Chapter XXXI · KRATYLUS.

The dialogue entitled Kratylus presents numerous difficulties to the commentators: who differ greatly in their manner of explaining, First, What is its main or leading purpose? Next, How much of it is intended as serious reasoning, how much as mere caricature or parody, for the purpose of exposing and reducing to absurdity the doctrines of opponents? Lastly, who, if any, are the opponents thus intended to be ridiculed?

Persons and subjects of the dialogue Kratylus — Sokrates has no formed opinion, but is only a Searcher with the others.

The subject proposed for discussion is, the rectitude or inherent propriety of names. How far is there any natural adaptation, or special fitness, of each name to the thing named? Two disputants are introduced who invoke Sokrates as umpire. Hermogenes asserts the negative of the question; contending that each name is destitute of natural significance, and acquires its meaning only from the mutual agreement and habitual usage of society.1 Kratylus on the contrary maintains the doctrine that each name has a natural rectitude or fitness for its own significant function:— that there is an inherent bond of connection, a fundamental analogy or resemblance between each name and the thing signified. Sokrates carries on the first part of the dialogue with Hermogenes, the last part with Kratylus.2 He declares more than once, that the subject is one on which he is ignorant, and has formed no conclusion: he professes only to prosecute the search for a good conclusion, conjointly with his two companions.3

Argument of Sokrates against Hermogenes — all proceedings of nature are conducted according to fixed laws — speaking and naming among the rest.

Sokrates, refuting Hermogenes, lays down the following doctrines.4 If propositions are either true or false, names, which are parts of propositions, must be true or false also.5 Every thing has its own fixed and determinate essence, not relative to us nor varying according to our fancy or pleasure, but existing per se as nature has arranged.6 All agencies either by one thing upon other things, or by other things upon it, are in like manner determined by nature, independent of our will and choice. If we intend to cut or burn any substance, we must go to work, not according to our own pleasure, but in the manner that nature prescribes: by attempting to do it contrary to nature, we shall do it badly or fail altogether.7 Now speaking is one of these agencies, and naming is a branch of speaking: what is true of other agencies is true of these also — we must name things, not according to our own will and pleasure, but in the way that nature prescribes that they shall be named.8 Farther, each agency must be performed by its appropriate instrument: cutting by the axe, boring by the gimlet, weaving by the bodkin. The name is the instrument of naming, whereby we communicate information and distinguish things from each other. It is a didactic instrument: to be employed well, it must be in the hands of a properly qualified person for the purpose of teaching.9 Not every man, but only the professional craftsman, is competent to fabricate the instruments of cutting and weaving. In like manner, not every man is competent to make a name: no one is competent except the lawgiver or the gifted name-maker, the rarest of all existing artists.10

The name is a didactic instrument; fabricated by the law-giver upon the type of the Name-Form, and employed as well as appreciated, by the philosopher.

To what does the lawgiver look when he frames a name? Compare the analogy of other instruments. The artisan who constructs a bodkin or shuttle for weaving, has present to his mind as a model, the Idea or Form of the bodkin — the self-existent bodkin of Nature herself. If a broken shuttle is to be replaced, it is this Idea or type, not the actual broken instrument, which he seeks to copy. Whatever may be the variety of web for which the shuttle is destined, he modifies the new instrument accordingly: but all of them must embody the Form or Idea of the shuttle. He cannot choose another type according to his own pleasure: he must embody the type, prescribed by nature, in the iron, wood, or other material of which the instrument is made.11

So about names: the lawgiver, in distributing names, must look to the Idea, Form, or type — the self-existent name of Nature — and must embody this type, as it stands for each different thing, in appropriate syllables. The syllables indeed may admit of great variety, just as the material of which the shuttle is made may be diversified: but each aggregate of syllables, whether Hellenic or barbaric, must embody the essential Name-Idea or Type.12 The lawgiver13 ought to know, enumerate, and classify all the sorts of things on the one hand, and all the varieties of letters or elements of language on the other; distinguishing the special significative power belonging to each letter. He ought then to construct his words, and adapt each to signify that with which it is naturally connected. Who is to judge whether this process has been well or ill performed? Upon that point, the judge is, the professional man who uses the instrument. It is for the working weaver to decide whether the shuttle given to him is well or ill made. To have a good ship and rudder, it must be made by a professional builder, and appreciated by a professional pilot or steersman. In like manner, the names constructed by the lawgiver must be appreciated by the man who is qualified by training or study to use names skilfully: that is, by the dialectician or philosopher, competent to ask and answer questions.14

Names have an intrinsic aptitude for signifying one thing and not another.

It is the fact then, though many persons may think it ridiculous, that names — or the elementary constituents and letters, of which names are composed — have each an intrinsic and distinctive aptitude, fitting them to signify particular things.15 Names have thus a standard with reference to which they are correct or incorrect. If they are to be correct, they cannot be given either by the freewill of an ordinary individual, or even by the convention of all society. They can be affixed only by the skilled lawgiver, and appreciated only by the skilled dialectician.

Forms of Names, as well as Forms of things nameable — essence of the Nomen, to signify the Essence of its Nominatum.

Such is the theory here laid down by Sokrates respecting Names. It is curious as illustrating the Platonic vein of speculation. It enlarges to an extreme point Plato’s region of the absolute and objective. Not merely each thing named, but each name also, is in his view an Ens absolutum; not dependent upon human choice — not even relative (so he alleges) to human apprehension. Each name has its own self-existent Idea, Form, or Type, the reproduction or copy of which is imperative. The Platonic intelligible world included Ideas of things, and of names correlative to them: just as it included Ideas of master and slave correlative to each other. It contained Noumena of names, as well as Noumena of things.16 The essence of the name was, to be significant of the essence of the thing named: though such significance admitted of diversity, multiplication, or curtailment, in the letters or syllables wherein it was embodied.17 The name became significant, by imitation or resemblance: that name was right, the essence of which imitated the essence of the thing named.18 The vocal mimic imitates sounds, the painter imitates the colours: the name-giver imitates in letters or syllables, the essence of colours, sounds, and every thing else which is nameable.

Another point here is peculiar to Plato. The Name-Giver must provide names such as can be used with effect by the dialectician or philosopher: who is the sole competent judge whether the names have genuine rectitude or not.19 We see from hence that the aspirations of Plato went towards a philosophical language fit for those who conversed with forms or essences: something like (to use modern illustrations) a technical nomenclature systematically constructed for the expositions of men of science: such as that of Chemistry, Botany, Mineralogy, &c. Assuredly no language actually spoken among men, has ever been found suitable for this purpose without much artificial help.20

Exclusive competence of a privileged lawgiver, to discern these essences, and to apportion names rightly.

As this theory of naming is a deduction from Plato’s main doctrine of absolute or self-existing Ideas, so it also illustrates (to repeat what was said in the last chapter) his recognition of professional skill and of competence vested exclusively in a gifted One or Few: which he ranks as the sole producing cause of Good or the Best, setting it in contrast with those two causes which he considers as productive of Evil, or at any rate of the Inferior or Second-Best: 1. The One or Few, who are ungifted and unphilosophical: perhaps ambitious pretenders. 2. The spontaneous, unbespoken inspirations, conventions, customs, or habits, which grow up without formal mandate among the community. To find the right name of each thing, is no light matter, nor within the competence of any one or many ordinary men. It can only be done by one of the few privileged lawgivers. Plato even glances at the necessity of a superhuman name-giver: though he deprecates the supposition generally, as a mere evasion or subterfuge, introduced to escape the confession of real ignorance.21

Counter-Theory, which Sokrates here sets forth and impugns — the Protagorean doctrine — Homo Mensura.

