Complete Works (34 page)

S
OCRATES
: In light of the previous investigations, you should now be able to explain ‘
sumpheron
’ (‘advantageous’) for yourself, since it is obviously a close relative of ‘
epist
ē
m
ē
’ (‘knowledge’). It expresses the fact that what is advantageous is nothing other than the movement (
phora
) of a soul in accord with the movement of things.
⁴⁷
The things that are done as a result of this movement are probably called ‘
sumphora
’ or ‘
sumpheronta
’ because they are being moved in harmony with things (
sumperipheresthai
). But ‘
kerdaleon
’ (‘gainful’) derives from ‘
kerdos
’ (‘gain’). If you replace the ‘
d
’ in [b] ‘
kerdos
’ with a ‘
n
’, the name expresses its meaning clearly; it names the good, but in another way. Because the good penetrates everything, it has the power to regulate (
kerannutai
) everything, and the one who gave it its name named it after this power. But he put a ‘
d
’ instead of the ‘
n
’ and pronounced it ‘
kerdos
’.

H
ERMOGENES
: What about ‘
lusiteloun
’ (‘profitable’)?

S
OCRATES
: I don’t think, Hermogenes, that he uses the name ‘
lusiteloun
’ to mean the profit that releases (
apoluei
) a capital sum for reinvestment, which is what retailers use it to mean. The namer-giver calls the good by [c] that name because it is the fastest of the things that are, it doesn’t allow things to remain at rest, or permit their motion to stop, pause, or reach an end. Instead, it always does away with (
luei
) any attempt to let motion end, making it unceasing and immortal. In my view, it is for this reason that the good is said to be ‘
lusiteloun
’, because it does away with (
luon
) any end (
telos
) to motion. ‘
Ō
phelimon
’ (‘beneficial’) is a non-Attic name. Homer often uses it in the form ‘
ophellein
’, which derives from ‘
auxein
’ (‘to increase’) and ‘
poiein
’ (‘to make’).

[d] H
ERMOGENES
: And what are we to say about their opposites?

S
OCRATES
: Those that are mere negations don’t need any discussion, in my view.

H
ERMOGENES
: Which ones are they?

S
OCRATES
: ‘
Asumpheron
’ (‘disadvantageous’), ‘
an
ō
pheles
’ (‘nonbeneficial’), ‘
alusiteles
’ (‘unprofitable’), and ‘
akerdes
’ (‘non-gainful’).

H
ERMOGENES
: It’s true, they don’t need discussion.

S
OCRATES
: But ‘
blaberon
’ (‘harmful’) and ‘
z
ē
mi
ō
des
’ (‘hurtful’) do.

H
ERMOGENES
: Yes.

S
OCRATES
: ‘
Blaberon
’ (‘harmful’) means that which is harming (
blapton
) the flow (
rhoun
). ‘
Blapton
’, in turn, signifies wanting to grasp (
boulomenon
[e]
haptein
). But grasping is the same as shackling, and the name-giver always finds fault with that. Now what wants to grasp the flow (
to boulomenon
haptein rhoun
) would be most correctly called ‘
boulapteroun
’, but this has been beautified, as it seems to me, and so it is called ‘
blaberon
’.

H
ERMOGENES
: What intricate names you come up with, Socrates! When you uttered the name ‘
boulapteroun
’ just now, you looked just as if you were whistling the flute-prelude of the Hymn to Athena!
[418]

S
OCRATES
: I’m not responsible for them, Hermogenes; the name-givers are.

H
ERMOGENES
: That’s true. But what about ‘
z
ē
mi
ō
des
’ (‘hurtful’)? What does it mean?

S
OCRATES
: What does ‘
z
ē
mi
ō
des
’ mean? See how right I was to say, Hermogenes, that people make huge changes in the meaning of names by adding or subtracting letters, and how even a very slight alteration of this sort can make a name signify the opposite of what it used to signify. ‘
Deon
’ (‘obligation’) is an example that has just occurred to me, and it reminds [b] me of what I was about to say to you about ‘
z
ē
mi
ō
des
’. Our fine modern language has obliterated the true meaning of these names by so twisting them around that they now mean the opposite of what they used to, whereas the ancient language expresses clearly what they mean.

