĮÙIJÕȢ ȜÒȖȠȢ, applies to animals, trees, and people. The son of a good man will be good, the son of a noble man, noble, except in the case of prodigies. Since some orthographic variegation is possible in naming, different names whose meaning is the same in nature will be likely still to appear quite different in nature to the lay understanding, IJù eįȚȦIJȚțëȢ ⁄ȤȠȞIJȚ. Socrates explains that in the same way that physicians understand the same medical remedies within differently colored and scented pharmaceutical compounds, though a lay person cannot, the person who knows about names, Ð œpist£menoj, looks to their inner meaning, įÚȞĮµȚȞ, not to the letters which may conceal it. In the cases of “Astyanax” and “Hector,” the names have the same meaning but only one letter in common. Further, “Archepolis” (“Ruler of the city”) has no consonants in common with “Astyanax” and “Hector,” but means the same thing.

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Socrates here has outlined the steps in the divided line in miniature. He has moved from exact likeness to confusion in opinion, to the need for experts on the analogy of doctors, to the man who knows about names. He has done this to show the method he is using to cover the range of nature or essence he has laid out in the previous discussion of generation of like by like. After he has tipped his hand, he returns to the example of Astyanax and Hector, whose names and nature emerged as similar just previously, but by a specious line of reasoning. When Socrates said he was following a clue, the track of Homer earlier, he left a hint of the importance of that specious reasoning for what follows. When he returns here to the epic clue passage, he has again left his tracks. He will examine the principle of natural similarity, and do so according to the stages of the divided line. As the mark of Heraclitus appeared in the specious reasoning about the names “Astyanax” and “Scamandrios” earlier, so in the discussion of experts and laypersons Socrates appears to implicate him again. Heraclitus scorns the multitude for pretending to a private understanding, çȢ eįfĮȞ fiȤȠȞIJİȢ ijȡÒȞȘıȚȞ (DK 22 B2). Here things that are the same appear different to the man of private understanding, IJù eįȚȦIJȚțëȢ ⁄ȤȠȞIJȚ. While Heraclitus scorns common humanity for its shortcomings, Socrates will proceed to try to show how they can be remedied. C. Applying the Principle Consistently 394cd Socrates gives names for generals, “Agis,” “Polemarchos,” and “Eupolemos” as illustrations of the principle of same meanings for same natures in different letters. Socrates uses the name of a main speaker in the Republic, Lysias’ brother Polemarchos, whom the notorious Thirty Tyrants assassinated in his prime. Plato’s immediate Athenian audience was well aware of his violent death. Like Astyanax, then, Polemarchos did not live to demonstrate the potential his name suggests. The link between a person’s actual fate and the potential suggested by the person’s name is by implication a weak one, anticipating the impending explicit breakdown of the principle of naming at hand. Next Socrates selects “Iatrocles” and “Acesimbrotos” as names for doctors. He says they and many more names illustrate the same principle. In summary, he says, “The same names should be given to those who are begotten in accord with nature, țĮIJ¦ ijÚıȚȞ.” Socrates has moved from likeness within royal families and kingly figures to apply his principle of naming to wider and wider social classes and professions. He is systematizing his account. By the time he gets to the doctors’ names he is treating of systematic thinkers as well. The intervening names for generals link the names suggesting eikasia, (“Hector,” “Astyanax,” “Archepolis”) with the names suggesting dianoia, the names for doctors, in this small-scale progression at the beginning of the

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etymologies. Though his reasoning is not transparent, Plato is using the generals’ names to recall the stage of pistis on the divided line as well, in keeping with his line module. How Plato links generalship with pistis or belief is explicit in the Statesman (304c ff). There he says the arts of generalship, of persuasion or inducing belief, IJÕ ʌİȚıIJȚțÒȞ, and of passing legal judgments are linked together under the authority of a kingly nomothete. The three are arts and not sciences. As artisans required toolmakers, name-users needed nomothetes earlier in the Cratylus (388ce), and just so the activities at the second stage of the divided line require systematic ordering at the third. The progression in the first group of names mirrors this necessary development by moving from names for technicians to names for scientists, from generals to doctors. D. Why the Principle Is Inadequate 394de As if a horse begat a cow, some are born contrary to the nature of their parents, ʌĮȡ¦ ijÚıȚȞ, says Socrates. A good and reverent man may have an irreverent son. Such offspring should bear the name of their class, IJȠà Ȗ{ȞȠȣȢ, and not names like Theophilos or Mnesitheos, “Dear to God” or “Mindful of God.” Generation, then, does not determine genus of character. Socrates could have said this about any of the names he has used so far, including Astyanax. He has waited instead to show the development of the principle of similarity, like father like son, in four stages. Socrates has chosen names with ethical implications to make his point about the limits of the first-tested naming principle here. Just so he earlier rejected Protagorean measure in namemaking because it led to an ethical conflict, the confusion of true with false, good with bad, and wise with foolish (386a). “Theophilos” suits the fourth stage of the line. In Diotima’s speech in the Symposium (212c ff.), another four-step progression leads from the perception of beautiful bodies to fair practices or skills, to bodies of knowledge like law codes, and finally to knowledge of the beautiful itself. At that fourth stage, says Diotima, we can beget virtue and so become “dear to the gods,” șİȠijȚȜİl (212a). “Mnesitheos”’ contains the element mnesi- which further suggests the Platonic link of anamnesis with knowing, the line’s fourth stage. The first group of names has etymological meanings that are transparent in Greek, like Goodman or Strongbow in English. The links here throughout the first group of names to Heraclitus and the divided line both are again by allusion, and not so readily apparent. The reductio method is in use here: if, absurdly and unnaturally, horses beget cows, a principle of naming by the nature of parents breaks down. The principle is developed until something like this absurd event occurs, by Socrates’ comparison, when a religious man has an irreligious son. Asterisked names in the following chart express potential for breakdown of the naming principle before Socrates specifies it.

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Name Group 1: Names from family traits, “like father, like son” Names and Types

Divided-Line Stage

Result

“Astyanax”* “Hector” “Archepolis” rulers

Likenesses

Principle applies

“Agis” “Polemarchos”* “Eupolemos” generals

Activity similar to IJÕ ʌİȚıIJȚțÒȞ, Plt. 304c

Principle applies

“Acesimbrotos” “Iatrocles” doctors

Scientific reasoning and practice

Principle applies

“Theophilos” “Mnesitheos” divines

Mind and divinity

Principle breaks down

2. Genera in Relation to logos 394e–397a: Synopsis Socrates posed the problem of naming what is unnatural in the first group of names. In the second, he takes up names that compound that problem in several ways. Character as the ethical criterion for evaluating nature, and so name, is not easy to determine or use from the outset of this second group, which contains the names of Orestes and his forebears, human and divine. Its first stage consists of names for humans who are in conflict with nature and each other; for example, Orestes is at once a natural son to his father and an unnatural one to his mother. The conflict within Orestes, according to Aeschylus, took an Athena to understand and resolve. Socrates will refer the manifold conflicts in the names and natures of Orestes’ ancestors to the divine level also, to a logos that combines two into one, and is Zeus. Socrates sets standards for this Zeus-logos that compel him to replace Hesiod’s accounts of Kronos and Ouranos. First, the Zeus-logos originates in dianoia by name, and then, in turn, that dianoia comes from purification of nous, again explicitly. Socrates in this second name group becomes oracular and prophetic, according to Hermogenes, and is under the inspiration of Euthyphro, according to himself. But he also emerges from this section of the dialogue with a simple model or pattern of reasoning. He will call it a typos at the beginning of the third group of names. His typos is the same as the divided line’s pattern of reasoning. Implicitly Heraclitus is present in the second group of names

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also, as the authority on the logos of Zeus, in spite of what Hesiod has to say about Zeus and his ancestors. A. Natural and Unnatural Aspects of Individuals and Families 394e–395e Orestes’ name rightly indicates his wild nature, IJÕ șȘȡȚîįİȢ IJÁȢ ijÚıİȦȢ, as a sort of mountain-man, ÑȡİȚȞÒȞ. Agamemnon’s name is also natural, țĮIJ¦ ijÚıȚȞ, for he is remarkable for his endurance, ¢ȖĮıIJÕȢ țĮIJ¦ IJ¾Ȟ œʌȚµȠȞˇȞ, in completing his designs through his virtue. His father, Atreus, has a name that makes his nature plain, if not to everybody, still to those who know about names. He gets his name from his stubbornness, daring, and destructive violence, ¢IJİȚȡ{Ȣ . . . ¥IJȡİıIJȠȞ . . . ¢IJȘȡÒȞ. His deeds were destructive to his virtue. Atreus’ father Pelops likewise has a fit name, œµµ{IJȡȦȢ, and it indicates his short-sightedness, Ðȡņ÷ . . . ʌ{ȜĮȢ, for he could not see the damage he was causing himself and his entire family-line to follow. He desired, ʌȡȠİșȣµİlIJȠ, but he lacked foresight, ʌȡȠȧįİlȞ. Tantalus, Pelops’ father, likewise has a naturally suited name, țĮIJ¦ ijÚıȚȞ. The many disasters which befell him in and after life make him aptly bear a name meaning “most wretched,” IJĮȜ£ȞIJĮIJȠȞ, because of his personal misfortunes. All the names here are natural and suitable, but the genera or natures of their bearers are widely differing. Orestes has good fortune and according to it, IJȣȤˇ, or some poet, he has his name. Tantalus has the extreme of bad fortune. Agamemnon is virtuous, but Atreus destroyed virtue. Pelops is shortsighted and seeks what is bad as his personal good, while Agamemnon has the quality of patient endurance. Some wider principle lies behind these names than the one in use in the names from “Hector” to “Theophilos.” This principle is capable of rightly expressing opposition within an individual’s character and a family’s. What is apparently nonsense at the human level, like Pelops’ monstrous shortsightedness, can make sense only at the divine. B. A logos for a Family Containing Different Genera 395e–396b Socrates refers the contradictions at the level of appearance among the Tantalids to a higher level, that of belief in an ordering logos: The name of Zeus, who is called his (sc. Tantalus’) father, appears excellently assigned as well. But this is not easy to discern. For the name of Zeus is truly the sort of statement (logos) which people divide in two parts. Some use one part and some use the other one, as some call him Zena and some call him Dia, but the two put together into one make the god’s nature clear (ıȣȞIJȚș{µİȞĮ İeȢ ŸȞ), just what we were saying is fitting for a name to have power to do. For none other is more causal (ĮhIJȚȠȢ) of life for us and for all that exists than the ruler (¥ȡȤȦȞ) and

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king of all things. He is accordingly named properly, this god through whom (įȚ’ ÖȞ), life (ȗÁȞ) comes into being always and for all things. The name, as I say, has been split into two. (395e–396b) Socrates closely details “Zeus” in this passage because he needs it for his large-scale depiction of the logos in the Cratylus and not because his small-scale logoi, the etymologies, at all demand this sort of elaboration. He spun off the etymologies of the Tantalids with ease. This tendency of Socrates is typical in the etymological section. When he reels off etymologies, he is compiling examples of applications of a principle. When he dwells on an etymology or appears to digress widely within one, that principle is under scrutiny. The principles are progressively more and more obviously Heraclitean, the scrutiny more and more Platonic. “Zeus” here is more than a name, as a logos, a synthesis of two into one, İeȢ ŸȞ, and a cause, ĮhIJȚȠȞ. “Zeus” names a ruler, a king, a god who brings all things into being and sustains them there, but must do all these things at once to make any sense at all. Unless Socrates can come up with a fully explanatory case for the entirely contradictory course of nature within the Tantalid line, he cannot make any real sense out of Orestes and his forebears. Zeus is a two-in-one logos. His name is twofold as is his nature, both originating and containing, įȚ’ ÖȞ ȗÁȞ ¢İi . . . Øʌ£ȡȤİȚ, so that he resolves the difference between constant nature and changing phenomena in himself as constant source of change. This unity of Zeus as a logos accounts for the unusual variation but unvarying naturalness of the names of Orestes and his forebears. The dimensions of the wordplay here present Heraclitus, and they may be parodying him, as Ferdinand Lassalle argues from the testimony of Philoponus.1 Heraclitus says that both Zeus and the Logos unite contradictory appearances: “The one that is wisdom is willing and unwilling to be called by the name Zeus.” (DK 22 B 32) and “After listening not to me but to the Logos, it is wise to agree that all is one” (DK 22 B 50). Since Heraclitus says that Zeus and the Logos alike unite distinctions, when Socrates here links Zeus and logos, he can easily take aim at the Logos of Heraclitus. To do so, though, he has to bring out a second sense of logos. Socrates must do more than treat logos here as a statement of functions. It must also be an account rationally explaining disorder on the most horrific scale from Tantalus to Orestes. As an account, the logos is subject to Socrates’ systematic demands. It must stand the test of the upper reaches of the divided line. When Socrates next says Zeus must be descended from a great dianoia, itself from nous which is pure, he is placing the demands of dianoia and noesis not only on a logos as the statement of Zeus’ power, but also on the Logos of Heraclitus as an account of wisdom.

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PLATO’S CRATYLUS: ARGUMENT, FORM, AND STRUCTURE C. Systematic Demands on the Zeus-logos 396b

It would appear rash, then, to call Zeus the son of Kronos, and well said, İÜȜȠȖȠȞ, that he is the offspring of some great systematic understanding, įȚĮvoȓĮȢ. Kronos as a son, koros, instead signifies “purification of the mind,” koro- akin to katharo- and akerato-, and -nos to nous, Socrates claims. He is here saying that the standard genealogical account of a violent and brutal Kronos is rash. It might appear more rash to call Hesiod’s traditional account into question. What makes it a rash account to Socrates is that it does not fit his demands for a meaningful belief, the sort of thing that should persuade people about reality. The better account, the one more suited to logos as Socrates sees it, has Zeus and the logos originate in reasonable explanation that leads to and comes from pure intellect. A logos is better, then, if it can follow the divided line to dianoia and noesis. Kronos as dianoia in the Cratylus must be the same sort of god that he is in the Laws 4, 714a. There Kronos has authority over the daimons, who provide nomoi or laws for men. Nomos in the Laws is given the etymology įȚĮȞȠµ¾ ȞȠà, the apportionment of the mind itself. Again, nomos is the subject-matter of a dianoetic stage of reasoning in Symposium, 210a, Gorgias, 464c, and Cratylus 388d. D. How Knowledge Could Come from a Logos 396b–397a Ouranos, the father of Kronos, signifies “looking up,” as in the activity of astronomers, ÐȡèıĮ IJ¦ ¥ȞȦ, who say that this practice produces a pure mind, IJÕȞ țĮșĮȡÕȞ ȞȠàn. Socrates says that, if he could remember his Hesiod, he would follow the divine genealogy back to even more remote forebears, ¢ȞȦIJœȡȦ. He would not stop until he had completely tested this sophia at hand, here “cleverness” instead of “wisdom.” If the sophia were genuine wisdom, presumably it would not break down. The cleverness has befallen him on a sudden, but at first he says he does not know from what source. After Hermogenes praises Socrates for his oracular and enthusiastic pronouncements, Socrates says that the inspired sophia is Euthyphro’s. The previous day, Socrates explains, he was all ears, ʌĮȡİlȤȠȞ IJ¦ ðIJĮ, as Euthyphro filled him with divine cleverness, įĮȚµȠȞfĮȢ ıȠijfĮȢ, and even “seized my soul, (ȥȣȤÁȢ).” This day he thinks it good to use the cleverness and to consider the names systematically, œʌȚıț{ȥĮıșĮȚ. He proposes for the following day two things, first to ward evil away from the cleverness by calling on Zeus, ¢ʌȠ-įȚȠ-ʌȠµʌȘıÒµİș£, and then to purify it, if he can find some holy man or sophist skilled in such purifying, țĮșĮȚȡİlȞ. For Zeus to be considered a logos just previously, he had to have been descended from dianoia and noesis. Cleverness in the etymologies for “Kronos” and “Ouranos” suggest such descent. Since Socrates has disclaimed knowledge of the source of the cleverness or wisdom at hand, he does not credit even Euthyphro with possessing it. Socrates is parodying Euthyphro,

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the same character who appears in Plato’s Euthyphro.2 In the Cratylus, as throughout Plato from the Ion to the Laws (681e–682a), the oracular seers and those who speak in an inspired and enthusiastic way, as Euthyphro is said to do, are merely the mediums of the wisdom they utter.3 “Kronos” as dianoia and so as source of the Zeus-logos meant “the purity of nous,” in spite of Hesiod’s account. “Ouranos” as “looking up” illustrates a method for attaining pure nous. The Zeus-logos combined two into one, two names; the Kronos-dianoia puts two into conflict, two accounts; the Ouranos-nous separates two ways of looking, up from down. Socrates says he would advance further up, ¢ȞȦIJȑȡȦ, if he could remember Hesiod. Curiously, the Zeus-logos compelled him to abandon Hesiod’s account in his previous etymology. Also curiously, he will remember Hesiod well enough in the next group of names. Socrates says that to follow Hesiod here from “Ouranos” to examine the correctness of divine names, æȢ ÑȡșîȢ, would lead further along the route of understanding. To abandon Hesiod, then, for the sake of a Zeus-logos could have been a sign that the Zeus-logos itself was off the track. Name Group 2: Opposite characteristics from a common logos Names for an odd lot

Divided-Line Stage

Result

“Orestes”; “Agamemnon”; “Atreus”; “Pelops”; “Tantalus”

Likeness of names to people themselves like and unlike by the model of generation

Unusual variety of unvaryingly natural names, țĮIJ¦ ijÚıȚȞ, for an unnatural family

“Zeus”

Logos of same and different

Expression of causal unity of logos

“Kronos”

Dianoia, means to pure nous

To accept Heraclitus is to exclude Hesiod

“Ouranos”

Nous, separation of up from down

Further progress in separating up from down requires Hesiod

The track that Socrates follows in testing his sudden cleverness for its wisdom and his Zeus-logos for its relations to dianoia and nous is plainly along the divided line. From stage one to stage two of the line, Socrates has proceeded from sense impressions on the previous day to a state of confused opinion, for at first he cannot, then he can, remember the source of his cleverness. At this point in the Cratylus, he assumes the cleverness as wisdom for the purposes of examination, so he will study it systematically, or take it up to dianoia, the third stage of the line. After that, he will purify it or, correspond-

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ingly, take it up to the realm of pure mind in the final stage of the line. When Socrates says he will ward evil away from the wisdom by calling on Zeus, he is as much as saying he will dismiss this Zeus, ¢ʌȠ-įȚȠ-ʌȠµʌȘıÒµİș£, as a logos and a candidate for wisdom. For the moment, though, the examination proceeds along the model of the line. As in this second group of names, Socrates has appealed to different beliefs in divine order, so in the third he will appeal to different systematic accounts based on such beliefs. 3. Logoi in Relation to Analogy: Up and Down the Ways of Analogy in Naming 397a–400d: Synopsis Socrates is left at the end of the second group of names with the same problem he had at the end of the first: as he starts the third he says again that he cannot tell how to assign names like “Theophilos” fittingly. But he also has a pattern of reasoning, a typos, to use. Repeating the pattern produces a sort of proportion. The pattern involves distinguishing and relating what is immortal, IJ¦ ¢İi ÔȞIJĮ, and what is mortal. In the first group he contrasted generations of families with genus of character. In the second section, he contrasted genera of characters to a single originating logos. In the third, he will contrast several logoi about the immortal and the mortal, but he will also interrelate them with an analogia or proportion overarching them all, his divided line. As Socrates proceeds in the order of being downward from “gods” to “daimons” to “heroes” to “men,” he proceeds up the stages of the divided line in explaining his etymologies. He then turns in pairs of alternative etymologies for “soul” and “body” backward through the same stages. His linking and separating of a way up with a way down of reasoning in the third group of names constitutes a complex parody of the Heraclitean unity of the way up and down, but also shows the serious problems involved in relating sameness and difference. In each section of this group, he illustrates difficult aspects of this relation. In the first section, Socrates contrasts what does not change with what does. Names that express parents’ hopes or prayers like “Theophilos” can be misleading about the natures of those so named, presumably because they are in the human realm where things change. Explicitly, names for things in the realm of the eternal are more likely to be correct. First, the name theoi, “the gods,” can be reliable because of standing for something in the unchanging realm of being. In the second, Socrates discusses Hesiod’s “daimons” along with “heroes” either from “eros” or from “oratory.” In the third he explains the spelling of “Diphilos,” synonymous with the hitherto unmanageable “Theophilos,” in order to explain “anthropos,” the animal that alone reasons by analogy, as he points out. Finally in the fourth he first contrasts authorities for the naming of the soul, psyche, and then points to the variety of opinions about the naming of the body, soma. Some authorities on psyche understand,

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noein, that the soul is a cause of life for the body, a view like Socrates’ in the Phaedo, but Hermogenes prefers what he thinks is an Anaxagorean account of soul. On the naming of soma opinions vary, but the Orphic version taking the body as the likeness, İețȩvĮ, of a prison is the one that Socrates favors. A. The Pattern of Reasoning about Names 397ad Socrates asks where they should begin their systematic consideration, įȚĮıțȠʌȠàȞIJİȢ, since they have happened upon a pattern to use, IJÚʌȠȞ. Are names merely random or do some have fitness? Names of heroes and men can deceive. They may recall ancestors or express the hopes of the parents, as in the names “Eutychides” (the Fortunate), “Sosias” (the Preserver), or “Theophilos” (Beloved of God). These are better left alone, he says. Instead Socrates finds it fitting, İețȩȢ, to consider names of what is everlasting, IJ¦ ¢İi ÔȞIJĮ, since a perhaps more than human care went into the design of these names. “Theoi,” “gods,” is the fitting place to begin, agrees Hermogenes. Socrates says early Greeks and barbarians observed that the sun, moon, earth, stars, and sky move always in a course and at a run, ș{ȠȞIJĮ. They called them gods first and when they found out about other gods, they used the same name. Hermogenes thinks this account likely, ⁄ȠȚțİȞ. Socrates’ pattern of reasoning calls for a separation of reliable names from unreliable ones. He has anticipated such a separation in each of the first two groups of names and he uses it to consider the reliability of principles of naming in the system of names he is about to develop. In the first group of names, the process of generation could not be used for accurate naming because it could not determine a genus of character in the case of “Theophilos.” In the second, dianoia and pure nous, there linked to the reasoning of astronomers, had to be the sources of Zeus as a logos adequate to the different characters that Orestes and his ancestors exhibit. At the outset of the third, Socrates refers directly to “Theophilos” and introduces the reasoning of astronomers in his first etymology. He begins anew. He is undertaking to reason systematically, but has only provided an outline or shadow of what this process involves. Hermogenes’ responses, EețÒȢ Ȗİ, ⁄ȠȚțİȞ, remind the reader that this beginning of system is itself in the relation of eikasia to a pure knowledge of system. Heroes, men’s names, and “Theophilos,” Socrates does not deal with in this third group, but “hero” itself, “anthropos,” and “Diphilos” he does. As these names directly recall what Socrates here says that he cannot mention as the name-group begins, so also do they keep in view the limits of the systematic reasoning that Socrates depicts throughout the third group as it proceeds. He is relating logoi together within a scheme of system, analogy, or proportion, but such an arrangement by itself finally cannot guarantee the truth of the

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logoi, any more than Socrates can initially assign human proper names properly at the outset of the third group. The astronomers in the first etymology here, “theoi” from ș{ȠȞIJĮ, are reasoning from appearances at the beginning of a divided line progression. They are also reasoning from analogy to link the way up with the way down, for they look up to apparent perpetual motion and name the gods accordingly, then they look or reason “down,” țĮIJĮ-ȞȠȠàȞIJİȢ, and apply the correspondence they detect above to other gods below. Socrates in this passage alludes, then, to two Heraclitean logoi, the perpetual flux, and the unity of the way up and the way down. B. Middle Terms in Correlations of Divine and Human 397e–398e Next, Socrates accepts Hesiod’s account of the first genus of men, the golden race who died and then became daimons. The division in Hesiod of the gold and iron races of men is of scientific worth as evidence, IJİțµˇȡȚȠȞ, for equating his and Hesiod’s views. He says the name “daimon” comes from the daimon’s power of being knowledgeable and wise, įĮˇµȠȞİȢ, that Hesiod and other poets say a man can become a daimon after death, and that he himself sets it down that every man who is good is daimon-like while he is alive and after he dies, and is rightly called “daimon” (397e–398c). At Republic 469a1, Socrates’ treatment of the daimons is similar for he considers their condition humanly attainable. Neither of his renderings of Hesiod’s account regards it as dealing only with a mythical past. According to Richard Walzer, the account of “daimon” in the Cratylus recalls Heraclitus’ sense of fate, “Greater deaths gain greater destinies,” (DK 22 B 25).4 Socrates next says “hero” originates from “eros” and that the heroes are demigods, hemitheoi (398c). He explains this by saying that they come from a love between divine and mortal, of a god for a woman or a goddess for a man. In an alternative etymology, Socrates says that the heroes, as wise men, orators, virtuosi, and dialecticians, got their collective name from being able to ask questions, œȡȦIJ©Ȟ, since İhȡİȚȞ means Ȝ{ȖİȚȞ. Accordingly, the heroes correspond, ıȣµȕĮfȞȠȣıȚȞ, with orators and questioners, œȡȦIJȘIJȚțȠi, another Platonic coinage in the dialogue, so that the class of the Sophists turns out to be the heroic breed. Before proceeding to the next etymology, for “anthropos,” Socrates asks Hermogenes if he does not still have belief, ʌȚıIJİÚİȚȢ, in the inspiration of Euthyphro (399a). Socrates does not take Hesiod’s ages of man story as literal. Still, it has scientific worth to him as evidence, and he infers conclusions from it. It provides a reliable account of genus, if taken as an analogy. To Socrates, as gold is to iron, so are the good to the bad, and the wise to the foolish. Hesiod’s daimons become mean terms within Socrates’ larger analogy that attempts to express the relation of divine to human, and immortal to mortal. As the gods

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to the daimons, so are the daimons to the good and wise. The daimons provide a bridge from the temporal to the eternal that anyone can choose to cross. Similarly, heroes are intermediate between the divine and human, as half one and half the other, as demigods. Socrates’ linking of “hero” with “eros,” if it is like the eros on Diotima’s ladder of love, can also provide a means of transition from human becoming to divine being, gods : heroes :: heroes : men. If “hero” is from “query” or “orate,” œȡȦIJ©Ȟ or İhȡİȚȞ, then another analogy follows, gods : Sophists :: Sophists : men. Socrates is interested in correspondences and analogies here in the second stage of the third group of names, but he has not found a way to resolve the conflicts of opinions that his analogies represent. He personally shares Hesiod’s view of humanity, but argues as well for a sophistic view. He is depicting the realm of belief wherein opinions conflict, and where Hermogenes would be content to remain with his belief, ʌȚıIJİȪȦn, in the inspiration of Euthyphro. C. Combination and Separation within Analogies 398e–399c Hermogenes’ believing, ʌȚıIJİÚȦȞ, is appropriate, while Socrates is likely to become all too clever, ıȠijèIJİȡȠȢ. He asks Hermogenes to watch closely, ıțÒʌİȚ. People often put in or take out letters or change accents in names, he says. In the case of making the expression “beloved of God,” ǻȚi ijfȜȠȢ, into a name, “Diphilos,” “we remove one of the iotas from it and instead of an acute accent, ÑȟİfĮȢ, on the middle syllable we pronounce the grave, ȕĮȡİlĮȞ. Oppositely in other cases we insert letters and pronounce the grave acute.” (399b) “Anthropos” underwent such alterations from phrase to name. The phrase “looking up at what he has seen, ¢ȞĮșȡîȞ § ÔʌȦʌİ,” turned into “anthropos.” The name indicates how humans alone of the animals consider, œʌȚıțȠʌİl, use analogies, ¢ȞĮȜȠȖfȗİIJĮȚ, and look up, ¢ȞĮșȡİl. In the previous etymology, analogies led to an inadequate distinction of the roles of daimonic wisdom and sophistry. Here in the treatment of “Diphilos,” proper separation and combination provide for useful distinctions between opposites, of the acute from the grave. Socrates may well be too clever here in passing from eros to Diphilos; for this passage echoes and alludes to Eryximachus’ account of a double love, įȚʌȜȠàȞ ⁄ȡȦIJĮ, in the Symposium (186b ff). For the systematic Eryximachus, a heavenly love as distinct from an earthly one presides over such crafts as medicine, gymnastics, agriculture, and music. All these crafts need systematic agreement or harmony. Something like this, he says, is what “Heraclitus also means to say when he speaks, however unclearly, ȠÙ țĮȜîȢ; for he says the One ‘differing in itself is in accord . . . as is the harmony of the bow and the lyre’” (187a; see DK 22 B 51). Eryximachus points out that Heraclitus’ words

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appear to be quite unreasonable, ʌȠȜȜ¾ ¢ȜȠȖfĮ, although also a possible sensible meaning to them exists, that from the differences of the treble and the bass, IJȠà Ñȟ{ȠȢ țĮi ȕĮȡ{Ƞj, there arises (Harmony) from their accord, еȠȜȠȖȘı£ȞIJȦȞ, by the musician's craft; for obviously no harmony exists while the treble and the bass are in discord (186–187b). For “Diphilos” to recall Eryximachus’ use of diploos is nothing strange in a work so playful and allusive as the Cratylus. Something like Eryximachus’ limits on linking things together in a system is in order, if wisdom and sophistry are to be distinguishable, as they are not at the end of the accounts of “eros.” The Greek words for “the treble and the bass” and “the acute and the grave” are the same. The treble and the bass must be distinguishable for the Heraclitean One to make sense to Eryximachus, as the acute and the grave are so distinct here in the Cratylus only two pages before Heraclitus at last emerges by name (401d) as the source for the view of nature throughout the etymologies. Socrates alludes subtly to the kind of limits that he will attempt to put on that view. The limits will be systematic like Eryximachus’; they will involve combining and separating the upper and lower, as Eryximachus does in the double Eros, as astronomers did in the explanation of “Ouranos,” and as did Socrates’ human being, alone of the animals, in the explanation of anthropos. The etymology for “anthropos,” combines man with the other beasts, șȘȡȓĮ, but he is separated from them, too. He is not merely debased, in a primitive state by comparison with the gods. He has a distinct power of making analogies and using his reason, ¢ȞĮȜȠȖfȗİIJĮȚ. This ability allows him to proceed beyond belief in some system or other, as in the account of “daimons,” to a system of beliefs that maintains distinctions and does not lapse into confusion, in “Diphilos.” It allows him to move up to the third stage of the divided line where geometers who practice dianoia make analogiai or proportions. Socrates turns next in the third group of names to make a complete analogy that accords with the limits on analogy he has just set up. D. Analogy and the Limits of Expression 399d–400d Hermogenes sees a crucial issue, IJȚ ȤȡˇµĮ, next in order, “for I take it we call ‘soul’ and ‘body’ both human, (IJȠà ¢ȞșȡèʌȠȣ).” Accordingly, he suggests they define these names in the manner of the preceding names. Socrates says that he thinks that those who named the soul: knew (ȞȠİlȞ) that when it exists within the body the soul is the cause of life for the body (ĮhIJȚÒȞ œıIJȚ IJȠà ȗÁȞ ĮÙIJù), that it provides the power of respiration and revivification (¢ȞĮȥàȤov), and that upon the departure

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from the body of this revivification (IJȠà ¢ȞĮȥÚȤȠȞIJȠȢ) the body perishes. (399de) Here Socrates asks Hermogenes if he thinks anything other than the soul sustains the power of life and motion, ʌİȡȚȚ{ȞĮȚ, for the body. Hermogenes says no. Then he asks him if he does not trust in the saying of Anaxagoras that mind or soul, ȞȠàȞ țĮi ȥȣȤˇȞ, is the ordering and maintaining principle of all things, įȚĮțȠıµȠàıĮȞ țĮi ⁄ȤȠȣıĮȞ. Hermogenes agrees that he does. Socrates says that the name refers to the power of upholding and maintaining nature, psyche as ijȣı{ȤȘȞ. Hermogenes finds this name cleverer than Socrates’ first derivation. While he consents that the name is cleverer, IJİȤȞȚțèIJİȡȠȞ, Socrates says it appears truly laughable to him that the word was so named (400ab). In this use of IJİȤȞȚțèIJİȡȠȞ is another Platonic criticism of reasoning from comparisons as if they were absolutes. Socrates next proceeds to the treatment of “body.” This word has a varying meaning, ʌoȜȜĮȤÍ, according to Socrates, and if someone alters it ever so slightly, ıµȚțȡÒȞ, the variation is a great one, ʌ£Ȟȣ. “Some say the body is the tomb (ıÁµĮ) of the soul, as if the soul were buried in present time. Again some say that because the soul signifies to the body whatever it signifies, the body is rightly called its signal (ıÁµĮ).” (400bc) Lastly, Socrates expresses another account of “body”: I think the Orphics, though, especially imposed this name on the grounds that the soul is punished for things it must requite, and the body, in likeness (İețÒȞĮ) of a prison constitutes an enclosure for the preservation of the soul. The body is then the so-called “preserver” (ıîµĮ) of the soul until it fulfills its obligations, and we have no need to change (ʌĮȡȐȖİȚv) a single letter. (400bc) Socrates has reached a fourth stage in his attempt to relate the divine and mortal realms in the third group of names. His progress toward noesis hits a problem. Relation must take into account sameness and difference. Body and soul are alike, both human, but quite different, too. Socrates is bound by his four-step model of reasoning to point out the limits of his expression. He has been following an analogy to get to knowledge, and his analogy limits the kind of knowledge he can get. Socrates reaches noesis only to return through systematic reasoning to the realm of opinion and at length to the realm of picture-thinking. He is then following the order of the divided line in reverse. His analogy brings him around to where he must begin again. Reversing the line’s order, Socrates first speaks of those who understand, ȞȠİlȞ, the nature of the soul, those with whom he agrees. The soul, like “Zeus” previously, is a cause of life, ĮhIJȚȠȞ . . . IJȠà ȗÁȞ, a link between divine and mortal. Next Socrates describes a systematic or dianoetic soul, įȚĮțȠıµȠàıĮȞ,

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whose unity with nous results from faulty reasoning. Socrates identifies life and motion, ȗÁȞ țĮi ʌİȡȚȚ{ȞĮȚ, gives soul as their cause, and then gets Hermogenes to accept that the soul is equivalent to Anaxagorean nous, an ordering principle for all things. Hermogenes has made another mistake. Anaxagoras says that Mind is not within any kind of synthesis. It does, “rule all things large and small which possess soul (ȥȣȤˇȞ),” it does, “arrange everything in order (ʌ£ȞIJĮ įȚĮțȠıµˇıİ),” but still Anaxagoras states explicitly, “nothing is completely separated or distinguished as one from another except Mind” (excerpts from DK 59 B 12). Hermogenes has here attributed to Anaxagoras a synthesis foolish and laughable to Socrates, but persuasive to the followers of Euthyphro. When on the next page of the text Socrates identifies being and motion (ȠÙıfĮ as çıfĮ from æșȠàȞ), and calls this unity an explicitly Heraclitean principle, he says that it, too, is laughable and most persuasive. He has then laughably identified life and motion only to make way for laughably identifying being and motion. Socrates next speaks of a variety of opinions about the body. He has entered a realm of opinion where some say one thing, some another, and where only inconclusive reasoning exists. Last, he considers the body as in some ways a penalty for error, and a semblance, İețÒȞĮ, of a prison cell. In the third group of names, Socrates has proceeded up the divided line only to proceed back down. The whole group represents the limits of dianoia in the same way as the divided line does. First, from a graphic model of the two divided line progressions in the third group, one reversing the order of the other, one main point about dianoia becomes readily apparent. Just where one set of judgments connects the divine and mortal realms, the other set begins to break the connection down and to portray the divine and mortal realms as adversary. This shows the merely systematic way in which Socrates has patterned his reasoning. When Socrates reasons about the topics in the third group, he bears out consequences of particular assumptions, but when he has two contrary assumptions, he cannot tell which is true. He cannot tell whether science is any different from sophistry in “hero.” By the requirements of systematic reasoning alone, he cannot tell whether “soul” is analyzed and abstract or is in synthesis with mind. The lines of reasoning from assumptions must hang together to be true, but that they hang together does not in itself prove that they are true. Hermogenes accepts the systematic reasoning about Anaxagoras as true when the reasoning is only systematic. It contains a false premise, which Socrates does not say that he himself admits, but Hermogenes does admit it. Hermogenes would have to have read Anaxagoras more carefully himself to discover that the premise is untrue. For Socrates, then, dianoetic system may be necessary, but not sufficient, to determine the truth of statements.