In laying down the basis of his theory respecting names, Plato states another doctrine as opposed to it: viz., the Protagorean doctrine — Man is the Measure of all things. I have already said something about this doctrine, in reviewing the Theætêtus, where Plato impugns it: but as he here impugns it again, by arguments in part different — a few words more will not be misplaced.

The doctrine of Protagoras maintains that all things are relative to the percipient, cogitant, concipient, mind: that all Object is implicated with a Subject: that as things appear to me, so they are to me — as they appear to you, so they are to you. Plato denies this, and says: “All things have a fixed essence of their own, absolutely and in themselves, not relative to any percipient or cogitant — nor dependent upon any one’s appreciative understanding, or emotional susceptibility, or will. Things are so and so, without reference to us as sentient or cogitant beings: and not only the things are thus independent and absolute, but all their agencies are so likewise — agencies either by them or upon them. Cutting, burning, speaking, naming, &c., must be performed in a certain determinate way, whether we prefer it or not. A certain Name belongs, by Nature or absolutely, to a certain thing, whether we choose it or not: it is not relative to any adoption by us, either individually or collectively.”

This Protagorean theory is here set forth by the Platonic Sokrates as the antithesis or counter-theory, to that which he is himself advancing, viz. — That Names are significant by nature and not by agreement of men:— That each Nomen is tied to its Nominatum by a natural and indissoluble bond. His remarks imply, that those who do not accept this last-mentioned theory must agree with Protagoras. But such an antithesis is noway necessary: since (not to speak of Hermogenes himself in this very dialogue) we find also that Aristotle — who maintains that Names are significant by convention and not by nature — dissents also from the theory of Protagoras: and would have rested his dissent from it on very different grounds.

Objection by Sokrates — That Protagoras puts all men on a level as to wisdom and folly, knowledge and ignorance.

This will show us — what I have already remarked in commenting on the Theætêtus — that Plato has not been very careful in appreciating the real bearing of the Protagorean doctrine. He impugns it here by the same argument which we also read in the Theætêtus. “Everyone admits” (he says) “that there are some men wise and good — others foolish and wicked. Now if you admit this, you disallow the Protagorean doctrine. If I contend that as things appear to me, so they truly are to me — as things appear to you or to him, so they truly are to you or to him — I cannot consistently allow that any one man is wiser than any other. Upon such a theory, all men are put upon the same level of knowledge or ignorance.”

But the premisses of Plato here do not sustain his inference.

Objection unfounded — What the Protagorean theory really affirms — Belief always relative to the believer’s mind.

The Protagorean doctrine is, when stated in its most general terms, — That every man is and must be his own measure of truth or falsehood — That what appears to him true, is true to him, however it may appear to others — That he cannot by any effort step out of or beyond his own individual belief conviction, knowledge — That all his Cognita, Credita, Percepta, Cogitata, &c., imply himself as Cognoscens, Credens, Percipiens, Cogitans, inseparably and indivisibly — That in affirming an object, he himself is necessarily present as affirming subject, and that Object and Subject are only two sides of the same indivisible fact22 — That though there are some matters which all men agree in believing, there is no criterion at once infallible and universally recognised, in matters where they dissent: moreover, the matters believed are just as much relative where all agree, as where some disagree.

Each man believes others to be wiser on various points than himself — Belief on authority — not inconsistent with the affirmation of Protagoras.

This doctrine is not refuted by the fact, that every man believes others to be wiser than himself on various points. A man is just as much a measure to himself when he acts upon the advice of others, or believes a fact upon the affirmation of others, as when he judges upon his own unassisted sense or reasoning. He is a measure to himself when he agrees with others, as much as when he disagrees with them. Opinions of others, or facts attested by others, may count as materials determining his judgment; but the judgment is and must be his own. The larger portion of every man’s knowledge rests upon the testimony of others; nevertheless the facts thus reported become portions of his knowledge, generating conclusions in him and relatively to him. I believe the narrative of travellers, respecting parts of the globe which I have never seen: I adopt the opinion of A a lawyer, and of B a physician, on matters which I have not studied: I understand facts which I did not witness, from the description of those who did witness them. In all these cases the act of adoption is my own, and the grounds of belief are relative to my state of mind. Another man may mistrust completely the authorities which I follow: just as I mistrust the authority of Mahomet or Confucius, or various others, regarded as infallible by a large portion of mankind. The grounds of belief are to a certain extent similar, to a certain extent dissimilar, in different men’s minds. Authority is doubtless a frequent ground of belief; but it is essentially variable and essentially relative to the believer. Plato himself, in many passages, insists emphatically upon the dissensions in mankind respecting the question — “Who are the good and wise men?” He tells us that the true philosopher is accounted by the bulk of mankind foolish and worthless.

Analogy of physical processes (cutting and burning) appealed to by Sokrates — does not sustain his inference against Protagoras.

In the Kratylus, Sokrates says (and I agree with him) that there are laws of nature respecting the processes of cutting and burning: and that any one who attempts to cut or burn in a way unconformable to those laws, will fail in his purpose. This is true, but it proves nothing against Protagoras. It is an appeal to a generalization from physical facts, resting upon experience and induction — upon sensation and inference which we and others, Protagoras as well as Plato, have had, and which we believe to be common to all. We know this fact, or have a full and certain conviction of it; but we are not brought at all nearer to the Absolute (i.e., to the Object without Subject) which Plato’s argument requires. The analogy rather carries us away from the Absolute: for cutting and burning, with their antecedent conditions, are facts of sense: and Plato himself admits, to a great extent, that the facts of sense are relative. All experience and induction, and all belief founded thereupon, are essentially relative. The experience may be one common to all mankind, and upon which all are unanimous:23 but it is not the less relative to each individual of the multitude. What is relative to all, continues to be relative to each: the fact that all sentient individuals are in this respect alike, does not make it cease to be relative, and become absolute. What I see and hear in the theatre is relative to me, though it may at the same time be relative to ten thousand other spectators, who are experiencing like sensations. Where all men think or believe alike, it may not be necessary for common purposes to distinguish the multiplicity of individual thinking subjects: yet the subjects are nevertheless multiple, and the belief, knowledge, or fact, is relative to each of them, whether all agree, or whether beliefs are many and divergent. We cannot suppress ourselves as sentient or cogitant subjects, nor find any locus standi for Object pure and simple, apart from the ground of relativity. And the Protagorean dictum brings to view these subjective conditions, as being essential, no less than the objective, to belief and disbelief.

Reply of Protagoras to the Platonic objections.

Protagoras would have agreed with Plato as to combustion — that there were certain antecedent conditions under which he fully expected it, and certain other conditions under which he expected with confidence that it would not occur. Only he would have declared this (assuming him to speak conformably to his own theory) to be his own full belief and conviction, derived from certain facts and comparisons of sense, which he also knew to be shared by most other persons. He would have pronounced farther, that those who held opposite opinions were in his judgment wrong: but he would have recognised that their opinion was true to themselves, and that their belief must be relative to causes operating upon their minds. Farthermore, he would have pointed out, that combustion itself, with its antecedents, were facts of sense, relative to individual sentients and observers, remembering and comparing what they had observed. This would have been the testimony of Protagoras (always assuming him to speak in conformity with his own theory), but it would not have satisfied Plato: who would have required a peremptory, absolute affirmation, discarding all relation to observers or observed facts, and leaving no scope for error or fallibility.

