CRATYLUS: They must have known, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Why, yes, friend Cratylus, they could hardly have been ignorant.
CRATYLUS: I should say not.
SOCRATES: Let us return to the point from which we digressed. You were
saying, if you remember, that he who gave names must have known the things
which he named; are you still of that opinion?
CRATYLUS: I am.
SOCRATES: And would you say that the giver of the first names had also a
knowledge of the things which he named?
CRATYLUS: I should.
SOCRATES: But how could he have learned or discovered things from names if
the primitive names were not yet given? For, if we are correct in our
view, the only way of learning and discovering things, is either to
discover names for ourselves or to learn them from others.
CRATYLUS: I think that there is a good deal in what you say, Socrates.
SOCRATES: But if things are only to be known through names, how can we
suppose that the givers of names had knowledge, or were legislators before
there were names at all, and therefore before they could have known them?
CRATYLUS: I believe, Socrates, the true account of the matter to be, that
a power more than human gave things their first names, and that the names
which are thus given are necessarily their true names.
SOCRATES: Then how came the giver of the names, if he was an inspired
being or God, to contradict himself? For were we not saying just now that
he made some names expressive of rest and others of motion? Were we
mistaken?
CRATYLUS: But I suppose one of the two not to be names at all.
SOCRATES: And which, then, did he make, my good friend; those which are
expressive of rest, or those which are expressive of motion? This is a
point which, as I said before, cannot be determined by counting them.
CRATYLUS: No; not in that way, Socrates.
SOCRATES: But if this is a battle of names, some of them asserting that
they are like the truth, others contending that THEY are, how or by what
criterion are we to decide between them? For there are no other names to
which appeal can be made, but obviously recourse must be had to another
standard which, without employing names, will make clear which of the two
are right; and this must be a standard which shows the truth of things.
CRATYLUS: I agree.
SOCRATES: But if that is true, Cratylus, then I suppose that things may be
known without names?
CRATYLUS: Clearly.
SOCRATES: But how would you expect to know them? What other way can there
be of knowing them, except the true and natural way, through their
affinities, when they are akin to each other, and through themselves? For
that which is other and different from them must signify something other
and different from them.
CRATYLUS: What you are saying is, I think, true.
SOCRATES: Well, but reflect; have we not several times acknowledged that
names rightly given are the likenesses and images of the things which they
name?
CRATYLUS: Yes.
SOCRATES: Let us suppose that to any extent you please you can learn
things through the medium of names, and suppose also that you can learn
them from the things themselves--which is likely to be the nobler and
clearer way; to learn of the image, whether the image and the truth of
which the image is the expression have been rightly conceived, or to learn
of the truth whether the truth and the image of it have been duly executed?
CRATYLUS: I should say that we must learn of the truth.
SOCRATES: How real existence is to be studied or discovered is, I suspect,
beyond you and me. But we may admit so much, that the knowledge of things
is not to be derived from names. No; they must be studied and investigated
in themselves.
CRATYLUS: Clearly, Socrates.
SOCRATES: There is another point. I should not like us to be imposed upon
by the appearance of such a multitude of names, all tending in the same
direction. I myself do not deny that the givers of names did really give
them under the idea that all things were in motion and flux; which was
their sincere but, I think, mistaken opinion. And having fallen into a
kind of whirlpool themselves, they are carried round, and want to drag us
in after them. There is a matter, master Cratylus, about which I often
dream, and should like to ask your opinion: Tell me, whether there is or
is not any absolute beauty or good, or any other absolute existence?
CRATYLUS: Certainly, Socrates, I think so.
SOCRATES: Then let us seek the true beauty: not asking whether a face is
fair, or anything of that sort, for all such things appear to be in a flux;
but let us ask whether the true beauty is not always beautiful.
CRATYLUS: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And can we rightly speak of a beauty which is always passing
away, and is first this and then that; must not the same thing be born and
retire and vanish while the word is in our mouths?
CRATYLUS: Undoubtedly.
SOCRATES: Then how can that be a real thing which is never in the same
state? for obviously things which are the same cannot change while they
remain the same; and if they are always the same and in the same state, and
never depart from their original form, they can never change or be moved.
CRATYLUS: Certainly they cannot.
SOCRATES: Nor yet can they be known by any one; for at the moment that the
observer approaches, then they become other and of another nature, so that
you cannot get any further in knowing their nature or state, for you cannot
know that which has no state.
CRATYLUS: True.
SOCRATES: Nor can we reasonably say, Cratylus, that there is knowledge at
all, if everything is in a state of transition and there is nothing
abiding; for knowledge too cannot continue to be knowledge unless
continuing always to abide and exist. But if the very nature of knowledge
changes, at the time when the change occurs there will be no knowledge; and
if the transition is always going on, there will always be no knowledge,
and, according to this view, there will be no one to know and nothing to be
known: but if that which knows and that which is known exists ever, and
the beautiful and the good and every other thing also exist, then I do not
think that they can resemble a process or flux, as we were just now
supposing. Whether there is this eternal nature in things, or whether the
truth is what Heracleitus and his followers and many others say, is a
question hard to determine; and no man of sense will like to put himself or
the education of his mind in the power of names: neither will he so far
trust names or the givers of names as to be confident in any knowledge
which condemns himself and other existences to an unhealthy state of
unreality; he will not believe that all things leak like a pot, or imagine
that the world is a man who has a running at the nose. This may be true,
Cratylus, but is also very likely to be untrue; and therefore I would not
have you be too easily persuaded of it. Reflect well and like a man, and
do not easily accept such a doctrine; for you are young and of an age to
learn. And when you have found the truth, come and tell me.
CRATYLUS: I will do as you say, though I can assure you, Socrates, that I
have been considering the matter already, and the result of a great deal of
trouble and consideration is that I incline to Heracleitus.