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Name Group 3: Logoi in relation to analogy Divided-Line Stage Origin of Etymology

“theos”

Sense perception

Ancient astronomers

“daimon”

Evidence of belief

Hesiod and the poets

“hero” “Diphilos”ҏ “man”

Scientific reasoning or merely systematic ? Use of analogy, ¢ȞĮȜȠȖfȗİIJĮȚ

Heraclitus or the Sophists Eryximachus Socrates

“soul”

Abstract intellect; systematization;

Ancient nomothetes; “Anaxagoras” (Heraclitus);

“body”

Opinions; likeness-making

Different views; Orphics

4. Analogies in Relation to Ultimate Being: Naming and Knowing the Gods 400d–408d: Synopsis Socrates, in the third group of names, shows some limits on using analogy to link the divine to the human realm. In the fourth group, he seeks for an appropriate analogy to the divine realm alone. When Hermogenes earnestly requests more etymologies like that of “Zeus” previous, Socrates stresses the limits of such an account. If he and Hermogenes have nous, he says, they will admit their ignorance and proceed according to a nomos in prayers, the custom of calling the gods by whatever names the gods please to allow men to call them (400d–401a). Nous is here not absolute, but instead a highest stage of belief, one dependent for its truth on the will of the gods. Socrates’ nous is not, then, knowledge of the things he is talking about, but only of the way in which he is talking about those things. Socrates sets limits on opinions and beliefs here as he has done throughout the first three groups of names. In this fourth reach of the activity of belief, ʌfıIJȚȢ, Socrates suddenly comes to know that he is elaborating a Heraclitean belief that all is in flux. The reader knows it, too, because Socrates quotes, paraphrases, and five times names Heraclitus on the opening page of the fourth group. It would be a mistake to think that Socrates seriously maintains the ideas of Heraclitus here. Throughout the fourth group he is in fact setting an analogy of fixed being against a Heraclitean logos of flux. He struc-

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tures his elaboration of Heraclitean logos by means of the divided line analogy and in so doing comically causes the Heraclitean logos to make a paradoxical case against itself. The fourth group of names is quite long but simple in plan.5 First, Socrates uses the account of “Hestia” to oppose essence, ousia, to the flux, çıfĮ, in rival etymologies, and suggests four other etymologies for gods of flux, explicitly rivers and the sea. Second, four gods present an unseen order of oppositions between life and death as within a cycle of the elements. These gods produce fear in foolish minds, but regarded in the right way they are benign. Third, he considers names of gods who are patrons of the arts and of the values of civilization. They are harmonious, reasonable, and skilled. In the fourth stage of this group of names are seven (or eight) divinities. They represent two different kinds of knowledge, one serious, genuine, and Platonic, the other misleading, ridiculous, and by allusion Heraclitean. Throughout the many etymologies in the four stages of the fourth group, Plato makes references and allusions to Heraclitus. They are more often playful and artistic than logical, literal, or necessary. A. The Divine Flux of Being 400d–402d “Hestia” appears first in the list of the gods as is fit according to custom, nomos, țĮIJ¦ IJÕȞ ȞÒµȠȞ. The makers of these early names were not triflers, but astronomers and great talkers, says Socrates ambiguously, for adoleschai may be those who are great at speaking, but also those who are merely chatterboxes. Three dialect variants for “essence” appear as etymologies for “Hestia,” but one of them Socrates explains spuriously in order to introduce the Heraclitean identity of being and motion. As the root of “Hestia” Socrates claims that “we say ȠÙıiĮ, others say œııfĮ, and still others say çıfĮ.” He shows how ȠÙıfĮ and œııfĮ are equivalent expressions of “essence” and how such a name is appropriate, İețÒȢ, on the evidence of religious usages and dialect variation. Socrates turns to those who say çıfĮ. These must have thought nearly in Heraclitean terms that all things are in motion (IJ¦ ÔȞIJĮ e{ȞĮȚ) and nothing is at rest. Accordingly their cause and principle is pushing (çșȠàȞ) and they are well able to name it çıfĮ. Let these words suffice here, spoken as they are by those who know nothing. After Hestia we should consider Rhea and Kronos, though in fact we have already spoken of Kronos’ name. Well, this may be nonsense. (401de) What “we say,” ousia, suggests Platonic fixed essence here without a doubt; Socrates opposes it to the Heraclitean flux of being. Socrates also has just said that the first makers of names were astronomers. As in the explana-

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tion of “Ouranos,” those who look up and so seek the pure nous include analytic dialecticians such as himself. The shape of the argument to come in the list of divine names is already apparent. Socrates here tells Hermogenes he has found a sort of hive of wisdom and Hermogenes asks him to characterize it: Socrates: Well, this wisdom is quite laughable (ȖİȜȠlȠȞ) and yet is quite persuasive (ʌȚșĮȞÒIJȘIJĮ). Hermogenes: How persuasive? Socrates: I seem to behold (țĮșȠȡ©Ȟ) Heraclitus relating ancient wisdom, with especial regard to Kronos and Rhea, which Homer also relates. Hermogenes: In what way do you mean this? Socrates: Heraclitus says, I think (ʌȠà), that “everything changes (ȤȦȡİl) and nothing rests,” and again likening (¢ʌİȚț£ȗȦȞ) being to the flow of a river, he says “You can’t step in the same river twice.” Hermogenes: Yes, that is right. Socrates: What follows? Do you think that the person who named Rhea and Kronos the forebears of all the other gods understood (ȞȠİlȞ) things in any different way than Heraclitus? Do you think it accidental that he gave both the names of watercourses? Likewise Homer says “Ocean the origin of the gods and mother Tethys.” I think Hesiod says the same, and Orpheus somewhere says “Fairflowing Ocean first took a wife; he married Tethys his sister from one mother.” Note then that these things are in accord (ıȣµijȦȞİl) with each other and that all of them tend (IJİfȞİȚ) toward the words of Heraclitus. (402ac) Socrates appears to be in a hurry. This may have something to do with his summarizing instead of quoting Heraclitus exactly here (DK 22 B 12 and 49a). He begins his fourth group of names by summarily referring to the course of all the etymologies so far. “Hestia” as essence and flux here draws together Homer, Hesiod, and Orpheus, sources respectively in the first, second, and third groups, and enlists them as the philosophical allies of Heraclitus. Everything is converging in the argument, and appears to follow from the identity of being and motion. Socrates finds the whole line of argument ridiculous perhaps because, while making all things agree with Heraclitus, it suggests what would confuse or enrage Heraclitus. Heraclitus explicitly sets himself at odds with Homer (DK 22 B 42, 56, 105) and Hesiod (DK 22 B 40, 57, 106). Heraclitus did not mean to produce a technique of reasoning which lets him be set on equal terms with those he considers fools. Socrates ironically compromises Heraclitus most patently at this point where his etymologies are straightforwardly Heraclitean in their import.

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Of the first deities whom Socrates lists, only Tethys gets an etymology proper. That “Rhea” is related to “flowing,” ˛İlȞ, is obvious but not stated. That “Kronos” would remind Plato’s readers of “spring,” țȡȠȣȞÒȢ, is likely, even though Socrates has already given an etymology for “Kronos” as “purification of the mind.” Socrates uses river imagery here, especially in the case of “Tethys,” who is a river, a semblance, ¢ʌİfțĮıµĮ, and a synthesis, ȟÚȖțİȚIJĮȚ (402de). Briefly but significantly, Socrates remarks “We have already spoken of Zeus” to emphasize that the thought in this passage is akin to the “Zeus-logos” earlier. Last among the likenesses to the flux is Poseidon himself. His name has three etymologies. The sea impressed the name-maker of “Poseidon” as a “chain of feet,” ʌȠıfįİıµȠȞ, since it kept him from walking further. Again, the name may signify the sea god’s great knowledge, ʌȠȜȜ¦ İeįÒIJȠȢ, or his earth-shaking power, ıİfȦȞ (402d–403a). The first etymology presents the flux of change as a source of binding or fixity. Later in the etymologies, the problem of harmonizing perpetual change with binding necessity becomes crucial. Crucially, Socrates does not rate these etymologies or distinguish them philosophically. Such grouping of differences may imply that one meaning is as good as the next, once being equals change. Apparently, we have no grounds left for comparison. B. The Cycle of Life and Death 402d–404e The gods in the second set of names have less apparent powers. These gods represent death and air, which participate in hidden order. People understand them in different ways, so that their names represent not only the realm of opinion beyond the range of likeness-making, but also some different kinds of belief or opinion. First among these less obvious deities is Pluto. His name signifies wealth, Ð ʌȜȠàIJȠȢ, because wealth comes up from below, ț£IJȦșİȞ ¢ȞfİIJĮȚ, the earth. Pluto connects the up and the down (compare DK 22 B 60); people name him on the strength of a curious analogy. Still other people, because they fear the name “Pluto,” call him “Hades,” “the unseen,” IJÕ ¢ůį{Ȣ (403a).6 They fear Hades’ eternal presence, ¢İi œțİl œıIJȚȞ, with them after death. Socrates, on the other hand, says that he thinks “the principle or role of the god and his name all tend toward the same thing (œȢ üëŻüĻ÷ IJȚ ıȣȞIJİfȞİȚȞ)” (403b). As Socrates explained in the just previous names from “Rhea” through “Kronos,” the different poets also all tended, IJİȓvİȚ, in the same direction, toward the thought of Heraclitus. People do not want to leave Hades once he has them. “Apparently he knows how to speak some excellent words (ȜÒȖȠȣȢ), and on this assumption (ȜÒȖȠȢ), is the ultimate sophist (IJ{ȜİȠȢ ıȠijȚıIJˇȢ).” He is a source of happiness to those below and those above, IJîȞ ʌĮȡ’ ĮÙIJù . . . IJȠlȢ œȞș£įİ, as Socrates explains and recalls here, and in so doing also connects up with down in

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both of the gods’ names, “Pluto” and “Hades.” Finally, “Hades” does not mean by this account “the unseen” at all, but “knowing all good things (IJȠà ʌ£ȞIJĮ IJ¦ țĮȜ¦ İeį{ȞĮȚ).” What was unapparent turns out to be complete knowledge. The Heraclitean logos toward which all things have been tending in the etymologies for the gods by this point entails “knowing all things.” Socrates turns to Demeter and Hera, according to Hermogenes’ request. Demeter and Hera are taken together, µ{Ȟ . . . į{. Demeter is an earth goddess and Hera, as she appears in the next etymology, is the air, so that Socrates takes the up and the down together here. The listing of these elemental deities also suggest a pattern of the elements evocative of and fully in accord with Heraclitus’ view that “Fire lives earth’s death, air fire’s, water air’s, earth water’s” (DK 22 B 76).7 In Plato’s arrangement, “Hades” as death intervenes between water gods and earth and air goddesses, while “Persephone” as rebirth is to intervene next between the earth and air goddesses and Apollo, who was by Plato’s time (though not explicitly by Plato himself), a god linked to the sun. Socrates further alludes to Heraclitus in his account of “Hera.” Her first etymology shows her to be a synthesis combining action and passion, as loved and loving wife of Zeus. Her second etymology indicates: perhaps again, the namemaker in his astrological considerations named the air “Hera” by way of concealment ({ʌȚțȡȣʌIJȩµİvoȢ), since he put the beginning at the end (IJ¾Ȟ ¢ȡȤ¾Ȟ œʌi IJİȜİȣIJˇȞ). You can see this if you say the name of Hera repeatedly (404c). Heraclitus says “Nature likes to hide (țȡÚʌIJİıșĮȚ)” (DK 22 B 123), and that the beginning and the end of a circle are in common, ȟȣȞÒȞ (DK 22 B 103). Here the letters in the names “HȡĮ = ¢ˇȡ form a sort of circle of sound. Socrates’ next etymology dramatically varies from the order of Hermogenes’ request and introduces the goddess Persephone, or Pherephatta. Socrates makes up the interesting new name “Pherepapha” for her, his etymology of which contains Plato’s term from the Theaetetus (186b) for the sense of touch, œʌĮijˇ. Persephone’s names show how fear can lead to error. In her case, fear has produced differing spellings that disguise a single meaning. Persephone is, on this single account, a powerful unifying force to dispel the confusion of phenomena, confusion which fear amplifies. She emerges as wisdom, a touching and apprehending, œijĮʌIJȩµİȞȠȞ, a being able, įȣȞ£µİȞȠȞ, to grasp and understand things within flux, ijİȡȠµ{ȞȦȞ. As such, she links apparently opposite things like sensation and knowing. A single account combines her different names to dispel fear and present the potential for knowledge in its stead. Socrates thus represents her power of returning to the land of the living as a power of knowing, for him also a returning or reknowing, anamnesis. Finally, as mentioned, Persephone with her

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consort, Hades, interconnects the four elements as life and death do according to Heraclitus. Heraclitus’ cycle of elements, DK 22 B 76 water

earth

life and death cycle

air

fire

Plato’s cycle of Heraclitean elemental deities in the Cratylus Hestia as çıfĮ, Rhea, Tethys, Poseidon

Demeter

Hades and Persephone up and down logos, flux

Hera

Apollo C. The Harmony of Bow and Lyre 404e–406b Apollo concludes the Heraclitean system of the four elements and introduces the third set of deities within the expansive fourth group of names. Apollo is a god who connects several arts together in an orderly and exemplary fashion. He and the goddesses associated with him represent the third of the four divided line stages: No name could better express the single harmony (¼ȡµȠıİȞ ŸȞ) that exists in the god’s four powers so as to pertain to all of them and to show

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in such a way (IJȡÒʌȠȞ) each one distinctly, music, prophecy, medicine, and archery (404e–405a). Socrates then explains how the name “Apollo” pertains to each of these four powers, and so to show its well-fitted, harmonious, İÙ£ȡµȠıIJȠȞ, character for each of them. In accord with the view common to skilled musicians and astronomers “that all things move together in harmony (¡ȡµȠȞfv IJȚȞi ʌȠȜİl ¤µĮ ʌ£ȞIJĮ),” Apollo presides over harmony in his moving of all things in concert among gods and human beings. “Still some people fear the name because they associate it with destruction, but this is erroneous. It expresses instead the fourfold powers of the god.” (405a–406a). In the etymologies for “Apollo” Socrates alludes to Heraclitus several times and most notably to Heraclitus’ account of harmony: “They do not understand how a thing differing within itself is in concert, its harmony a reciprocal tension as in the lyre or bow” (DK 22 B 51). In Socrates’ “Apollo” etymologies, human beings also do not understand, µ¾ ÑȡșîȢ ıțȠʌİlıșĮȚ, the god’s fourfold character. He has different powers in himself that he harmonizes, ¼ȡµȠıİȞ. Among these differences are the arts of music and archery, respectively arts of the lyre and the bow, Heraclitus’ examples and symbols of harmony differing in itself. Similarly, Apollo rules, œʌȚıIJĮIJİl, divine and human harmony in this passage, just as the sun rules the seasons for Heraclitus: “Ð ¼ȜȚȠȢ œʌȚıIJ£IJȘȢ” (DK 22 B 100), so that Apollo stands for the Heraclitean harmony here in the Cratylus. Etymologies for “Muses,” “Leto,” and “Artemis” follow those for “Apollo.” They are, so to speak, the rest of the Apollonian system, his familiars and relatives, the benefits of Apollonian dianoetic harmony. These three etymologies do not make any case for Heraclitus and in fact presage a case against him. According to Socrates the names “Muses” and “music” come from seeking, µîıșĮȚ, inquiry, and philosophy. By giving music a philosophical character, Socrates suggests a need for philosophic inquiry into the Heraclitean harmony of which music is one aspect. Leto is a gentle goddess whose name expresses her willingness, œșİȜˇµȠȞĮ, to provide what is asked and her mild disposition, ȜİlȠȞ. The parent of the synthetic and harmonic Apollo is a gentle and generous source of being, most unlike the totality of “all things begotten by strife and need” (DK 22 B 80) according to Heraclitus. Besides the fourfold harmonic Apollo, Leto has another offspring, the goddess Artemis. Artemis, besides being “complete, orderly, and intact (¢ȡIJݵ{Ȣ)” due to her love of virginity, is a judge of virtue, and alternately despises some synthesis, since “she loathes the male’s plowing of women (IJÕȞ ¥ȡȠIJȠȞ µȚıȘı£ıȘȢ).” Artemis represents another kind of order than that within the Apollonian system. She is totally separate, a proponent of distinction who knows virtue, the goal of Socratic philosophy (406ab).

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The names of the gods in the fourth stage of the fourth group of names make actual what have only been possible problems for synthesis in the previous three stages. At the level of likeness-making, “Poseidon” has problematically combined fixity with flux; at the level of belief in what is unseen, “Hades” has represented synthesis of all in one, but he is a sophist in his use of logos; among the systematic deities, “Apollo” has represented Heraclitean harmony, but the goddesses with whom he is allied appear to controvert it. In a fourth stage, Socrates turns to divine counterparts of nous. In the event, only a nonsense logos that combines opposites as if they were the same can resolve the problems that Socrates discovers. When Hermogenes asks for explanations of “Dionysus” and “Aphrodite,” to begin this last stage of the fourth group, Socrates says he can speak in earnest or in jest. He chooses to speak in jest because the gods have a sense of humor, ijȚȜȠʌĮfıµȠȞİȢ. “Dionysus,” he says, is the wine-giver, ǻȚįȠfȞȣıȠȢ, humorously so-called, and his gift leads many who have no sense, ȞȠàȞ, to think they have it, ȠhİıșĮȚ, so ȠŮȞȠȢ is ȠeÒȞȠȣȢ. In the case of “Aphrodite,” “we can not differ (¢ȞIJȚȜ{ȖİȚȞ) from Hesiod, but we must agree (ıȣȖȤȦȡİlȞ) that Aphrodite’s name refers to her birth from sea-foam (¢ijȡȠà)”(406bd). “Dionysus” represents a false nous, apparent but unreal, which sots ludicrously confuse with its opposite, true nous. “Aphrodite” represents the need to rely on the testimony of a poet whom Heraclitus disdained (DK 22 B 40, 57, 106). Hermogenes asks for “Athena,” “Hephaestus,” and “Ares.” As a group, they provide a triad of correspondences with three closely linked passages in the Republic. The account of “Athena” employs terms from and embodies the sense of the divided line from the end of Book 6. “Hephaestus” evokes a connection with the cave analogy from the outset of Book 7 and prepares for several such connections in the coming fifth group of names. Finally, “Ares” illustrates by a rare word a character trait to foster in the education of the guardians later in Book 7. The order of the names in the Cratylus is the same as the order of figurative passages in the Republic. Socrates explains first Athena’s two names, one for each side of her nature. As Pallas she represents the war dance wherein opposite motions are combined, “ʌ£ȜȜİȚȞ IJİ țĮi ʌ£ȜȜİıșĮȚ țĮi ÑȡȤİlȞ IJİ țĮi ÑȡȤİlıșĮȚ” (406d–407a). The opposed pairs of active and passive infinitives serve no etymological purpose, but suggest a thematic one, since they describe opposite motions within harmony, the motions in the war dance. “Pallas” thus can recall Heraclitus’ sense of harmony (DK 22 B 51) and war, the common condition and cause of all things (DK 22 B 80). By use of the name “Athena,” alternately: The ancients appear (œȠfțĮıȚ) to have considered (ȞȠµfȗİȚȞ) Athena just as Homeric scholars do today. For most of these express as their view

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(œȟȘȖȠàµİȞȠȚ) that Homer made Athena mean the mind (ȞȠàȞ) and understanding (įȚȐvoȚĮv). The maker of names also appears to have had such a conception about her and calls her by yet a greater name, “intellection of god” (șİȠà ȞÒȘıȚȞ), as if he were saying that she is “the divine mind”( șİȠȞÒĮ), and using the a- for the e- as a dialect variation and taking out the i- and the s- in “noesis.” Again, perhaps the name does not have this sense, but he called her “the divine mind” because she knows divine matters (IJ¦ șİlĮ ȞȠȠàıȘȢ) better (įȚĮijİȡÒȞIJȦȢ) than others. Nor is there any reason not to suppose that the namemaker wanted to express ethical wisdom (IJ¾Ȟ œȞ IJù ⁄șİȚ ȞÒȘıȚȞ) in the person of this goddess, but he himself or someone later, thinking it the finer name, called her “Athena” instead of “Ethonoe.” (407ac) When he explains “Athena,” Socrates moves from what is apparent to him, œȠfțĮıȚ, to what the ancients thought, œȟȘȖoȪµİvoȚ, to Homer’s portrayal of dianoia and nous, so he touches on all four stages of the divided line (Pl.Rep. 509d ff.), although he does not tie them closely together in his argument. Crucially, he concentrates on what Athena has to do with nous, and this is fitting here at the fourth stage of the fourth group of names. She represents a wisdom that understands the divine in a unique way, įȚĮijİȡÒȞIJȦȢ. Athena as nous stands for Platonic wisdom, which is pure and separate. Socrates himself thought that knowledge had to lead to right conduct, and so Plato portrays him equating abstract and divine knowledge with knowledge of ethics, “Athena” with “Ethonoe.” Athena as ethical knowledge contrasts directly with Dionysus as illusory knowledge. As Socrates moves from “Dionysus,” apparent nous, to “Aphrodite,” named reliably on poetic testimony, to “Pallas,” opposite motions within the same system of a dance, and at last to “Athena,” pure nous, he moves along the stages of the divided line. On a greater scale, Socrates has gone through the same stages within the whole of this fourth group of names, and on a yet grander scale done the same from the first to the fourth group, a crescendo effect. At its apex in “Athena,” Socrates brings in some correspondences from the cave analogy, which succeeds the line analogy when Republic 7 begins. After the inmate of the cave ascends from its depths, he still will not go out into the light of the sun, IJÕ IJȠà ¹ȜfȠȣ ijîȢ, unless he is dragged out against his will, œȟİȜțÚıİȚİȞ . . . ¢ȖĮȞĮțIJİlȞ. Only then does he complete his passage from ignorance to knowledge by moving upward (Pl.Rep. 515e–516a). In his Cratylus etymology for “Hephaestus” Socrates next portrays light and dragging. Hephaestus is the “knower of light (ij£İȠȢ gıIJȠȡĮ),” and his name means the “gleaming one, Phaistos, dragging in (ʌȡȠıİȜțȣı£µİȞȠȢ) the additional syllable He–” (407c). The name of Hephaestus, whom Plato elsewhere allies with Athena (Laws 920e), introduces an allusion to the cave analogy, and helps bring out the sense in which the cave and line analogies parallel one another.

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Once out of the cave and into the light, the man from the cave must first consider reflections in water, and then he will look upwards to the sky at night, there to behold the light of the stars, and the moon. Seeing these things will be easier for him at night than during the day by the light of the sun. Finally, he will behold the sun itself and conclude logically, ıȣȜȜȠȖfȗȠȚIJȠ, that it provides the seasons and the year (516ab). At this point, he will come to consider his subterranean captivity and reluctantly reenter the cave to help out the unenlightened who remain there. After “Hephaestus,” the fourth group of names concludes with three names and the slight evocation of the cave analogy might appear only associational, except that in the fifth group Plato will return to the context of the cave analogy. The topics for the etymology to follow in the fifth group of names include the exact topics that the man who gets out of the cave and into the light first considers: the sun, the moon, water, the seasons, and the year. The remaining topics in the fifth group are the month and the other four elements: earth, air, fire, and ether. In the Republic, then, Socrates proceeds from the divided line to the light outside the cave to consideration of time, planets, and elements, and he exactly duplicates this order when he moves from “Athena” to “Hephaestus” to the topics in the fifth group of names. The etymology of “Ares” again reminds the reader of Republic 7. Ares is brave and manly, “A stalwart, harsh, immovable, and steady figure (¥ȡȡĮIJȠȞ)” (407d). Plato coins the term arraton either here or in Book 7 of the Republic. One of the traits that Socrates wants in the guardian is that he be arraton (535c). Ares represents the need to guard the argument at this point from regress in the Cratylus. The struggle commences. “Hermes” and “Pan” next illustrate the ridiculous alternative to the type of knowledge which “Athena,” “Hephaestus,” and “Ares” as the line, cave, and guardians, represent. After “Ares” Socrates pleads to have done with the names of the gods, but Hermogenes will not let him. He asks to hear about the name “Hermes.” This matters to him, because Cratylus said earlier that Hermogenes is not “Hermogenes,” etymologically “the offspring of Hermes.” Hermogenes wants to know what the name means in fact and according to knowledge or noetically, (ȞȠİl), so that he and Socrates can know if Cratylus is making any sense at all, (İeįîµİȞ . . . İe IJi Óįİ Ȝ{ȖİȚ) (407e). Well, Hermes appears to have a relation to speech (ʌİȡi ȜÒȖȠȞ IJȚ), as logos, and signifies interpretation, message-bearing, swindling, lying (IJÕ ¢ʌĮIJȘȜÕȞ œȞ ȜÒȖȠȚȢ) and marketeering, all of which business is conducted relative to the power of speech (ȜÒȖȠȣ įÚȞĮµȚȞ). Also, as we were earlier saying, speaking (İhȡİȚȞ) is the use of logos (ȜÒȖȠȣ ȤȡİfĮ) and, as Homer often says, it expresses contrivance (œµˇıĮIJȠ) . . . the name-setter in a way demanded our expression of this deity: “Mortals, he who contrived

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speaking (IJÕ İhȡİȚȞ œµˇıĮIJȠ) you should fitly name Eiremes.” But nowadays we, or so we think, prettify the name into Hermes. (407e–408b) Hermogenes asks a question that points up the still undecided nature of nous in the fourth group of names. Socrates resists. He would prefer to establish divided-line nous by the dramatic “Athena” account, but Athena is a symbol of nous, not an argument for its nature. Following out the assumption that being is motion does not lead to anything like nous on the divided line. Instead, he finds only a logos like Hermes, sometimes in the service of frauds. Again, equating İhȡİȚȞ with ȜÒȖȠȢ recalls the second etymology for “hero,” whereby heroism is sophistry. Wisdom appears to be sophistry also, since that logos which should lead to wisdom is at the service of sophistry. Doubtlessly, with his logos of Hermes Socrates evokes the logos of Heraclitus. Heraclitus has been in Socrates’ mind throughout the etymologies, so that the target of Socrates’ uses of logos in “Hermes” is not far to seek in any case. When he next compares this logos to Pan as a union of the “up” and the “down,” Socrates specifies its Heraclitean nature. In a sometimes bracketed line between the elaborate accounts of “Hermes” and “Pan,” Socrates briefly notes that Iris also gets her name from speech, ¢pÕ toà İhȡİȚȞ, because she is a messenger.8 If genuine, this passing mention of Iris can be a reminder that Socrates thinks wonder, IJÕ șĮȣµ£ȗİȚȞ, is in fact the beginning of philosophy and that Iris herself is the offspring of such wonder, ĬĮÚµĮȞIJȠȢ, as he says in Theaetetus 155d. In the next etymology, for “Pan,” Socrates will speak of what is not wondrous, șĮȣµĮıIJÒȞ, namely that the logos itself is akin to Pan, its brother as offspring of Hermes. “Iris” thus can suggest a genuine beginning of philosophy to contrast with the immediately ensuing spurious one, a logos as doubletalk, as akin to Pan. Socrates tells Hermogenes, who at last agrees with Cratylus that he is not “the offspring of Hermes,” that the true son of Hermes is Pan, the double formed, įȚijȣÁ. Pan embodies contraries as if they were the same and is like the logos since “the logos signifies all things, moves circularly, is in perpetual motion, and is twofold, įȚʌȜȠàȢ, true and false together.” Socrates says that this logos has a divine element of truth above and among the gods, ¥ȞȦ . . . œȞ IJȠlȢ șİȠlȢ, and a goatish element of falsehood below and among the majority of mortals, ț£IJȦ œȞ IJȠlȢ ʌȠȜȜȠlȢ. The son of Hermes, Pan the goat-boy, then, is either this “logos or the brother of the logos.” He signifies all things, Ð ʌ¦Ȟ µȘȞÚȦȞ, is in constant motion, ¢İi ʌȠȜîȞ, has a double form, įȚijȣˇȢ, gentle above, ¥ȞȦșİȞ, and rough and goatish below, ț£IJȦșİȞ. “That brother should appear like brother is no occasion for amazement, ȠÙîĜ÷ șĮȣµĮıIJÒȞ,” says Socrates to conclude this comparison of the logos of up and down with Pan, the All (408bd). Hermogenes has asked to hear an account of noesis according to Cratylus, what he fully apprehends, noei. Socrates gives him instead this metaphor of Pan as the completely confusing Logos of Heraclitus by combining the up

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and down within sameness. Logos as speech, then, whether genuinely Heraclitean Logos or not, here results in a ludicrous account of knowledge. Later in the dialogue when Cratylus says that the knowledge of words is the same as the knowledge of things (435d), he emerges as an advocate of this spurious logos. Socrates further derides the philosophical worth of this logos by representing its kinship with Pan as nothing wonderful. Logos is duplicitous here, so it represents a philosophical false start. Wonder itself is where Socrates puts the true starting point of philosophy (Theaet. 155d), so this logos is not philosophically useful. The etymological section, on the other hand, did come from something wonderful, the points where Homer divided divine and human names (391d). If speech under the pretext of the Logos of Heraclitus synthesizes true and false, it cannot serve philosophy. Socrates, by his Homeric analysis of names, implies that speech is philosophically useful to those who know its limits. The unity of being with motion at the outset of the fourth group of names has led to a fraudulent logos and a synthesis of truth and falsity. Based on such a logos, Socrates can no longer distinguish a muddle-headed and illusory nous from nous as clear and distinct, ethical and divine. Socrates, then, ridicules this fraudulent logos and advocates the nous of the divided line. The Heraclitean account of being as motion emerges as self-contradictory and ridiculous at this point in the argument. The synthesis of being with motion has set up its breakdown or analysis because it leads to ludicrous results in four divided-line-like stages in the fourth group of names, where it provides a caricature of the Heraclitean Logos instead of Platonic nous. To this point in the etymological section, in every group of names Socrates has considered a way to connect the mortal to the immortal, the changing to the unchanging, the human to the divine. In each of the four groups of names, he has considered topics from myth, legend, literature, and popular belief. Socrates has then divided the etymologies to this point in the Cratylus in order to provide four stages of an account for the topics of legend, myth, and poetical understanding, following the order of the divided line. Belief, stage two on the line, has four divided line stages. A belief, working from the realm of the visible toward the invisible in an attempt to make sense of Heraclitus has not attained to unambiguous noetic realities. The god Pan is like and unlike anything believable on the evidence of the senses. His parts taken separately are like things we can see, but nowhere in any one creature can all of them be seen together. The goat-boy complicates belief on the evidence of ordinary perception and cannot represent knowledge. Neither seeing, nor believing based on what is seen, attains in this part of the Cratylus to true knowledge. Socrates and Hermogenes need to look for true knowledge elsewhere than among visible things and with some other tools than the senses. Their effort to get beyond the visible by means of the