Sentiments of Belief and Disbelief, common to all men — Grounds of belief and disbelief, different with different men and different ages.

Those who agree with Plato on this question, impugn the doctrine of Protagoras as effacing all real, intrinsic, distinction between truth and falsehood. Such objectors make it a charge against Protagoras, that he does not erect his own mind into a peremptory and infallible measure for all other minds.24 He expressly recognises the distinction, so far as his own mind is concerned: he admits that other men recognise it also, each for himself. Nevertheless, to say that all men recognise one and the same objective distinction between truth and falsehood, would be to contradict palpable facts. Each man has a standard, an ideal of truth in his own mind: but different men have different standards. The grounds of belief, though in part similar with all men, are to a great extent dissimilar also: they are dissimilar even with the same man, at different periods of his life and circumstances. What all men have in common is the feeling of belief and the feeling of disbelief: the matters believed or disbelieved, as well as the ideal standard to which any new matter presented for belief or disbelief is referred, differ considerably. By rational discussion — by facts and reasonings set forth on both sides, as in the Platonic dialogues — opinions may be overthrown or modified: dissentients may be brought into agreement, or at least each may be rendered more fully master of the case on both sides. But this dialectic, the Platonic question and answer, is itself an appeal to the free action of the individual mind. The questioner starts from premisses conceded by the respondent. He depends upon the acquiescence of the respondent for every step taken in advance. Such a proceeding is relative, not absolute: coinciding with the Protagorean formula rather than with the Platonic negation of it.25 No man ever claimed the right of individual judgment more emphatically than Sokrates: no man was ever more special in adapting his persuasions to the individual persons with whom he conversed.

Protagoras did not affirm, that Belief depended upon the will or inclination of each individual but that it was relative to the circumstances of each individual mind.

The grounds of belief, according to Protagoras, relative to the individual, are not the same with all men at all times. But it does not follow (nor does Protagoras appear to have asserted) that they vary according to the will or inclination of the individual. Plato, in impugning this doctrine, reasons as if these two things were one and the same — as if, according to Protagoras, a man believed whatever he chose.26 This, however, is not an exact representation of the doctrine “Homo Mensura”: which does not assert the voluntary or the arbitrary, but simply the relative as against the absolute. What a man believes does not depend upon his own will or choice: it depends upon an aggregate of circumstances, partly peculiar to himself, partly common to him with other persons more or fewer in number:27 upon his age, organisation, and temperament — his experience, education, historical and social position — his intellectual powers and acquirements — his passions and sentiments of every kind, &c. These and other ingredients — analogous, yet neither the same nor combined in the same manner, even in different individuals of the same time and country, much less in those of different times and countries — compose the aggregate determining grounds of belief or disbelief in every one. Each man has in his mind an ideal standard of truth and falsehood: but that ideal standard, never exactly the same in any two men, nor in the same man at all times, often varies in different men to a prodigious extent. Now it is to this standard in the man’s own mind that those reasoners refer who maintain that belief is relative. They do not maintain, that it is relative simply to his wishes, or that he believes and disbelieves what he chooses.

Facts of sense — some are the same to all sentient subjects, others are different to different subjects. Grounds of unanimity.

When Plato says that combustibility and secability of objects are properties fixed and determinate,28 this is perfectly true, as meaning that a certain proportion of the facts of sense affect in the same way the sentient and appreciative powers of each individual, determining the like belief in every man who has ever experienced them. Measuring and weighing are sensible facts of this character: seen alike by all, and conclusive proofs to all. But this implies, to a certain point, fundamental uniformity in the individual sentients and judges. Where such condition is wanting — where there is a fundamental difference in the sensible apprehension manifested by different individuals — the unanimity is wanting also. Such is the case in regard to colours and other sensations: witness the peculiar vision of Dalton and many others. The unanimity in the first case, the discrepancy in the second, is alike an aggregate of judgments, each individual, distinct, and relative. You pronounce an opponent to be in error: but if you cannot support your opinion by evidence or authority which satisfies his senses or his reason, he remains unconvinced. Your individual opinion stands good to you; his opinion stands good to him. You think that he ought to believe as you do, and in certain cases you feel persuaded that he will be brought to that result by future experience, which of course must be relative to him and to his appreciative powers. He entertains the like persuasion in regard to you.

Sokrates exemplifies his theory of the Absolute Name or the Name-Form. He attempts to show the inherent rectitude of many existing names. His etymological transitions.

It is thus that Sokrates, in the first half of the Kratylus, lays down his general theory that names have a natural and inherent propriety: and that naming is a process which cannot be performed except in one way. He at the same time announces that his theory rests upon a principle opposed to the “Homo Mensura” of Protagoras. He then proceeds to illustrate his doctrine by exemplification of many particular names, which are alleged to manifest a propriety of signification in reference to the persons or matters to which they are applied. Many of these are proper names, but some are common names or appellatives. Plato regards the proper names as illustrating, even better than the common, the doctrine of inherent rectitude in naming: especially the names of the Gods, with respect to the use of which Plato was himself timidly scrupulous — and the names reported by Homer as employed by the Gods themselves. We must remember that nearly all Grecian proper names had some meaning: being compounds or derivatives from appellative nouns.

The proper names are mostly names of Gods or Heroes: then follow the names of the celestial bodies (conceived as Gods), of the elements, of virtues and vices, &c. All of them, however, both the proper and the common names, are declared to be compound, or derivative; presupposing other simple and primitive names from which they are formed.29 Sokrates declares the fundamental theory on which the primitive roots rest; and indicates the transforming processes, whereby many of the names are deduced or combined from their roots. But these processes, though sometimes reasonable enough, are in a far greater number of instances forced, arbitrary, and fanciful. The transitions of meaning imagined, and the structural transformations of words, are alike strange and violent.30

These transitions appear violent to a modern reader. They did not appear so to readers of Plato until this century. Modern discovery, that they are intended as caricatures to deride the Sophists.

Such is the light in which these Platonic etymologies appear to a modern critic. But such was not the light in which they appeared either to the ancient Platonists, or to critics earlier than the last century. The Platonists even thought them full of mysterious and recondite wisdom. Dionysius of Halikarnassus highly commends Plato for his speculations on etymology, especially in the Kratylus.31 Plutarch cites some of the most singular etymologies in the Kratylus as serious and instructive. The modesty of the Protagorean formula becomes here especially applicable: for so complete has been the revolution of opinion, that the Platonic etymologies are now treated by most critics as too absurd to have been seriously intended by Plato, even as conjectures. It is called “a valuable discovery of modern times” (so Schleiermacher32 terms it) that Plato meant all or most of them as mere parody and caricature. We are now told that it was not Plato who misconceived the analogies, conditions, and limits, of etymological transition, but others; whom Plato has here set himself to expose and ridicule, by mock etymologies intended to parody those which they had proposed as serious. If we ask who the persons thus ridiculed were, we learn that they were the Sophists, Protagoras, or Prodikus, with others; according to Schleiermacher, Antisthenes among them.33

Dissent from this theory — No proof that the Sophists ever proposed etymologies.