SOCRATES: Then, another day, my friend, when you come back, you shall give
me a lesson; but at present, go into the country, as you are intending, and
Hermogenes shall set you on your way.
CRATYLUS: Very good, Socrates; I hope, however, that you will continue to
think about these things yourself.
Critias
by Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
INTRODUCTION AND ANALYSIS.
The Critias is a fragment which breaks off in the middle of a sentence. It
was designed to be the second part of a trilogy, which, like the other
great Platonic trilogy of the Sophist, Statesman, Philosopher, was never
completed. Timaeus had brought down the origin of the world to the
creation of man, and the dawn of history was now to succeed the philosophy
of nature. The Critias is also connected with the Republic. Plato, as he
has already told us (Tim.), intended to represent the ideal state engaged
in a patriotic conflict. This mythical conflict is prophetic or symbolical
of the struggle of Athens and Persia, perhaps in some degree also of the
wars of the Greeks and Carthaginians, in the same way that the Persian is
prefigured by the Trojan war to the mind of Herodotus, or as the narrative
of the first part of the Aeneid is intended by Virgil to foreshadow the
wars of Carthage and Rome. The small number of the primitive Athenian
citizens (20,000), 'which is about their present number' (Crit.), is
evidently designed to contrast with the myriads and barbaric array of the
Atlantic hosts. The passing remark in the Timaeus that Athens was left
alone in the struggle, in which she conquered and became the liberator of
Greece, is also an allusion to the later history. Hence we may safely
conclude that the entire narrative is due to the imagination of Plato, who
has used the name of Solon and introduced the Egyptian priests to give
verisimilitude to his story. To the Greek such a tale, like that of the
earth-born men, would have seemed perfectly accordant with the character of
his mythology, and not more marvellous than the wonders of the East
narrated by Herodotus and others: he might have been deceived into
believing it. But it appears strange that later ages should have been
imposed upon by the fiction. As many attempts have been made to find the
great island of Atlantis, as to discover the country of the lost tribes.
Without regard to the description of Plato, and without a suspicion that
the whole narrative is a fabrication, interpreters have looked for the spot
in every part of the globe, America, Arabia Felix, Ceylon, Palestine,
Sardinia, Sweden.
Timaeus concludes with a prayer that his words may be acceptable to the God
whom he has revealed, and Critias, whose turn follows, begs that a larger
measure of indulgence may be conceded to him, because he has to speak of
men whom we know and not of gods whom we do not know. Socrates readily
grants his request, and anticipating that Hermocrates will make a similar
petition, extends by anticipation a like indulgence to him.
Critias returns to his story, professing only to repeat what Solon was told
by the priests. The war of which he was about to speak had occurred 9000
years ago. One of the combatants was the city of Athens, the other was the
great island of Atlantis. Critias proposes to speak of these rival powers
first of all, giving to Athens the precedence; the various tribes of Greeks
and barbarians who took part in the war will be dealt with as they
successively appear on the scene.
In the beginning the gods agreed to divide the earth by lot in a friendly
manner, and when they had made the allotment they settled their several
countries, and were the shepherds or rather the pilots of mankind, whom
they guided by persuasion, and not by force. Hephaestus and Athena,
brother and sister deities, in mind and art united, obtained as their lot
the land of Attica, a land suited to the growth of virtue and wisdom; and
there they settled a brave race of children of the soil, and taught them
how to order the state. Some of their names, such as Cecrops, Erechtheus,
Erichthonius, and Erysichthon, were preserved and adopted in later times,
but the memory of their deeds has passed away; for there have since been
many deluges, and the remnant who survived in the mountains were ignorant
of the art of writing, and during many generations were wholly devoted to
acquiring the means of life...And the armed image of the goddess which was
dedicated by the ancient Athenians is an evidence to other ages that men
and women had in those days, as they ought always to have, common virtues
and pursuits. There were various classes of citizens, including
handicraftsmen and husbandmen and a superior class of warriors who dwelt
apart, and were educated, and had all things in common, like our guardians.
Attica in those days extended southwards to the Isthmus, and inland to the
heights of Parnes and Cithaeron, and between them and the sea included the
district of Oropus. The country was then, as what remains of it still is,
the most fertile in the world, and abounded in rich plains and pastures.
But in the course of ages much of the soil was washed away and disappeared
in the deep sea. And the inhabitants of this fair land were endowed with
intelligence and the love of beauty.
The Acropolis of the ancient Athens extended to the Ilissus and Eridanus,
and included the Pnyx, and the Lycabettus on the opposite side to the Pnyx,
having a level surface and deep soil. The side of the hill was inhabited
by craftsmen and husbandmen; and the warriors dwelt by themselves on the
summit, around the temples of Hephaestus and Athene, in an enclosure which
was like the garden of a single house. In winter they retired into houses
on the north of the hill, in which they held their syssitia. These were
modest dwellings, which they bequeathed unaltered to their children's
children. In summer time the south side was inhabited by them, and then
they left their gardens and dining-halls. In the midst of the Acropolis
was a fountain, which gave an abundant supply of cool water in summer and
warm in winter; of this there are still some traces. They were careful to
preserve the number of fighting men and women at 20,000, which is equal to
that of the present military force. And so they passed their lives as
guardians of the citizens and leaders of the Hellenes. They were a just
and famous race, celebrated for their beauty and virtue all over Europe and
Asia.
And now I will speak to you of their adversaries, but first I ought to
explain that the Greek names were given to Solon in an Egyptian form, and
he enquired their meaning and translated them. His manuscript was left
with my grandfather Dropides, and is now in my possession...In the division
of the earth Poseidon obtained as his portion the island of Atlantis, and