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visible has produced nonsense. They have taken belief from the seen toward the unseen, but their efforts have broken down. In the following chart names with a single asterisk suggest the potential for the breakdown of Socrates’ Heraclitean reasoning, which becomes actual in “Hermes” and “Pan.” Name Groups 1 through 4 together represent the development of pistis as a single stage of the divided line in the Cratylus. ȃame Group 4: Analogies in relation to ultimate being 400d–408d Names

Divided-Line Stage

Heraclitean Concepts

“Hestia”* “Rhea” (“Kronos”*,“Zeus”*) “Tethys” “Poseidon”*

Likeness-making, ¢ʌİȚț£ȗȦȞ ¢ʌİfțĮıµĮ

“Pluto” “Hades” “Demeter” “Hera” “Persephone”

Opinion, belief

Unity of up and down, unseen Element cycle Beginning = end Constant motion

“Apollo” “Muses”*; “Leto”* “Artemis”*

System

Harmony, element cycle

“Dionysus”* “Aphrodite”* “Pallas”; “Athena”* “Hephaestus”; “Ares” “Hermes” <“Iris”> “Pan”

Noesis

Union of opposites

Flux, being as motion Flux Flux, combination Flux, unity of contraries

Opposites, war Combination, logos Union of up and down

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Five III. DEMONSTRATION: DIANOIA, SYSTEMATIC REASONING: AN AXIOMATIC HERACLITEAN LOGOS; A PHENOMENAL PHILOSOPHICAL DICTIONARY 408D–421C While dianoia as systematic or axiomatic reasoning cannot alone establish that an assumption is true, it can sometimes show that an assumption is false; if an axiom’s consequences within a system are contradictory, then the axiom also contradicts itself and cannot be true. Such a system is inconsistent. In the next four name groups Socrates takes as an axiom that being is in flux and methodically elaborates its consequences for different scientific systems. Since Socrates means to lampoon the assumption of flux, and so indirectly to advance the assumption of some kind of fixed being, in these name groups he repeatedly draws ludicrous consequences from the assumption of flux. Already in the Construction, I, and the first part of the Demonstration, II, Socrates has used legend and myth to dramatize how the Heraclitean flux of being can contradict itself. When next Hermogenes asks him to consider names for natural phenomena, Socrates turns in III, the second part of the Demonstration, to the natural sciences, in order to demonstrate this same potential for self-contradiction. Each time he implies that the flux leads to self-contradiction, Socrates alludes to the counter assumption, that being is unchanging, by using the terms from the Republic for the sun analogy for the idea of the good. When the hypothesis of flux leads to confusion, Socrates makes a comical shift to explain away the confusion. Only to sustain the assumption of flux, Socrates explains etymologies for “sun,” “yoke,” “necessity” as an idea of the good, and “the good” in a way that flatly contradicts the sense of the Republic sun analogy. Even if Socrates’ Heraclitean system contradicts the Republic analogy and its account of being, the Heraclitean system may still be valid. For a Heraclitean axiom to be self-contradictory, though, is not acceptable. No valid dianoia exists that can use a self-contradictory axiom. For Plato, then, his Heraclitean system will not lead to pure reason or knowledge, noesis or episteme, as he has expressed it through the divided-line analogy from the Republic. In the fifth, sixth, and seventh name groups Socrates does not say that Heraclitean reasoning cannot be completely systematic. He says, though, in the third stage of the seventh, which is the third stage in an account of

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dianoia, that the work dianoia and nous do is praiseworthy (416c). Dianoia and nous can work together, but Socrates suggests and leaves open the possibility that they do not do so necessarily; for formal consistency is no guarantee of the truth of an opinion or argument. Some valid systems lead to knowledge, then, but not all must. It remains uncertain whether the Heraclitean system is valid in the first place. In the eighth and last group of names, Socrates implies an axiom that, if accepted, would overrule the objection to self-contradiction within systematic reasoning. He alludes to Heraclitus’ statement “people do not understand how that which disagrees with itself is in agreement” (DK 22 B 51). It follows from an axiom that disagreement is agreement that anything goes. In his phonological coda to the etymologies Socrates examines what would become of knowledge if he were to accept his self-contradictory Heraclitean system as though it were valid, or, more properly, as though there were no internal test of validity, such as non-self-contradiction. In that case, knowledge has to be the same as non-knowledge, which is absurd. Socrates ambitiously concludes that knowledge is more likely to be of being which does not undergo constant change, which was to be demonstrated, as far as a parody of demonstration can demonstrate it. 1. The Logos in Natural Phenomena; Heraclitean Natural Science 408d–410e: Synopsis The fifth group of names consists of names for heavenly bodies, the elements, and periods of time. The topics in the fifth group are the topics that the man who leaves the cave in the Republic first considers once he has reached the light of day. The Republic passage names only one of the elements, while all five show up in the fifth group of names. Socrates starts it with three etymologies for “sun.” Because Platonic sun imagery is so prominent in the fifth through the eighth group of names, I will treat the etymologies for “sun” at length before proceeding more summarily with the rest of the fifth group. A. Heavenly Motions in Heraclitean Terms: “Sun”; “Moon”; “Month”; “Stars” 408d–409c Like “Hestia” at the outset of the fourth group of names, the sun, helios, opposes fixity to flux: It appears (⁄ȠȚțİ) that the name becomes clear in its Doric form “halios.” “Halios” refers to the sun’s “gathering the people together (IJÕ ¡ȜfȗİȚȞ İeȢ IJĮÙIJÕ)” when he rises, or to his course around the earth in “a constant rolling motion (IJù . . . ¢İi İeȜİlȞ eèȞ),” or indicates that (œȠfțȠȚ) as he moves he “diversifies (ʌȠȚțfȜȜİȚȞ)” the things coming into being (IJ¦

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ȖȚȖȞÒµİȞĮ) from the earth; the verbs “diversify” (ʌȠȚțfȜȜİȚȞ) and “variegate” (ĮeÒȜİȚȞ) are the same (IJĮÙIJÒȞ). (408e–409a) In Republic 6, Socrates says the sun is: offspring of the good which the good begot as an analogue to itself: as the good itself within the realm of intelligibility stands in relation to intellect and what is intelligible, so the sun in the realm of visibility stands in relation to vision and what is visible. (508bc) The sun as generated presides over the realm of generation, the visible realm, though Socrates is careful to say also, “the sun provides generation without being generation itself” (509b). Socrates specifies in these etymologies for “sun” that meaning is only apparently obvious, ⁄ȠȚțİ, œȠfțȠȚ. In doing so, he is suggesting that the sun is itself within the realm of likenesses and of becoming or generation, just where he locates it as an offspring of the good in the Republic. The sun is also a crucial symbol for Heraclitus who, according to Plutarch, calls it the ruler of the defining, ÐȡfȗİȚȞ, of temporal changes and “the seasons (éȡĮȢ) which provide all things” (DK 22 B l00). As G. S. Kirk remarks, “the limits of the quotation are not specifically marked,” and “the fragment is extremely ambiguous in meaning.” He considers that “As the seasons are dependent on the position of the sun it has been placed in this group, but this is more or less arbitrary.”1 In the context of Plutarch’s quotation, though, the sun is doing the arbitration of seasonal process, ÐȡfȗİȚȞ, ȕȡĮȕİÚİȚȞ, and its function is so not likely to be an occasional reference. Plutarch’s detailed paraphrase may well retain more of Heraclitus’ sense than can ever emerge from what are definitely Heraclitus’ own few words within it. Socrates will connect “seasons” with “definition,” ÐȡfȗİȚȞ, at the end of this fifth group of names as well, again using terms that Plutarch connects in his paraphrase of Heraclitus. In its first etymology the sun unifies, in the second it moves constantly in a circle. The etymologies suggest the constant flux and continuous circle images that Heraclitus uses (DK 22 B 12, 103). In the first two etymologies, Socrates cleverly plays on words that sound like helios. The third also has an etymology that sounds like “helios,” ĮeÒȜİȚȞ, but Socrates keeps ĮeÒȜİȚȞ in the background and instead concentrates in his explanation on a synonym for ĮeÒȜİȚȞ. His synonym for it is ʌȠȚțfȜȜİȚȞ, a word he elsewhere closely connects with dianoia. In the third etymology, Plato uses this figurative word to point to the stage of his argument in the etymologies and to show that he is arguing, however humorously, against Heraclitus. Nearly every time Plato discusses astronomy he uses formations from ʌȠițfȜȜİȚȞ, and he does so perhaps most notably in Republic 7 (528e–530b). There Socrates explains to Glaukon the role of astronomy in the education of

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the guardians. This lengthy passage provides interesting parallels to the brief passage from the Cratylus under consideration. First, the Republic passage explicitly refers to the problem of the up and the down, arguably to the thought of Heraclitus. Second, it employs four forms from ʌȠițfȜȜİȚȞ. Third, it treats of paired opposites within symmetry, among them the month and the year, topics that figure crucially in the fifth group of names in the Cratylus. Fourth, it speaks of what logos and dianoia can apprehend. Fifth, it contrasts being with becoming. Glaukon thinks astronomy is worthwhile because it makes the soul look up, ¥ȞȦ. Socrates tells him that in this simple sense it appears more likely to make people look down, țȐIJȦ; for according to Glaukon’s loose interpretation a person staring at the decorations, ʌoȚțfȜµĮIJĮ, on a ceiling with his head thrown back is gaining understanding, ¢ȞĮțÚʌIJȦȞ . . . țĮIJĮµĮȞș£ȞoȚ, notably linking the up and the down. Socrates accordingly rejects learning from the senses, whether employed in gawking upward or blearing downward, ¥ȞȦ . . . À ț£IJȦ. He says that the visual aspects of astronomy cause the soul to look not up but down in a metaphorical sense, ȠÜIJİ ¥ȞȦ ¢ȜȜ¦ ț£IJȦ. In the Republic passage the way up and the way down are first confused, then mistakenly combined, then combined to no purpose, then at last distinguished (529cd). Next, Socrates discusses the philosophical uses of astronomy. He considers the heavenly ornamentation, IJ¦ œȞ IJù oÙȡĮȞù ʌoȚțfȜµĮIJĮ, since it decorates the visible realm, œȞ ÐȡĮIJù ʌİʌoițȓȜIJĮȚ, as the finest of visible things; yet ornamentation is lacking in numerical and systematic truth “available to scientific reasoning (ȜȩȖJ µĜȞ țĮi įȚĮȞofv) but not to sight” (529cd). Socrates then says that the heavens by their variation, ʌoȚțȚȜȓv, supply patterns, ʌĮȡĮįİȓȖµĮıȚ, but it would be ridiculous, ȖİȜoloȞ, to consider these patterns in earnest with the purpose of apprehending the nature of proportions, ıȣµµİIJȡȓĮȢ, like equality and duality. The true astronomer will admire the cosmic artistry, but when he regards its visible proportionings, as of day to night, month to year, the different stars to them and to themselves, he will consider it absurd to say that they are eternal, ȖȓȖȞİıșĮȚ ¢İȓ (530ab). At the close of the third group of names, Socrates found reasoning as persuasive to the followers of Euthyphro, Heraclitean reasoning, laughable, ȖİȜoloȞ. At the outset of the fourth, he considered Heraclitean thought as a hive of wisdom again laughable. As the fifth begins, the sun appears as something perpetual in the realm of becoming, a thing Socrates straightforwardly mocks with the parallel passage from the Republic and its specious reasoning on the way up and the way down. The correspondences between the Cratylus passage and Socrates’ account of astronomy in the Republic help to locate the stage of the argument in the Cratylus with exactitude. In both dialogues, a dianoia of true being opposes mere observation of outward show and celestial variegation, ʌoȚțȓȜȜİȚȞ.

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The first four groups of etymologies concluded with the image of Pan as a logos making a case for and against Heraclitus in the realm of belief, and appositely, the last four groups of etymologies commence with the image of the sun similarly portraying the case for and against Heraclitus in the realm of scientific inquiry. The next three etymologies, for “moon,” “month,” and “star,” elaborate Heraclitean unities. Socrates uses fire images to illustrate the range of a synthesis within the natural sciences. In the etymology for “moon,” he employs a synthesis that goes beyond that of Anaxagoras by name. It amplifies the mistake in the third group of names of ascribing full synthesis of all things to Anaxagoras. Anaxagoras will recur in the argument at the end of the sixth group, there taken properly as an analytic reasoner. The arguments that go beyond Anaxagoras in the fifth group of names express Heraclitean reasoning. Although Heraclitus goes unnamed here, his notions are pervasive. Anaxagoras says, “The sun supplies the moon its brightness” (DK 59 B 18). Socrates refers to this conclusion when he says, “the name of the moon apparently makes old-fashioned what Anaxagoras said just recently, that the moon has its light (IJÕ ijîȢ) from the sun” (409b). This is because moonlight, ıȑȜĮȢ, and light, ijîȢ, are the same, IJĮÙIJȩv. Further, the light around the moon is perpetually old and new, ȃȑoȞ įȑ ʌoȣ țĮi ŸnoȞ ¢eȓ, on the Anaxagorean hypothesis, because as it constantly goes around in a circle, the moon takes on new light while the old light of the previous month is still present (409ab). In his coupling of new and old Socrates is pointing out a union of opposites familiar to an Athenian audience. The “new and old” is the last day of the month in an Athenian calendar, and since ŸnoȢ is an unusual word, it immediately recalls the original sense of the ¼µİȡĮ ŸnȘ țĮi ȞȑĮ, a single day that contained the end of one lunar cycle and the beginning of the next. In his argumentative sleight of hand, Socrates reduces a useful scientific observation to a useless tautology, that sunlight and moonlight are both light. He does this by synthesis, namely, the equating of opposites, and on the assumption of constant change, or, in short, Heraclitean reasoning. Anaxagoras’ new thought becomes old through synthesis of new and old. This specious argument concludes in an extravagant etymology: because it has a light that is always old and new, ıȑȜĮȢ ȞȑoȞ țĮi ŸnoȞ ⁄ȤİȚ ¢İȓ, “moon,” selene, is a compounding of the sounds sela-eno-neo-aeia (409bc). The amused Hermogenes says ironically that this etymology is a dithyrambic piece of work. He appears at last to sense Socrates’ jocularity, though not necessarily its purpose. Next, Socrates says “month” comes from diminution, IJoà µİȚoàıșĮȚ, and the “stars” from “lightning,” since “lightning” is “turning up” because it “turns the eyes upwards”: ¥ıIJȡĮ . . . ¢ıIJȡĮʌȒ . . . ¢nĮıIJȡȑijİȚ . . . ¢nĮıIJȡȫʌȘ (409c). These two etymologies are coupled, µȑȞ . . . įȑ, to represent the paired opposites of decrease and increase, a motion down and a motion back up. Perhaps Socrates is thinking about how the moon or month’s decrease results in the increased visibility of the stars.

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The presence of the lightning recalls that the “Thunderbolt (țİȡĮȣȞȩȢ) governs all things” (DK 22 B 64), as Heraclitus says. He means by thunderbolt “an eternal fire,” according to the doxographer Hippolytus, who preserves the fragment (Refutatio, 9, 10, 7). “Fire” is the next topic in the etymologies and so “lightning” prepares for it. Heraclitus, directly associated lightning, ¢ıIJȡĮʌȒ, with his fiery cosmic principle, according to the doxographer Aëtius, who preserves Heraclitus’ remark about the origin of lightning, ¢ıIJȡĮʌȒ, and its distinction respectively from the thunder, ȕȡoȞIJȒ, and the flash, ʌȡȘıIJȒȡ, in the thunderbolt (DK 22 A 14). Heraclitus’ thunderbolt can contain these three phenomena in itself, and it may be that Aëtius misleads us about Heraclitus’ genuine interests in celestial phenomena.2 Nonetheless, Heraclitus does speak elsewhere of the flash, ʌȡȘıIJȒȡ, as one of fire’s stages (DK 22 B 31). Further, to associate lightning with his fiery cosmic principle would not be unnatural, whether Heraclitus, Socrates, Plato, or Aëtius did it first. Sun, ıȑȜĮȢ, ijîȢ, moonlight, starlight, and lightning are sources of literal and figurative illumination which themselves partake of a common source, namely fire. The eternal cosmic fire of Heraclitus (DK 22 B 30) stands naturally to complete this luminous series in the fifth group of names. Hermogenes asks for its etymology along with that of its physical counterpart, water, µȑȞ . . . įȑ. B. Inexplicable Elements: “Fire”; “Water” 409c–410a For Heraclitus fire is the best of things, water the worst. He gives fire an exalted place in the cosmos (DK 22 B 30) and says the life of the soul depends on its kinship with fire and its avoidance of water (DK 22 B 77, 36). For Heraclitus the fiery must rule the watery. The two cannot be synthesized like other pairs of opposites. The fiery thunderbolt steers all things (DK 22 B 64) and so balances all oppositions but does not itself undergo synthesis with anything. Here in the fifth group of names, though, Socrates proceeds to treat the names for fire and water indistinguishably, as from a single language source of barbaric origin. This suggests a unity fatal for Heraclitean thought, a potential for a synthesis of differences that Heraclitus excludes. Socrates generates just such self-contradiction within Heraclitean reasoning throughout the second half of the etymological section of the Cratylus. When he here connects fire and water he hints at the kind of synthesis to come, one that will bring down the Heraclitean unity of opposites from within, on its own terms. Socrates says he is at a loss to explain the name for fire, IJÕ ʌàȡ ¢ʌoȡî. His Euthyphronic muse has deserted him or the thing is just too difficult. Still, he says he has a device, µȘȤĮȞȒ, to use whenever he is at such a loss. The Greeks, especially those living near the barbarians, have borrowed many words from them. Socrates warns against trying to etymologize a barbarian word in Greek parlance as a native Greek word. Such a word is “fire,” a word

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nearly the same as one the Phrygians employ, as are “water” and “dogs” and many others. One must avoid forcing, ʌȡoıȕȚȐȗİıșĮȚ, an interpretation of the words, since someone else may be able to explain them “and so I dispense (¢ʌȦșoàµĮȚ) with fire and water” (409d–410b). First, IJÕ ʌàȡ ¢ʌoȡî is only wordplay. Socrates employs IJÕ ʌàȡ ¢ʌoȡî to suggest the kind of etymology he could contrive in order to bring out some principle of Heraclitean philosophy within this central Heraclitean word. ȆȩȡoȢ, as a bridge or means for avoiding water, would do. Next, he distinguishes his aporia from complete resourcelessness, since he still has a mechane to resolve the difficulty. This points to the systematic character of the aporia at hand, instead of some real difficulty Socrates has at this point. When next Socrates says “fire” is the kind of word especially people living near the barbarians borrow, he suggests that Heraclitus of Ephesus, with all his contempt for barbarians, may in fact owe to them one of his main ideas. Scholarship confirms that Heraclitus does owe much to those he would have considered barbarians.3 Still, Socrates’ account of “fire” is merely suggestive in indefinable ways of problems within what Heraclitus says. When he next says that the Phrygians have a slightly different form of the same word, as they do for “water” and “dogs,” Socrates makes these problems more definite. On the one hand, he provides a useful insight into linguistic borrowings and cognate words; on the other, he makes plain yet another unity of opposites. In the etymology for “sun,” Socrates introduced the Doric dialect to explain something. A page later at the end of a series from “sun” to “fire,” he introduces the language of Phrygia to elucidate why he cannot explain something. Two tongues have opposite powers of synthesis within the argument at hand in the fifth group of names. Both deal with opposites, but the Doric does so by clarifying the sun’s drawing together all things, while the Phrygian does so by relegating the opposition of fire and water to the realm of the unknown. Elsewhere for Plato the Doric and Phrygian themselves represent opposite musical modes. In Republic 3, 389a ff., Plato has Socrates accept of the musical modes or harmonies only the Doric and the Phrygian, the one to inspire courage in forced activity, ȕȚĮȓJ œȡȖĮıȓv, the other moderation in the full exercise of freedom, µ¾ ȕȚĮȓJ ¢ȜȜ’ œn œțoȣıȓv. At the conclusion of this politically useful musical censorship, Socrates swears “by the dog” at the thought of a polis purged of vice by music (399e). In the Cratylus Socrates says one must not force, ʌȡoıȕȚȐȗİıșĮȚ, these Phrygian words, “fire,” “water,” and “dogs,” into Greek etymologies. The Phrygian mode musically expresses the unforced activities of life. When he wishes to avoid forcing an interpretation of Heraclitean fiery principle, it makes sense that Socrates appeals to what is Phrygian. Here Socrates uses a mechane to avoid mentioning “fire” and “water.” He couples them as Phrygian. Only by fiat can he avoid generating self-contradictions within his Hera-

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clitean system. In a system that identifies opposites, nothing prevents the combination of fire and water, even if Heraclitus insists on keeping them apart. Socrates can only maintain the Heraclitean system in a nonscientific manner by avoiding the issue and by leaving a great gap in his exposition. The coupling of “fire” and “water” as Phrygian words still intimates the problem at hand. “Dogs” also can serve to recall the same Republic passage, where Socrates swears “by the dog.” After sidestepping a crucial problem for the reckoning of Heraclitean dianoia, Socrates says “so I rid myself (¢ʌȦșoàµĮȚ) of fire and water.” In the fourth group of names, motion, çșoàn in the “Hestia” etymology, is the principle of Heraclitean constant motion. If only playfully, Socrates has introduced countermotion, ¢ʌȦșoàȞ, within his Heraclitean dianoia. He has presented the potential for self-contradiction in his Heraclitean system. From this central crux, he proceeds with the same alacrity in derivation with which he proceeded to it in the fifth group. Fire symbols led up to the insoluble “fire” and “water” names, and water symbols lead away from them, in a balancing series. C. Explicable Elements: “Air”; “Ether”; “Earth” 410ab In the next etymologies, for “air,” “ether,” and “earth,” Socrates introduces some Heraclitean images for the realm of becoming. He asks Hermogenes what he thinks air signifies, whether “raising things from the earth (ĮhȡİȚ),” “eternal flux (¢İi ˛İl),” or “breath begotten of the flux (œȟ ĮÙIJoà ȖȓȖȞİIJĮȚ ˛ȑoȞIJoȢ), as the poets’ word for winds (¢ȒIJĮȢ) also expresses.” In the first etymology Socrates explains “air” as something that separates and raises. In the second and third etymologies “air” is synthetic and Heraclitean as it manifests the flux. Next, Socrates aligns “ether” with the perpetual flux, because ether is “always running in a flowing motion about the air (¢İi șİl ʌİȡi IJÕn ¢ȑȡĮ ˛ȑȦȞ).” Since by this account ether runs, it also recalls the “running” gods at the opening of the third group of names, who receive their name from the analogy with the planetary motions. “Earth” in its turn is the “begetter,” ȖİȞȞȒIJİȚȡĮ, as Homer’s language illustrates (4l0bc). At the outset of the fourth group of names, the notions of Heraclitus appeared to Socrates quite consistent with those of Homer, Hesiod, Orpheus, and the other poets. In the fifth group also, Socrates links Heraclitean doctrines to those of Homer and other unnamed poets. With these etymologies, Socrates equates the realm of becoming with the realm of flux. So far, Heraclitus makes sense to Socrates. Socrates, though, again equates the views of Heraclitus with those of the bards Heraclitus disdained. That far Socrates would not make sense to Heraclitus.

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D. The Natural Cycles in Accord with Logos: “Seasons”; “Year” 410ce To complete the long list of names Hermogenes requested as this fifth group of names began, Socrates must explain only “seasons” and “year.” Hermogenes makes a point of asking him for two different names for year, instead of the single one he proposed initially. Again, the seasons and the year are what the man out of the cave in Republic 7 considers last, only after he has considered most of the other subjects of the fifth group. He conceives them as manifestations of the sun’s ordering in the realm of visibility, IJù ÐȡȦµȑȞJ IJȩʌù, before he leaves that realm (516c). Socrates says that if one wants to know the probable truth, IJÕ İețÕȢ İeįȑnĮȚ, about the “seasons,” the old Attic spelling is crucial, ÓȡĮȚ, since the seasons divide, ÐȡȓȗİȚȞ, winter and summer, winds and fruits of the earth (4l0c). Heraclitus speaks of “the seasons which bring all things” (DK 22 B 100). In the passage from which this fragment comes (Plut.Quaest. Plat. 8, 4, 1007d), Plutarch says that the sun rules and guards the defining, ÐȡȓȗİȚȞ, of temporal changes and “the seasons which bring all things.” Heraclitus himself, then, may well have meant to connect ÐȡȓȗİȚȞ and ÓȡĮȚ, and so Plato may be alluding to him again in the Cratylus.4 Although its provenance in the writings of Heraclitus is uncertain, this etymology still shows what IIIA is doing in the whole argument of the etymologies. “Seasons” plainly belongs within the realm of becoming and opinion. In this realm, it provides an İețȩȢ İeįȑnĮȚ, a likeness of knowledge. The first of the four stages of dianoia here is itself like the first of the four stages of the divided line, İețĮıȓĮ. Socrates next turns to the two names for the year, ⁄IJoȢ and œnȚĮȣIJȩȢ. [These names] appear to be one thing (Ÿn IJȚ); for the year is that which brings into the light things that grow and come into being each in its turn and that which in itself examines the things (ĮÙIJÕ œn ĮÙIJù œxİIJȐȗon). This name is divided, just as previously the name of “Zeus” was split in two, some saying “Zena,” others “Dia.” Some say œnȚĮȣIJȩn because it exists “in itself,” and others say “⁄IJoȢ” because it “examines.” The entire definition (ȜȩȖoȢ), “the thing examining within itself,” is named as one thing in two ways, so there exist two names from a single definition (œȟ ŒnÕȢ ȜȩȖoȣ). (410de) Both names for year derive from a logos for it, one thing in two ways. The single logos is dual. This is like the Logos of Heraclitus that equates contraries, and like his One which is wisdom that harmonizes differences, “willing and unwilling to be called by the name of Zeus” (DK 22 B 32). Socrates refers to its dual logos and calls it a twofold one. By comparing “year” to “Zeus” Socrates indicates that this two-part logos must have to make sense in terms of dianoia and nous, in the same way he said “Zeus” ought to previously. Socrates has here suggested limits on any logos that unites distinctions.

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Socrates has given his Heraclitean accounts of topics of elementary natural science. In them, he has reached to a systematic likelihood or possibility, eikos; the fifth group of names in four stages provides a first stage of systematic reasoning. In “sun,” “moon,” “month,” and “stars,” Socrates points to the vivid appearances of flux in nature. In “fire” and “water,” he avoids contradicting Heraclitus, who insisted that this one pair of elements with opposite qualities is not a unity. Next, the assumption of flux results methodically in a sort of liquid “earth,” “ether,” and “air.” Finally, Socrates points to the possibility of knowledge in “seasons” and a scientific equivalent of the “Zeus”-logos, “year.” Socrates hints at an alternative system based on the assumption of fixity instead of flux throughout the fifth group as well. “Sun” by reference to decoration, ʌoȚțȓȜȜİȚȞ, implies the unreliability and even unreality of phenomena in the realm of flux. “Fire” and “water” intimate self-contradiction within Heraclitean systems. “Air,” “ether,” and “earth” illustrate Heraclitus’ views in accord with those of poets whom he disdained. “Year” as a logos must by implication accord with dianoia and nous, so that it must not be selfcontradictory, even though twofold in name.

Names

Name Group 5: The logos in natural phenomena 408d–410e Heraclitean Themes Divided-Line Stages

“Sun” Cf. Pl.Rep. 528b ff., DK 100

Appearances

“Moon” “Month” and “Stars” DK A 14

Constant flux, cosmic ornamentation ever old and new, different lights the same diminution, increase lightning bolt

“Fire,” “Water,” “Dogs” Cf. Pl.Rep. 389a ff.

barbaric unity? Selfcontradictory unity?

Beliefs which are not examinable

“Air”

Separation or flux, becoming constant flux realm of becoming

Systematic consequences of these beliefs

Definition, knowing Possible unity a 2-in-1 Logos like previous faulty “Zeus” synthesis

Self-referential abstraction ĮÙIJÕ œn ĮÙIJù œxİIJȐȗȠȞ

“Ether” “Earth” “Seasons” DK 22 A 100 “Year” (2) DK 22 A 32 Cf. Pl.Rep. 516ab

2. The Logos in Thought and Behavior 411a–413e: Synopsis Hermogenes asks to hear about the names connected with virtue next. Socrates, says he has donned the lion’s skin, ȜİonIJˇn. In a passage of the Gorgias

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(507c–508c), Socrates mentions seven of ten of the topics that open the sixth group of names. There may be an allusion to Gorgias of Leontini along with one to Herakles in the use of the term ȜİonIJˇn. Socrates proceeds into this next domain of science, saying that he thinks he divines, įoțî µĮvIJȑȣİıșĮȚ, the state or condition of mind in which the ancient namemakers assigned these names. They were, he says, caught up in the flux of their perceptions. In this way they were just like contemporary philosophers who lose any sense of what is unchanging, and so consider everything to be in flux, motion, and the process of becoming, ˛İkn țĮi ijȑȡİıșĮȚ țĮi µİıIJ¦ İŮȞĮȚ ʌȐıȘȢ ijȠȡ©Ȣ țĮi ȖİȞȑıİȦȢ ¢İf (411ac). Socrates is speaking from his opinion about the convictions of the namemakers. He is relying, or pretending to rely, on prophetic insight. Since he is entering a second divided line stage in his elaboration of dianoia, it makes sense that Socrates discusses the systematic consequences of assuming the flux not only as if they were opinions and convictions, but also as if his understanding of them was itself an opinion. Socrates began to elaborate dianoia by discussing natural science, which is about observable phenomena. Next, he proceeds to ethical science, which is about belief or conviction. A. Intellectual States and Objects in Keeping with the Logos: Names Relating Knowledge to the Good 411a–412b Socrates starts out with eight quick etymologies to express consequences of assuming the flux. I have translated the etymologies directly here. A list of the rapid series that opens the sixth group of names (at 411d–412c) will speak for itself: good sense

ijȡȩnȘıȚȢ

“knowledge of flux and change; benefit of motion

judgment

ȖnȫµȘ

“consideration of generation”

intelligence

nȩȘıȚȢ

“apprehension of newness”

self-control knowledge

ıȦijȡȦıȪnȘ œʌȚıIJȒµȘ

understanding

ıȪnİıȚȢ

wisdom

ıoijȓĮ

“the preservation of phronesis” “attendance of the soul worthy of the logos on things in flux” “a sort of syllogism” derived from “the soul’s going along with things” “touching of rapid movement”

the good

¢ȖĮșȩn

“a speed that is admirable”

Socrates in these etymologies emphasizes sense perception. He refers to sight, touch, and symbol: ıțȑȥȚȢ, {ʌĮijȒ, {ijȐʌIJİıșĮȚ, ıȘµĮȓnİȚ, (3 uses). He also plays on combination or synthesis within the flux by employing six ıȣncompounds. He uses distinctly Heraclitean language in the etymology of

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episteme: œʌoµȑnȘȢ IJÁȢ ȥȣȤÁȢ IJÁȢ ¢ȟȓĮȢ ȜȩȖoȣ, which recalls Heraclitus’ account of logos in Fragment 2, ǻȚÕ įİl ⁄ʌİıșĮȚ IJù ȟȣȞù . . . IJoà ȜȩȖȠȣ į’ ⁄ȠȞIJȠȢ ȟȣȞȠà.5 The reference to a Spartan named Sous in the etymology for “wisdom” is puzzling. Victor Goldschmidt points out that sous is a Democritean term (DK 68 A 62. Also Arist., de Caelo, 313b5), that Democritus’ notion that all perception is a form of touch (DK 68 A 119) corresponds with Socrates’ explanation of sophia, and that a shortly subsequent etymology, ȖȣȞȒ as ȖȣȞȒ, derives from Democritus (DK 68 B 122a).6 Notoriously, Plato never mentions Democritus by name in his writings. There may be an oblique reference to him here. B. Swift Justice Consistent with the Zeus-logos: “Justice” 412c–413a Socrates turns from his etymologies that invoke sense perception to those which appeal to a consensus of opinion. “Justice (įȚțĮȚȠıȣȞȒ)” as “understanding of the just (IJÍ IJȠà įȚțĮȓȠȣ ıȣȞȑıİȚ)” is in line with the immediately preceding etymologies, since it includes “understanding (ıȪȞİıȚȢ).” Socrates says, though, that “the just itself,” ĮÙIJÕ įĜ IJÕ įȓțĮȚȠȞ, is hard to understand, because people agree, еȠȜȠȖİlıșĮȚ, about it up to a point, but then have doubts and disagree, ¢µijȚıȕȘIJİlıșĮȚ. Those who believe, ¹ȖoàvIJĮȚ, that all is in flux say that what moves through everything is justice, įȚĮȧȩȞ is įȓțĮȚȠȞ. Through this justice all generated things come into existence, IJ¦ ȖȚȖȞȩµİȞĮ ȖȓȖȞİıșĮȚ. Justice moves so quickly that other things, by comparison, appear at rest, éıʌİȡ ŒıIJîıȚ. This justice also governs, ĠʌȚIJȡȠʌİȪİȚ, all things as it passes through them. Socrates reports on his investigation of justice beyond this point of general agreement. Through persistent questioning he has heard that this causal justice is Zeus, ǻȓĮ, since that through which, įȚ’ Ö, things come to be is a cause. Socrates says he got this notion from secret teachings, presumably in sacred mystery rites (412c–413a). While he does not say that he has anything more than an opinion about justice, Socrates is blatantly setting up a straw-man argument. Justice here is a moving force, įȚĮȧȩȞ, a cause in and for the world of becoming, IJ¦ ȖȚȖvȩµİȞĮ ȖȓȖȞİıșĮȚ, the domain of flux, because Socrates is constructing his etymologies to bear out the hypothesis of flux. He reports the disagreement about justice because the hypothesis of flux confuses the discussion of justice. By pointing out the confusion that follows from the hypothesis of flux, he suggests his preference for the alternative hypothesis, unchanging essence, which provides for unchanging justice. Socrates’ report of the view that justice is Zeus, įȚ’ Ö as ǻȓĮ, directly recalls the earlier etymological treatment of Zeus, ǻȓĮ as įȚ’ ÓȞ (396b), where Zeus as a logos stands for the Logos of Heraclitus. There for Zeus to be a logos he explicitly had to descend from dianoia and nous, and so from Socrates’ and not Hesiod’s Kronos and Ouranos. By implication, the Logos of

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Heraclitus, to be a genuine logos, also has to derive from or be consistent with dianoia and nous as stages of Plato’s divided line analogy. Here, by implication, for there to be an account of a justice which is Zeus, it must also meet the line’s same strict requirements. C. The Just as Sunlike and Systematic of Discord: “the Just” 413ad Socrates reports that when he tries to examine justice further, he hears from others that he is going too far and that they think he has heard enough. Beyond that, one tells him one thing, and another tells him another, so that they confuse him by their lack of agreement, ȠÙțȑIJȚ ıȣµijȦȞȠàıȚȞ. Among those who disagree, Socrates finds someone who thinks justice is the sun, someone else who thinks justice is fire, ĮÙIJÕ IJÕ ʌàȡ, and someone else who thinks justice is heat, ĮÙIJÕ IJÕ șİȡµȩȞ. Finally he meets someone who laughs at these three notions and thinks that justice is Anaxagorean Nous “for justice is selfruling (ĮÙIJȠțȡȐIJȠȡĮ Ȗ¦ȡ ĮÙIJȩȞ), unmixed, and ordering all things while passing through them.” Socrates expresses his confusion at such disagreement and Hermogenes remarks that Socrates does not appear to be speaking off the cuff, ĮÙIJȠıȤİįȚȐȗİȚȞ (413bd). Hermogenes has noticed for the reader that Socrates has not just made up his report of these different views on the spur of the moment. Socrates’ references and allusions in this passage are in fact extremely careful and deliberate. Sun, fire, and heat in the fire as controlling forces are reminders of Heraclitus, who says that the sun regulates the seasons (DK 22 A 100), that fire constitutes the cosmos (DK 22 A 30), and that the best souls are dry (DK 22 B 118). Ironically, Heraclitus’ ordering principle is one source of disorder and disagreement here. It tends toward an analysis or breakdown instead of a synthesis of opinion. Also ironically, fire, which in the fifth group of names Socrates could not explain without making dianoia based on flux impossible, here in the sixth group explains things in a way that only results in confusion. While gibing at Heraclitus, Socrates uses a particular kind of analysis. This is abstraction of a thing in itself, IJÕ ĮÙIJȩ, an essence separate from all things and in a state of changelessness instead of constant change. Socrates’ use of ĮÙIJȩ in this passage recalls how he uses it in the Phaedo, and his account of his search for a causal justice here in the Cratylus similarly suggests what he reports in the Phaedo. Goldschmidt notes the correspondences between causes in the Phaedo, 96ab, and in the Cratylus, 413a, leading from fire to Anaxagorean nous, but does not remark on ĮÙIJȩ in the two passages.7 Earlier in the Phaedo, when Socrates discusses how the soul can be an abstract thing in itself, ĮÙIJĥȞ țĮș’ ĮÙIJȒȞ, he first asks if an abstract justice exists, įȓțĮȚȠȞ ĮÙIJȩ (64d). Justice in the Phaedo is the single most obvious candidate for abstract being. Accordingly Plato’s term of abstract existence, ĮÙIJȩ, permeates Socrates’ discussion of justice in the Cratylus.