To me this modern discovery or hypothesis appears inadmissible. It rests upon assumptions at best gratuitous, and in part incorrect: it introduces difficulties greater than those which it removes. We find no proof that the Sophists ever proposed such etymologies as those which are here supposed to be ridiculed — or that they devoted themselves to etymology at all. If they etymologised, they would doubtless do so in the manner (to our judgment loose and fantastic) of their own time and of times long after them. But what ground have we for presuming that Plato’s views on the subject were more correct? and that etymologies which to them appeared admissible, would be regarded by him as absurd and ridiculous?

Now if the persons concerned were other than the Sophists, scarcely any critic would have thought himself entitled to fasten upon them a discreditable imputation without some evidence. Of Prodikus we know (and that too chiefly from some sarcasms of Plato) that he took pains to distinguish words apparently, but not really, equivalent: and that such accurate distinction was what he meant by “rectitude of names” (Plato, Euthydêm. 277 E.) Of Protagoras we know that he taught, by precept or example, correct speaking or writing: but we have no information that either of them pursued etymological researches, successfully or unsuccessfully.34 Moreover this very dialogue (Kratylus) contains strong presumptive evidence that the Platonic etymologies could never have been intended to ridicule Protagoras. For these etymologies are announced by Sokrates as exemplifying and illustrating a theory of his own respecting names: which theory (Sokrates himself expressly tells us) is founded upon the direct negation of the cardinal doctrine of Protagoras.35 That Sophist, therefore, could not have been ridiculed by any applications, however extravagant, of a theory directly opposed to him.36

Plato did not intend to propose mock-etymologies, or to deride any one. Protagoras could not be ridiculed here. Neither Hermogenes nor Kratylus understand the etymologies as caricature.

Suppose it then ascertained that Plato intended to ridicule and humiliate some rash etymologists, there would still be no propriety in singling out the Sophists as his victims — except that they are obnoxious names, against whom every unattested accusation is readily believed. But it is neither ascertained, nor (in my judgment) probable, that Plato here intended to ridicule or humiliate any one. The ridicule, if any was intended, would tell against himself more than against others. For he first begins by laying down a general theory respecting names: a theory unquestionably propounded as serious, and understood to be so by the critics:37 moreover, involving some of his favourite and peculiar doctrines. It is this theory that his particular etymologies are announced as intended to carry out, in the way of illustration or exemplification. Moreover, he undertakes to prove this theory against Hermogenes, who declares himself strongly opposed to it: and he proves it by a string of arguments which (whether valid or not) are obviously given with a serious and sincere purpose of establishing the conclusion. Immediately after having established that there was a real rectitude of names, and after announcing that he would proceed to enquire wherein such rectitude consisted,38 what sense or consistency would there be in his inventing a string of intentional caricatures announced as real etymologies? By doing this, he would be only discrediting and degrading the very theory which he had taken so much pains to inculcate upon Hermogenes. Instead of ridiculing Protagoras, he would ridicule himself and his own theory for the benefit of opponents generally, one among them being Protagoras: who (if we imagine his life prolonged) would have had the satisfaction of seeing a theory, framed in direct opposition to his doctrine, discredited and parodied by his own advocate. Hermogenes, too (himself an opponent of the theory, though not concurring with Protagoras), if these etymologies were intended as caricatures, ought to be made to receive them as such, and to join in the joke at the expense of the persons derided. But Hermogenes is not made to manifest any sense of their being so intended: he accepts them all as serious, though some as novel and surprising, in the same passive way which is usual with the interlocutors of Sokrates in other dialogues. Farther, there are some among these etymologies plain and plausible enough, accepted as serious by all the critics.39 Yet these are presented in the series, without being parted off by any definite line, along with those which we are called upon to regard as deliberate specimens of mock-etymology. Again, there are also some, which, looking at their etymological character, are as strange and surprising as any in the whole dialogue: but which yet, from the place which they occupy in the argument, and from the plain language in which they are presented, almost exclude the supposition that they can be intended as jest or caricature.40 Lastly, Kratylus, whose theory all these etymologies are supposed to be intended to caricature, is so far from being aware of this, that he cordially approves every thing which Sokrates had said.41

Plato intended his theory as serious, but his exemplifications as admissible guesses. He does not cite particular cases as proofs of a theory, but only as illustrating what he means.

I cannot therefore accept as well-founded this “discovery of modern times,” which represents the Platonic etymologies in the Kratylus as intentionally extravagant and knowingly caricatured, for the purpose of ridiculing the Sophists or others. In my judgment, Plato did not put them forward as extravagant, nor for the purpose of ridiculing any one, but as genuine illustrations of a theory of his own respecting names. It cannot be said indeed that he advanced them as proof of his theory: for Plato seldom appeals to particulars, except when he has a theory to attack. When he has a theory to lay down, he does not generally recognise the necessity of either proving or verifying it by application to particular cases. His proof is usually deductive or derived from some more general principle asserted à priori — some internal sentiment enunciated as a self-justifying maxim. Particular examples serve to illustrate what the principle is, but are not required to establish its validity.42 But I believe that he intended his particular etymologies as bonâ fide guesses, more or less probable (like the developments in the Timæus, which he43 repeatedly designates as εἰκότα, and nothing beyond): some certain, some doubtful, some merely novel and ingenious: such as would naturally spring from the originating afflatus of diviners (like Euthyphron, to whom he alludes more than once44) who stepped beyond the ordinary regions of human affirmation. Occasionally he proposes alternative and distinct etymologies: feeling assured that there was some way of making out the conclusion — but not feeling equally certain about his own way of making it out. The sentiment of belief attaches itself in Plato’s mind to general views and theorems: when he gives particular consequences as flowing from them, his belief graduates down through all the stages between full certainty and the lowest probability, until in some cases it becomes little more than a fanciful illustration — like the mythes which he so often invents to expand and enliven these same general views.45

Sokrates announces himself as Searcher. Other etymologists of ancient times admitted etymologies as rash as those of Plato.

We must remember that Sokrates in the Kratylus explicitly announces himself as having no formed opinion on the subject, and as competent only to the prosecution of the enquiry, jointly with the others. What he says must therefore be received as conjectures proposed for discussion. I see no ground for believing that he regarded any of them, even those which appear to us the strangest, as being absurd or extravagant — or that he proposed any of them in mockery and caricature, for the purpose of deriding other Etymologists. Because these etymologies, or many of them at least, appear to us obviously absurd, we are not warranted in believing that they must have appeared so to Plato. They did not appear so (as I have already observed) to Dionysius of Halikarnassus — nor to Diogenes, nor to the Platonists of antiquity nor to any critics earlier than the seventeenth century.46 By many of these critics they were deemed not merely serious, but valuable. Nor are they more absurd than many of the etymologies proposed by Aristotle, by the Stoics, by the Alexandrine critics, by Varro, and by the grammatici or literary men of antiquity generally; moreover, even by Plato himself in other dialogues occasionally.47 In determining what etymologies would appear to Plato reasonable or admissible, Dionysius, Plutarch, Proklus, and Alkinous, are more likely to judge rightly than we: partly because they had a larger knowledge of the etymologies proposed by Greek philosophers and grammatici than we possess — partly because they had no acquaintance with the enlarged views of modern etymologists — which, on the point here in question, are misleading rather than otherwise. Plato held the general theory that names, in so far as they were framed with perfect rectitude, held embodied in words and syllables a likeness or imitation of the essence of things. And if he tried to follow out such a theory into detail, without any knowledge of grammatical systems, without any large and well-chosen collection of analogies within his own language, or any comparison of different languages with each other — he could scarcely fail to lose himself in wonderful and violent transmutations of letters and syllables.48

Continuance of the dialogue — Sokrates endeavours to explain how it is that the Names originally right have become so disguised and spoiled.

