eived that the tongue is most agitated in the
pronunciation of this letter, just as he used iota to express the subtle
power which penetrates through all things. The letters phi, psi, sigma,
zeta, which require a great deal of wind, are employed in the imitation
of such notions as shivering, seething, shaking, and in general of what
is windy. The letters delta and tau convey the idea of binding and rest
in a place: the lambda denotes smoothness, as in the words slip, sleek,
sleep, and the like. But when the slipping tongue is detained by the
heavier sound of gamma, then arises the notion of a glutinous clammy
nature: nu is sounded from within, and has a notion of inwardness: alpha
is the expression of size; eta of length; omicron of roundness, and
therefore there is plenty of omicron in the word goggulon. That is my
view, Hermogenes, of the correctness of names; and I should like to hear
what Cratylus would say. 'But, Socrates, as I was telling you, Cratylus
mystifies me; I should like to ask him, in your presence, what he means
by the fitness of names?' To this appeal, Cratylus replies 'that he
cannot explain so important a subject all in a moment.' 'No, but you may
"add little to little," as Hesiod says.' Socrates here interposes
his own request, that Cratylus will give some account of his theory.
Hermogenes and himself are mere sciolists, but Cratylus has reflected
on these matters, and has had teachers. Cratylus replies in the words of
Achilles: '"Illustrious Ajax, you have spoken in all things much to my
mind," whether Euthyphro, or some Muse inhabiting your own breast,
was the inspirer.' Socrates replies, that he is afraid of being
self-deceived, and therefore he must 'look fore and aft,' as Homer
remarks. Does not Cratylus agree with him that names teach us the nature
of things? 'Yes.' And naming is an art, and the artists are legislators,
and like artists in general, some of them are better and some of them
are worse than others, and give better or worse laws, and make better or
worse names. Cratylus cannot admit that one name is better than another;
they are either true names, or they are not names at all; and when he is
asked about the name of Hermogenes, who is acknowledged to have no
luck in him, he affirms this to be the name of somebody else. Socrates
supposes him to mean that falsehood is impossible, to which his own
answer would be, that there has never been a lack of liars. Cratylus
presses him with the o