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In the Phaedo at an exactly similar point when he is examining cause within nature, Socrates turns away from Heraclitean confusion to the Anaxagorean mind and there likewise fails to find out how to resolve his difficulties. Socrates in the Phaedo (96a ff.) says that when he was young he desired “to know the causes on account of which each thing comes into being (įȚ¦ IJȓ ȖȓȖȞİIJĮȚ) passes away, and exists.” While engaged in this consideration, ıțȠʌîn, he often fell into turmoil, confusion of the up and down, ¥ȞȦ țȐIJȦ, because he could not discern whether a combination of hot, șİȡµȩȞ, and cold was the cause of nourishment; blood, air, or fire, ʌàȡ, a cause of thought; or the brain, œȖțȑijĮȜȠȢ, a cause of perception, memory, opinion, and knowledge. He further sought cause when he pondered heavenly and earthly phenomena. At this point, Socrates says, he heard that the causative nous of Anaxagoras was an ordering principle, įȚĮțȠıµîȞ; he looked to it as an account of cause and necessity that would explain not only why things happen as they do, but also why they should. For this he was ready to abandon the search for any other kind of cause, ĮeIJȓĮȢ ¢ȜȜo İŮįoȢ. He wanted to learn about the sun, moon, and stars in this way, as he says, as if to learn an astronomy establishing the primacy of the mind and the difference between the better and the worse, but ultimately found Anaxagoras far from providing what he was after (96a–98c). Socrates expresses cause in the Cratylus, įȚ’ Ö Ȗ¦ȡ ȖȓȖȞİIJĮȚ (413a), in nearly the same way that he does in the Phaedo, įȚ¦ IJȓ ȖȓȖȞİIJĮȚ (96a). He expresses confusion in the Phaedo in Heraclitean terms, ¥nȦ țȐIJȦ, likewise the source of the confusion in the Cratylus. Socrates’ series of possible causes in the Phaedo includes in varied order the types of the four causative meanings of justice in the Cratylus, temperature, elemental constitution, intellectual perception, and celestial phenomena. Heat and fire, two of the available causative senses of justice in the Cratylus, are both examples of cause in the Phaedo. The other two, mind and sun, are also in the Phaedo passage. Socrates later compares the dangerous effects of such ruminations on cause to gazing too long at an eclipse of the sun (Phaedo 99d). Socrates’ four accounts of justice lead to abstract nous and in so doing they suggest a sort of divided-line system. Socrates does not invoke this system or abandon the Heraclitean hypothesis here, but he does hint at selfcontradiction within a Heraclitean system. Here where flux leads to confusion, the Anaxagorean laughs. Before, Socrates found an etymology laughable, which followed from a mistaken coupling of Anaxagorean nous with soul (400ab). Here where nous is properly in isolation and Socrates cannot use it to make a case for Heraclitean reasoning, Heraclitean justice appears ridiculous to the follower of Anaxagoras.

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D. A Counter-flux: the Differences of the Sexes; “Courage”; “Male”; “Man”; “Woman”; “Female” 413de Socrates maintains the Heraclitean system in spite of the claims that his is a rival system, but to do so, he must generate self-contradiction within the flux. “Justice,” according to its Heraclitean etymology, is “penetrating through,” įȚĮȧȩȞ. Its opposite, “injustice,” must then involve “hindrance of passage,” says Socrates, and he speaks of it no further (413de). Nonetheless, he has brought it in for some purpose. That injustice is hindrance is the consequence, for ethics, of assuming the flux within the realm of belief just as in the realm of observable natural phenomena. That injustice is a hindrance becomes a criterion for the truth of succeeding etymologies. Next: Courage, on the assumption that courage takes its name by reference to battle, indicates a battle within being (IJù ÔnIJȚ) because being is in flux, which is nothing other than the counter-flux (IJ¾n œnĮȞIJȓĮȞ ˛oȒȞ). If we remove the delta from the name (¢ȞįȡİlĮ) for courage, the name itself (ĮÙIJÕ IJÕ ÔȞȠµĮ) signifies its activity, (¢Ȟ-ȡİȓĮ), the “upward flux.” Courage is plainly not a counter-flux opposed to all flux, but only that flowing against justice; for courage would not be praiseworthy otherwise. (413e–414a) These are quite strange things to derive from the statements of Heraclitus. Socrates’ counter-flux is at best an extension, if not an outright parody, of Heraclitean reasoning. Here the flux becomes multiple and the way up is different from the way down. “Courage” also recalls the etymology for “Ares” in the fourth stage of the fourth group of names (407d). Ares takes his name according to manhood and courage, IJÕ ¥ȡȡİȞ . . . IJÕ ¢ȞįȡİlȠȞ, while he is himself opposed to flux and steadfast, ¢µİIJȐıIJȡȠijȠȞ. The flux flows against itself. So far from being within sameness, the up and the down are at war within the flux in this etymology for “courage.” Heraclitean language contradicts Heraclitean thought in the etymology for “courage,” much as it did in the case of Pan, who showed the up and the down of logos being separate within one thing. The etymology for “courage” compounds the confusion by compounding the Heraclitean way up and the way down with the imagery of the flux. Next Socrates in the etymologies for “male,” “man,” “woman,” and “female,” suggests the philosophical character of the battle in the realm of being that he has discovered. In these etymologies, Socrates bridges the sixth and seventh groups of names. These etymologies exemplify the problem that the sixth group sets for the seventh in the etymology of “courage.” Their topical unity with the rest of the words in the sixth group resides solely in their etymological force. “Male” and “man” are referred to the upward flux of courage, IJÍ ¥nȦ ˛oÍ. “Woman” expresses birth, ȖȠȞȒ, and “female” the “nipple” because of being nurtured like a field, șÁȜȣ as șȘȜȒ (414a). “Male” and “female” are in an opposition

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here which figures forth the opposition between the philosophy of fixity and the philosophy of flux, a counter-flux versus the realm of becoming and wellwatered fields, IJ¦ ¢ȡįȩµİȞĮ. Socrates at the end of the sixth group of names has shifted abruptly from sublime to mundane topics for his etymologies. He introduces complications from everyday life into his Heraclitean system. When Socrates moves from “justice in itself” to “man” and “woman,” he follows a pattern of argument that he also uses in the Parmenides. The seventh group will complete the pattern from the Parmenides that begins in the sixth. In the sixth and seventh groups Socrates addresses to Hermogenes and Cratylus the problem that Parmenides in the dialogue, and perhaps also in fact, set for him as a young man.8 Near the beginning of the Parmenides Socrates discusses the being of abstract form, İŮįȠȢ ĮÙIJÕ țĮș’ ĮÙIJȩ with Parmenides and Zeno (130c ff.) In this passage, Socrates postulates the reality of the eidos in itself. Parmenides asks him what things have this eidos he is talking about; first, whether justice, beauty, and the good do; then whether man, fire, and water do; and finally, whether hair, mud, and filth do. The young Socrates affirms the existence of eide or forms for the first group, cannot make up his mind about it for the second group, and denies it to the third. Parmenides attributes this last view to Socrates’ youth and misplaced regard for the world’s opinion of him, and goes on to suggest that Socrates will alter his opinion someday. Next, Parmenides makes Socrates explain how the forms, being entire in many things at once, are not thereby separate from themselves. Socrates replies by a comparison to the day, one and the same, ¹µȑȡĮ µȓĮ țĮi ĮÙIJȒ, while in many places at once. In turn, Parmenides makes light of this argument by comparing such formal participation to a sail covering many people at once, as individuals by parts of the sail, not as each person by all of the sail (131c). The topics in the sixth and seventh groups of names proceed along the same six steps observable in the Parmenides. Socrates begins the sixth group with obviously Heraclitean senses in etymologies for names for the good, just, and virtuous, and closely related subjects. Plato’s Parmenides asks Socrates about the formal status of these same things first among those they consider together. Socrates concludes the sixth group by considering humanity and water, and so renders the Heraclitean hypothesis of flux an ambiguous one. Just so, Parmenides by his second inquiry, into the forms or eide of men, fire, water, provides an aporia for Socrates. Next, the seventh group contains several mundane anomalies to correspond with Parmenides’ examples of baseness in his third set of candidates for form. The first of these in the Cratylus, “flourishing,” expresses “youth,” IJ¾n ĮÜȟȘȞ . . . IJ¾Ȟ IJîȞ ȞȑȦȞ, the exact cause according to Parmenides that Socrates denies participation in form to mundane matters. Toward the end of the seventh group another apparent anomaly, “day,” introduces, as I explain presently, the way in which Socrates counters the theory of flux. It there represents an attempt at a defense of the theory of

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forms just as it does in the Parmenides. Finally, just as Parmenides counters Socrates’ Heraclitean daylight image with an image taken from a trade, the sail, so Socrates in the Cratylus follows up “day,” itself alone not adequately counter-Heraclitean, by referring to another common tool, the yoke; by means of “yoke,” he establishes the principle discrediting the Heraclitean hypothesis in the seventh group. The seventh group, then, while consisting of topics so dissimilar as at first to appear random, in fact springs directly, according to this pattern in common with the Parmenides, from the sixth group.

Name

Name Group 6: Heraclitean Logos in thought and behavior, 411a–413e Etymology Divided-Line Stage

“Phronesis” “Judgment” “Intelligence” “Self-control” “Knowledge” “Understanding” “Wisdom” “The good”

motion generation constant change preservation of phronesis flux, DK 22 B 2 syllogism, going along with flux penetrating and admirable motion

Heraclitean senses of perceptions

“Justice”

understanding the just

Opinions in accord

“The just” Cf. Phaedo, 96a–98c (Sun, fire, heat, mind; Anaxagoras)

penetrating motion

Fourfold system or disagreement?

“Courage” “Male”; “man” “Female”; “woman”

counterflux counterflux becoming, water (as verb)

Separation of up from down—and of Socrates from Heraclitus?

The seventh group of names will next complete the nearly formulaic series of topics and problems for the notions of the forms that Parmenides’ thought set for the youthful Socrates. Socrates is setting the same series of problems for Heraclitus’ thought in the etymological section. Plato employs the series of problems consciously in the Cratylus and the Parmenides. Why this correspondence? What do the two dialogues have otherwise to do with each other? The two dialogues are in many respects utterly and dramatically different, the first full of its easy-going puns and linguistic games, the second full of its strict paralogisms and argumentative struggles. Perhaps just as sport

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was preparation for combat for the Greeks, its opposite and its counterpart, so, too, the playful Cratylus prepares readers for the arduous Parmenides. The chart above shows the full pattern of the sixth group of names, and the terms of an ethical and intellectual science as expressible according to an assumed Heraclitean flux. 3. The logos for Contrariety and Opposition: Axiomatic Heraclitean Good 414a–418d: Synopsis The sixth group of names concludes by opposing the flux to itself in “courage,” by opposing fixity to flux in “man” and “woman,” and by opposing the exalted and abstract to the ordinary by moving from “justice in itself” to “man” and “woman.” In the seventh group, Socrates undertakes to account for such different kinds of oppositions without abandoning the hypothesis of flux. At the end of the seventh group, Socrates has to abandon an idea agathou, “a kind of good thing,” in order to sustain his system of flux. This “kind of good thing” is resistant to motion, as is the idea of the good in the Republic. Accordingly, to explain oppositions by way of the perpetual flux, Socrates must oppose the Platonic account of goodness. Otherwise, he would have to contradict his account of goodness as motion in the sixth group. He would have to accept contradictory consequences within his axiomatic system. Socrates denies the potential contradiction in order to preserve the axiom. Plainly, though, Socrates thinks that the hypothesis of flux and the idea of the good are mutually exclusive. A. Same and Different Arts of Imitation: “Flourishing”; “Craft” 414ad In the first etymology in the seventh group of names, Socrates provides a synthesis to accommodate the analysis concluding the sixth group, where men represent separation within flux and women represent becoming and flux: “Flourishing” itself (șȐȜȜİȚv) figures forth (¢ʌİȚțȐȗİȚv) the increase of youth because of being (ȖȓȖvİIJĮȚ) swift and sudden. This process is imitated (µİµȓµȘIJĮȚ) in the name, a compound (ıȣnĮȡµȩıĮȢ) from “running” and “springing.” (4l4ab). Here a harmony, ıȣȞĮȡµȩıĮȢ, consistent with the etymology for goodness, “a speed that is admirable,” appears in the realm of becoming, ȖȓȖȞİIJĮȚ, at the stage of philosophical likeness-making, ¢ʌİȚțȐȗİȚȞ, µİµȓµȘIJĮȚ, on the divided line. After “flourishing,” Socrates next resolves “craft,” IJȑȤȞȘ, into “habit of mind,” ŸȟȚȞ Ȟoà, by taking away one letter and adding two others, a method Hermogenes regards as slapdash. In his defense of this etymology Socrates discusses how words gain and lose letters according to pronunciation change in the examples “mirror,” țĮIJȩʌIJȡov, and “sphinx.” The first has, only for ease in pronunciation, acquired a rho (˛), with the result that nobody can un-

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derstand, ıȣȞİlnĮȚ, the name’s meaning. The second has new, and apparently useless, letters, namely sigma (ı) and nu (Ȟ), added to the Greek word ijȓȟ, a Hesiodic form, as Socrates says, and the proper one. What Socrates is saying about these words has philosophical purpose here. The letter ˛ in țĮIJȩʌIJȡȠȞ, as Socrates will soon stress (426c), signifies the motion of the flux. “Sphinx” by reference to Hesiod’s form signifies opposition to the flux, since Hesiod and Heraclitus are in opposition earlier in the dialogue (396b). Further, though Socrates does not derive it from sphingein, “to tighten,” the later form “sphinx” by its ready association with that verb can also suggest the philosophic principle opposed to the flux of Heraclitus, binding or fixity. Socrates is by intimation preparing to oppose the axiom of flux by the use of these two examples. When Socrates mentions “mirror” and “sphinx” along with “craft,” he gives examples that correspond to the way the Eleatic Stranger divides likeness-making techniques, technai, in the Sophist (235d–236c and 265d–266d). Representational likeness-making, İețĮıIJȚțȩȞ, there retains the dimensions of what it copies, although it reverses the way we perceive them, œȞĮȞIJȓĮȞ, when it reflects or shadows them; illusory or apparent likeness-making, ijĮȞIJĮıIJȚțȩȞ, distorts upper, IJ¦ ¥ȞȦ, and lower, IJ¦ țȐIJȦ, proportions when it depicts figures gigantically. “Mirror” can represent accurate likeness-making and the flux at once, while “sphinx” can represent fantastical imitation and fixity. What distorts the appearances of reality in the Sophist also separates up from down. This may suggest that Socrates is distorting his counterHeraclitean position in the Cratylus. What does not distort, though, leads to opposition in the Sophist, œȞĮȞIJȓĮȞ. This in turn may suggest that the Heraclitean account also leads to contradiction in the Cratylus. Both things are true: Socrates distorts his view to sustain the Heraclitean account and he does produce contradictions from that account here in the first stage of the seventh group of names. Before Socrates leaves this discussion of likenesses and likeness-making, he points out that by letter-changes we can connect any name to any thing, (414d). To add letters can confuse; in the case here, the letter rho, ˛, the symbol of flux, can confuse. Accordingly, Socrates warns Hermogenes to use this technique with restraint in order to preserve fitness or likelihood, IJÕ İețȩȢ (414e), that semblance of knowledge on the first stage of the divided line. Hermogenes wants to preserve this likelihood, ȕȠȣȜȠȓµȘȞ ¥n, as does Socrates, ıȣµȕȠȪȜȠµĮȚ. B. The Mechanistic Solution to Contradiction: “Device”; “Cowardice”; “Virtue”; “Vice” 414e–415e In this stage, Socrates relies on agreement and opinion to argue for his etymologies. First Socrates derives “device,” mechane, from “magnitude,”

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µÁțȠȢ, and “hasten,” ¥ȞİȚȞ, which is the kind of motion he thinks that it indicates, įoțİl (415a). Socrates has here connected “device,” mechane, with motion, which so opposes his linking of “craft” with steadfastness earlier in this group of names. After he considers “cowardice,” in the etymologies for “virtue” and “vice” Socrates introduces a technique or craft to account for “virtue,” but must resort to his mechane of barbaric origin from the fifth group of names to explain “vice.” Socrates expresses his regard for techne, and its philosophical importance for him. At the same time, he expresses his disdain for mechane, and its spuriousness as a philosophical method. First, though, Socrates gives an etymology for “cowardice” which bears out the identification of badness with rest that the Heraclitean good implied in the sixth group of names. “Since all things are in motion,” says Socrates, “badness consists in moving badly (IJÕ țĮțîȢ eȩȞ).” “Cowardice,” which he says should have been mentioned earlier, likewise makes this plain, since įİȚȜȓĮ is įİıµȩȢ . . . Ð ȜȓĮȞ, “a bond of the soul.” So, too, every difficulty, ¢ʌȠȡȓĮ, consists in inability to move. “Virtue,” contrariwise, IJȠÙȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ, represents perpetual flux, ¢İȚȡİȓIJȘȞ, and is beaten or welded into shape, ıȣȖțİțȡȩIJȘIJĮȚ. An alternative, but sometimes bracketed, etymology for ¢ȡİIJȒ, ĮdȡİIJȒ, introduces an element of control as in the etymology of IJȑȤȞȘ, IJĮȪIJȘȢ IJÁȢ ŸȟİȦȢ, and so combines fixity and flux within virtue. Socrates has set up the argument to turn Heraclitus against himself in the progression from techne to mirror to sphinx to mechane. A discussion of virtue combining fixity and flux, especially since virtue is already characteristically oppositional, IJȠÙȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ (4l5c), is exactly appropriate here. Socrates next says he can make no sense of the “bad” in “badness” or “vice,” țĮțȩȞ in țĮțȓĮ. He claims that he must again resort to the device, µȘȤĮȞȒ, of barbaric origin (415b–416a). Just above even the supposedly Heraclitean account of “virtue” involves craft, ıȣȖțİțȡȩIJȘIJĮȚ, and so suggests a link between virtue and rest which does not suit Socrates’ correlation of good things to motion and bad things to rest. Instead of any Heraclitean account of its opposite, “vice,” Socrates offers only a device. The etymology of “device” embodied motion as opposed to “craft” embodying rest. No argument yet stands, but already a suggestion arises that “vice,” like “virtue,” involves motion and, further, that the correlation of good things to motion and bad things to rest is unreliable, even self-contradictory. The suggestion will become more and more explicit as the dialogue proceeds. C. A Flood of Consequences of the Hypothesis of Flux: “Fair”; “Foul”; “Advantageous”; “Harmful” 416a–417e Next, Socrates takes up the paired opposition between “fair” and “foul,” țĮȜȩȞ and ĮeıȤȡȩȞ. “Foul,” on the assumption that flux is good, is “the impediment of flux (IJÕ hıȤȠȞ IJÁȢ ˛ȠÁȢ).” It, too, is welded into its verbal shape,

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ıȣȖțȡȠIJȒıĮȞIJİȢ, just like “virtue” above. Again, this appears to express the power of craft to express opposites distinctly, unlike device, which instead conceals oppositions without explaining them at all. In this third stage of the seventh group, Socrates takes the argument to a higher level of philosophical activity. Accordingly, with “fair” he introduces more highly skilled crafts than welding to express the range of this philosophical activity. “Fair (țĮȜȩȞ) is more difficult to bring down to the level of understanding (țĮIJĮȞȠÁıĮȚ),” according to Socrates, who explains it as signifying scientific understanding, dianoia. He pauses here to ask Hermogenes a serious question for the first time since the beginning of the etymological section. Interestingly enough, he is talking about just what he was talking about prior to the etymologies, how crafts expresses the realities of the mind and, by example, how namemaking does. First Socrates says dianoia, divine, human, or both, is the cause, IJÕ ĮhIJȚov (416c), of naming anything. Earlier in the dialogue, nomos provides names, Ð ʌĮȡĮįȓįȠȣȢ (388d). Socrates can link nomos and dianoia by combining these statements, and while not stipulating their equivalence, he compares namemaking dianoia to different arts, as he did namemaking nomos earlier. Socrates asks whether dianoia, one thing, as responsible for the naming of things, IJÕ țĮȜȑıĮȞ, does not also name the beautiful, IJÕ țȐȜoȞ. What dianoia and nous do in combination is praiseworthy, Socrates says here (416c). This last remark subtly reminds readers that dianoia can function independently of nous; for dianoetic reasoning, though fully in accord with assumptions, еȠȜȠȖȠȣµȑȞȦȢ (Pl.Rep. 510d), may not lead to knowledge, and, if it does not, is negligible. At the outset of the etymologies Hermogenes’ reasoning that the Trojan women used the name Scamandrios for Astyanax was of this sort, consistent with its assumptions but still wrong (386cd). Socrates next proposes that as medicine does the work of medicine, and carpentry the work of carpentry, so beautifying does the work of beauty (416d). Carpentry, as represented by the carpenter with skill, IJȑțIJȦȞ . . . IJ¾Ȟ IJȑȤȞȘȞ ⁄ȤȦȞ, appeared early in the dialogue as analogous to namemaking within the argument for nomos as the cause of names (388c–389a). The carpenter’s art once more makes emphatic the necessary coupling of namemaking with techne according to nomos. Socrates identifies dianoia with the beautiful, IJÕ țĮȜȩȞ, by saying that “beautiful” is an attributive name for mind, which effects beautiful things, “things we cherish by calling them beautiful (§ į¾ țĮȜ¦ ijȐıțȠȞIJİȢ ïŮ÷ëó ¢ıʌĮȗȩµİșĮ)” (416d). In combination with the discussion of name-making nomos prior to the etymologies, this discussion of namemaking dianoia as the beautiful links nomos, dianoia, beauty, and naming. Socrates links beauty, dianoia, and naming, but the way he does so is, intentionally flimsy and merely spurious, since it identifies cause with effect.9 Still, dianoia here is methodical like dianoia on the divided line and it can work with nous. Socrates rapidly reels off some of the systematic conse-

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quences of his Heraclitean dianoia in this third stage of the seventh group of names, itself a third stage within a third stage, Part 3 of the Demonstration. Socrates explains how several synonyms for the beautiful, IJÕ țĮȜȩȞ, bear out the assumption that goodness is motion. When he turns to the antonyms to these names, the hypothesis of Heraclitean good still appears to work, but only temporarily. Socrates’ list of synonyms includes first “advantageous,” representing circular motion, “profitable,” representing moving, penetrating, and mixing, “gainful,” an endless and unstoppable motion tantamount to the good as an end or telos, and “helpful,” significant of increase (417ac). These words do not conceal any deep riddles for the general argument at hand, though perhaps the notion of what is unstoppable having a telos suggests the argument’s counter-Heraclitean purpose. Socrates dispenses with the four opposites formed by the alpha-privative to the terms he has just etymologized. Then he provides a complex derivation for “harmful,” ȕȜĮȕİȡÒn from ȕȠȣȜĮʌIJİȡȠàȞ (blaberon from boulapteroun), “wanting to bind the flux.” Socrates does not comment upon the phonetic complexity of this derivation, though immediately, in the next etymology, he will spend a page and a half discussing much simpler phonetic changes. The only rationale for this etymology, says Socrates, is that one word for “binding (¤ʌIJİȚȞ) is the same as another (įİlȞ) and always brings blame with it” (417e). With this assumption, he soon confutes the entire Heraclitean development of the seventh group of names. Hermogenes regards these last few etymologies as artistically intricate, ʌoȚțȓȜĮ. He notices that Socrates “appeared to use his mouth like a flute for the flute music to the hymn to Athena when you pronounced boulapteroun.” The word for hymn is nomos again, an ancient sense of the word but new to the dialogue. Plato has Hermogenes say these words to recall the general importance of nomos in the dialogue in relation to naming and in relation to dianoia, as just earlier in the etymology for “fair” or “beautiful.” These last few etymologies do have an artistically intricate aspect, ʌoȚțȓȜĮ, which for Plato, in relation to the context of Republic 7 (528e–530b), suggests their mere superficiality, as did ornamentation, ʌȠȚțȓȜȜİȚn, previously in the “sun” etymologies (409a). The last few etymologies do convey a sense of dianoia, but the implication is that dianoia, or systematic reasoning, can function independently of noesis; for we can be systematic and wrong. For instance, however systematic Socrates is in deriving Heraclitean significations for names, he will soon admit that he cannot vouch for their veracity (440c). By having Hermogenes mention the hymn to Athena, Plato also recalls the extravagant etymologies for “Athena” earlier near the end of the fourth group of names. The “Athena” etymologies have provided the most definite and most concentrated allusions to the stages of the divided line in the entire dialogue. Following the intricate account of “harmful” will next come etymologies that allude to the sun analogy out of which the divided line analogy

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itself develops. These etymologies allude to the sun as the ruling source of light and life for the stages of eikasia and pistis, and to the good as manifest in the idea of the good, the corresponding source of truth and the power of knowing for the stages of dianoia and noesis (Pl.Rep. 508d–509b). These allusions are more difficult to discern than those in “Athena,” but Hermogenes is right in one sense: Socrates has been preparing to return directly to the context of those allusions. D. An Idea of the Good Excluded by the Assumption of Flux: “Day”; “Yoke”; “Binding”; “Harmful” 418a–419b Socrates moves into the fourth stage of the seventh group of names. He says that those who add and subtract letters from words alter, ¢ȜȜȠȚȠàıȚ, their meanings, įȚĮȞoȓĮȢ, even making them mean the opposite, IJ¢ȞĮȞIJȓĮ, of what they mean spelt otherwise (418a). By the end of the seventh group, this discussion of alternate spellings and opposite meanings will lead him to consider a wider sense of alternate dianoiai, namely alternate systematic reasonings and their opposite assumptions. For the moment, he appears merely to digress to explain what another word for “harmful” signifies etymologically, and what its nous or meaning is, ÖIJȚ ȞȠİl. He is reminded of, ¢ȞݵȞȒıșȘȞ, and calls to mind, œȞİȞȩȘıĮ, some orthographical variations here. These plays on words related to nous indicate the domain of knowledge at the fourth stage of the divided line, that knowledge which for Plato is recollection. Without bothering to explain the extravagant ȕȜĮȕİȡÒȞ as ȕȠȣȜĮʌIJİȡȠàȞ, Socrates turns to ȗȘµȚîįİȢ. He takes a page and a half to justify deriving the comparatively simple ȗȘ- in ȗȘµȚîįİȢ from įȑȦ, again “harmful” from “binding,” in keeping with the hypothesis that good is motion. I examine this passage at length to show how it contains the consequences of the counter assumption to flux, and how, when it rejects those consequences, it must also reject the idea of the good itself. While at first sight only a lengthy and apparently needless digression, this passage is, in some respects, the most crucial one in the entire etymological section. Before he begins dealing directly with ȗȘµȚîįİȢ, Socrates calls to mind the case of “binding,” IJù įȑȠȞIJȚ. He says that the spelling of įȑȠȞ and ȗȘµȚîįİȢ disguises the meaning ancient speakers expressed, as contemporary women still do, by use of the iota and delta in place of the epsilon or eta and the zeta. He illustrates the spelling changes in sequence in two other words, “day” and “yoke,” before returning to “binding.” This word, he says, “although a kind of good thing, appears to be a bound or hindrance of the flux of change, (¢ȖĮșȠà Ȗ¦ȡ eįȑĮ ȠâıĮ IJÕ įȑȠȞ ijĮȓȞİIJĮȚ įȑıµȠȢ İŮȞĮȚ),” and so unlike the names for good things previous, ʌİȡi IJÕ ¢ȖĮșȩȞ. Socrates accordingly abandons his obvious and accurate derivation of įȑȠȞ from įȑȦ by way of įȑıµȠȢ for a different etymology, įȚȩȞ, “going through,” in keeping with

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the notion that change typifies what is good. In this way he claims to preserve the original namemaker from self-contradiction, ȠÙț œnĮȞIJȚȠàIJĮȚ ĮÙIJÕȢ ĮÙIJù. Finally, when he derives ȗȘµȚîįİȢ, Socrates concludes his digression on spelling changes (418a–419b). Socrates rejects the first etymology for “binding” because it conveys a sense for a kind of good thing contrary to the sense that he hypothesizes for other good things. John Victor Luce translates ¢ȖĮșȠà eįȑĮ “a kind of good thing” instead of “an idea of the good” and asks “Is it credible that Plato would use IJȠà ¢ȖĮșȠà eįȑĮ in such a non-technical sense after writing the Republic?”10 What makes it credible is that so many allusions to Republic 6 and 7 next occur that the reader cannot help but think of the technical sense by way of contrast. Plato precisely contrasts the two senses of ¢ȖĮșoà eįȑĮ within his more general contrast of synthetic and analytic reasoning in order to suggest that his technical sense for the idea of the good is incompatible with Heraclitean reasoning. Though Luce’s correct translation reads more easily, one might translate ¢ȖĮșȠà eįȑĮ as “an idea of the good” because the slight confusion in English more suddenly conveys the philosophical point Plato is making by his intimation of the fully technical sense of IJoà ¢ȖĮșoà eįȑĮ. Socrates’ axioms, that good things are in flux and that good things are of one kind, here fallaciously determine the fitness of an etymology. On the one hand, by means of axiomatic reasoning in this passage, Socrates ignores accurate etymology altogether. On the other, such reasoning makes it possible for Socrates to allude to his axiomatic account of the good and for his allusions to make appropriate sense within the argument. Still, the Platonic Socrates’ account of the good as an unchanging idea is at first conspicuous only by its absence in this passage: things conspicuous by their unnecessary presence in this account of spelling changes are what point directly to the Platonic idea of the good and its importance for a proper understanding of the passage. The first clue is that in one sense the entire discussion of spelling changes is gratuitous. Vastly greater changes, including those in the word just previous, ȕȜĮȕİȡȩȞ as ȕȠȣȜĮʌIJİȡȠàȞ, have occurred throughout the etymological section without notice. Next, the letters under discussion are out of alphabetical order, and the first, iota, does not bear in the least on deriving ȗȘµȚîįİȢ, the ostensible point to which Socrates is digressing. The letters, notably, are themselves the root of the word idea, iota and delta, and this same word appears for the first time in the etymological section within this same passage. Plato has hardly chosen iota and delta by coincidence. When he next has Socrates discuss “day,” “yoke,” and “binding,” he intentionally alludes to the idea of the good. “Day,” as Socrates says, expresses desire for light, IJÕ ijîȢ, “yoke,” ȗȣȖȩȞ, represents the binding of two into one, and “binding” is a kind of good thing, eįȑĮ ¢ȖĮșȠà. He progresses from light to “yoke” to idea of good in order to allude to the terms of the sun analogy for the idea of good from the