H
ERMOGENES
: What do you mean?

S
OCRATES
: I’ll tell you. You know that our ancestors made great use of ‘
i
’ and ‘
d
’ (especially the women, who are the best preservers of the ancient language). But nowadays people change ‘
i
’ to ‘
ē
’ or ‘
e
’, which are supposed [c] to sound more grandiose.

H
ERMOGENES
: They do?

S
OCRATES
: Yes. For example, people now call the day ‘
h
ē
mera
’, but in very ancient times they called it ‘
himera
’ or ‘
hemera
’.

H
ERMOGENES
: That’s true.

S
OCRATES
: You know then that only the ancient name expresses the namegiver’s meaning clearly? People welcome the daylight that comes out of the darkness and long for (
himeirousin
) it, and that’s why they named [d] it ‘
himera
’.

H
ERMOGENES
: Evidently.

S
OCRATES
: But nowadays the name is so dressed up that no one can understand what it means. Although there are some who think the day is called ‘
h
ē
mera
’ because it makes things gentle (
h
ē
mera
).

H
ERMOGENES
: So it seems.

S
OCRATES
: Do you also know that the ancients called a yoke ‘
duogon
’ not ‘
zugon
’?

H
ERMOGENES
: Of course.

S
OCRATES
: Now, ‘
zugon
’ expresses nothing clearly, but the name ‘
duogon
’, on the other hand, is quite rightly given to whatever binds two animals [e] together so that they can pull a plough or cart (
duoin ag
ō
g
ē
n
). Nonetheless, nowadays ‘
zugon
’ it is. And there are plenty of other examples.

H
ERMOGENES
: Evidently.

S
OCRATES
: Similarly, ‘
deon
’ (‘obligation’), when pronounced in this way, seems at first to signify the opposite of all the other names for the good. After all, even though an obligation is a kind of good, ‘
deon
’ plainly signifies a shackle (
desmos
) and obstacle to motion, and so is closely akin to ‘
blaberon
’ (‘harmful’).

H
ERMOGENES
: Yes, Socrates, it does plainly signify that.

S
OCRATES
: But not if you use the ancient name, which is much more likely to have been correctly given than the present one. If you replace
[419]
the ‘
e
’ with an ‘
i
’, as in the ancient name, it agrees with the earlier names of good things—for ‘
dion
’ (‘passing through’), not ‘
deon
’, signifies a good, and is a term of praise. So the name-giver didn’t contradict himself, and ‘
deon
’ (‘obligation’) is plainly the same as ‘
ō
phelimon
’ (‘beneficial’), ‘
lusiteloun
’ (‘profitable’), ‘
kerdaleon
’ (‘gainful’), ‘
agathon
’ (‘good’), ‘
sumpheron
’ (‘advantageous’), and ‘
euporon
’ (‘lack of perplexity’), which are different names signifying what orders and moves. This is always praised, while what [b] restrains and shackles is found fault with. Likewise, in the case of ‘
z
ē
mi
ō
des
’ (‘hurtful’), if you replace the ‘
z
’ with a ‘
d
’, as in the ancient language, it will be plain to you that the name was given to what shackles motion (
doun to ion
), since ‘
d
ē
mi
ō
des
’ derives from that.

H
ERMOGENES
: What about ‘
h
ē
don
ē
’ (‘pleasure’), ‘
lup
ē
’ (‘pain’), and ‘
epithumia
’ (‘appetite’), Socrates, and others like them?