Having expressed my opinion that the etymologies propounded by Sokrates in the Kratylus are not intended as caricatures, but as bonâ fide specimens of admissible etymological conjecture, or, at the least, of discoverable analogy — I resume the thread of the dialogue.

These etymologies are the hypothetical links whereby Sokrates reconciles his first theory of the essential rectitude of Names (that is, of Naming, as a process which can only be performed in one way, and by an Artist who discerns and uses the Name-Form), with the names actually received and current. The contrast between the sameness and perfection postulated in the theory, and the confusion of actual practice, is not less manifest than the contrast between the benevolent purposes ascribed to the Demiurgus (in the Timæus) and the realities of man and society:— requiring intermediate assumptions, more or less ingenious, to explain or attenuate the glaring inconsistencies. Respecting the Name-Form, Sokrates intimates that it may often be so disguised by difference of letters and syllables, as not to be discernible by an ordinary man, or by any one except an artist or philosopher. Two names, if compound, may have the same Name-Form, though few or none of the letters in them be the same. A physician may so disguise his complex mixtures, by apparent differences of colour or smell, that they shall be supposed by others to be different, though essentially the same. Beta is the name of the letter B: you may substitute, in place of the three last letters, any others which you prefer, and the name will still be appropriate to designate the letter B.49

Letters, as well as things, must be distinguished with their essential properties, each must be adapted to each.

To explain the foundations of the onomastic (name-giving or speaking) art,50 we must analyse words into their primordial constituent letters. The name-giving Artists have begun from this point, and we must follow in their synthetical track. We must distinguish letters with their essential forms — we must also distinguish things with their essential forms — we must then assign to each essence of things that essence of letters which has a natural aptitude to signify it, either one letter singly or several conjoined. The rectitude of the compound names will depend upon that of the simple and primordial.51 This is the only way in which we can track out the rectitude of names: for it is no account of the matter to say that the Gods bestowed them, and that therefore they are right: such recourse to a Deus ex machinâ is only one among the pretexts for evading the necessity of explanation.52

This extreme postulate of analysis and adaptation may be compared with that which Sokrates lays down, in the Phædrus, in regard to the art of Rhetoric. You must first distinguish all the different forms of mind — then all the different forms of speech; you must assign the sort of speech which is apt for persuading each particular sort of mind. Phædrus, pp. 271-272.

Essential significant aptitude consists in resemblance.

Essential aptitude for signification consists in resemblance between the essence of the letter and that of the thing signified. Thus the letter Rho, according to Sokrates, is naturally apt for the signification of rush or vehement motion, because in pronouncing it the tongue is briskly agitated and rolled about. Several words are cited, illustrating this position.53 Iota naturally designates thin and subtle things, which insinuate themselves everywhere. Phi, Chi, Psi, Sigma, the sibilants, imitate blowing. Delta and Tau, from the compression of the tongue, imitate stoppage of motion, or stationary condition. Lambda imitates smooth and slippery things. Nu serves, as confining the voice in the mouth, to form the words signifying in-doors and interior. Alpha and Eta are both of them large letters: the first is assigned to signify size, the last to signify length. Omicron is suited to what is round or circular.54

It is from these fundamental aptitudes, and some others analogous, that the name-giving Artist, or Lawgiver, first put together letters to compound and construct his names. Herein consists their rectitude, according to Sokrates. Though in laying down the position Sokrates gives it only as the best which he could discover, and intimates that some persons may turn it into derision — yet he evidently means to be understood seriously.55

Sokrates assumes that the Name-giving Lawgiver was a believer in the Herakleitean theory.

In applying this theory — about the fundamental significant aptitudes of the letters of the alphabet — to show the rectitude of the existing words compounded from them — Sokrates assumes that the name-giving Artists were believers in the Herakleitean theory: that is, in the perpetual process of flux, movement, and transition into contraries. He cites a large variety of names, showing by their composition that they were adapted to denote this all-pervading fact, as constituting the essence of things.56 The names given by these theorists to that which is good, virtuous, agreeable, &c., were compounded in such a manner as to denote what facilitates, or falls in with, the law of universal movement: the names of things bad or hurtful, denote what obstructs or retards movement.57

But the Name-Giver may be mistaken or incompetent — the rectitude of the name depends upon his knowledge.

Many names (pursues Sokrates), having been given by artistic lawgivers who believed in the Herakleitean theory, will possess intrinsic rectitude, if we assume that theory to be true. But how if the theory be not true? and if the name-givers were mistaken on this fundamental point? The names will then not be right. Now we must not assume the theory to be true, although the Name-givers believed it to be so. Perhaps they themselves (Sokrates intimates) having become giddy by often turning round to survey the nature of things, mistook this vertige of their own for a perpetual revolution and movement of the things which they saw, and gave names accordingly.58 A Name-Giver who is real and artistic is rare and hard to find: there are more among them incompetent than competent: and the name originally bestowed represents only the opinion or conviction of him by whom it is bestowed.59 Yet the names bestowed will be consistent with themselves, founded on the same theory.

Changes and transpositions introduced in the name — hard to follow.

Again, the names originally bestowed differ much from those in use now. Many of them have undergone serious changes: there have been numerous omissions, additions, interpolations, and transpositions of letters, from regard to euphony or other fancies: insomuch that the primitive root becomes hardly traceable, except by great penetration and sagacity.60 Then there are some names which have never been issued at all from the mint of the name-giver, but have either been borrowed from foreigners, or perhaps have been suggested by super-human powers.61

Sokrates qualifies and attenuates his original thesis.

To this point Sokrates brings the question during his conversation with Hermogenes: against whom he maintains — That there is a natural intrinsic rectitude in Names, or a true Name-Form — that naming is a process which must be performed in the natural way, and by an Artist who knows that way. But when, after laying down this general theory, he has gone a certain length in applying it to actual names, he proceeds to introduce qualifications which attenuate and explain it away. Existing names were bestowed by artistic law-givers, but under a belief in the Herakleitean theory — which theory is at best doubtful: moreover the original names have, in course of time, undergone such multiplied changes, that the original point of significant resemblance can hardly be now recognised except by very penetrating intellects.

Conversation of Sokrates with Kratylus: who upholds that original thesis without any qualification.