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Republic. In Republic 6 Socrates discusses light, IJÕ ijîȢ, as it binds together what sees and what is seen: “the perception of sight and the condition of visibility yoke together (œȗȪȖȘıĮȞ) by a conjunction (ȗȣȖù) more honorable in no minor sense than other conjunctive yokings (ıȣȗİȪȟİȦȞ)” (508a). The cause of this light is the sun. According to Socrates’ analogy, it stands in relation to vision and the visible as the idea of the good, IJ¾Ȟ IJȠà ¢ȖĮșȠà eįȑĮȞ, stands in relation to the knower and the knowable (507e–508e). From this correspondence in the Republic, Socrates next derives the divided line and cave analogies for progress toward the good. The light of the sun is a yoke for Socrates and so like the idea of the good. Here in the Cratylus he refers to a yoke after a discussion of light and before one of an idea of good. Socrates moves from light to “yoke” to idea of the good in Cratylus 418c–419b, introducing some principal terms from the sun analogy in the Republic. The kind of good thing Socrates has in mind here in the first etymology of “binding” is a typical Platonic fixed and binding necessity. He alludes to the idea of the good by reconstituting the terms of the sun analogy, reminding the reader that the idea itself is unchanging and stable for Plato, so the reader sees that for Socrates to dismiss the first etymology is strange. For binding taken as fixed necessity, he introduces binding as motion, and so as change. He does this only to preserve the working hypothesis that good things are in flux. By recalling the terms for his fixed idea of good, Socrates intimates that he does not genuinely accept the system of the good in a state of flux. He is countering this account of goodness at the same time that he is elaborating it. In the Cratylus the reader can see that Socrates must abandon an idea of good, ¢ȖĮșȠà eįȑĮ, exactly when it has the characteristic fixity of the idea of the good, ¹ IJȠà ¢ȖĮșȠà eįȑĮ. Socrates must do this to preserve from contradiction the namemaker who bears out the theory of flux in his productions. By abandoning a kind of good thing like the idea of the good for the sake of the namemaker, Socrates has dramatized philosophical alternatives: preserve the theory of flux, or preserve fixed necessity as a manifestation of the idea of the good. He has more than suggested that an axiom of flux excludes an idea of the good. The only way to salvage the theory of flux in Cratylus 418e is to abandon a kind of good thing like the idea of good as Plato describes it in the Republic and elsewhere. When Socrates remembers “binding,” œȞİȞȩȘıĮ Ȗ¦ȡ ĮÙIJÕ țĮi ¢ȞݵȞȒıșȘȞ (418b), his anamnesis at once suggests the link of anamnesis with nous and suggests a link between this passage and the cave analogy. After the escapee from Plato’s cave in the Republic has at length learned to comprehend the light of the sun, and so, too, figuratively, to understand the idea of the good, then he also remembers binding. He recalls those in bondage with him formerly when he was within the depths of the cave, “¢ȞĮµȚµȞȘıțȩµİȞoȞ . . . IJîȞ IJȩIJİ ıȣȞįİıµȦIJîȞ” (516d). After he recalls the condition of his captive companions, the freed philosopher returns to the

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miserable conditions he has just left behind. His recollection or anamnesis is like Socrates’ here in the Cratylus, because it, too, is concerned with binding. In the Republic, the captives are bound to illusion. Exposure to the idea of the good will free them. In the last stage of the seventh group of names in the Cratylus, a false sense of binding illusorily sustains the view that goodness is in motion or flux. Socrates recalls binding necessity, and by doing so, he alludes to the idea of the good. This dispels the possibility that he himself seriously entertains the hypothesis of flux. The abandoned but accurate derivation of “binding,” įȑoȞ from įȑȦ, formally presages the dialogue’s conclusion. In that conclusion, Socrates more generally refutes the flux of being and not just the simple flux of goodness at issue in “binding.” When he more generally refutes the flux of being, he does so by a reduction to absurdity of its consequences. Here in the seventh group there have already been some absurd results of assuming the flux as an axiom, one of which is that the participle įȑȠȞ does not derive from the verb įȑȦ. Socrates turns to his axiom that goodness is in flux, an assumption for which he has had to sacrifice the idea of the good and elementary grammar here. Still, as Socrates says, he has to preserve the namemaker from selfcontradiction. He explains “binding” as “moving through,” connects it with the names for “advantageous” previously mentioned, claims that the ordering principle of motion, IJÕ įȚĮțȠıµȠàȞ țĮi eȩȞ, is praiseworthy, and at long last makes the minute change from sd- or dz-( ȗ ) to d-(į) to show that “blamable” means “binding of motion” (418e–419b). When Socrates concludes the seventh group of names by calling the principle of motion an ordering principle, IJÕ įȚĮțȠıµȠàȞ, he suggests nous again; for he has earlier coupled Anaxagaoras’ nous which orders all things, ʌȐȞIJĮ įȚĮțȠıµˇıİ (DK 59 B 12), with “soul” as įȚĮțȠıµȠàıĮȞ in the third group of names (400a). Socrates is about to turn to nous, the fourth stage of his elaboration of dianoia, the eighth group of names. There Socrates tries and fails to account for the first principles of his Heraclitean system. For him no dianoia or system can account in its own terms for its assumptions; all such systems merely follow out consequences of their assumptions. So, too, his Heraclitean system, however much in accord with its first principles, does not, so far, guarantee that it leads to knowledge, nous, of those first principles. Socrates throughout the seventh group of names has been attempting to make motion explain everything. He has derived meanings for words, which meanings equate opposites. Opposite kinds of likeness-making in “mirror” and “sphinx,” opposite kinds of method in “craft” and “device,” make systematic sense to Socrates. Socrates still cannot make the same sense of “binding” from opposite assumptions about the nature of goodness. If Socrates assumes all is in flux, the good must be in flux. If he concludes from this assumption that “binding,” a good thing like the idea of the good, is unchanging, then he contradicts his assumption. By allusion to the sun analogy Socra-

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tes suggests a counter assumption from which it can follow that binding is unchanging, namely that the idea of the good is also unchanging. He implies that two contradictory assumptions and two contradictory sets of consequences can both be valid, and so to this point he can maintain two contradictory systems simultaneously. The flux, which unifies opposites, appears to allow for this. The flux can, so far, somehow contradict itself systematically, and do so in keeping with dianoia. When at the outset of the last stage of the seventh group of names Socrates first says those who alter letters, ¢ȜȜȠȚȠàıȚ, alter meanings, įȚĮȞȠȓĮȢ (418ab), he turns to follow out the pattern of the sun analogy. At the end of the seventh group when he preserves the Heraclitean good from contradiction, he concludes that binding cannot be an obstacle of flux, ijȠȡ©Ȣ. One kind of change, then, ¢ȜȜȠfȦıȚȢ, alteration, allows for contradictory dianoias, perhaps only “meanings” but suggestive in this context of the more general sense of “systematic reasonings” (418a). Another kind of change, ijȠȡȐ, namely local motion (418e), does not allow for the contradictory or counter “meanings” or dianoiai, and so perhaps “systems” as well. Within the unifying principle of change, Socrates has noted different kinds of change: alteration and local motion, ¢ȜȜȠȓȦıȚȢ and ijȠȡȐ; the same distinction he makes at Theaetetus 156a and Parmenides 138c.11 One motion leads to contradiction of the hypothesis of flux; the other does not. Socrates can derive contradictory systems from the hypothesis of flux by taking “flux” or “change” in two different senses. Still, for Socrates any systematic dianoia derivable from flux will contradict itself if its conclusions contradict its axioms. For Heraclitus, though, some, “do not understand how that which is differing in itself (įȚĮijİȡȩµİȞȠȞ ŒĮȣIJù) is in agreement, a reciprocal harmony like the bow’s or the lyre’s” (DK 22 B 51). Only by accepting its contradictions can Socrates appear for a while yet to sustain his Heraclitean system of names. While he preserves the namemaker from contradicting himself, ȠÙț œȞĮȞIJȚȠàIJĮȚ ĮÙIJÕȢ ĮÙIJù, at the conclusion of the seventh group of names (419a), Socrates can also be alluding to Heraclitus’ harmonic self-contradiction. He can then be suggesting as an axiom that self-contradiction is agreement and so not necessary to avoid. Only on such an assumption can he appear to make his Heraclitean system make systematic or dianoetic sense from this point on. Socrates wants to show that such sense is no different from nonsense.

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Name Group 7: Names in keeping with an axiomatic Heraclitean good Etymological Force Names Motion as good Rest as evil Divided-Line stage “Flourishing” “Craft” “Mirror” “Sphinx” Cf. Soph. 236, 266

Teeming youth

“Device” “Vice” “Cowardice” “Virtue” “Bad”; IJoÙnĮnIJȓon

Progress limit to motion bond of soul ever-flowing Device of barbaric origin

Craft in namemaking; impeding flux

Opinion, įȠțİl 4 uses

“Fair” “Advantageous” “Profitable” “Gainful” “Helpful” (Alpha-privatives) “Blamable”

By definition Flux Mixture Unending Increase

Craft in motion

Dianoetic system, įȚȐȞȠȚĮ 5 uses

“Day” “Yoke” “Binding”

Change Moving Moving through

“Harmful”

Maintenance rho Binding

by definitionimpeding flux (Alteration, Flux) Binding Idea of Good (Pl.Rep. 507–508) impeding flux

Image ¢ʌİȚțȐȗİȚ, œȞĮȞIJȓĮ ĮhıșȘıȚȢ, İețĮıIJȚțȩȞ, ijĮȞIJĮıIJȚțȩȞ,

IJȐȞĮȞIJȓĮ Nous Ȟoİl, œȞİȞȩȘıĮ, ¢ȞݵȞȒıșȘȞ, eįȑĮ, įȚĮțȠıµȠàn

On the above chart for the seventh group of names, under the heading “Etymological Force,” I have provided two columns to indicate whether a given word indicates motion and goodness or rest and badness. Some words in the seventh group point to the confusion of these respective couplings, so are characterized in both columns. Where the confusion is only potential, I have indicated its likely cause within parentheses. In this way, readers can more easily see how the systematic capability for self-contradiction emerges from the seventh group.

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4. The logos as Ultimate Unity: Axiomatic Self-contradiction 418e–421d: Synopsis Everything appears in flux throughout the fifth to the seventh groups of names. The natural sciences, which deal with phenomena, indicate flux in the fifth; the ethical sciences accordingly base themselves on the axiom of flux and become confused in the sixth; in the seventh, the axiom of flux leads to contradictory meanings, dianoiai, for “binding” (418a). The axiom of flux appears self-contradictory, but Socrates designs a means to preserve momentarily his Heraclitean namemakers from self-contradiction. In the eighth group, Socrates overrules the objection of self-contradiction. On the one hand, he accepts the axiom of absolute flux as self-contradictory, but on the other, he assumes as well that in fact self-contradiction is a kind of agreement. Although he does mean to disallow it, Socrates does not merely ask if the second axiom can be true; instead, he works out the effects of self-contradiction as agreement. He acts as if he could systematize the axiom, as if its system could have valid consequences. Socrates treats the system as if its internal incoherence were not alone enough to discredit it, as if it were a serious system that could lead to knowledge and intelligence, the last stage of the divided line. On the divided line, dianoia or scientific system depends on nous to determine its power of expressing truth. By dianoia the soul cannot rise above its assumptions, æȢ oÙ įȣvĮµȑȞȘȞ IJîȞ ØʌoșȑıİȦȞ ¢ȞȦIJȑȡȦ œțȕĮȓȞİȚȞ (Pl.Rep. 511a), but is bound by them. Nous determines how those assumptions or hypotheses correspond to what requires no assumptions and is the starting point of everything, µȑȤȡȚ IJȠà ¢ȞȣʌȠșȑIJȠȣ œʌi IJ¾Ȟ IJȠà ʌȐȞIJȠȢ ¢ȡȤ¾Ȟ eȫȞ (Pl.Rep.511ab). At the outset of the eighth group of names Socrates rapidly explains contrary, or contraposed, pairings of “pleasure” and “pain,” “passion” and “reason,” “free will” and “necessity,” “true” and “false,” “essence” and “name,” and “being” and “not-being.” Each pair features straightforward contraries except that of “essence” and “name.” By coupling “essence” with “name” within a series of contraposed pairs of names, Socrates indicates the point to which he thinks his labyrinthine argument has led so far in the Cratylus. His point is that, because the particular names in the etymological section have failed to express the essence of the things that they name, names in general are likely to fail as well. The eighth group and the etymological section end when Socrates cannot explain “motion,” “flux,” and “binding.” He emphasizes by the conclusion that he can neither know the flux by assuming that binding necessity is self-evident, nor know binding necessity by assuming it to be in flux. Socrates has to move outside of the assumptions he has made, if he is ever to know whether they accord with the facts. As they stand at the end of the eighth group of names, his assumptions of flux and its binding necessity still contradict one another. In the last stage of the eighth group of names, “being,” “essence” and “truth” parallel “not-being,” “falsehood,” and “name.” Knowing, at the fourth

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level of the divided line, cannot exist for Socrates if being is the same as notbeing, if truth is the same as falsehood, or, according to the parallelism, if essence is the same as name. In one sense, this is imposing a parallel instead of arguing for it. Still, if such couplings of opposites were not only apparent but also real, they would make knowledge impossible. Socrates explains all the other apparent self-contradictions in the seventh and eighth groups of names and so sustains the system of flux. Here are two, and perhaps three, possible paired opposites that Socrates in any other dialogue will preserve at any cost from self-contradictory unity. While they may appear to be selfcontradictory unities in a Heraclitean system, they must not really be so, or the system cannot express true being. If the assumptions of the Heraclitean system are genuinely self-contradictory, then apparent self-contradictions among their consequences are likewise genuine. Whether such self-contradiction of assumptions is still a sort of harmony, as Heraclitus may allow, depends, according to the way Socrates explains his etymologies in the eighth group of names, upon whether knowledge itself is the same as sense perception. For him, if what appears to be true is true, being itself must always be in flux, just as it appears to be on the evidence of the senses. Knowledge of being then will accord with sense perception of flux or becoming. If knowledge is perception, it will appear to contradict itself. When perceptions change, for instance, knowledge will have to change, too, and so not stay the same as it was. Knowledge will appear to be self-contradictory, then, and only as such would it agree with the way other things appear. Throughout the eighth group Socrates suggests the opening arguments of the Theaetetus wherein Theaetetus and he follow out some implications of identifying knowledge with perception. The Theaetetus passage (155d ff.) where Socrates says that philosophy begins in wonder contains a great number of resonances with the eighth group of names. So many and such detailed correspondences in expression exist between the two passages that they make another case that Plato composed the Theaetetus and this part of the Cratylus in close proximity to one another, and so later in the sequence of dialogues. The expressions, though, may also stem from an oral tradition not strictly determining the sequence of Plato’s composition, but allowing for the earlier date of composition for the Cratylus preferred by the stylometrists. This part of the Theaetetus, in any case, helps to show the sense of this passage of the Cratylus and likewise points to where Socrates will go next in the Cratylus. Early in the dialogue bearing his name, Theaetetus hazards the identification of knowledge with perception (151d ff.). Socrates links this view with the thought of Protagoras, and then identifies Protagorean thought with that of Heraclitus.12 Socrates proceeds to unfold some of the consequences of a Heraclitean identification of opposites as he leads Theaetetus to confusion and amazement, whereupon Socrates commends Theaetetus’ reaction. He says wonder, IJÕ șĮȣµȐȗİȚv, is the beginning of philosophy, and commends the

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genealogy deriving Iris from Thaumas.13 Next, Socrates asks Theaetetus if he would like him to aid in the search, ıȣȞİȟİȡİȣȞȒıȠµĮȚ, for the hidden truth, ¢ʌȠțİțȡȣµµȑȞȘȞ, of the understanding, IJÁȢ įȚĮȞȠȓĮȢ, of famous men, ÑȞȠµĮıIJîȞ. Theaetetus assents. Those who deny a share in essence, ȠÙıȓĮȢ, to invisible process do not heed him, says Socrates. They are hard cases, ¢ȞIJȚIJȪʌoȣȢ, replies Theaetetus. Another group, according to Socrates, says that all is in motion, IJÕ ʌ©Ȟ țȓȞȘıȚȢ ÃȞ, and all things are active or passive as they are perceptions or percepts. Among the perceptions which Socrates lists are pleasures, pains, desires, and fears, țĮi ¹įoȞĮȓ Ȗİ į¾ țĮi ȜàʌĮȚ țĮi œʌȚșȣµȓĮȚ. What this tale signifies, ȕoȪȜİIJĮȚ, for their discussion, Socrates says he hopes he can explain conclusively, ¢ʌoIJİȜİıșÍ. He says next that all is in motion of different speeds so that new things come into being when the senses come into contact with the sensible. For instance, when sight comes into contact with the visible, color comes into being (155d–156e ff.) This astounding theory of perception as knowledge dominates the entire first half of the Theaetetus When Socrates at length formally rejects it, he does so, as Francis MacDonald Cornford says, “on the basis of the theory that all things are in change—the extreme Heraclitean position—but only on that basis.”14 The Theaetetus is here concerned with Heraclitean dianoia, as is the Cratylus in the eighth group of names. Theaetetus and Socrates seek dianoia and give an account of vision, whereas in all four stages in the eighth group, Socrates stresses visible similarity, especially by uses of the verb ¢ʌİȚțȐȗİȚȞ. In both these passages, pleasure, pain, and desire represent Heraclitean realities, ¹įoȞ¾ țĮi ȜÚʌȘ țĮi œʌȚșȣµȓĮ Cratylus 419b; țĮi ¹įoȞĮȓ Ȗİ į¾ țĮi ȜàʌĮȚ țĮi œʌȚșȣµȓĮȚ, Theaetetus 156b. Both passages refer to searching, ¢ȞİȪȡİIJĮ, Cratylus 421d; ıȣȞİȟİȡİȣȞȒıȠµĮȚ, Theaetetus 155d. In both passages the end of the search is hidden, œʌȚțȡȣʌIJİl, Cratylus 421b; ¢ʌoțİțȡȣµµȑȞȘȞ, Theaetetus 155e. Both passages deal with names and fame, ÑȞȠµĮıIJȩv, Cratylus 421a, Theaetetus 155d. Further, each passage contains the fulfillment of a discussion, IJȑȜȠȢ, Cratylus 420d; ¢ʌȠIJİȜİıșÍ, Theaetetus 156c. Both passages deal with resistance and difficulty, ¢ȞIJȚIJȣʌȠàȞ, ¢ȞIJȓIJȣʌȠȞ, Cratylus 420d; ¢ȞIJȚIJȪʌȠȣȢ, Theaetetus 155e. Finally and most importantly, both passages introduce the topic of wonder, șĮȣµĮıIJȩȞ, Cratylus 421d; IJÕ șĮȣµȐȗİȚȞ, ĬĮȣµȐvIJoȢ, Theaetetus 155d. In short, in the eighth group of names the Cratylus provides many of the terms of the opening arguments of the Theaetetus and suggests the way in which those arguments turn counter to Heraclitean reasoning. Theaetetus is amazed at how things appear to change yet stay the same, and so appear to embody a contradiction. For instance, Socrates stays the same size while Theaetetus grows. Socrates, who was larger, becomes smaller than Theaetetus. Socrates then is what he was not before, but he himself has not changed. Theaetetus is amazed, ØʌİȡijȣîȢ æȢ șĮȣµȐȗȦ, that the same thing can

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appear to become its opposite without changing itself. In the Theaetetus Socrates shows that what amazes Theaetetus does not mean that a thing can in fact be the same as its opposite. In the Cratylus, conversely, when different tongues, Greek and barbarian, appear to be no different, Socrates himself is not amazed. He knows that he has argued to an absurd conclusion. He has done so purposely. He wants to derive self-contradiction from his Heraclitean assumptions. Then he can discredit the assumptions that provide that a thing cannot only appear, but also be, its own opposite. Socrates is leading the argument here to the same end that he has in view in the Theaetetus. When the eighth group concludes, Socrates in the phonological section, the third part of the Demonstration, IV, directly takes up the problem of identifying knowledge with perception that the eighth group implies in its four divided-line stages. A. The Range of the Passions: “Pleasure”; “Pain”; “Desire” 418e–420b Hermogenes asks to hear explanations for “pleasure, pain, desire, and such name.” Socrates replies readily with a few names in each category and opens the eighth group of names with etymologies in this arrangement (4l9b–420b): (a) (b)

Pleasure pain distress grief wretchedness annoyance

¹įȠȞȒ ȜȪʌȘ ¢ȞȓĮ ¢ȜȖȘįȫȞ ÑįȣȞȒ ¢ȤșȘįȫȞ

embodiment of flux impediments of flux

(a)

joy delight pleasure cheer desire eagerness longing passion love

ȤĮȡȐ IJȑȡȥȚȢ IJİȡʌȞȩȞ İÙijȡȠıȪȞȘ œʌȚșȣµȓĮ șȣµȩȢ gµİȡȠȢ ʌȩșȠȢ ⁄ȡȦȢ

embodiments of flux

(c)

embodiments of flux

Terms suggesting the first stage of the divided line abound in this opening part of the eighth group of names: ijĮȓȞİIJĮȚ (two uses), ¢ʌİȚțȐȗİȚȞ (two uses), įÁȜȠȞ (three uses), ⁄ȠȚțİ (four uses), and especially įȚ¦ IJîȞ ÒµµȐIJȦȞ. This burst of etymologies has more dramatic than dialectical significance. It appears as if the last obstacles to a Heraclitean system have given way in the seventh group, and the eighth group shows it in full flood. “Pleasure” and “pain” set up the pairing of contraries that patterns the eighth group.

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By this pattern, “desire” belongs with the words to follow for “opinion,”but, because the synonyms for “desire” emphasize the use of the senses and because their etymologies form part of an uninterrupted series with those for “pleasure” and “pain,” they also belong in the first stage of the eighth group. Earlier in the dialogue at 403c, “desire” as œʌȚșȣµȓĮ appeared as a bond stronger than necessity and sufficient to keep people in Hades where they once feared to go. It there linked opposites, hope and fear, but it was binding; yet here “desire” is flowing. As such, “desire” sets up the problem of accounting for “binding” and “flux” which will conclude the eighth group of names. B. The Variety of Opinion: “Opinion”; “Thoughtlessness” 420bc Socrates considers words for “opinion.” “Opinion,” įȩȟĮ, according to Socrates, derives from “pursuit” of knowledge, IJÍ įȚȫȟİȚ, or more likely from the “shot of a bow” IJÍ ¥ʌȠ IJȠà IJȩȟȠȣ ȕȠȜÍ. “Thinking,” ȠhȘıȚȢ, from “motion,” ȠŮıȚȞ, is consistent with this meaning, ıȣµijȦȞİl. So also is “counsel,” ¹ ȕȠȣȜȒ, signifying “casting” or “shooting,” IJȒv ȕȠȜȒv, while “intending,” ȕȠȪȜİıșĮȚ, signifies “aiming,” IJÕ œijȓİıșĮȚ, as does “considering,” ȕȠȣȜİȪİıșĮȚ: All these words appear in line with “opinion” as likenesses (¢ʌİȚțȐıµĮIJĮ) of shooting (IJÁȢ ȕȠȜÁȢ), as also oppositely (IJȠÙȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ) “senselessness” (¢ȕoȣȜȓĮ) appears to mean mistaking in the sense of missing the mark one throws toward, intends, designs on, or aims for (420c). When Socrates uses the image of the bow here in the second part of the eighth group of names, he can be suggesting Heraclitus’ image of the bow, IJȩȟȠȞ, which represents apparent self-contradiction as a kind of harmony (DK 22 B 51). This is the same image that Eryximachus examines in the Symposium when he is trying to make sense of Heraclitus. This image represents the same reasoning, which alone can explain self-contradiction as sameness (such as in “desire,” above as “binding” and “flowing”), and so sustain Socrates’ etymologies. Socrates identifies “opinion” as a sort of likeness by his use of ¢ʌİȚțȐıµĮIJĮ. Socrates uses derivations from ¢ʌİȚțȐȗİȚȞ in all four stages of the eighth group of names and so prepares for his identification of knowledge with sense perception of likeness, which follows the etymological section in the dialogue’s concluding arguments. C. Relating Free Will and Necessity: “Voluntary”; “Necessary” 420de In the third stage of the eighth group of names, Socrates claims to be at the culmination, the telos of his argument (420d). He deals with necessity and free will. “Free will” derives from yielding, İŮțȠȞ, and lack of opposition to motion, µ¾ ¢ȞIJȚIJȣʌȠàȞ, and is in accord with desire, țĮIJ¦ IJ¾Ȟ ȕȠȪȜȘıȚȞ;

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“necessity” opposes, is contrary to desire, ¢ȞIJȓIJȣʌȠȞ . . . Įȡ¦ IJ¾Ȟ ȕȠȪȜȘıȚȞ ÔȞ, and is related to error and ignorance, IJÕ ʌİȡi IJ¾Ȟ ¡µĮȡIJȓĮȞ. . . . țĮi ¢µĮșȓĮȞ. Socrates does not express what necessity opposes, though it presumably opposes motion, since what free will did not oppose was motion in the contrasted instance. Mysteriously, he also does not say what relation necessity has to error and ignorance. The name itself represents, ¢ʌİȓțĮıIJĮȚ, “passage through mountain clefts, IJ¦ țĮIJ¦ IJ¦ ¥ȖțȘ ʌȠȡİȓv,” an epic description, IJ¦ ¥ȖțȘ, of harsh, rugged, and difficult terrain. Socrates again points to the figurative element, ¢ʌİȚțĮıșȑȞ, in this account of necessity before turning to the next range of discussion (420de). Although it corresponds to dianoia, the third stage of the eighth group couples systematic consequences of assumptions with elementary likenesses, ¢ʌİȓțĮıIJĮȚ, ¢ʌİȚțĮıșȑȞ. A possible pun, İŮțon as İhțȦn, in the account of “free” may also suggest that Socrates thinks that this argument is illusory. At the end of the seventh group of names, a manifestly correct account of “binding” as įȑȠȞ from įȑȦ was unacceptable when it suggested that “binding” restricted motion and so contradicted the axiom of a Heraclitean good. In the eighth group, though, Socrates allows an account of “necessity,” another sort of binding, to oppose motion. By doing so, he implies that, contradictory, mutually exclusive consequences can and must follow from Heraclitean assumptions. Here may be a clue to the mysterious relation of the account of “necessity” to error and ignorance: to accept this account of “necessity” along with the previous account of “binding” is to accept contradictory consequences of the same assumptions as equally valid, not as grounds for discrediting the assumptions. To accept these two mutually exclusive accounts of “binding” and of “necessity” is then to guarantee error and ignorance. Socrates has just decried “necessity” on Heraclitean grounds in the eighth group and so contradicted his previous account of “binding” from the seventh. He makes it systematically possible here for consequences to contradict each other without explanation. Soon Heraclitean assumptions also will contradict one another, and without explanation. D. Linking the Final to the Fundamental; “Name”; “True”; “False”; “Being”; “Essence”; “Not-being” 421ad Hermogenes asks for etymologies for “the greatest and most beauteous names, for truth, falsity, being, and the subject of our discourse (Ð ȜȩȖȠȢ), name.” Though Hermogenes lists it last, Socrates starts with “name,” ÔȞȠµĮ. “Name” is hammered together from “the occasion of inquiry,” ×Ȟ Ƞá IJȣȖȤȐȞİȚ ȗȒIJȘµĮ, and this account is even more obvious in “notable,” ÑȞȠµĮıIJȩȞ, also an “occasion of inquiry,” ×Ȟ Ƞá µȐıµĮ œıIJȓȞ. “Truth” likewise appears, ⁄ȠȚțİ, to be a compound signifying the “divine wandering,” șİȓĮ . . . ¥ȜȘ. “Falsehood” is the opposite of flux, IJȠÙȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ, a forced idleness, ¢ȞĮȖțĮȗȩµİȞȠȞ,

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resembling sleep, ¢ʌİȓțĮıIJĮȚ: ȥİàįȠȢ is from İÙįİȚȞ by the addition of psi, ȥ, which serves to conceal, œʌȚțȡȪʌIJİȚ, the name’s meaning. “Being” and “essence” agree with, еȠȜȠȖİl, “truth” by the loss of an iota, since being equals moving, ÔȞ is eȩȞ. Similarly, “not-being” is the same as “not-moving,” ȠÙț ÔȞ is ȠÙț eÒȞ. Finally, Hermogenes asks for the crucial meaning of “motion,” “flux,” and “binding,” țĮi IJÕ eȩȞ țĮi IJÕ ˛ȑȠȞ țĮi IJÕ įȠàȞ. Socrates in this fourth stage of the eighth group considers the highest objects of inquiry. His conclusions here agree with one another, еȠȜȠȖİl, and such agreement suits dianoia at the third stage of the divided line. There dianoia is reasoning in agreement with assumptions, еȠȜȠȖȠȪȞIJȦȢ. Socrates says it should be no wonder, ȠÙįĜȞ șĮȣµĮıIJȩȞ, if their origin was foreign, ȕĮȡȕĮȡȚțȩn, and so avoids explaining them (421cd). Still Socrates has not yet achieved knowledge; he has instead an account of the objects of knowledge. The account would be true if his assumptions were true. He has something like knowledge, but as the terms for semblance indicate, ⁄oȚțİ, ¢ʌİȓțĮıIJĮȚ, he does not regard it highly. To conclude the eighth group, it next appears that the system of names representing the assumption of flux and the unity of opposites does not provide any account for its assumptions, “flux” and “binding.” “Binding” by this point conveys the full force of “necessity.” In keeping with the divided line’s representation, no dianoia can rise beyond its own hypotheses in order to evaluate them. Only outside a system can we test its hypotheses for their relation to truth, being, and essence. Near the end of the eighth group, when Socrates aligns “falsehood” and “not-being” with naming, he suggests that the system of names will not lead to knowledge because the apparent selfcontradictions within it will turn out to be real ones. While Socrates has so far overruled the charges of self-contradiction and has not brought them to bear on the flux within system, the system’s accord with its axioms does not guarantee its truth. Grant it self-contradictory axioms, Socrates’ line of argument implies, but do not think it provides or can produce an account of true being. When Hermogenes next asks for the explanations of “motion,” “flux,” and “binding,” Socrates perhaps rhetorically recalls the Heraclitean One (DK 22 B 32). He says he might resort to one thing, ŸȞ, namely the claim of barbaric origin again, which may well be the explanation, İhȘ µĜȞ ȠâȞ hıȦȢ. The original names may also be undiscoverable, ¢ȞİȪȡİIJĮ, because of their antiquity: “Because names have undergone every sort of alteration, it would be no wonder (ȠÙįĜȞ șĮȣµĮıIJȩȞ) if the ancient dialect in comparison with current speech differed in no apparent way from the speech of barbarians” (421cd). Socrates uses the doctrine of barbaric origin to preserve Heraclitean reasoning from convicting itself of nonsense, just as he did to sidestep the potential synthesis of fire and water, and the problem of defining evil (409d, 416a). On the other hand, barbaric origin may only be apparent at the end of the eighth group of names and of the etymologies in general. Original dialects can

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appear barbaric in comparison with their descendant tongues, according to Socrates; if so, it should come as no surprise, ȠÙįĜȞ șĮȣµĮıIJȩȞ, ending the eighth group where the fourth did, in a confusion of the powers of expression. In the fourth group, Pan resolves the conflict between the gods of flux and gods of fixity. Since Pan embodies confusion of up and down, god and goat, and true and false, Socrates finds it to be no wonder, ȠÙįĜȞ șĮȣµĮıIJȩȞ, that Pan’s brother, the logos, is like him. Here at the end of the eighth group Socrates’ Heraclitean system leads to a systematic confusion. Socrates equates opposites until he cannot tell whether a thing is also its opposite. Greek and barbaric languages can admit of confusion at the end of the eighth group; Greek can appear not-Greek. Socrates, here at the telos (420d) of his etymological system, returns to the problem of the arche of the philosophical progress in the etymological section. A wondrous, șĮȣµĮıȓȠȞ, division of divine and human names commenced the etymologies. In the Theaetetus wonder is the sign of philosophy’s beginning; in the Cratylus something wonderful has led instead to its opposite, nothing wonderful, oÙdĜn șĮȣµĮıIJȩȞ, at the end of the etymologies. Socrates has elaborately parodied Heraclitean usage throughout the etymological section, II and III. He has proceeded from mere likenesses of Heraclitean unities to the threshold of knowledge, a Heraclitean unity. The four groups of names in II represent activities and topics appropriate to the second stage of the divided line from the Republic, and the four groups in III suit the third stage. Because Socrates has devised a fourfold elaboration of pistis and dianoia, we can expect him similarly to elaborate knowledge, noesis, in four stages. Socrates will in the same way elaborate noesis, but as one with eikasia, in four stages each of four stages. He is assuming, for the sake of argument, that noesis and eikasia are the same so he can map them out coextensively. From this point the rest of the dialogue makes plain why Socrates has alluded to the argument also found in the Theaetetus that knowledge is perception. He wishes to suggest how he can use Heraclitean axioms to confuse the opposite ends of the divided line. Socrates’ dianoia, resting as it does on Heraclitean axioms, leads to knowledge only if knowledge is perception. Following the eight groups of etymologies of II and III, Socrates derives the consequences of this view for language, namely that simple perception of word sounds provides direct knowledge of things. In IV, his phonological coda to the etymological section, Socrates considers what sense sounds make in and of themselves, their independent noetic values. Here follows a chart of the eighth group of names, the section of the dialogue in which Socrates has in Herclitean terms linked the fundamentally greatest and most beauteous things, truth and being, to the initial topic of the dialogue, names. The powers of Heraclitean terms are far reaching in this section, but to end the etymological section the terms themselves cannot supply him an account of even the names of their principles, “motion,” “flux,” and “binding.”