S
OCRATES
: I don’t think there is any great difficulty about them, Hermogenes.
H
ē
don
ē
(pleasure) seems to have been given its name because it is an activity that tends towards enjoyment (
h
ē
on
ē
sis
), but a ‘
d
’ has been inserted and we call it ‘
h
ē
don
ē
’ instead of ‘
h
ē
on
ē
’. ‘
Lup
ē
’ (‘pain’) seems to [c] derive from the weakening (
dialusis
) the body suffers when in pain. ‘
Ania
’ (‘sorrow’) signifies what hinders (
hienai
) motion. ‘
Alg
ē
d
ō
n
’ (‘distress’) seems to me to be a foreign name deriving from ‘
algeinos
’ (‘distressing’). ‘
Odun
ē
’ (‘grief’) seems to be named after the entering in (
endusis
) of pain. It is clear to everyone that pronouncing the name ‘
achth
ē
d
ō
n
’ (‘affliction’) is like giving motion a burden (
achthos
) to carry.
Chara
(joy) seems to have been so called because it is an outpouring (
diachusis
) or good movement of the soul’s flow (
rho
ē
). ‘
Terpsis
’ (‘delight’) comes from ‘
terpnon
’ (‘delightful’), [d] which, in turn, comes from that which glides (
herpsis
) through the soul like a breath (
pno
ē
). By rights it is called ‘
herpnoun
’, but over time its name has been changed to ‘
terpnon
’.
Euphrosun
ē
(lightheartedness) needs no explanation, since it is clear to everyone that it derives its name from the movement of the soul that well accords (
eu sumpheresthai
) with that of things. By rights it is called ‘
eupherosun
ē
’, but we call it ‘
euphrosun
ē
’. Nor is there any difficulty about
epithumia
(‘appetite’), for it is clear that its name derives from the power that opposes the spirited part of the soul (
epi ton thumon iousa
), while ‘
thumos
’ (‘spirit’, ‘anger’) derives from the [e] raging (
thusis
) and boiling of the soul. The name ‘
himeros
’ (‘desire’) derives from what most drives the soul’s flow. It flows with a rush (
hiemenos rhei
) and sets on (
ephiemenos
) things, thus violently dragging the soul because
[420]
of the rush of its flow. And so, because it has all this power, it is called ‘
himeros
’. ‘
Pothos
’ (‘longing’), on the other hand, signifies that it isn’t a desire (or flow) for what is present but for what is elsewhere (
pou
) or absent. So, when its object is absent, it is given the name ‘
pothos
’, and, when its object is present, it is called ‘
himeros
’.
Er
ō
s
(erotic love) is so called because it flows in from outside, that is to say, the flow doesn’t belong to the person who has it, but is introduced into him through his eyes. Because [b] of this it was called ‘
esros
’ (‘influx’) in ancient times, when they used ‘
o
’ for ‘
ō
’, but now that ‘
o
’ is changed to ‘
ō
’, it is called ‘
er
ō
s
’. So, what other names do you think are left for us to examine?

H
ERMOGENES
: What do you think about ‘
doxa
’ (‘opinion’) and the like?

S
OCRATES
: ‘
Doxa
’ (‘opinion) either derives from the pursuit (
di
ō
xis
) the soul engages in when it hunts for the knowledge of how things are, or it derives from the shooting of a bow (
toxon
). But the latter is more likely. At any rate, ‘
oi
ē
sis
’ (‘thinking’) is in harmony with it. It seems to express [c] the fact that thinking is the motion (
oisis
) of the soul towards every thing, towards how each of the things that are really is. In the same way, ‘
boul
ē
’ (‘planning’) has to do with trying to hit (
bol
ē
) some target, and ‘
boulesthai
’ (‘wishing’) and ‘
bouleuesthai
’ (‘deliberating’) signify aiming at something (
ephiesthai
). All these names seem to go along with ‘
doxa
’ in that they’re all like ‘
bol
ē
’, like trying to hit some target. Similarly, the opposite, ‘
aboulia
’ (‘lack of planning’), seems to signify a failure to get something (
atuchia
), as when someone fails to hit or get what he shot at, wished for, planned, or desired.