It is here that Sokrates comes into conversation with Kratylus: who appears as the unreserved advocate of the same general theory which Sokrates had enforced upon Hermogenes. He admits all the consequences of the theory, taking no account of qualifications. Moreover he announces himself as having already bestowed reflection on the subject, and as espousing the doctrine of Herakleitus.62

If names are significant by natural rectitude, or by partaking of the Name-Form, it follows that all names must be right or true, one as well as another. If a name be not right, it cannot be significant: that is, it is no name at all: it is a mere unmeaning sound. A name, in order to be significant, must imitate the essence of the thing named. If you add any thing to a number, or subtract any thing from it, it becomes thereby a new number: it is not the same number badly rendered. So with a letter: so too with a name. There is no such thing as a bad name. Every name must be either significant, and therefore, right — or else it is not a name. So also there is no such thing as a false proposition: you cannot say the thing that is not: your words in that case have no meaning; they are only an empty sound. The hypothesis that the law-giver may have distributed names erroneously is therefore not admissible.63 Moreover, you see that he must have known well, for otherwise he would not have given names so consistent with each other, and with the general Herakleitean theory.64 And since the name is by necessity a representation or copy of the thing, whoever knows the name, must also know the thing named. There is in fact no other way of knowing or seeking or finding out things, except through their names.65

Sokrates goes still farther towards retracting it,

These consequences are fairly deduced by Kratylus from the hypothesis, of the natural rectitude of names, as laid down in the beginning of the dialogue, by Sokrates: who had expressly affirmed (in his anti-Protagorean opening of the dialogue) that unless the process of naming was performed according to the peremptory dictates of nature and by one of the few privileged name-givers, it would be a failure and would accomplish nothing;66 in other words, that a non-natural name would be no name at all. Accordingly, in replying to Kratylus, Sokrates goes yet farther in retracting his own previous reasoning at the beginning of the dialogue — though still without openly professing to do so. He proposes a compromise.67 He withdraws the pretensions of his theory, as peremptory or exclusive; he acknowledges the theory of Hermogenes as true, and valid in conjunction with it. He admits that non-natural names also, significant only by convention, are available as a make-shift — and that such names are in frequent use. Still however he contends, that natural names, significant by likeness, are the best, so far as they can be obtained: but inasmuch as that principle will not afford sufficiently extensive holding-ground, recourse must be had by way of supplement to the less perfect rectitude (of names) presented by customary or conventional significance.68

There are names better — more like, or less like to the things named: Natural Names are the best, but they cannot always be had. Names may be significant by habit, though in an inferior way.

You say (reasons Sokrates with Kratylus) that names must be significant by way of likeness. But there are degrees of likeness. A portrait is more or less like its original, but it is never exactly like: it is never a duplicate, nor does it need to be so. Or a portrait, which really belongs to and resembles one person, may be erroneously assigned to another. The same thing happens with names. There are names more or less like the thing named — good or bad: there are names good with reference to their own object, but erroneously fitted on to objects not their own. The name does not cease to be a name, so long as the type or form of the thing named is preserved in it: but it is worse or better, according as the accompanying features are more or less in harmony with the form.69 If names are like things, the letters which are put together to form names, must have a natural resemblance to things — as we remarked above respecting the letters Rho, Lambda, &c. But the natural, inherent, powers of resemblance and significance, which we pronounced to belong to these letters, are not found to pervade all the actual names, in which they are employed. There are words containing the letters Rho and Lambda, in a sense opposite to that which is natural to them — yet nevertheless at the same time significant; as is evident from the fact, that you and I and others understand them alike. Here then are words significant, without resembling: significant altogether through habit and convention. We must admit the principle of convention as an inferior ground and manner of significance. Resemblance, though the best ground as far as it can be had, is not the only one.70

All names are not consistent with the theory of Herakleitus: some are opposed to it.

All names are not like the things named: some names are bad, others good: the law-giver sometimes gave names under an erroneous belief. Hence you are not warranted in saying that things must be known and investigated through names, and that whoever knows the name, knows also the thing named. You say that the names given are all coherent and grounded upon the Herakleitean theory of perpetual flux. You take this as a proof that that theory is true in itself, and that the law-giver adopted and proceeded upon it as true. I agree with you that the law-giver or name-giver believed in the Herakleitean theory, and adapted many of his names to it: but you cannot infer from hence that the theory is true — for he may have been mistaken.71 Moreover, though many of the existing names consist with, and are based upon, that theory, the same cannot be said of all names. Many names can be enumerated which are based on the opposite principle of permanence and stand-still. It is unsafe to strike a balance of mere numbers between the two: besides which, even among the various names founded on the Herakleitean theory, you will find jumbled together the names of virtues and vices, benefits and misfortunes. That theory lends itself to good and evil alike; it cannot therefore be received as true — whether the name-giver believed in it or not.72

It is not true to say, That Things can only be known through their names.

Lastly, even if we granted that things may be known and studied through their names, it is certain that there must be some other way of knowing them; since the first name-givers (as you yourself affirm) knew things, at a time when no names existed.73 Things may be known and ought to be studied, not through names, but by themselves and through their own affinities.74

Unchangeable Platonic Forms — opposed to the Herakleitean flux, which is true only respecting sensible particulars.

Sokrates then concludes the dialogue by opposing the Platonic ideas to the Herakleitean theory. I often dream or imagine the Beautiful per se, the Good per se, and such like existences or Entia.75 Are not such existences real? Are they not eternal, unchangeable and stationary? Particular beautiful things — particular good things — are in perpetual change or flux: but The Beautiful, The Good — The Ideas or Forms of these and such like — remain always what they are, always the same.

The Herakleitean theory of constant and universal flux is true respecting particular things, but not true respecting these Ideas or Forms. It is the latter alone which know or are known: it is they alone which admit of being rightly named. For that which is in perpetual flux and change can neither know, nor be known, nor be rightly named.76 Being an ever-changing subject, it is never in any determinate condition: and nothing can be known which is not in a determinate condition. The Form of the knowing subject, as well as the Form of the known object, must both remain fixed and eternal, otherwise there can be no knowledge at all.

Herakleitean theory must not be assumed as certain. We must not put implicit faith in names.

To admit these permanent and unchangeable Forms is to deny the Herakleitean theory, which proclaims constant and universal flux. This is a debate still open and not easy to decide. But while it is yet undecided, no wise man ought to put such implicit faith in names and in the bestowers of names, as to feel himself warranted in asserting confidently the certainty of the Herakleitean theory.77 Perhaps that theory is true, perhaps not. Consider the point strenuously, Kratylus. Be not too easy in acquiescence — for you are still young, and have time enough before you. If you find it out, give to me also the benefit of your solution.78

Kratylus replies that he will follow the advice given, but that he has already meditated on the matter, and still adheres to Herakleitus. Such is the close of the dialogue.

Remarks upon the dialogue. Dissent from the opinion of Stallbaum and others, that it is intended to deride Protagoras and other Sophists.

One of the most learned among the modern Platonic commentators informs us that the purpose of Plato in this dialogue was, “to rub over Protagoras and other Sophists with the bitterest salt of sarcasm”.79 I have already expressed my dissent from this theory, which is opposed to all the ancient views of the dialogue, and which has arisen, in my judgment, only from the anxiety of the moderns to exonerate Plato from the reproach of having suggested as admissible, etymologies which now appear to us fantastic. I see no derision of the Sophists, except one or two sneers against Protagoras and Prodikus, upon the ever-recurring theme that they took money for their lectures.80 The argument against Protagoras at the opening of the dialogue — whether conclusive or not — is serious and not derisory. The discourse of Sokrates is neither that of an anti-sophistical caricaturist, on the one hand — nor that of a confirmed dogmatist who has studied the subject and made up his mind on the other (this is the part which he ascribes to Kratylus)81 — but the tentative march of an enquirer groping after truth, who follows the suggestive promptings of his own invention, without knowing whither it will conduct him: who, having in his mind different and even opposite points of view, unfolds first arguments on behalf of one, and next those on behalf of the other, without pledging himself either to the one or to the other, or to any definite scheme of compromise between them.82 Those who take no interest in such circuitous gropings and guesses of an inquisitive and yet unsatisfied mind — those who ask for nothing but a conclusion clearly enunciated along with one or two affirmative reasons — may find the dialogue tiresome. However this may be — it is a manner found in many Platonic dialogues.