III. Demonstration: Dianoia, Systematic Reasoning 408d-421c

Name Group 8: Names as likenesses from a Heraclitean Logos, which is an ultimate unity and/or an axiomatic self-contradiction Names (a) “pleasure” (b) “pain”; “distress”; “grief”; “wretchedness”; “annoyance” (a) “joy”; “delight”; “pleasure”; “cheer” (c) “desire”; “eagerness”; “longing”; “passion”; “love”

Divided-Line Stage Likeness ijĮȓȞİIJĮȚ (two uses) ⁄ȠȚțİ (four uses) įÁȜȠȞ (three uses) ¢ʌİȚțĮıµȑȞȠȞ, ¢ʌİȚțĮıșȑȞ, įȚ¦ IJîȞ ѵµȐIJȦȞ

“opinion” DK 22 B 51 “thought”; “counsel”; “intention” “taking counsel”; “lack of sense”

¢ʌİȚțȐıµĮIJĮ

“free will” “necessity”, “necessary”

¢ʌİȓțĮıIJĮȚ

“name” = fame and infamy “truth” as divine wandering “falsity” as forced opposition to flux “essence” = truth “being” as moving, DK 22 B 8 “not-being” as not moving “motion”; “flux”; “binding” —all inexplicable

Beliefs as likenesses

Systems as likenesses Knowledge as likeness

¢ʌİȓțĮıIJĮȚ

Knowledge is perception (Cf. Theaet. 155d ff.)

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Six IV. DEMONSTRATION: NOESIS, KNOWING: KNOWLEDGE AS IDENTICAL WITH PERCEPTION 421D–436B The opening section of the dialogue, the part before the etymologies, is not bafflingly subtle, and after the etymologies, the phonological section makes quite straightforward reading. In it, Socrates and Hermogenes discuss whether letters in themselves mean anything. They conclude that they do. When Socrates and Cratylus next test this conclusion Socrates argues against innate meanings in letters. He never persuades Cratylus. In the phonological section, Cratylus persistently refuses to admit that what he thinks about letters and things in general is self-contradictory. Because Cratylus denies contradiction, scholars since Friedrich Schleiermacher have discerned the views of Antisthenes within Cratylus’ remarks.1 Accounts of the dialogue’s general sense concentrate on how, mercifully, the phonological section picks up where the part of the dialogue prior to the etymologies left off, and on what the phonological section has to do with the other Platonic dialogues, concepts, and problems. Why does the straightforward phonological section, here IV, follow not only after but also because of, the many strange etymologies and complications in the etymological section, here II and III? What exactly might be the “positive program”2 of the etymologies? I hope to shed light on these questions by detailing how IV works out the pattern of reasoning from II and III. In the eighth group of names, Socrates has set himself some obvious tasks derived not only from what he has said in the etymological section, but from how he has said it as well. Primarily and substantively, Socrates has yet to look for a principle of language, and this in two senses. First, to avoid an infinite regress, he must determine if word elements exist more fundamental than words, some irreducible parts of meaning, atoms of language. Second, he has not yet decided whether the principle or arche of language as a whole is nature or convention, the problem that began the dialogue. Secondarily and structurally, but not so obviously, because he has always used the divided line to model his argument within the etymologies, Socrates still must elaborate in four stages the consequences for knowledge, noesis, which follow from his Heraclitean account of being. Just so, he has elaborated belief, pistis, and systematic reasoning, dianoia, as founded on Heraclitean axioms. According to the divided-line analogy in the Republic the

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goal of knowledge is the good. To follow out that analogy Socrates must yet derive a knowable good from his Heraclitean assumptions. Each of these demands is systematic and technical, compositionally and philosophically necessary to the argument. Socrates must also show that knowledge based on Heraclitean axioms is self-contradictory, and this in order to complete his reductio ad absurdum demonstration of the ideal nature of being. When he ends the dialogue by showing that he can disallow all of his fully Heraclitean etymologies, Socrates is making no gesture of futility. Instead, he makes the formal recapitulation of what the geometer was to demonstrate, namely that there must be an idea of unchanging being for knowledge, knowers, and knowns to exist. At the end of the eighth group of names, Socrates argues that, if things are in fact in flux, we have no way to tell Greek from barbarian words. His argument also finds no way at all to know the terms for the Heraclitean principle of a flux as necessary, a flux including the quality of binding. These terms are eȩȞ, ˛ȑȠȞ, and įȠàȞ (421c).In the seventh group of names Socrates casually introduced the last term, įȠàȞ, as įȑoȞ (418a) and only problematically accommodated it to Heraclitean terms as įȚÒȞ (419a). In the eighth group įȠàȞ helps present a principal difficulty in examining any terms at all. Socrates makes the etymologies in the eighth group of names bear out an apparent natural realism, although the topics in the eighth group are not physical objects. If truth, being, and the rest of the topics in the eighth group are in flux because all physical phenomena are in flux, then knowledge of truth and being must also be in flux. If knowledge is changing along with other phenomena, Socrates says later that it must be changing from itself, so changing into ignorance. Given the assumption of flux, then, we cannot tell knowledge from ignorance. Socrates argues this directly at the end of the dialogue (439c ff.). In the eighth group, he is arguing it indirectly. He does not yet conclude that knowledge based on flux is indistinguishable from ignorance. Instead, he says that he cannot know the terms for the binding flux in itself, eȩȞ, ˛ȑȠȞ, and įȠàȞ, and he cannot tell Greek from barbarian words. Socrates’ example is a perfect illustration of the problem of equating a Heraclitean kind of knowledge with sense perception or natural realism. He has linked the apparently wise with the apparently foolish. Whether or not Socrates thought the barbarians ignorant, Heraclitus did (DK 22 B 107); yet Socrates’ Heraclitean assumption confounds Greek and barbarian together. Socrates uses the example at a dramatic point in the dialogue, at the end of the etymologies and the end of his elaborating a systematic reasoning or dianoia for Heraclitean assumptions. He is about to elaborate noesis as it would have to be for it to work on Heraclitean assumptions. In the eighth group Socrates uses several expressions found also in the passage in the Theaetetus where Theaetetus identifies knowledge with sense perception (Cratylus 419b–421d; Theaetetus 155d–156c). Plato has Socrates

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allude to the argument from the Theaetetus and to pose a problem for it in the eighth group. The two passages have several expressions in common. The problem, for Heraclitus, is that of identifying knowledge with the way things appear in flux to the senses. So far in the Cratylus Socrates has neither explicitly equated knowledge with perception, nor explicitly named Heraclitus as the source of such an identification. Later he gets Cratylus to identify knowing names with knowing things (435d) and he himself finally links Heraclitus to Cratylus’ arguments (440c). When Socrates draws these other correspondences, we see why he uses the same expressions in the eighth group and the opening arguments from the Theaetetus. He is dealing with the same problem of equating knowledge with sense perception. He does not deal with it so explicitly as he does in the Theaetetus because the Cratylus dramatizes what the Theaetetus argues. The claim that knowledge is perception, the elements of which appear in the eighth group of names, must also proceed through four stages in the phonological section, IV. Socrates uniformly opposes and Cratylus uniformly maintains what follows from this claim. In the first stage, names are like the things that they name. In the second particular letter sounds make particular sense. In the third names have the nature of the things they name. Finally, in the fourth the perception of a name produces knowledge of a thing. Socrates refutes each of these consequences individually while he is deriving them from the hypothesis of natural names that is agreeable to Cratylus. When Socrates confutes Cratylus’ arguments, Cratylus never defends himself skillfully. He merely repeats his position four times. In part, this is because Plato has set up the compounded divided line pattern and he has had to follow it in its four steps merely to be consistent. In the opening of the first stage of the phonological section, Socrates says that he must play the game, ¢ȖȫȞ. Hermogenes has been playing along but not exactly competing, while Cratylus has not yet made a move, and will show little skill when he finally does. In one sense, then, the game is already over, but still the period of play is not. The movement of the argument from this point to the end of the dialogue is simple. Its accord with the divided-line patterning of the rest of the dialogue is easy to show, much easier than the etymological section’s corresponding accord. From this point, my argument proceeds much more summarily. 1. The Imitation of Essence 421d–425a: Synopsis Immediately following the etymological section, then, Socrates, by the example of the good, (1) introduces the likelihood of simple and direct meaning, (2) gains Hermogenes’ assent to his opinion of the purpose of naming, (3) sets linguistic imitation within a system of mimetic arts, and (4) proclaims definition by division necessary for knowledge of accurate likeness-making. He

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presents in terms of the four stages of the divided line a first stage of the fourth stage of the line, an eikon of his concluding argumentative purposes. While there may be anti-Heraclitean points in this first set of epistemological consequences of the etymological section of the Cratylus, Socrates does not argue them. Socrates notes that deafmutes use mime to distinguish the up from the down, and shows that faultily synthetic names may lead to nonsensical meanings, ȠÙ țĮș' ÐįȩȞ, but, while essence has emerged as the object and standard of naming, essence itself still goes without a determinate character. The hypothesis that all is in flux is still intact. A. An Account of the Good in Doubt 421d–422b Socrates says he has difficulty distinguishing between old and new or Greek and barbarian words that are elemental to other words, namely eȩȞ, ˛ȑȠȞ, and įȠàȞ. Such considerations are part of the game, ¢ȖȫȞ, so require investigation. Notably, these considerations are also elemental to Heraclitean philosophy. Next Socrates proposes a possible infinite regress of elements of elements of words. For an example Socrates chooses “the good,” ¢ȖĮșȠà, as previously resolved into “admirable,” ¢ȖĮıIJoà, and “swift,” șȠȠà, whose parts themselves may have parts. To avoid the infinite regress, Socrates says there must be a way to determine what in a given name is not itself a compound from other names, ıȣȖțİlIJĮȚ, is thereby elemental, ıIJȠȚȤİȓĮ, and so does not admit of further analysis, ¢ȞĮijȑȡİȚȞ (421d–422b). Accordingly Socrates says he and Hermogenes must determine word components in some other way than they have been doing up to this point. Hermogenes concurs that what Socrates is saying is likely, ǼețȩȢ Ȗİ, and Socrates enthusiastically agrees, ǼețÕȢ įÁIJĮ. Finally, Socrates says all that has come before had led up to this conclusion (422bc). Socrates, in trying to etymologize the principles of Heraclitean thought, has argued for the probable need for a new way of proceeding in the discussion. Only when he considers “the good” does he fix on this probability, though he could have brought it up on linguistic grounds at any point within the etymological section. By his new method, he will aim at what is primary to word-synthesis and itself beyond analysis, a partless part of a word, an atom of language. Although in one sense, this step in the argument supersedes everything in the etymologies, Socrates stresses its continuity with what has gone before. What appears discontinuous is in reality continuous because of the argument’s correspondence to the divided line. Socrates considers together “the good” and the completely analyzed unit of meaning, because together they allude to the analytic sense of the good, the goal of the divided line’s four stages. Socrates moves through the second and third stages of the line in the preceding eight sets of etymologies by regular stages, at last to consider a

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simple and direct knowledge of the good. So far, he has considered only the probability of such knowledge. This likelihood of knowledge, too, will have a fourfold divided-line order, as did the preceding three stages of the line, and similarly each of its four stages itself will appear in four stages. Although Socrates appears to be arguing discontinuously, just at this point in the Cratylus where he moves from the third to the fourth stage of the divided line, he is in fact proceeding according to the sense of the line. The first three parts of the line represent synthetic or relational activities of the mind, while the fourth represents direct and analytic intelligence. Socrates emphasizes that the section of the dialogue, which follows the eight sets of etymologies, directly follows from them along the model of the divided line’s reasoning when, in spite of his apparently fundamentally different method here, he can say that all that has preceded his abandonment of etymology has led directly to it. B. Belief in a Single Principle of Correctness 422bd After stating that there may be a purely analytic means to belay an infinite regress when defining “the good,” for example, Socrates states what he believes to be a condition of this analysis. He says that the fitness of primary names, irreducible components of language, cannot differ from the fitness of derivative names. For primary and for derivative names this fitness consists in “making manifest (įȘȜȠàȞ) what sort of thing each existing thing is” (422cd). Hermogenes has been quite agreeable to all of Socrates’ suggestions throughout the Cratylus. At this stage of the argument Socrates unnecessarily and for the first time makes a great deal of securing Hermogenes’ agreement to his opinion about what the fitness of names is. He uses many terms involving “opinion” to secure this agreement. Terms involving “opinion” occur in so many contexts in the Cratylus that they are difficult to characterize as remarkable or tellingly conspicuous. Still, along with the ordinary terms įȠțİl, ȠٵĮȚ and the slightly less ordinary ȟȣȞįȠțİl, ıȣȞİʌȓıțİȥĮȚ occurs in the dialogue for the first time. Because, as Socrates thinks, éȢ µoȚ įȠțİl, defining etymologically poses an infinite regress, he asks Hermogenes to help him consider the fitness itself, ıȣȞİʌȓıțİȥĮȚ. Again, when Socrates says that primary and derivative names are fitting in the same way, he expresses an opinion, and calls for assent to it as an opinion, ȠٵĮȚ țĮi ıȠi ȟȣȞįȠțİl. Socrates has moved from likelihood to opinion, from the first to the second stage of the divided-line pattern within the first stage of a four-stage argument. Socrates’ method, which he insists that he has (422b), next yields its third stage, a systematic description of elementary analytic meaning.

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Socrates has stated that names should clarify particulars. He asks Hermogenes how people could clarify without words, if, for instance, they had neither vocal cords nor tongues. He himself suggests that mime or sign language can also express with clarity. Someone can directly designate what is aloft, IJÕ ¥ȞȦ, by pointing up to the sky, what is below, IJÕ țȐIJȦ, by pointing earthward. To imitate a running horse is quite a bit harder, he says, and to do so requires gestures that are more elaborate and movements of the body. In its turn, Socrates considers vocal imitation. An onomatopoetic name is a vocal imitation, but not all vocal imitations are names. The mimicking of animal calls falls into the same class, as do some musical imitations. Representational imitating, that which deals with what is perceivable, for example, sound, shape, and color, falls largely outside the realm of naming and within the realms of music and the graphic arts respectively. What is left for names to imitate? Socrates says that names imitate not a thing’s external qualities but its essential nature, its ousia. Names imitate with letters and syllables, so Socrates returns to the problematic primary names, “flux,” “motion,” and “fixity,” to determine how these names imitate essence in their letters and syllables. Socrates has substituted ˛ȠȒ for ˛ȑȠȞ, eȑȞĮȚ for eȩȞ, and ıȤȑıȚȢ for įȠàȞ. The meanings and philosophical problems remain the same (422e–424b). Here at the most elementary level of clarifying meaning Socrates requires distinctions between the up and the down, and says that to express continuous motion is complex, if not downright ridiculous. He is playing the adversary of Heraclitus. When he claims that names imitate essence, Socrates defines by division. He separates kinds of imitation and provides in the process a loose system of the mimetic arts. This systematic account (wherein naming also fits) is not crucial to the shift in the argument from word roots to letters in themselves, but it usefully introduces Socrates’ philosophical technique, definition by division, or diairesis. By locating his account of names within an account of essence, Socrates establishes his more general philosophic purposes. He also makes his method for attaining those purposes, diairesis, apply to the topic of names. Again, Socrates reckons namemaking ontologically, by its relation to essence. D. The Need for Classification of Letters 424b–425b Socrates asks what sort of definition by division, įȚĮȚȡȑıİȦȢ, he who imitates essence in letters and syllables uses. The imitator must divide, įȚİȜȑıșĮȚ, his materials in the same way that musicians sort out their rhythms. Socrates himself proposes to divide letters according to the classifications, țĮIJ¦ İhįȘ, of grammarians, who are skilled in these matters. Socrates lists four classifications: mutes, consonants, vowels, and semi-vowels. He says that these classifications

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likewise admit of further subdivision and the divisions receive names until at a reach of analysis compositors can know, eįİlȞ, the classifications in the same way as the letters they classify. At this stage skillful compositors know how, œʌȓıIJĮıșĮȚ, to make names like things, to choose and combine letters as a painter employs his colors. As a likeness, ¹ İețȫȞ, demands some coloration from a painter, so, too, it demands some consonance from the namemaker. In this way, namemaking attains to the status of a skill or craft, IJȑȤȞȘ. Ancient namemakers put names together. To gain technical knowledge, İhʌİȡ IJİȤȞȓțȦȢ œʌȚıIJȘıȩµİșĮ, about namemaking, Socrates says he and his interlocutors must have names taken apart, įȚİȜȠµȑȞȠȣȢ, broken down by a process of diairesis. Then they must see if the ancient names are properly put together; for, if not, ancient names are faulty and off course, ȠÙ țĮș’ ÐįȩȞ (424b–425b). At one level Socrates has set requirements for namemaking; at another he has put limits on reasoning in general. Failure to analyze leads to inadequate name-synthesis, synthesis off course, ȠÙ țĮș’ ÐįȩȞ. While synthesis is rife in this passage (thirteen ıȣv-compounds), what connects this account of namemaking to previous Heraclitean themes in the Cratylus becomes most definite in this reference to a road. The course, țĮș’ ÐįȩȞ, obviously recalls Heraclitus’ way up and down (DK 22 B 60). 2. Sound as Sense 425b–428a: Synopsis Socrates proceeds in four steps through making likenesses of opinions (1), demystifying his opinion (2), and systematizing sounds as manifestations of Heraclitean sense (3), to seek along with Hermogenes to ground his opinion in knowledge such as Cratylus may possess (4). Socrates concludes this second stage of IV, the phonological section, with lack of wonder, and he points back to how the etymologies befitting pistis or belief in and on Heraclitean terms concluded with lack of wonder in the figure of Pan in II. It was no wonder, either, when the indistinguishability of Greek and barbaric names followed with lack of wonder from dianoia developing Heraclitean assumptions in III. The Pan-logos in II would have surprised and perhaps even have appalled Heraclitus, though, as would the confounding of distinctions between Greek and barbarian in III. Socrates’ lack of wonder in IV, then, is also ironic. A. Providing an Appearance of Classification 425bc Socrates classifies letters so that they bear out the flux of being. He marks where the argument stands on the divided line, at the stage of belief, pistis, when he asks Hermogenes at just this point if he believes himself capable of performing the necessary diairesis or division into classes of letters: ıÝ ʌȚıIJİȪİȚȢ ıĮȣIJù ȠƒÒȢ IJ' ¥Ȟ İŮȞĮȚ IJĮàIJĮ ȠÛIJȦ įȚİȜȑıșĮȚ (425b). What follows are four stages of the opinion or belief in the literal sense of Heraclitus. When

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considering the imitation of essence, Socrates suggests that letters may have meaning in and of themselves. He tries to find exact meanings for letters. The meanings are Heraclitean, to back up the etymologies that have already expressed the assumption of flux. First qualifying his remarks by saying he has no certain knowledge of what he is about, Socrates suggests to Hermogenes that they make accurate representations of human conjectures, IJ¦ . . . įȩȖµĮIJĮ . . . İețȐȗȠµİȞ, on the classification of letters, įȚĮȚȡİlıșĮȚ. It was with just such a preamble, as Socrates recalls, that he introduced his etymologies of the names of the gods. Their names were the fourth stage within the etymologies developing pistis in IID. As he commenced that stage of reasoning in the etymologies, Socrates found it laughable and persuasive that the gods symbolize a Heraclitean account of reality. Accordingly, when Socrates says next that he thinks the idea that letters and syllables should accurately represent reality is ridiculous, īİȜolĮ µĜv oٵĮȚ, he shows how his previous argument bears on this discussion of letter elements. As in the previous etymologies for divine names, where the Heraclitean hypothesis resulted in ludicrous and self-contradictory consequences in the figure of Pan, so, too, will Socrates derive self-contradiction from Heraclitean assumptions. Socrates here, at the outset of his four stages of an analyzable Heraclitean belief or pistis, is making likenesses, İețȐȗȠµİȞ, and comparisons that indicate his counter-Heraclitean purposes in argument. B. The Comic and Tragic Dependence on Opinion 425d–426b While Socrates finds the opinions he has to deal with laughable, he also says those opinions are unavoidable. Since he does not understand the primary names, he can do one of two things. He can either invoke divine origin as tragedians invoke the deus ex machina, µȘȤĮȞ¦Ȣ, to get out of difficulty in a plot, or, as previously, he can invoke barbaric origin. Neither of these explanations satisfies Socrates; for neither provides a means to determine the correctness of primary names or leads to pure analytic demonstrable knowledge, țĮșĮȡȫIJĮIJĮ . . . ¢ʌȠįİlȟĮȚ, and linguistic skill, IJİȤȞȚțȩȞ. Therefore, says Socrates, even while perceiving his opinions rash and foolish, ØȕȡȚıIJȚț¦ . . . ȖİȜȠlĮ, he must assume them for the purpose of the argument (425d–426b). At the first stage of this pistis in and on Heraclitean terms Socrates said he would engage in likeness-making. In this second stage, he first dismisses mystifying opinions that previously prohibited further analysis, and then assumes responsibility for his opinions, foolish as they may be, in order to advance from mere opinion to sound analytic knowledge. He enters the third stage in an opinion necessary to lead to knowledge that all is in flux.

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C. A Natural Phonetic Mimetic System 426c–427d Socrates’ system of sounds commences with the letter rho, ˛, an instrument of motion, țȚȞȒıİȦȢ. He says that motion itself is tantamount to “going,” eȑȞĮȚ, in spite of the orthographical variations in the two words. As opposed to the principle of motion in rho, he here mentions the noun stasis. Next he lists several words containing rho wherein motion is fundamental to the meaning, among them ˛İlȞ, ˛ȠÍ, IJȡȩµJ, and IJȡĮȤİl. Likewise iota expresses subtle motion, as in eȑȞĮȚ and gİıșĮȚ, while phi, psi, sigma, and zeta all express windy or shaking motions, as in ȥȣȤȡȩv and ıİȓİıșĮȚ. Oppositely, the dentals tau and delta represent compression and fixity, as in įİıµȠà and ıIJȐıİȦȢ. Lambda is smooth and slippery, as in ȜİlĮ and ȜȚʌĮȡÕȞ, but gamma restrains the sliding lambda to produce in combination with it the sense of stickiness, as in ȖȜȓıȤȡȠȞ and ȖȜȣțÝ. Nu, n, expresses the interior of the voice, as in œȞIJÕȢ and ⁄ȞįȠȞ. Of the vowels, alpha and eta appear respectively in “greatness” and “breadth,” µİȖȐȜJ and µˇțİȚ, because of their magnitude, while omicron appears in “round,” ȖȠȖȖȪȜȠȞ, because omicron is round. In this way, the nomothete has attached syllables and letters as signs and names of things and is able to make more names with them by synthetic process, ıȣȞIJȓșİȞĮȚ (426c–427d). Quite suddenly, Socrates forms this system of letters that largely signify the realm of flux. Socrates’ rapid delivery strikingly contrasts with his lengthy and diffident introduction to these obviously profuse remarks on letters. Again, Socrates has rushed forward in a Heraclitean stage of his exposition. At the end of this systematic account of how the nomothete has worked with sounds to produce a correct representation, Socrates says he has finished with what he has to say on the matter, unless Cratylus wants to help him add anything to it. D. The Need to Test Theory 427e–428a Hermogenes demands that Cratylus respond in some way to Socrates’ system of an ostensibly Heraclitean opinion. Hermogenes especially wants to emerge from the confusion into which Cratylus has cast him, and he wishes to learn something. He has not been able to tell whether Cratylus intentionally made nothing plain to him about the rightness of names. He commands Cratylus to agree with or to contradict Socrates, œȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ . . . İeʌȑ, so he, Cratylus, may learn from Socrates, gȞĮ µȐșVȢ, or teach Socrates and Hermogenes the way things are in reality. To this demand for knowledge to complement or displace Socrates’ preliminary opinion, Cratylus replies that knowledge, µĮșİlȞ, is a difficult thing. Hermogenes further importunes. He reminds Cratylus that Hesiod recommends adding little to little. Finally, he says that justice binds Cratylus to contribute to the discussion. Here even Socrates, on the grounds of his uncertainty, appeals to Cratylus; for, as he says, it would be no wonder, ȠÙț ¨Ȟ

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șĮȣµȐȗȠȚµȚ, if Cratylus had a better account than he does, since Cratylus appears to have made a study of the matter, įȠțİlȢ . . . µİµĮșȘțȑȞĮȚ. Socrates is even willing to enlist as one of his students, IJîȞ µĮșȘIJîȞ (427d–428b). Cratylus says that he may have to disagree with Socrates’ words when he says he fears, on the contrary, ijȠȕȠàµĮȚ . . . IJȠÙȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ, that he is more likely to become Socrates’ student than Socrates his. He acknowledges Socrates’ progress by quoting from Iliad 9 Achilles’ words to Ajax, “You appear to have expressed, (µȣșȒıĮıșĮȚ), my thoughts exactly,” and by saying himself that Socrates has spoken oracularly in a reasonable way, țĮIJ¦ ȞȠàȞ, (428bc). In what follows from this point to the dialogue’s conclusion, contradiction becomes the dominant problem in the argument and Cratylus attempts to avoid the problems of contradiction by denying them existence. This polite prelude to their argument contains the elements of Cratylus and Socrates’ forthcoming disagreements. Socrates accepts the possible contradiction before Cratylus speaks, while Cratylus fears ambivalence. Cratylus chooses an epic figure, Achilles, as he breaks his silence, to express his opinion. His choice has dramatic worth in this context in view of his preceding silence (and ensuing stubbornness), while the choice of Ajax for Socrates has philosophical purpose as well. Ajax has spoken, µȣșȒıĮıșĮȚ, just as Socrates has uttered oracles in IVB4, at the conclusion of a mythic and oracular stage of the argument analogous to the second stage of the divided line. 3. Name as Thing 428b–433d: Synopsis If names cannot be better or worse, then there will be no way to tell the real from the imitation, the model from the copy. In four stages, then, Socrates moves from looking in two directions to avoid self-contradiction (1), through Cratylus’ opinion that falsehood and self-contradiction are impossible in speech (2), to a system distinguishing true from false and better from worse (3), and finally to its alternative, a world where even one’s name and oneself are indistinguishable (4). Socrates sets strict limits on systematic reasoning here. In order successively, he excludes deception, confusion, selfcontradiction, and delusion from a possible system of names. In the argument’s next stage, the last reach of the hypothesis of flux, the same limits will apply epistemologically to the Heraclitean account of being. A. An Epic Task 428de Suddenly Socrates expresses wonder and disbelief over what he has been saying, șĮȣµȐȗȦ . . . ¢ʌȚıIJî. To avoid self-deception he says, also quoting Homer (A 343), he should look fore and aft, ȕȜȑʌİȚȞ. Socrates previously said he would not wonder if he were wrong in his belief; here, conversely, he wonders while disbelieving himself. The realm of wonder and lack of pistis

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has replaced the realm of pistis and lack of wonder. Socrates, at the crux of this shift in intellectual outlook, looks both ways. He does so to contain opposites within a single view, and to resolve potential contradictions instead of avoiding them. This first advance from pistis to a systematic understanding of opposites, fore and aft, involves sense perception, ȕȜȑʌİȚv. B. Denial of True and False Names 428e–430b Socrates gets Cratylus to agree that naming is an art, that its artists are nomothetes, and that painters or builders vary from each other as better or worse correspondingly as their products are better or worse. Cratylus will not admit that nomothetes or their products vary from one another as better or worse. According to him, a name is correct or is not a name, so that Hermogenes’ name does not belong to him. He is not a son of Hermes, but of someone else. If someone calls him Hermogenes, he is not lying, since to say a thing, which is not apparent, is sound without sense. A falsehood is nothing but meaningless noise, no more capable of expressing anything than beaten brass (428e–430a). In this curious and frustrating argument, Cratylus makes extensive use of the language of opinion. Five of his ten main verbs are įoțİl. Socrates’ opinion allows for and relies on distinctions outside of namemaking. Cratylus by his opinion can only deny contradiction and falsehood. He has to become deaf to argument. Socrates next attempts to test the opinion of Cratylus for its coherence by the standard of dianoia. Accordingly he asks why naming, itself within the classification of art, does not vary in quality as do the other arts. C. Possible Systematic Inconsistency 430b–432a When Socrates suggests that he and Cratylus find common terms for reconciliation, he again shows that he is willing to change his mind. This time he argues first that a name is different from what it names. He reasons that names imitate things, and, in another way, so do pictures. Next, he says that we can assign, įȚĮȞİlµĮȚ, an imitation to a thing to be imitated. In the case of pictures, we can also do the opposite, IJȠÙȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ, and mistakenly or erroneously assign an imitation. He concludes that of these assignings, įȚĮȞȠµĮf, only the first kind is correct, the one that assigns imitations like the things imitated. When Socrates attempts to claim that names, like pictures, similarly assign imitations, the recalcitrant Cratylus insists that names do not so assign įȚĮȞȑµİȚȞ. Cratylus at length abandons his absurd claim when Socrates gives him an example of a name mistakenly imitating a thing. Socrates claims that there can be right and wrong assigning of imitation, įȚĮȞȠµȒ. The first expresses truth, the second falsehood. Further, if names can assign imitations falsely, įȚĮȞȑµİȚȞ, then so can verbs, and so can the whole statements, ȜȩȖȠȣȢ, which are unions of nouns and verbs, ıȪȞșİıȚȢ. As pictures may be well or ill

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made, so too, may names vary in quality and composition, their makers varying accordingly in skill (430a–431e). In this stage of the argument, Socrates appears to have completely reversed Cratylus’ claims just previous. Cratylus has tried to deny difference and falsehood, but he appears to have given way without a struggle. The assigning, įȚĮȞȠµȒ, of name to thing instead of simply the imitation of thing by name, is the activity producing truth or falsehood. In this way, Socrates can systematically distinguish between true and false or better and worse names and namemakers. When he so frequently uses įȚĮȞȠµȒ and įȚĮȞȑµİȚȞ in this third and dianoetic stage of argument, Socrates points again to the correspondence between dianoia and nomos, systematic reasoning and systematic arrangement. Synthesis by name, ıȪȞșİıȚȢ, here admits of falsehood and requires analytic arrangement, įȚĮȞȠµȒ, in order to express truth. Still, Cratylus attempts again to ascribe infallibility to names without having to allow for their users’ varying abilities to allot them to objects. D. Problems for Names as Identical Copies 432b–432d At this point in the argument, Cratylus says that a namemaker can only do a good job, since a word altered in spelling is no word at all. Without insisting on a difference between the inventors and the spellers of words, Socrates makes short work of this case. Perhaps in the case of numbers, he points out, the change of an individual unit changes a thing, the number, from itself. Where a general instead of an exact impression suffices, such slight unit-letter changes only negligibly affect the quality of the likeness, İețȩȞȠȢ. If likenesses had to be exact, a likeness would have to be identical to the thing itself. A copy of Cratylus, possessing his soul and mind, ijȡȩȞȘıȚȞ, would in fact be a second Cratylus, as Cratylus has to agree. The effect on names would be ridiculous, īİȜȠlĮ; for names would become the doubles of the things they named. Everything would itself become twofold; no one could distinguish names from things. 4. Perception as Knowledge 432d–436c: Synopsis Socrates proceeds in four stages. He moves first from reliance on type or eikon in order to avoid self-contradiction. Next, he entertains a belief in the meaning of letters as conventionally preserved from self-contradiction. Then he considers systematic and mathematical checks on inconsistency. Finally he determines what must be true for Cratylus’ view to lead to knowledge, namely that knowledge and sense perception be the same.

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A. Cratylus’ Preference for Representational Names 432d–433d To avoid the confusing of models and copies that follows from insisting that a name perfectly imitate a thing, Socrates outlines another account of how names imitate. Since names cannot exclude falsehood in and of themselves, a name should instead more or less accurately show a thing’s basic outline, Ð IJȪʌoȢ. To ask for more than this from a name is like wandering around the streets of Aigina at night, ȞÚțIJȦȡ ʌİȡȚȓȠȞIJİȢ ÑȥĜ ÐįȠà. Cratylus, then, must seek some other account of the natural fitness of names; for if he insists that names are naturally fit in meaning, but that a namemaker can give them incorrectly, Cratylus cannot agree with himself, ȠÙc ȠƒȩȢ IJ’⁄ıV ıȣµijȦȞİlȞ ıĮȣIJù. The question remains whether to be a worthwhile likeness, İekȫn, a name must have letters in some way like the thing it names. If so, says Socrates, names, while imperfect, can still be better or worse, since the crafting of form in letters can be better or worse. Cratylus is by no means convinced. Here Socrates sets up an opposition between reasoning from a rough outline, IJȪʌȠȢ or İețȫȞ, and reasoning from exact correspondences. Reasoning from type or eikon, Platonic divided-line reasoning, is here alternative to selfcontradiction, the indistinguishability of opposites, and wandering around in a road in the dark, suggestive here of the Heraclitean way up and down. Socrates has again argued in general for an artistry of namemaking to replace the need for naturally perfect names. Again, Cratylus rejects his conclusion after agreeing with his premises; for he does not think, oٵĮȚ, he need contend with Socrates, since he does not accept a misplaced name as a name at all. Socrates attempts to redefine the rift between his and Cratylus’ positions and so to expose even more plainly the self-contradictory nature of Cratylus’ point of view. B. Conventional Paradoxes for Natural Mimetic Names 433d–434e Cratylus agrees a name represents, įȒȜȦµĮ, a thing, that some names are primary and some compound. Either the best representation, as Socrates says, is the most exact, so that names vary as do other likenesses, or Cratylus must accept Hermogenes’ notion that names are conventionally formed by those who know what they mean and agree with each other on signs for it. One convention can counter another, IJȠÙȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ, such as one wherein we call “great” “small” and “small” “great.” Such a convention, though, does not differ, įȚĮijȑȡİȚv, in principle as a convention. Cratylus insists representation by similarity still differs greatly from representation by arbitrary symbol. On this view, Socrates says letters as components must be like elements of the thing they represent, as an artist’s paints are the colors of the thing he has to paint. Previously the letter rho represented motion and change and, Socrates here adds, “hardness (ıțȜȘȡȩIJȘIJȚ)”, while lambda represented “yielding.” In Eretria, though, ıțȜȘȡȩIJȘȢ is ıțȜȘȡȠIJȒȡ, so that sigma and rho either mean

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the same thing to both sets of speakers or one or the other of the letters means nothing to one of the sets. Cratylus says both must mean the same for both. Socrates points out a further problem with this word. In both dialect variations the lambda appears. Lambda is a letter whose character, yielding, is opposite, IJÕ œȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ, to the whole word. This may be a case of shoddy compounding such as Socrates and Hermogenes previously discussed in a way that Cratylus thinks correct, ÑȡșîȢ įȩțİȚȢ ⁄µȠȚȖİ. Cratylus thinks the spelling may be improved, but Socrates says they have no need for improvement since both already understand the word, µĮȞșȐȞoµİȞ. When Cratylus attributes this phenomenon to habit and custom, ⁄șoȢ, Socrates equates custom with convention (433d–434e). In this part of the argument, Socrates reviews Cratylus’ opinion of name formation and refers to his own previous opinion about the significance of different individual letters. Socrates did not in fact refer to “hardness” as a characteristic of the rho previously. Of words characterizing the sense of rho as flowing that he there lists, IJȡĮȤȪȢ, for instance, could also imply hardness. Socrates at this point in the dialogue is more interested in introducing selfcontradiction to the flux, and so rho, than in harmonizing his second account with his first. Cratylus still thinks that name formation is natural in that it shows the nature of things named, but this opinion turns out to be the conventional hypothesis again. To call small great and great small, an apparent identification of opposites does not alter the difference in size. Further, the same letters can mean different things in different words. Cratylus’ opinion in this way yields to its contradiction, while Socrates’ opinion still allows for the possibility of knowledge. C. Successful Representation by Like and Unlike 434e–435d Socrates becomes systematic. He expresses himself in terms of dianoia. When in communicating by custom and habit Socrates understands, įȚĮȞȠàµĮȚ, what he says, Cratylus can know that Socrates understands it, ȖȚȖȞȫıțİȚȢ ÓIJȚ œțİlȞȠ įȚĮȞȠȠàµĮȚ. Further, Socrates can communicate systematically, įȚĮvooȪµİvoȢ, in sounds like or unlike things. Custom, then, can distinguish opposites and make consistent sense by means either of sameness or difference in sound. Communication by custom takes place even without sound, as Socrates notes when he infers from Cratylus’ silence that Cratylus agrees that custom can communicate by like or unlike sounds. Custom, then, allows speakers to express what they systematically understand, ïȞ įȚĮȞȠȠȪµİȞȠȚ ȜȑȖȠµİȞ. Finally, Socrates admits that if we could find the natural correspondences between all names and all things, we could get the best names. Without any such correspondences, conversely, names would be at their worst, ĮhıȤȚıIJĮ įĜ IJȠÙȞĮȞIJȓȠȞ. In any case we cannot avoid some recourse to convention in naming. In this third stage of argument four forms of įȚĮȞȠȑȠµĮȚ appear. Mathematics, as the most dianoetic reasoning, checks Cratylus’ indiscriminate view.

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Socrates next derives the epistemological consequences of the view, which Cratylus will not relinquish. D. Denying Inconsistency 435d–436c When Socrates asks him what function names can perform, Cratylus answers what would be true if his account of names were not yet inconsistent, or perhaps as if he can merely disallow the charges of inconsistency. According to Cratylus the function of names is to instruct, a function they perform so well that whoever knows names also knows things named, ÖȢ ¨Ȟ IJ¦ ÑȞȩµĮIJĮ œʌȓıIJȘIJĮȚ, œʌȓıIJĮıșĮȚ țĮi IJ¦ ʌȡȐȖµĮIJĮ. Such a conclusion assumes that names are like things, еoȓȦn, according to Socrates. If so, they fall within a single craft of similars, as Cratylus must say if he is in fact saying that someone who knows names also knows things, ÖȢ ¨Ȟ IJ¦ ÑȞȩµĮIJĮ İeįÍ İhıİIJĮȚ țĮi IJ¦ ʌȡȐȖµĮIJĮ. Socrates asks that they consider, hįȦµİȞ, what kind of instruction names provide and whether such instruction is the best. Cratylus insists no other means exists of teaching, discovering, or learning, µĮȞșȐȞİȚȞ, than by means of names. Socrates again counsels Cratylus to consider, œȞȞȠȒıȦµİȞ, œȞȞȠİlȢ, whether, if he relies entirely on names, he does not risk extreme confusion, especially since the namemakers themselves may have had an incorrect sense of things they named. Cratylus proclaims that a namemaker had to know, İeįȩIJĮ, what he was doing for the name he gave to be a name, as the agreement, ıȪµijȦȞĮ, of names and things demonstrates. This he says Socrates must also have comprehended, œȞİȞoİlȢ, in previous observation (435d–436c). Here Cratylus holds that knowledge of things is knowledge of likenesses, and that perception of likeness is knowledge of fact. The language of knowledge and certainty abounds in this passage (one use of µĮȞșȐȞİȚȞ, two of œʌȓıIJĮıșĮȚ, three of œȞȞȠİlȞ, and six of eįİlȞ). Cratylus appeals to consistency, ıȪµijȦȞĮ, despite Socrates’ previous case of the inconsistencies in the form and content of ıțȜȘȡȩIJȘȢ.

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Seven REDUCTION, RECAPITULATION: 436C–440C 1. The Absurdity of Flux as a Model of Logos; 436c–439a In the phonological section, IV, Socrates has followed out the suggestion from the eighth group of names that names are like the things that they name. Things are in flux, and so to be natural and realistic, names must represent and even embody flux. This suggestion leads Cratylus to assert that to know a name is to know a thing. This suggests that knowledge is perception, as did the allusions to the Theaetetus in the eighth group. In four steps, Socrates reduces to absurdity the hypothesis of flux and, as far as he suggests it, the concomitant thesis that perception is knowledge. A. Eikasia: Likeness to Geometric Absurdity 436cd Socrates begins the reductio by noticing that, if the namemaker had initially erred in assigning names and then forced other names to agree with his initial mistake, there would be nothing strange or absurd, ¥IJȠʌȠȞ, about it. He points out that something like this happens in geometrical diagrams where an initial error leads to subsequent ones. He says we must construct diagrams, įȚĮȖȡĮµµȐIJȦv, correctly in order not to falsify a whole chain of reasoning in geometry; by analogy in other forms of argument, we must carefully select first principles and assumptions, IJÁȢ ¢ȡȤÁȢ. (436cd). Plato, and probably Socrates, too, knew that diagrams which are incorrectly or impossibly constructed are intentional in those geometric proofs which invalidate hypotheses by the technique of reductio ad absurdum. Socrates is fully aware, while Cratylus is not at all aware, that analogies in speech do not work just like mathematical analogiai. The first are always approximate, however elegant, but the second are always exact and fully mathematically manipulable, so that they can be multiplied and divided exactly, for instance. By employing analogies in speech, like the diagram analogy here, Socrates only intends to express probabilities about language and Heraclitus’ meaning. By first suggesting a comparison with geometrical diagrams, and then imitating a mathematical pattern of reasoning here in the Cratylus, he is not doing, or even trying to do, anything exactly mathematically provable.

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In reductio proofs, inconsistent consequences invalidate the assumptions from which they are derived. With this model in mind Socrates next says he would be surprised, ȠÙ µȑȞIJȠȚ ¢ȜȜ¦ șĮȣµȐȗȠȚµ’, if names could even be consistent with themselves, given the first principle that all is in flux, motion, and alteration. He proceeds to derive meanings from names in order to portray the flux as self-contradictory, since on this principle he finds letters for what is worst in names for what is best. For instance, “knowledge” signifies “fixity,” œʌȚıIJȒµȘ signifies gıIJȘıȚȢ, unless Socrates changes its orthography to bear out the principle of flux; even further, “certainty,” “account,” “trusting (ʌȚıIJȩȞ),” and “memory” directly contradict the principle. According to the principle, on the other hand, “error” and “mishap” correspond in etymological signification to “understanding” and “knowledge,” while “stupidity” and “license” mean “godlike progress” and “realism.” In short, Socrates thinks, ȠٵĮȚ, anybody can find names that indicate, ȠeȘșİȓȘ, that the original name-setter contradicted the hypothesis of flux in different ways, and on occasion accepted the hypothesis of fixity in its stead. Here Cratylus momentarily appeals to the argument that more names indicate the flux. Socrates rejoins again with a reference to mathematical reasoning. He asks Cratylus if they should count, įȚĮȡȚșµȘıȩµİșĮ, names like ballots, and reckon the truth by majority rule. Cratylus admits that this resort would provide him with no case (436d–437d). Because there can be counter opinions about the word “knowledge,” counter opinions about knowledge itself can co-exist. Further, opinion as such cannot decide on the truth of opinion, since not even majority opinion constitutes an epistemological principle. Geometric reasoning and analysis have argued against Cratylus in Part A of the Reductio and arithmetic does not begin to argue for him here in Part B, where Socrates allows for the possibility of believing that reality is not in flux, and that the early name-setters may so have believed. C. Dianoia: Consistency in Devising Names Depends on Knowledge of Things 438ad In the third stage of his reductio, Socrates makes use of the legislative and name-setting science in arguing that perception is not knowledge. First, he accepts the requirement that Cratylus has set up, that name-setters knew, İeįȩIJĮȢ, the things that they named. It follows, then, that they knew, İeįȑvĮȚ, things before they named them, contrary to the assumption that a knowledge of names is sufficient and necessary for knowledge of the things that they name. Cratylus falls back on the appeal to a divine origin of names. He still wants to establish their natural rightness and natural realism, which would

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allow for the identity of knowledge with sense perception. Still, as Socrates says, names will be no more consistent, and this in the same way which has already revealed that the hypothesis of flux is self-contradictory. The inconsistency becomes divine instead of human. Doggedly Cratylus denies divine origin to names that contradict him and his hypothesis. Unfortunately, he must then admit that he cannot tell which names are divine, those expressing fixity or those expressing flux. In names themselves no scientific standard, no means of distinction, IJȓȞȚ ⁄IJȚ įȚĮțȡȚȞȠàµİȞ, provides for the way in which Cratylus wants to distinguish real from apparent names. The hypothesis of flux does not exclude its own contradiction; instead, a systematic self-contradiction follows from assuming constant change within a science or system of name setting. D. Noesis: Knowing Things without Names 438e–439a In the fourth and summary stage of Socrates’ reductio, names are no longer the basis of knowledge of things. Knowledge, µĮșİlȞ, must first exist apart from names. Knowledge of things does not depend on what names make manifest but on what manifests, œµijĮȞȚİl without names and makes truth manifest (438de). When Socrates began his brief reduction to absurdity of the case for knowledge of things as the perception of names, he appealed to the analogy of geometric and analytic reasoning. The choice of geometric reasoning emerges as doubly significant. Geometry can provide a sort of manifest knowledge without names. Still using the model of geometric demonstration, Socrates concludes the dialogue with a formal recapitulation in four stages of the alternative to the hypothesis of flux. 2. The Dream of Being as Necessary for Logos 439a–440c We have seen the assumption of the flux to be systematically selfcontradictory. Apparent change is no proof of real change. Socrates has argued as if he were performing a geometric reductio proof. He has argued for fixed essence by showing the absurdity of a flux of being. While his argument is like a geometric proof, he does not intend it as a serious proof. It persuades by maintaining the reductio form, but it cannot convince Cratylus. At the end of the dialogue Socrates tries to persuade Cratylus directly about the fixity of essence. That fixity is in any way complete does not follow from the absurdity of complete flux. The reductio form dramatically poses the problem of finding in what way some things, even if only some of the time, are unchanging. The reductio does not resolve the problem. The reductio suggests, without concluding, that the fixity of being can be established. Plato is careful not to overrate the worth of his parody of a reductio proof. He is using a rhetorical foil not to delude, but to persuade.

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Plato follows a reductio model from geometry, which he has introduced by way of analogy. When Socrates recapitulates what follows from the flux, he again proceeds through the four stages of the divided line, but he interchanges the order of its two middle terms, pistis and dianoia. Plato emphasizes that he is persuading and not pretending to be scientific. Since pistis and dianoia are equal in quantity on the divided line, there may be a hint here that Plato thinks their philosophic value is also in some way equal. Picturethinking can compare to systematic science and belief can compare to knowledge, but in a different way than picture-thinking compares to belief and systematic science compares to knowledge. A. Eikasia: Names as Likenesses 439ab Names have not led to knowledge. Socrates says that the likely way, İūțȩȢ, to get to knowledge is by considering things in themselves. Some names are likenesses, İūțȩȞĮȢ, of the things that they name; still, we should know first what a thing is, so that we can judge the quality of the likeness, and not depend on likeness, İūțȩȞĮ, as our basis for judging what is true. Names as likenesses are likely to lead to confusion instead of knowledge. Socrates suggests that perception of likeness does not lead to knowledge of fact. B. Dianoia: Systematically Inconsistent Names 439bc The original name-setters may have systematically thought, įȚĮȞȠȒșİȞIJİȢ, that all is in flux. Socrates believes that they did so think, įȚĮȞȠȘșÁȞĮȚ, but mainly because they were swept into a maelstrom into which they continue to drag Socrates and his fellow speakers. These name-setters need not have possessed wisdom. What the name-setters perceived, the flux of becoming, fooled them, and although they reasoned systematically, this does not mean that they knew what they were talking about. C. Pistis: The Dream-Belief of Form 439ce As an alternative to the Heraclitean whirlpool of becoming, Socrates recounts to Cratylus, whom he calls wondrous, șĮȣµĮıȓİ, his view based on a dream, ÑȞİȚȡȫIJIJȦ. He has envisioned that a good and beautiful exists in itself and that everything that exists has its peculiar being. Cratylus agrees. Socrates says next that the reality of a thing is not itself perceivable within the flux of particular impressions, but exists without change. For a thing to exist in reality, it cannot change form, IJÁȢ ĮÙIJȠà eįȑĮȢ, its character as an idea. Socrates perhaps calls Cratylus “wondrous” here in order to point out exactly where Cratylus and he should commence ensuing philosophical investigations.

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Philosophy famously begins for Socrates in wonder or IJÕ șĮȣµȐȗİȚȞ (Pl.Theaet. 155d) and he has used derivations from it at especially crucial turning points in the Cratylus (șĮȣµĮıȓȠȞ 391d, șĮȣµĮıIJȩȞ 408d, 421d). Socrates’ philosophical investigation proceeds next from another crucial point, a belief like his dream of things in themselves within the form of unchanging ideas. In the Republic (533b), geometers dream about being in itself, æȢ ÑȞİȚȡȫIJIJȠȣıȚ µĜȞ ʌİȡi IJÕ ÔȞ. The model of geometric reasoning dominating the closing remarks of the Cratylus makes it likely that “dream” has the same philosophical force in both dialogues.1 D. Noesis: Necessity of Idea for Knowledge, Knowers, Knowns 439e–440d Finally, Socrates says that without formal and unchanging being there can be no knowledge, ȖȞîıȚȢ. If all things change, knowledge will change, too, and not just superficially but in its intrinsic character or nature, ĮÙIJÕ IJÕ İŮįȠȢ. While changing from one nature to another, ¥ȜȜȠ İŮįȠȢ, knowledge will have no nature, character, or even existence. There will be no knowers or knowns. But if knowers, knowns, and knowledge itself exist, Socrates cannot think that the hypothesis of flux is likely, ȠÜ µȠȚ ijĮȓȞİIJĮȚ. Still, he does not say the hypothesis of flux cannot be true. Whether the theory of flux or the theory of fixed ideas is correct, Socrates thinks it unreasonable for someone who has intelligence, ȞȠàȞ, to put any trust, ʌİʌȚıIJİȣțȩIJĮ, in names and name-setters. Socrates here exhorts Cratylus to a belief in the form or idea of a thing in itself. Cratylus in his turn assures Socrates that he will reconsider the problem, even though he is predisposed to the view of Heraclitus. Plato concludes the dialogue by dramatically contrasting Cratylus and Socrates and their two points of view, namely the theory of flux and the theory of fixed ideas. Cratylus, proponent of constant motion, is ready to move back to the countryside. Socrates, believer in the dream of changeless being, is staying where he is. In thinking about the rightness of names and the flux of being, Cratylus is changeless, while Socrates appears quite willing to change his mind. In his last words, Socrates says that Cratylus will return to teach him some other time. Cratylus agrees to do so and urges Socrates to try in the meantime to figure these matters out, ʌİȚȡî ⁄IJȚ œȞȞȠİlȞ IJĮàIJĮ ½įȘ. Cratylus apparently thinks that he already has done the figuring (439d–440d). With only the slightest modifications Cratylus’ account of natural names could become not only compatible with how names indicate, but also most useful for the further investigation of language. Cratylus is holding on to what Rachel Barney calls “probably the essential thought to be extracted from the etymological declamation,” “there is a perfectly general and systemic way in which the names we use indicate that things are in flux.”2 He is hanging on to it so intently, though, that he sees neither its limits nor its usefulness. He does

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not see that, while names do indicate that things are in flux, they can do so misleadingly, which is Plato’s view. While Socrates has invalidated the whole chain of the etymologies and his reasoning on the hypothesis of flux, he has done so because he has taken that hypothesis as strictly as Cratylus wants to take it. He has drawn an analogy from geometry to show that it would not be absurd in namemaking if the namemaker had initially erred in assigning names and then forced other names to agree with his initial mistake. Cratylus is the one who has continued relentlessly to insist on the still correct judgment of the original namemaker and the exactness of an analogy between names and things. He is a sort of idealogue, a strict and uncompromising literalist. Although he thinks he understands naming and the flux, he cannot budge in the least in his notion of what the flux has to do with how names express things. For him the flux is an idée fixe, not a working hypothesis. It stops him from thinking instead of helping him think. In the dialogue’s concluding two pages, Socrates has again followed the divided line. He has interchanged the two middle sections and so exhorted Cratylus to a belief or even a dream that can lead to knowledge of what does not change. Socrates does not act as if he has proven anything. He does not put his conclusion into scientific language. Systematic reasoning from the etymological section does not lead in the phonological section of the dialogue to knowledge. Socrates suggests that a pre-scientific vision may do so instead. When he concludes the argumentative portion of the dialogue by making an appeal to pistis, Socrates makes the final point by implication that the dialogue itself is only a likeness of a proof. While Socrates has argued along the lines of geometric demonstration, he has in fact provided only the complex first stage in some yet more complex account of knowledge. He has suggested what is likely, and said that it perhaps is true, perhaps not (440d). He has not tried to show that it is certain.

NOTES Preface 1. Louis Meridier, “Preface,” in Cratyle (Paris: Budé, 1950), p. 20. 2. Thomas G. Rosenmeyer, “Name-Setting and Name-Using: Elements of Foundationalism in Plato’s Cratylus,” Ancient Philosophy, 18 (Spring 1998), p. 44. 3. David Sedley, “The Etymologies in Plato’s Cratylus,” Journal of Hellenic Studies, 118 (1998), p. 142n11; and Plato’s Cratylus (Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 2003), pp. 37–41. 4. Rachel Barney, “Socrates Agonistes: The Case of the Cratylus Etymologies,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy, 16 (1998), pp. 63–98. Cf. Names and Nature in Plato’s Cratylus (New York: Routledge, 2001), pp.49–51. 5. See also Richard Lewis Nettleship, Lectures on the Republic of Plato, 2nd ed. (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1901), pp. 238–258. 6. Friedrich Schleiermacher, “Introduction,” in Kratylos: Platons Werke (Berlin: G. Reiner, 1810), trans. W. Dobson (Cambridge: J. Smith, 1836), pp. 228–229. 7. See Josef Derbolav, Der Dialog Kratylos im Rahmen der Platonischen Sprach und Erkenntnis-philosophie (Saarbrucken: West-Ost-Verlag, 1953), pp. 24–26; and Platons Sprachphilosophie im Kratylos und in den Späteren Schriften (Darmstadt, Germany: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1973), pp. 29–30, Bibliography. 8. Ronald Levinson, “Language and the Cratylus: Four Questions,” Review of Metaphysics, 11 (1957), pp. 31–33. 9. Gert Jan de Vries, “Notes on Some Passages of the Cratylus,” Mnemosyne, 4:8 (1955), p. 290. 10. Victor Moritz E. Goldschmidt, Essai sur le Cratyle, Contribution à l'Histoire de la Pensée de Platon (Paris: H. Champion, 1940). 11. A. E. Taylor, Plato, the Man and his Work (New York: Dial Press, 1936), p. 78. 12. G. S. Kirk, “The Problem of Cratylus,” American Journal of Philology, 72 (1951), p. 226. 13. Paul Friedländer, Platon: Seinswahrheit und Lebenswirklichkeit, 2nd ed. (Berlin: W. DeGruyter, 1954); in English as Plato . . . An Introduction, vol. 1, trans. Hans Meyerhoff (New York: Pantheon, 1958), p. 32. 14. Thomas Taylor, “Introduction,” in Cratylus, Phaedo, Parmenides, and Timaeus of Plato, Translated, with Notes on the Cratylus and an Explanatory Introduction to Each Dialogue (London: Benjamin and John White, 1792), p. xvi. 15. See Rudolph H. Weingartner, “Making Sense of the Cratylus,” Phronesis, 15 (1970), p. 8; and Levinson, “Language and the Cratylus,” p. 28. 16. Goldschmidt, Essai sur le Cratyle, p. 93. 17. Robert Brumbaugh, “Plato’s Cratylus: The Order of Etymologies,” Review of Metaphysics, 11 (1958), pp. 503–504. 18. Sedley, “The Etymologies in Plato’s Cratylus,” p. 141; and Plato’s Cratylus, chap.2, esp. pp. 28–41, chap. 7, pp. 156–158. 19. Rosenmeyer, “Name-Setting and Name Using,” p. 44. 20. Barney, “Socrates Agonistes,” p. 66, also citing Goldschmidt on Nietzsche, p. 79n35. Cf. Names and Nature in Plato’s Cratylus, pp.60–69. 21. M. M. Mackenzie, “Putting the Cratylus in its Place,” Classical Quarterly, 36:1

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(1986), pp. 124–150. (Also publishes under M. M. McCabe and MM Mackenzie.); and Sedley, “The Etymologies in Plato’s Cratylus,” p. 151n38. 22. Proclus Diadochus, In Platonis Cratylum Commentaria: Edidit Georgius Pasquali, ed. Georgio Pasquali (Leipzig: Teubner 1908), Index, pp. 115–117. 23. Leendert Gerrit Westerink, Anonymous Prolegomena to Platonic Philosophy: Introduction, Text, Translation, and Indices (Amsterdam: North-Holland Publishing Company, 1962), pp. xxxvii–xl. 24. Proclus Diadochus, Procli Commentarius in Platonis Parmenidem, ed. Victor Cousin (Hildesheim, Germany: Georg Olms, 1961, repr. of Paris, 1864 ed.), p. 1060. 25. Brumbaugh, “Plato’s Cratylus,” p. 503. 26. Mackenzie, “Putting the Cratylus in its Place,” p. 124. Cf. John Victor Luce, “The Date of the Cratylus,” American Journal of Philology, 85 (1964), pp. 136–154; and Rosenmeyer, “Name-Setting and Name-Using,” p. 46n22. 27. Sedley, Plato’s Cratylus, chap. 1, p. 6–16. 28. Elroy L. Bundy, Studia Pindarica (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1986), p. 2; repr. of vol. 18, University of California Publications in Classical Philology (Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1962). 29. Rosenmeyer, “Name-Setting and Name-Using,” p. 46. 30. John Burnet, Platonis Opera (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976 repr. of 1900 ed.). 31. Hermann Diels and Walther Kranz, Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker, 6th ed. (Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1956). 32. Nicholas Hammond, Geoffrey Lemprière, and Howard Hayes Scullard, eds., Oxford Classical Dictionary, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970).

Chapter One 1. See Eva Brann, “The Music of the Republic,” Agon, 1:1 (1967), pp.1–117. 2. See Sir Thomas Little Heath, ed., The Thirteen Books of Euclid’s Elements, vol. 1, ed. and trans. Johan Ludvig Heiberg (New York: Dover, 1956, repr. of Cambridge University Press ed., 1908), pp. 129–130, citing Proclus, In Primum Euclidis Elementorum, ed. Gottfried Friedlein (Leipzig, Germany: Teubner, 1873), p. 221, 7–11. 3. Proclus, In Primum Euclidis Elementorum, pp. 211.18–212.1; and Sir Thomas Little Heath, A History of Greek Mathematics: vol. 1, From Thales to Euclid (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1960, repr. of Oxford University Press ed., 1921), p. 291. 4. Pappus, of Alexandria, Collectionis quae Supersunt, 7, ed. Fridericus Hultsch (Weidemann: Berlin, 1876–1877), p. 634; and Heath, Thirteen Books of Euclid’s Elements, vol. 1, p.138.

Chapter Two 1. David Sedley, Plato’s Cratylus (Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge Univ. Press, 2003.), pp. 16–21.

Notes

137

2. Rachel Barney, “Socrates Agonistes: The Case of the Cratylus Etymologies,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy, 16 (1998), p. 97. 3. Ibid.

Chapter Three 1. Thomas G. Rosenmeyer, “Name-Setting and Name-Using: Elements of Foundationalism in Plato’s Cratylus,” Ancient Philosophy, 18 (Spring 1998), p. 48. 2. See Raymond Adolph Prier, Archaic Logic: Symbol and Structure in Heraclitus, Parmenides, and Empedocles (Hague-Paris: Mouton, 1976). 3. Herman Fränkel, “A Thought Pattern in Heraclitus,” American Journal of Philology, 59 (1938), pp. 309–337. 4. Richard Robinson, “A Criticism of Plato’s Cratylus,” Philosophical Review, 65 (1956), p. 328. 5. Richard Robinson, “The Theory of Names in Plato’s Cratylus,” Revue Internationale de Philosophie, 9 (1955), p. 232. 6. E. R. Dodds, Gorgias: A Revised Text with Introduction and Commentary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1959), p. 337. 7. Rosenmeyer, “Name-Setting and Name-Using,” p. 48. 8. Robert Renehan, “Hera as Earth Goddess: A New Piece of Evidence,” Rheinisches Museum für Philologie, 117 (1974), pp. 193–201.

Chapter Four 1. Ferdinand Lassalle, Die Philosophie Herakleitos des Dunklen von Ephesos, vol. 2 (Berlin: Franz Dunker, 1858), pp. 420, 421n2. 2. Adalbert Steiner, “Die Etymologien in Platons Kratylos,” Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie, 22:2 (1916), p. 126. 3. Rachel Barney, “Socrates Agonistes: The Case of the Cratylus Etymologies,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy, 16 (1998), pp.71–75. 4. Richard Walzer, Eraclito, Raccolta dei Frammenti (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1964, repr. of 1939 ed.), p. 64. 5. Cf. Robert Brumbaugh, “Plato’s Cratylus: The Order of Etymologies,” Review of Metaphysics, 11 (1958), p. 509. 6. Cf. Phaedo, 8lc; and Victor Moritz E. Goldschmidt, Essai sur le Cratyle, Contribution à l'Histoire de Lapensée de Platon (Paris: H. Champion, 1940), p. 123n3. 7. Cf. Raymond Adolph Prier, Archaic Logic: Symbol and Structure in Heraclitus, Parmenides, and Empedocles (Hague-Paris: Mouton, 1976), p. 66. 8. Cf. Francis Macdonald Cornford, Theaetetus (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1959), p. 43n68.

Chapter Five 1. G. S. Kirk, Heraclitus: The Cosmic Fragments (Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1962), pp. 294–295. 2. Ibid., p. 275. 3. See Martin West, “Early Greek Philosophy,” in Oxford History of the Classical World (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1986), chap. 5, pp. 117–

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119. 4. See Ferdinand Lassalle, Die Philosophie Herakleitos des Dunklen von Ephesos, vol. 2 (Berlin: Franz Dunker, 1858), p.113; and Victor Moritz E. Goldschmidt, Essai sur le Cratyle, Contribution à L'Histoire de laPensée de Platon (Paris: H. Champion, 1940), p. 132. 5. Lassalle, ibid., vol.2, p. 338; and Goldschmidt, ibid., p.135. 6. Goldschmidt, ibid., p. 135. 7. Ibid., pp. 137–138. 8. Martin West, Early Greek Philosophy and the Orient (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), p. 220n3. 9. Paul Friedländer, Platon: Seinswahrheit und Lebenswirklichkeit (Berlin: W. DeGruyter, 1954); in English as Hans Meyerhoff, trans., Plato . . . An Introduction, vol. 2 (New York: Pantheon, 1958), p. 344. 10. See John Victor Luce, “The Date of the Cratylus,” American Journal of Philology, 85:2 (1964), p. 152. 11. See Francis Macdonald Cornford, Theaetetus (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1959), pp. 48–50. 12. Ibid. 13. Ibid., p. 43. 14. Ibid., p. 101.

Chapter Six 1. Friedrich Schleiermacher, “Introduction,” in Kratylos: Platons Werke (Berlin: G. Reiner, 1810), trans. W. Dobson (Cambridge: J. Smith, 1836), p. 230. 2. Thomas G. Rosenmeyer, “Name-Setting and Name-Using: Elements of Foundationalism in Plato’s Cratylus,” Ancient Philosophy, 18 (Spring 1998), p. 44.

Chapter Seven 1. Cf., John Victor Luce, “The Theory of Ideas in the Cratylus,” Phronesis, 10:1 (1965), pp. 25–27. 2. Rachel Barney, “Socrates Agonistes: The Case of the Cratylus Etymologies,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy, 16 (1998), p. 97.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Barney, Rachel. Names and Nature in Plato’s Cratylus. New York: Routledge, 2001. ———. “Socrates Agonistes: The Case of the Cratylus Etymologies,” Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy, 16 (1998), pp. 63–98. Brann, Eva. “The Music of the Republic,” Agon, 1:1 (1967), pp. 1–117. Brumbaugh, Robert. “Plato’s Cratylus: The Order of Etymologies,” Review of Metaphysics, 11:2 (1958), pp. 502–510. Bundy, Elroy L. Studia Pindarica. Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1986, repr. of University of California Publications in Classical Philology, vol. 18. Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press, 1962. Burnet, John, ed. Platonis Opera. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976, repr. of 1900 ed. Cornford, Francis Macdonald. Theaetetus. Indianapolis, Ind.: Bobbs-Merrill, 1959. Derbolav, Josef. Der Dialog Kratylos im Rahmen der Platonischen Sprach-und Erkenntnisphilosophie. Saarbrucken, Germany: West-Ost Verlag, 1953. ņņņņ. Platons Sprachphilosophie im Kratylos und im den Späteren Schriften. Darmstadt, Germany: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1973. Contains nearly complete critical bibliography for scholarship on the Cratylus from 1804–1972. De Vries, Gert Jan. “Notes on Some Passages of the Cratylus,” Mnemosyne, 4:8 (1955), pp. 290–297. Diels, Hermann, and Walther Kranz. Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker. 6th ed. Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung, 1956. Dodds, E. R., Gorgias: A Revised Text with Introduction and Commentary. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1959. Fränkel, Herman. “A Thought Pattern in Heraclitus,” American Journal of Philology, 59 (1938), pp. 309–337. Friedländer, Paul, Platon: Seinswahrheit und Lebenswirklichkeit. 2nd ed. Berlin: W. DeGruyter, 1954. In English as Plato . . . An Introduction. Translated by Hans Meyerhoff. New York: Pantheon, 1958. Goldschmidt, Victor Moritz E. Essai sur le Cratyle: Contribution a l'Histoire de la Ensée de Platon. Paris: H. Champion, 1940. Hammond, Nicholas, Geoffrey Lemprière, and Howard Hayes Scullard, eds. Oxford Classical Dictionary, 2nd ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970. Heath, Sir Thomas Little. A History of Greek Mathematics: vol. 1. From Thales to Euclid. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1960, repr. of Oxford University Press ed., 1921. ņņņņ. The Thirteen Books of Euclid’s Elements. New York: Dover, 1956, repr. of Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press ed., 1908. Kirk, G. S.. Heraclitus: The Cosmic Fragments. Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1954.