Theory laid down by Sokrates à priori, in the first part — Great difficulty, and ingenuity necessary, to bring it into harmony with facts.

Sokrates opens his case by declaring the thesis of the Absolute (Object sine Subject), against the Protagorean thesis of the Relative (Object cum Subject). Things have an absolute essence: names have an absolute essence:83 each name belongs to its own thing, and to no other: this is its rectitude: none but that rare person, the artistic name-giver, can detect the essence of each thing, and the essence of each name, so as to apply the name rightly. Here we have a theory truly Platonic: impressed upon Plato’s mind by a sentiment à priori, and not from any survey or comparison of particulars. Accordingly when Sokrates is called upon to apply his theory to existing current words, and to make out how any such rectitude can be shown to belong to them — he finds the greatest divergence and incongruity between the two. His ingenuity is hardly tasked to reconcile them: and he is obliged to have recourse to bold and multiplied hypotheses. That the first Name-Givers were artists proceeding upon system, but incompetent artists proceeding on a bad system — they were Herakleiteans who believed in the universality of movement, and gave names having reference to movement:84 That the various letters of the alphabet, or rather the different actions of the vocal organism by which they are pronounced, have each an inherent, essential, adaptation, or analogy to the phenomena of movement or arrest of movement:85 That the names originally bestowed have become disguised by a variety of metamorphoses, but may be brought back to their original by probable suppositions, and shown to possess the rectitude sought. All these hypotheses are only violent efforts to reconcile the Platonic à priori theory, in some way or other, with existing facts of language. To regard them as intentional caricatures, would be to suppose that Plato is seeking intentionally to discredit and deride his own theory of the Absolute: for the discredit could fall nowhere else. We see that Plato considered many of his own guesses as strange and novel, some even as laying him open to ridicule.86 But they were indispensable to bring his theory into something like coherence, however inadequate, with real language.

Opposite tendencies of Sokrates in the last half of the dialogue — he disconnects his theory of Naming from the Herakleitean doctrine.

In the second part of the dialogue, where Kratylus is introduced as uncompromising champion of this same theory, Sokrates changes his line of argument, and impugns the peremptory or exclusive pretensions of the theory: first denying some legitimate corollaries from it — next establishing by the side of it the counter-theory of Hermogenes, as being an inferior though indispensable auxiliary — yet still continuing to uphold it as an ideal of what is Best. He concludes by disconnecting the theory pointedly from the doctrine of Herakleitus, with which Kratylus connected it, and by maintaining that there can be no right naming, and no sound knowledge, if that doctrine be admitted.87 The Platonic Ideas, eternal and unchangeable, are finally opposed to Kratylus as the only objects truly knowable and nameable — and therefore as the only conditions under which right naming can be realised. The Name-givers of actual society have failed in their task by proceeding on a wrong doctrine: neither they nor the names which they have given can be trusted.88 The doctrine of perpetual change or movement is true respecting the sensible world and particulars, but it is false respecting the intelligible world or universals — Ideas and Forms. These latter are the only things knowable: but we cannot know them through names: we must study them by themselves and by their own affinities.

How this is to be done, Sokrates professes himself unable to say. We may presume him to mean, that a true Artistic Name-giver must set the example, knowing these Forms or essences beforehand, and providing for each its appropriate Name, or Name-Form, significant by essential analogy.

Ideal of the best system of naming — the Name-Giver ought to be familiar with the Platonic Ideas or Essences, and apportion his names according to resemblances among them.

Herein, so far as I can understand, consists the amount of positive inference which Plato enables us to draw from the Kratylus. Sokrates began by saying that names having natural rectitude were the only materials out of which a language could be formed: he ends by affirming merely that this is the best and most perfect mode of formation: he admits that names may become significant, though loosely and imperfectly, by convention alone — yet the best scheme would be, that in which they are significant by inherent resemblance to the thing named. But this cannot be done until the Name-giver, instead of proceeding upon the false theory of Herakleitus, starts from the true theory recognising the reality of eternal, unchangeable, Ideas or Forms. He will distinguish, and embody in appropriate syllables, those Forms of Names which truly resemble, and have natural connection with, the Forms of Things.

Such is the ideal of perfect or philosophical Naming, as Plato conceives it — disengaged from those divinations of the origin and metamorphoses of existing names, which occupy so much of the dialogue.89 He does not indeed attempt to construct a body of true names à priori, but he sets forth the real nameable permanent essences, to which these names might be assimilated: the principles upon which the construction ought to be founded, by the philosophic lawgiver following out a good theory:90 and he contrasts this process with two rival processes, each defective in its own way. This same contrast, pervading Plato’s views on other subjects, deserves a few words of illustration.

Comparison of Plato’s views about naming with those upon social institutions. Artistic, systematic construction — contrasted with unpremeditated unsystematic growth.

Respecting social institutions and government, there is one well-known theory to which Sir James Mackintosh gave expression in the phrase — “Governments are not made, but grow”. The like phrase has been applied by an eminent modern author on Logic, to language — “Languages are not made, but grow”.91 One might suppose, in reading the second and third books of the Republic of Plato, that Plato also had adopted this theory: for the growth of a society, without any initiative or predetermined construction by a special individual, is there strikingly depicted.92 But in truth it is this theory which stands in most of the Platonic works, as the antithesis depreciated and discredited by Plato. The view most satisfactory to him contemplates the analogy of a human artist or professional man; which he enlarges into the idea of an originating, intelligent, artistic, Constructor, as the source of all good. This view is exhibited to us in the Timæus, where we find the Demiurgus, building up by his own fiat all that is good in the Kosmos: in the Politikus, where we find the individual dictator producing by his uncontrolled ordinance all that is really good in the social system; — lastly, here also in the Kratylus, where we have the scientific or artistic Name-giver, and him alone, set forth as competent to construct an assemblage of names, each possessing full and perfect rectitude. To this theory there is presented a counter-theory, which Plato disapproves — a Kosmos which grows by itself and keeps up its own agencies, without any extra-kosmic constructor or superintendent: in like manner, an aggregate of social customs, and an aggregate of names, which have grown up no one knows how; and which sustain and perpetuate themselves by traditional force — by movement already acquired in a given direction. The idea of growth, by regular assignable steps and by regularising tendencies instinctive and inherent in Nature, belongs rather to Aristotle; Plato conceives Nature as herself irregular, and as persuaded or constrained into some sort of regularity by a supernatural or extranatural artist.93

Politikus compared with Kratylus.

Looking back to the Politikus (reviewed in the last chapter), we find Plato declaring to us wherein consists the rectitude of a social Form: it resides in the presiding and uncontrolled authority of a scientific or artistic Ruler, always present and directing every one: or of a few such Rulers, if there be a few — though this is more than can be hoped. But such rectitude is seldom or never realised. Existing social systems are bad copies of this type, degenerating more or less widely from its perfection. One or a Few persons arrogate to themselves uncontrolled power, without possessing that science or art which justifies the exercise of it in the Right Ruler. These are, or may become, extreme depravations. The least bad, among all the imperfect systems, is an aggregate of fixed laws and magistrates with known functions, agreed to by convention of all and faithfully obeyed by all. But such a system of fixed laws, though second-best, falls greatly short of rectitude. It is much inferior in every way to the uncontrolled authority of the scientific Ruler.94

That which Plato does for social systems in the Politikus, he does for names in the Kratylus. The full rectitude of names is when they are bestowed by the scientific Ruler, considered in the capacity of Name-giver. He it is who discerns, and embodies in syllables, the true Name-Form in each particular case. But such an artist is seldom realised: and there are others who, attempting to do his work without his knowledge, perform it ignorantly or under false theories.95 The names thus given are imperfect names: moreover, after being given, they become corrupted and transformed in passing from man to man. Lastly, the mere fact of convention among the individuals composing the society, without any deliberate authorship or origination from any Ruler, bad or good — suffices to impart to Names a sort of significance, vulgar and imperfect, yet adequate to a certain extent.96 The Name-giving Artist or Lawgiver is here superseded by King Nomos.

Ideal of Plato — Postulate of the One Wise Man — Badness of all reality.

It will be seen that in both these cases the Platonic point of view comes out — deliberate authorship from the scientific or artistic individual mind, as the only source of rectitude and perfection. But when Plato looks at the reality of life, either in social system or in names, he finds no such perfection anywhere: he discovers a divine agency originating what is good; but there is an independent agency necessary in the way of co-operation, though it sometimes counteracts and always debases the good.97 We find either an incompetent dictator who badly imitates the true Artist — or else we have fixed, peremptory, laws; depending on the unsystematic, unauthorised, convention among individuals, which has grown up no one knows how — which is transmitted by tradition, being taught by every one and learnt by every one without any privileged caste of teachers — and which in the Platonic Protagoras is illustrated in the mythe and discourse ascribed to that Sophist;98 being in truth, common sense, as contrasted with professional specialty. In regard to social systems, Plato pronounces fixed laws to be the second-best — enjoining strict obedience to them, wherever the first-best cannot be obtained. In the Republic he enumerates what are the conditions of rectitude in a city: but he admits at the same time that this Right Civic Constitution is an ideal, nowhere to be found existing: and he points out the successive stages of corruption by which it degenerates more and more into conformity with the realities of human society. As with Right Civic Constitution, so with Right Naming: Plato shows what constitutes rectitude of Names, but he admits that this is an ideal seen nowhere, and he notes the various causes which deprave the Right Names into that imperfect and semi-significant condition, which is the best that existing languages present.99

Comparison of Kratylus, Theætêtus, and Sophistês, in treatment of the question respecting Non-Ens, and the possibility of false propositions.

One more remark, in reference to the general spirit and reciprocal bearing of Plato’s dialogues. In three comparison distinct dialogues — Kratylus, Theætêtus, Sophistês — one and the same question is introduced into the discussion: a question keenly debated among the contemporaries of Plato and Aristotle. How is a false proposition possible? Many held that a false proposition and a false name were impossible: that you could not speak the thing that is not, or Non-Ens (τὸ μὴ ὄν): that such a proposition would be an empty sound, without meaning or signification: that speech may be significant or insignificant, but could not be false, except in the sense of being unmeaning.100

Now this doctrine is dealt with in the Theætêtus, Sophistês, and Kratylus. In the Theætêtus,101 Sokrates examines it at great length, and proposes several different hypotheses to explain how a false proposition might be possible: but ends in pronouncing them all inadmissible. He declares himself incompetent, and passes on to something else. Again, in the Sophistês, the same point is taken up, and discussed there also very copiously.102 The Eleate in that dialogue ends by finding a solution which satisfies him (viz.: that τὸ μη ὂν = τὸ ἕτερον ὄντος). But what is remarkable is, that the solution does not meet any of the difficulties propounded in the Theætêtus; nor are those difficulties at all adverted to in the Sophistês. Finally, in the Kratylus, we have the very same doctrine, that false affirmations are impossible — which both in the Theætêtus and in the Sophistês is enunciated, not as the decided opinion of the speaker, but as a problem which embarrasses him — we have this same doctrine averred unequivocally by Kratylus as his own full conviction. And Sokrates finds that a very short argument, and a very simple comparison, suffice to refute him.103 The supposed “aggressive cross-examiner,” who presses Sokrates so hard in the Theætêtus, is not allowed to put his puzzling questions in the Kratylus.104

Discrepancies and inconsistencies of Plato, in his manner of handling the same subject.

How are we to explain these three different modes of handling the same question by the same philosopher? If the question about Non-Ens can be disposed of in the summary way which we read in the Kratylus, what is gained by the string of unsolved puzzles in the Theætêtus — or by the long discursive argument in the Sophistês, ushering in a new solution noway satisfactory? If, on the contrary, the difficulties which are unsolved in the Theætêtus, and imperfectly solved in the Sophistês, are real and pertinent — how are we to explain the proceeding of Plato in the Kratylus, when he puts into the mouth of Kratylus a distinct averment of the opinion, about Non-Ens, yet without allowing him, when it is impugned by Sokrates, to urge any of these pertinent arguments in defence of it? If the peculiar solution given in the Sophistês be the really genuine and triumphant solution, why is it left unnoticed both in the Kratylus and the Theætêtus, and why is it contradicted in other dialogues? Which of the three dialogues represents Plato’s real opinion on the question?

No common didactic purpose pervading the Dialogues — each is a distinct composition, working out its own peculiar argument.

To these questions, and to many others of like bearing, connected with the Platonic writings, I see no satisfactory reply, if we are to consider Plato as a positive philosopher, with a scheme and edifice of methodised opinions in his mind: and as composing all his dialogues with a set purpose, either of inculcating these opinions on the reader, or of refuting the opinions opposed to them. This supposition is what most Platonic critics have in their minds, even when professedly modifying it. Their admiration for Plato is not satisfied unless they conceive him in the professorial chair as a teacher, surrounded by a crowd of learners, all under the obligation (incumbent on learners generally) to believe what they hear. Reasoning upon such a basis, the Platonic dialogues present themselves to me as a mystery. They exhibit neither identity of the teacher, nor identity of the matter taught: the composer (to use various Platonic comparisons) is Many, and not One — he is more complex than Typhos.105

If we are to find any common purpose pervading and binding together all the dialogues, it must not be a didactic purpose, in the sense above defined. The value of them consists, not in the result, but in the discussion — not in the conclusion, but in the premisses for and against it. In this sense all the dialogues have value, and all the same sort of value — though not all equal in amount. In different dialogues, the same subject is set before you in different ways: with remarks and illustrations sometimes tending towards one theory, sometimes towards another. It is for you to compare and balance them, and to elicit such result as your reason approves. The Platonic dialogues require, in order to produce their effect, a supplementary responsive force, and a strong effective reaction, from the individual reason of the reader: they require moreover that he shall have a genuine interest in the process of dialectic scrutiny (τὸ φιλομαθές, φιλόλογον)106 which will enable him to perceive beauties in what would appear tiresome to others.

Such manner of proceeding may be judicious or not, according to the sentiment of the critic. But it is at any rate Platonic. And we have to recall this point of view when dismissing the Kratylus, which presents much interest in the premisses and conflicting theories, with little or no result. It embodies the oldest speculations known to us respecting the origin, the mode of signification, and the functions of words as an instrument: and not the least interesting part of it, in my judgment, consists in its etymological conjectures, affording evidence of a rude etymological sense which has now passed away.