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———. “The Problem of Cratylus,” American Journal of Philology, 72 (1951), pp. 225–253. Lassalle, Ferdinand. Die Philosophie Herakleitos des Dunklen von Ephesos. Berlin: Franz Dunker, 1858. Levinson, Ronald. B., “Language and the Cratylus: Four Questions,” Review of Metaphysics, 11:1 (1957), pp. 28–41. Luce, John Victor. “The Date of the Cratylus,” American Journal of Philology, 85:2 (1964), pp. 136–154. ņņņņ. “The Theory of Ideas in the Cratylus,” Phronesis, 10:1 (1965), pp. 21–36. Mackenzie, M. M., “Putting the Cratylus in Its Place,” Classical Quarterly, 36:1 (1986), pp. 124–150. Meridier, Louis. Cratyle. Paris: Budé, 1950, repr. of 1931 ed. Nettleship, Richard Lewis. Lectures on the Republic of Plato. 2nd ed. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1901. Pappus of Alexandria. Collectionis quae Supersunt. 7. Edited by Fridericus Hultsch. Berlin: Weidemann, 1876–1877. Prier, Raymond Adolph. Archaic Logic: Symbol and Structure in Heraclitus, Parmenides, and Empedocles, Hague-Paris: Mouton, 1976. Proclus Diadochus. In Platonis Cratylum Commentaria: Edidit Georgius Pasquali. Edited by Georgio Pasquali. Leipzig, Germany: Teubner, 1908. ———. In Primum Euclidis Elementorum. Edited by Gottfried Friedlein. Leipzig, Germany: Teubner, 1873. ———. Procli Commentarius in Platonis Parmenidem, Edited by Victor Cousin. Hildesheim, Germany: Georg Olms, 1961, repr. of Paris, 1864, ed. Renehan, Robert, “Hera as Earth Goddess: A New Piece of Evidence,” Rheinisches Museum für Philologie, 117 (1974), pp. 193–201. Robinson, Richard. “A Criticism of Plato’s Cratylus,” Philosophical Review, 65 (1956), pp. 324–334. ———. “The Theory of Names in Plato’s Cratylus,” Revue Internationale de Philosophie, 9 (1955), pp. 221–236. Rosenmeyer, Thomas G., “Name-Setting and Name-Using: Elements of Foundationalism in Plato’s Cratylus,” Ancient Philosophy, 18 (Spring 1998), pp. 41–60. Schleiermacher, Friedrich Ernst. “Einleitung zur Übersetzung des Kratylos,” Platons Werke, Berlin: G. Reiner, 1810. Translated by W. Dobson, Cambridge: J. Smith, 1836. Sedley, David. “The Etymologies in Plato’s Cratylus,” Journal of Hellenic Studies, 118 (1998), pp. 140–154. ———, Plato’s Cratylus. Cambridge, U. K.: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Steiner, Adalbert. “Die Etymologien in Platons Kratylos,” Archiv für Geschichte der Philosophie, 22:2 (1915), pp. 109–132. Taylor, A. E.. Plato: the Man and his Work. New York: Dial Press, 1936.

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Taylor, Thomas. The Cratylus, Phaedo, Parmenides, and Timaeus of Plato, Translated, with Notes on the Cratylus and an Explanatory Introduction to Each Dialogue. London: Benjamin and John White, 1792. Walzer, Richard Eraclito, Raccolta dei Frammenti, reproduction of 1939 ed. Hildesheim, Germany: Georg Olms, 1964. Weingartner, Rudolph H. “Making Sense of the Cratylus,” Phronesis, 15 (1970), pp. 5–25. West, Martin. “Early Greek Philosophy,” in Oxford History of the Classical World. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986. ———. Early Greek Philosophy and the Orient. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971. Westerink, Leendert Gerrit. Anonymous Prolegomena to Platonic Philosophy, Introduction, Text, Translation, and Indices. Amsterdam: North-Holland Publishing Company, 1962.

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APPENDIX No one needs a full understanding of the mathematics of the divided line to follow the preceding argument about the Cratylus or to think of the diagram that almost perfectly suits that argument, namely a checkerboard. On the other hand, the geometry of the line is quite simple to work through. Geometric proof provides a paradigm for the consecutive thinking that Socrates employs in the practice of dialogue, Plato employs in the recording of it, and that readers can employ in the recollection of it. In Book 6 of the Republic Socrates divides a line into unequal parts and then divides the parts in the same ratio in which he has split the whole. Plato does not provide a diagram, but here are two, and two simple proofs to show the equality of the second and third parts of the line, a fact of some interest in evaluating the Cratylus as a grand-scale metaphor of ambiguity. I give the algebraic proof first because modern readers appear to be more comfortable with algebra than geometry. The points in the algebraic proof are labeled to correspond with the geometric proof that follows. Divided Line, Republic 6 Algebraic Proof a

b

c

d

A_____________________________________B L C M Cut AB into unequal parts at any point C. Cut AC and CB in the same proportion as AC/CB, at L and M. Label lengths a, b, c, d. To show b = c: a/b = c/d = a + b / c + d (assumption) ad = bc; ac + ad = ba + bb (product of means = product of extremes) ac + bc = ba + bb (substitution) c(a + b) = b(a + b); b = c (distribution) The algebraic proof of the equality of the middle sections is deceptively simple. In fact it only assumes the proportion and does not devise it. The following lengthier geometric proof based on Euclid’s Elements shows just how simple it would have been to construct the cuts in the divided line. Already in Socrates’ day it would have been manifest to students of elementary geometry that such cuts produce the equality of the middle sections.

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Enunciation To cut AC and CB in proportion as AC is to CB and to show that the shorter part of the larger line, CM of CB, is equal to the longer part of the shorter line, LC of AC, so cut. Construction Cut AB into unequal parts at C. Construct any angle ABD. Connect AD. Draw FC parallel to DB and FE parallel to AB (Euc. 1, prop. 31). Set off DG = FC (Euc. 1, prop. 2). Set off HG parallel to AB (Euc. 1, prop. 31). Connect DC. Set off LC = KG, CM = FJ (Euc. 1, prop. 2). IsayAL:LC::CM:MB::AC:BCandLC = CM. Demonstration FC = DG (construction). Angle CAF = angle GHD (Euc. 1, prop. 29). (alternate interior angles) FC is parallel to DB (Euc. 1, prop. 34). (construction) Angle DGH = angle FCA (Euc. 1, prop. 29); hence triangle DGH = triangle FCA and so AC = HG (Euc. 1, prop. 26). (angle-angle-side) Angle FJC = angle GKD (Euc. 1, prop. 29). (alternate exterior angles) FC is parallel to DB, FE to CB and to HG (Euc. 1, prop. 29); Hence FE = CB (Euc. 1, prop. 34). Angle CFJ=Angle GEF=AngleDGK(Euc. 1, prop. 29),FC = DG (construction); hence triangle CFJ = triangle DGK. Therefore FJ = KG (Euc. 1, prop. 26). By construction LC = KG, CM = FJ; hence LC = CM. (common notion 1) Hence also JE = MB, and AL = HK. (common notion 3) HK is to KG as triangle HKD is to triangle KGD (Euc. 6, prop. 1). FJ is to JE as triangle FJD is to triangle JED (Euc. 6, prop. 1). AC is to CB as triangle ACD is to triangle CBD (Euc. 6, prop. 1). Triangles HKD, FJD, and ACD are similar; triangles KGD, JED, CBD are similar (Euc. 6, Def. 1); hence triangle DHK : triangle DKG :: triangle FJD : triangle JED :: triangle ACD : triangle CBD, as alternate pairs of similar triangles under same heights. so HK:KG::FJ:JE::AC:CB (Euc. 6, prop. 4), but HK = AL, KG = LC, FJ = CM, JE = MB, (common notion 1) Recapitulation Hence AL:LC::CM:MB::AC:BC and LC=CM, Q.E.D.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Michael Riley is Professor of Classics and Tutor, formerly Director, of the Integral Liberal Arts Program at Saint Mary's College in Moraga, California. A graduate of Saint Mary's College, he earned both his M.A. and Ph. D. degrees from the Classics Department of the University of Washington in Seattle, Washington. He has also taught at Solano College in Fairfield, California, and Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana. He has lectured publicly on Homer, Hesiod, and Plato. His other interests include Herman Melville and Mark Twain.

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INDEX * Terms for which etymologies are discussed in the text are listed in boldface. absurdity, reduction to, 20, 27, 39, 44, 100, 129, 131 Acesimbrotos, 23, 47, 49 Archepolis, 23, 46, 47, 49 Achilles, 25, 122 advantageous, 19, 94, 96, 100, 102 Aëtius, 80 Agamemnon, 23, 50, 53 Agis, 23, 47, 49 agon (“game”), 6, 7, 136n1 air, 18, 24, 64, 65, 70, 82, 84, 88 aither, 24 Alcibiades, 1 Alcibiades 1 (Plato), 7, 40 analogia (“analogy”), 41, 54 analogy(ies) (“analogia”), 2–4, 7–10, 13– 16, 18, 34, 38, 43, 45, 47, 54–59, 61, 62, 64, 68–70, 73, 75, 82, 87, 96, 98, 99, 101, 113, 114, 129, 131, 132, 134 anamnesis (“recollection”), 48, 65, 99, 100 anthropos, 54–58 Antisthenes, 5, 113 Aphrodite, 23, 68, 69, 73 Apollo, 23, 40, 65–68, 73 Archytas, 10 Ares Enyalios, 40 Aristotle, xv, 29 Artemis, 23, 40, 67, 73 artisan(s), 13, 30, 34, 36–38, 40, 43, 48 Astyanax, 22, 23, 31, 32, 40–42, 43, 45– 49, 95 Athena, 8, 10, 20, 23, 40, 41, 49, 68–71, 73, 96, 97 Atreus, 23, 50, 53 Barney, Rachel, 1, 6, 30, 133, 135nn4 20, 137nn2 3 (chap. 2), 3 (chap. 4), 138n2 (chap. 7) Batieia, 40, 41 binding, 8, 19, 20, 24, 25, 41, 64, 93, 96–103, 107–111, 114 blamable, 100, 102

body (“soma”), 23, 25, 54, 55, 58–61, 118 Brumbaugh,Robert,6,135n17,136n25, 137n5 Bundy, Elroy L., 10, 136n28 Burnet, John, xv, 11, 136n30 cause(s), 16, 51, 55, 58–60, 62, 68, 78, 86–88, 90, 95, 99, 102 cave analogy, 2, 8, 14, 68–70, 99 chalkis, 40, 41 change (as unifying principle), 101 Charmides (Plato), 1 cheer, 106, 111 class(es) (“eide”), 2, 16, 21, 25, 32, 35, 41, 47, 48, 56, 118, 119 classification of letters, 19, 118–120 convention (“nomos”), 1, 10, 17, 22, 28, 29, 31, 33, 36, 37, 113, 125, 126 convention theory (of names), 28 courage, 1, 19, 24, 81, 89, 91, 92 cowardice, 19, 24, 93, 94, 102 craft, 19, 24, 40, 57, 58, 92–95, 100, 102, 119, 127 Cratylus (Plato), 1–138 passim dating, xi, 9, 10, 104 Daedalus, 40 daimon(s), 23, 52, 54, 56–58, 61 day, 8, 19, 24, 42, 70, 78, 79, 90, 91, 97, 98, 102 delight, 106, 111 Demeter, 23, 65, 66, 73 desire, 19, 37, 50, 98, 105–108, 111 de Vries, Gert Jan, 5, 135n9 diagram(s), 13, 15–17, 21, 26, 129, 143 dianoia(i) (“systematic reasoning”), vii, ix, xi, xii, 3, 14, 17, 18, 20, 22– 26, 28, 35, 37, 45, 47, 49, 51–53, 55, 58, 60, 69, 75–78, 82–87, 95– 97, 100, 101, 103, 105, 108–110, 113, 114, 119, 123, 124, 126, 130, 132 alternate d., 97 dichotomies, 31, 32

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Diels, Hermann (DK), xv, 11, 136n31 Diogenes Laërtius, 6 Dionysus, 23, 68, 69, 73, Diphilos 23, 54, 55, 57, 58, 61. See also Theophilos divided line analogy, 2, 4, 8, 62, 87, 96. See also analogy(ies) divided line system, 10 Doric/Phrygian opposition, 81, 82 earth, 18, 24, 55, 64, 65, 66, 70, 76, 77, 82–84 eide(os) (“class(es)”), 21, 90. See also class(es) eikasia (“reasoning by likeness”), vii, ix, xi, 2, 3, 14, 17, 20, 22–26, 28, 31, 45, 47, 55, 97, 110, 129, 132 Elements (Euclid), 14, 15, 136nn2 4 (chap. 1), 143 Empedocles, 32, 137nn2 (chap. 3) 7 (chap. 4) episteme (“knowledge”) 3, 75, 86. See also noesis Epistle 11 (Plato), 15 eros, 23, 54, 56, 57, 58 error, 21, 31, 38, 42, 43, 60, 65, 108, 129, 130 Eryximachus, 23, 57, 58, 61, 107 Euclid, 14–16 Eupolemus, 23 Euthyphro, 40, 49, 52, 53, 56, 57, 60, 78, 80 female, 19, 24, 89, 91 fire, 14, 18, 24, 41, 65, 66, 70, 79–82, 84, 87, 88, 90, 91, 109 fixity, 26, 32, 64, 68, 76, 84, 90, 92–94, 99, 110, 118, 121, 130, 131. See also flux flourishing, 19, 24, 90, 92, 102 flux, 6, 15, 18–20, 22, 24, 26, 27, 29–32, 39–41, 43, 45, 56, 61–65, 68, 73, 75–77, 82, 84–94, 96–111, 114– 116, 118–122, 126, 129–134 form(s), vii, 3, 8, 9, 11, 13–15, 17, 18, 20, 22, 26, 30, 36–38, 71, 76, 78, 81, 86, 90, 91, 93, 125–127, 131, 132, 133 free will, 19, 24, 103, 107, 108, 111 Friedländer, Paul, 5, 135n13, 138n9

geometry, 3, 8, 9, 11, 14, 15, 31, 129, 131, 132, 134, 143 Goldschmidt, Victor Moritz E., 5, 6, 86, 87, 135nn10 16 20, 137nn6 (chap. 4), 4 5 6 (chap. 5) Gorgias (Plato), xv, 7, 37, 52, 84, 85, 137n6 (chap. 3) Hades, 23, 64–66, 68, 73, 107. See also Pluto Hector, 23, 31, 33, 40–43, 46, 47, 49, 50 helios (“sun”), 76, 77 hemitheoi, 56 Hephaestus, 8, 13, 20, 23, 31, 39, 40, 43, 68–70, 73 Hera, 23, 40, 65, 66, 73, 137n8 (chap. 3) Heraclitus, ix, xv, 6, 8, 11, 15, 20, 21, 27, 29, 32, 33, 35, 39–43, 45, 47–49, 51, 53, 56–58, 61–68, 71, 72, 76–84, 86, 87, 89, 91, 93, 94, 101, 104, 107, 114, 115, 118, 119, 129, 133, 137nn2 3 (chap. 3) 7 (chap. 4), 137n1 (chap. 5) Hermes, 20, 23, 40, 70, 71, 73, 123 hero(es), 23, 45, 54–57, 60, 61, 71 Hesiod, 2, 23, 32, 45, 49, 50, 52–54, 56, 57, 61, 63, 68, 82, 86, 93, 121 Hestia, 23, 41, 62, 63, 66, 73, 76, 82 Hippolytus, 80 Homer, 39–42, 45–47, 63, 69, 70, 72, 82, 122 Iatrocles, 23, 47, 49 idea(s), 2, 4, 8, 18–20, 22, 24, 36, 37, 40, 43, 75, 92, 97–102, 114, 132, 133, 138n1 (chap. 7) theory of, 9 joy, 24, 106, 111 justice (the just), 19, 24, 37, 86–92, 121 Kirk, Geoffrey Stephen, 5, 77, 135n12, 137nn1 2 (chap. 5) knowing, vii, 1, 2, 4, 16, 18–21, 23, 26, 28–30, 34, 38, 48, 61, 65, 84, 97, 103, 113, 115, 131

Index knowledge (“noesis”), vii, xi, 1–4, 7, 14, 15, 17–21, 24, 26–31, 34, 35, 37, 38, 44, 45, 48, 52, 55, 59, 61, 62, 64, 65, 69, 70, 72, 75, 76, 83–85, 88, 91, 93, 95, 97, 100, 103–107, 109–111, 113–115, 117, 119– 121, 124, 126, 127, 129–134 Kranz, Walther (DK), xv, 11, 136n31 Kronos, 23, 49, 52, 53, 62–64, 73, 86 kymindis, 40, 41 Lassalle, Ferdinand, 51, 137nn1 (chap. 4) 4 5 (chap. 5) letter system, 21 Levinson, Ronald, 5, 135nn8 15 lightning, 79, 80, 84 logos (i), vii, 13, 15, 18–20, 23, 24, 27, 28, 30, 33, 35, 39, 41–45, 49–55, 61, 62, 64, 65, 68, 70–73, 75, 76, 78, 79, 83–87, 89, 91, 92, 103, 110, 111, 119, 129, 131 love, 32, 37, 55–57, 65, 67, 106, 111 mechane (“device”), 41, 81, 93, 94 Menexenus (Plato), 7 Meno (Plato), 1, 8 Meridier, Louis, 135n1 mimesis, 19, 25, 118 Mind (Anaxagoras' concept), 49, 60 Mnesitheos, 23, 48, 49 month, 18, 24, 70, 76, 78, 79, 84 moon (“selene”), 18, 24, 55, 70, 76, 79, 80, 84, 88 Muse(s), 23, 67, 73, 80 Myrine, 40, 41 namemaker (name-maker, name-setter, usage-setter, name-giver) See also nomothetes (nomothete), 21, 22, 26, 31, 34, 36–38, 48, 64, 65, 69, 70, 85, 98–101, 103, 119, 124, 125, 127, 129, 130, 132, 133 Neoplatonist(s), xi, 6, 7 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 6, 135n20 noein (“understand”), 55

149

noesis (“knowledge”), vii, ix, xi, 3, 17– 20, 22–26, 28, 45, 51, 52, 59, 68, 69, 71, 73, 75, 96, 97, 110, 113, 114, 131, 133 nomos (“convention”), 17, 18, 22, 25, 31, 33–38, 43, 52, 61, 62, 95, 96, 124. See also convention nomothetes (nomothete) (“lawgiver” or “name-setter”), 36, 37, 48, 61, 123 nous (“domain of pure mind”), 3, 23, 24, 49, 51–53, 55, 60, 61, 63, 68, 69, 71, 72, 76, 80, 83, 84, 86–88, 95, 97, 99, 100, 102, 103 Anaxagorean Nous, 60, 87 Orestes, 23, 49–51, 53, 55 Orpheus, 45, 63, 82 Ouranos, 49, 52, 53, 58, 63, 86 ousia (“essence” or “essential nature”), 21, 46, 62, 118 Pallas Athena, 23 Pan, 20, 23, 70–73, 79, 89, 110, 119, 120 Parmenides, 7, 32, 90, 91 Parmenides (Plato), xi, 7–9, 90–92, 101, 135n14, 137nn2 (chap. 3) 7 (chap. 4) Pelops, 23, 50, 53 Persephone, 23, 65, 66, 73 Phaedo (Plato), 7, 24, 55, 87, 88, 91, 135n14, 137n6 (chap. 4) Phaedrus (Plato), 6, 7 Philebus (Plato), 7 Philoponus, 51 physis, 36 Pindar, 10 pistis (“belief”), vii, ix, xi, xii, 3, 17, 18, 20, 22–26, 28, 45, 48, 73, 97, 110, 113, 119, 120, 122, 123, 130, 132, 134 Plato, ix, xi, xii, xv, 1–134 passim, 135nn2 3 4 5 6 7 11 13 14 17 18 20 21 24 25, 136nn27 (intro.) 1 (chap. 2) 1 4

150

PLATO’S CRATYLUS: ARGUMENT, FORM, AND STRUCTURE

5 (chap. 3) 2 5 6 (chap. 4) 4 9 (chap. 5), 138n1 (chap. 6) Alcibiades 1, 7, 40 Charmides, 1 Cratylus, 1–138 passim Epistle 11, 15 Gorgias,xv, 7, 37,52, 84, 85,137n6(chap. 3) Menexenus, 7 Meno, 1, 8 Parmenides,xi, 7–9, 90–92, 101, 135n14, 137nn2 (chap. 3)7 (chap. 4) Phaedo, 7, 24, 55, 87, 88, 91, 135n14, 137n6 (chap. 4) Phaedrus, 6, 7 Philebus, 7 Republic, xi, xii, xv, 2, 6, 10, 13–16, 47, 56, 68–70, 75–78, 81–83, 92, 96, 98–100, 110, 113, 133, 135n5, 136n7 (chap. 1), 143 Seventh Letter, 6 Sophist, xv, 7–9, 34, 93 Statesman, xv, 7, 9, 48 Symposium, 1, 7, 37, 48, 52, 57, 107 Theaetetus, xii, xv, 7, 9, 13, 33, 39, 65, 71, 101, 104–106, 110, 114, 115, 129, 137n8 (chap. 4), 138nn11 12 13 14 (chap. 5) Timaeus, 6–8, 14, 135n14 Pluto (“wealth”)23,64, 65,73. See also Hades Polemarchos, 23, 47, 49 Poseidon, 23, 40, 64, 66, 68, 73 Prier, Raymond Adolph, 32, 137nn2 (chap. 3) 7 (chap. 4) Proclus, xi, 7, 8, 15–17, 136nn22 24 (intro.) 2 3 (chap. 1) proof(s), 8–11, 15, 16, 25–27, 31, 37, 45, 129, 130, 131, 134, 143, 144 Euclidean p., 15 geometric, 9, 11, 15, 27, 45, 129, 131, 143, 144 reductio p., 8, 16, 31, 130 proportion, 7, 13–16, 22, 30–32, 38, 39, 41, 43, 44, 54, 55, 143 proportional reasoning, 18, 38, 39, 41, 42 Protagoras, 7, 15, 31, 33, 34, 39, 42, 44, 104

psyche (“soul”), 54, 59 Pythagoreans, 10 reasoning, proportional, 18, 31, 39, 41, 42 ratio, 2, 13, 143 Republic (Plato), xi, xii, xv, 2, 6–10, 13– 16, 47, 56, 68–70, 75–78, 81–83, 92, 96, 98–100, 110, 113, 133, 135n5, 136nn1 (chap. 1), 143 Rhea, 23, 62–64, 66, 73 Rosenmeyer, Thomas G., xii, xiii, 1, 6, 31, 37, 135nn2 19 26 29 (intro.), 137nn1 7 (chap. 3), 138n2 (chap. 6) Scamander River, 20, 22, 39, 40 Scamandrios, 22, 40–43, 47, 95 Schleiermacher, Frederich, 5, 113, 135n6, 138n1 (chap. 6) seasons, 19, 24, 67, 70, 77, 83, 84, 87 Sedley, David, 1, 6, 7, 9, 29, 135nn3 18, 136nn21 27 (intro.) 1 (chap. 2) selene (“moon”), 79 self-contradiction, 4, 19, 75, 76, 80–82, 84, 88, 89, 98, 100–104, 106, 107, 109, 111, 120, 122, 124– 126, 131 Seventh Letter (Plato), 6 Silenus box,1, 2, 7 Socrates, xi, xii, 1–134 passim, 135nn4 20, 137nn2 (chap. 2) 3 (chap. 4), 138n2 (chap. 7) soma (“body”), 55. See also body sophia (“cleverness” or “wisdom”), 41, 52, 86 Sophist (Plato), xv, 7–9, 34, 93 Sophists, 22, 28, 38, 39, 44, 45, 56, 57, 61 soul (“psyche”), 23, 25, 52, 54, 55, 58– 61, 78, 80, 85, 87, 88, 94, 100, 102, 103, 124. See also psyche. sphinx, 24, 92–94, 100, 102 star(s), 18, 24, 55, 70, 76–79, 84 Statesman (Plato), xv, 7, 9, 48 sun (“helios”), 2, 14, 18, 24, 55, 65, 67, 69, 70, 75–81, 83, 84, 87, 88, 91, 96, 97, 99. See also helios

Index

151

sun analogy, 8, 75, 96, 98–101. See also analogy(ies) (“analogia”) Symposium (Plato), 1, 7, 37, 48, 52, 57, 107

usage-setter, 31, 37. See also namemaker (name-setter, usage-setter, namegiver) (“nomothetes”)

Tantalus, 23, 50, 51, 53 Taylor, A. E., 5, 135n11 Taylor, Thomas, 6, 135n14 Theaetetus, 104–106, 114 Theaetetus (Plato), xii, xv, 7, 9, 13, 33, 39, 65, 71, 101, 104–106, 110, 114, 115, 129, 137n8 (chap. 4), 138nn11 12 13 14 (chap. 5) theoi (“the gods”), 54–56 Theophilos, 23, 48–50, 54, 55 thunderbolt, 80 Timaeus (Plato), 6–8, 14, 135n14 typos (“image” or “model”), 49, 54

Walzer, Richard, 56, 137n4 (chap. 4) wonder, 39, 71, 72, 104, 105, 109, 110, 119, 121–123, 133 Xanthos (Scamander River), 39, 41 year, 19, 24, 70, 78, 83, 84 yoke, 8, 19, 24, 75, 91, 97–99, 102 Zeno, 8, 90 Zeus, 23, 24, 49–54, 59, 61, 64, 65, 73, 83, 84, 86, 87 Zeus-Logos, 18, 19, 49, 51–53, 55, 64, 84, 86

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VIBS The Value Inquiry Book Series is co-sponsored by: Adler School of Professional Psychology American Indian Philosophy Association American Maritain Association American Society for Value Inquiry Association for Process Philosophy of Education Canadian Society for Philosophical Practice Center for Bioethics, University of Turku Center for Professional and Applied Ethics, University of North Carolina at Charlotte Central European Pragmatist Forum Centre for Applied Ethics, Hong Kong Baptist University Centre for Cultural Research, Aarhus University Centre for Professional Ethics, University of Central Lancashire Centre for the Study of Philosophy and Religion, University College of Cape Breton Centro de Estudos em Filosofia Americana, Brazil College of Education and Allied Professions, Bowling Green State University College of Liberal Arts, Rochester Institute of Technology Concerned Philosophers for Peace Conference of Philosophical Societies Department of Moral and Social Philosophy, University of Helsinki Gannon University Gilson Society Haitian Studies Association Ikeda University Institute of Philosophy of the High Council of Scientific Research, Spain International Academy of Philosophy of the Principality of Liechtenstein International Association of Bioethics International Center for the Arts, Humanities, and Value Inquiry International Society for Universal Dialogue Natural Law Society Philosophical Society of Finland Philosophy Born of Struggle Association Philosophy Seminar, University of Mainz Pragmatism Archive at The Oklahoma State University R.S. Hartman Institute for Formal and Applied Axiology Research Institute, Lakeridge Health Corporation Russian Philosophical Society Society for Iberian and Latin-American Thought Society for the Philosophic Study of Genocide and the Holocaust Unit for Research in Cognitive Neuroscience, Autonomous University of Barcelona Yves R. Simon Institute

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Noel Balzer, The Human Being as a Logical Thinker

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Archie J. Bahm, Axiology: The Science of Values

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H. P. P. (Hennie) Lötter, Justice for an Unjust Society

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Benjamin S. Llamzon, A Humane Case for Moral Intuition

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Archie J. Bahm, Ethics: The Science of Oughtness

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Joseph P. DeMarco, A Coherence Theory in Ethics

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15.

Sidney Axinn, The Logic of Hope: Extensions of Kant’s View of Religion

16.

Messay Kebede, Meaning and Development

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Michael H. Mitias, Editor, Philosophy and Architecture.

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William Pencak, The Conflict of Law and Justice in the Icelandic Sagas

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Avi Sagi and Daniel Statman, Religion and Morality

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Robin Attfield, Value, Obligation, and Meta-Ethics

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Daniel Statman, Moral Dilemmas

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Paul S. Penner, Altruistic Behavior: An Inquiry into Motivation

36.

Corbin Fowler, Morality for Moderns

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Phillip Stambovsky, Myth and the Limits of Reason

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Dennis Rohatyn, Philosophy History Sophistry

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Gregory F. Mellema, Collective Responsibility

51. Josef Seifert, What Is Life? The Originality, Irreducibility, and Value of Life. A volume in Central-European Value Studies 52.

William Gerber, Anatomy of What We Value Most

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Leena Vilkka, The Intrinsic Value of Nature

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C. L. Sheng, A Utilitarian General Theory of Value

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Lansana Keita, The Human Project and the Temptations of Science

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Dane R. Gordon, Philosophy and Vision

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113.

Conrad P. Pritscher, Quantum Learning: Beyond Duality

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127. Alison Bailey and Paula J. Smithka, Editors. Community, Diversity, and Difference: Implications for Peace. A volume in Philosophy of Peace 128. Oscar Vilarroya, The Dissolution of Mind: A Fable of How Experience Gives Rise to Cognition. A volume in Cognitive Science 129. Paul Custodio Bube and Jeffery Geller, Editors, Conversations with Pragmatism: A Multi-Disciplinary Study. A volume in Studies in Pragmatism and Values 130. Richard Rumana, Richard Rorty: An Annotated Bibliography of Secondary Literature. A volume in Studies in Pragmatism and Values 131. Stephen Schneck, Editor, Max Scheler’s Acting Persons: New Perspectives A volume in Personalist Studies 132. Michael Kazanjian, Learning Values Lifelong: From Inert Ideas to Wholes. A volume in Philosophy of Education 133. Rudolph Alexander Kofi Cain, Alain Leroy Locke: Race, Culture, and the Education of African American Adults. A volume in African American Philosophy 134. Werner Krieglstein, Compassion: A New Philosophy of the Other 135. Robert N. Fisher, Daniel T. Primozic, Peter A. Day, and Joel A. Thompson, Editors, Suffering, Death, and Identity. A volume in Personalist Studies 136. Steven Schroeder, Touching Philosophy, Sounding Religion, Placing Education. A volume in Philosophy of Education 137. Guy DeBrock, Process Pragmatism: Essays on a Quiet Philosophical Revolution. A volume in Studies in Pragmatism and Values 138. Lennart Nordenfelt and Per-Erik Liss, Editors, Dimensions of Health and Health Promotion 139. Amihud Gilead, Singularity and Other Possibilities: Panenmentalist Novelties

140. Samantha Mei-che Pang, Nursing Ethics in Modern China: Conflicting Values and Competing Role Requirements. A volume in Studies in Applied Ethics 141. Christine M. Koggel, Allannah Furlong, and Charles Levin, Editors, Confidential Relationships: Psychoanalytic, Ethical, and Legal Contexts. A volume in Philosophy and Psychology 142. Peter A. Redpath, Editor, A Thomistic Tapestry: Essays in Memory of Étienne Gilson. A volume in Gilson Studies 143. Deane-Peter Baker and Patrick Maxwell, Editors, Explorations in Contemporary Continental Philosophy of Religion. A volume in Philosophy and Religion 144. Matti Häyry and Tuija Takala, Editors, Scratching the Surface of Bioethics. A volume in Values in Bioethics 145. Leonidas Donskis, Forms of Hatred: The Troubled Imagination in Modern Philosophy and Literature 146. Andreea Deciu Ritivoi, Editor, Interpretation and Its Objects: Studies in the Philosophy of Michael Krausz 147. Herman Stark, A Fierce Little Tragedy: Thought, Passion, and SelfFormation in the Philosophy Classroom. A volume in Philosophy of Education 148. William Gay and Tatiana Alekseeva, Editors, Democracy and the Quest for Justice: Russian and American Perspectives. A volume in Contemporary Russian Philosophy 149. Xunwu Chen, Being and Authenticity 150. Hugh P. McDonald, Radical Axiology: A First Philosophy of Values 151. Dane R. Gordon and David C. Durst, Editors, Civil Society in Southeast Europe. A volume in Post-Communist European Thought 152. John Ryder and Emil Višňovský, Editors, Pragmatism and Values: The Central European Pragmatist Forum, Volume One. A volume in Studies in Pragmatism and Values

153. Messay Kebede, Africa’s Quest for a Philosophy of Decolonization 154. Steven M. Rosen, Dimensions of Apeiron: A Topological Phenomenology of Space, Time, and Individuation. A volume in Philosophy and Psychology 155. Albert A. Anderson, Steven V. Hicks, and Lech Witkowski, Editors, Mythos and Logos: How to Regain the Love of Wisdom. A volume in Universal Justice 156. John Ryder and Krystyna Wilkoszewska, Editors, Deconstruction and Reconstruction: The Central European Pragmatist Forum, Volume Two. A volume in Studies in Pragmatism and Values 157. Javier Muguerza, Ethics and Perplexity: Toward a Critique of Dialogical Reason. Translated from the Spanish by Jody L. Doran. Edited by John R. Welch. A volume in Philosophy in Spain 158. Gregory F. Mellema, The Expectations of Morality 159. Robert Ginsberg, The Aesthetics of Ruins 160. Stan van Hooft, Life, Death, and Subjectivity: Moral Sources in Bioethics A volume in Values in Bioethics 161. André Mineau, Operation Barbarossa: Ideology and Ethics Against Human Dignity 162. Arthur Efron, Expriencing Tess of the D’Urbervilles: A Deweyan Account. A volume in Studies in Pragmatism and Values 163. Reyes Mate, Memory of the West: The Contemporaneity of Forgotten Jewish Thinkers. Translated from the Spanish by Anne Day Dewey. Edited by John R. Welch. A volume in Philosophy in Spain 164. Nancy Nyquist Potter, Editor, Putting Peace into Practice: Evaluating Policy on Local and Global Levels. A volume in Philosophy of Peace 165. Matti Häyry, Tuija Takala, and Peter Herissone-Kelly, Editors, Bioethics and Social Reality. A volume in Values in Bioethics 166. Maureen Sie, Justifying Blame: Why Free Will Matters and Why it Does Not. A volume in Studies in Applied Ethics

167. Leszek Koczanowicz and Beth J. Singer, Editors, Democracy and the Post-Totalitarian Experience. A volume in Studies in Pragmatism and Values 168. Michael W. Riley, Plato’s Cratylus: Argument, Form, and Structure. A volume in Studies in the History of Western Philosophy