Consider, if you will, a word. It could be any word, big or small, well used or rarely heard. However, it must be a word to which you apply significant meaning. In my case, the word I chose was “demon”. When I began to research the subject of demons with reference to the Ancient Greek world I discovered a rather irksome situation. Many of the texts which I looked into to see what they had to say on the subjects of demons were problematic, in that too often the translated version shied away from the term “demon”, likely to avoid the association that word has due to the Judeo-Christian context with which a large majority of people read. However, despite this irritating hindrance, eventually, I came to a source which was clear, one which, by dint of being functionally a discussion “περὶ ὀνομάτων ὀρθότητος” (About the Accuracy of Names), was forced to state things without such obfuscatory language as Hesiod’s “they are called pure spirits dwelling on the earth”. This source that actually sets things out plainly, in a slight departure from his usual style, is Plato’s “Cratylus”.
In “Cratylus” the subject of demons comes up only for one exchange, when Socrates and the men questioning him are discussing the order in which they should deal with topics going forwards in the text, and Hermogenes asks that it must make logical sense that, following Gods, they should discuss Demons. In his typical style, Socrates immediately launches into a discussion of demons, prompted, as he was, by a question. Socrates first makes reference to Hesiod’s mention of demons as the sprits of the golden race of men, and here the translator, Benjamin Jowett, does not shy away from translating the Greek “δαίμονες” as “demon”. As the translations of Hesiod which I have read previously have all translated that δαίμονες with any applicable word except “demon”, the reference to Hesiod made by Plato in “Cratylus” directed me to a Greek version of “Works and Days”, where, sure enough, the word which had been translated as “pure spirits” was revealed to be “δαίμονες”.
However, Plato did not simply teach me to look to the original tongue when it comes to determining about exactly what an ancient source is speaking about, as Socrates is not content to merely cite Hesiod. Instead, he goes on to discuss, in his opinion, the idea that Hesiod referred to these spirits of the golden race of men as sprits because of their knowledge and wisdom. He says that “every wise man who happens to be a good man is more than human both in life and death, and is rightly called a demon”. It is a single line, the whole exchange is merely 15 statements back and forth between Socrates and Hermogenes, most of which are either basic affirmatives from Hermogenes, or surprisingly brief questions from Socrates, but it remains, regardless, extremely useful. It is not useful because of being an anthology of useful and relevant information (which it is not), nor is it useful because it gives an in-depth examination of exactly how the Greeks felt about demons. Instead, it is useful because it states, in simple and clear terms, one of the major interpretations of what a demon was from 5th century Athens. Despite the scholarly pit trap that is generalizing from sources of 5th century Athens onto the Pan-Hellenic world, Plato provided me with a very solid baseline to work, and created an excellent focusing question: Why is that the conception of the Greek δαίμονες and the Judeo-Christian demon is so vastly different? Is it due to culture of origin? Due to the role of the characters within the myth cycle of the two cultures? Or is there a traceable link between this concept of guardian sprit of a greater race, now lost, and the later hell-bound interpretation with which the modern world is considerably more familiar.
“Cratylus” forced me to cast aside the viewpoint with which I had been researching, re-evaluate my chosen word, “demon”, and caused me to remember (not for the first time during my studies) quite how much time has passed, and just how much has changed between now and then. In a way, the moral of this story is an old one, that of the diamond in the rough. I personally have, on occasion, found myself dismissing sources, simply because the section which has relevance to my topic is not more than a sentence or two. However, as “Cratylus” has shown me, it is important to remember that useful, and sometimes even crucial information, can be found in all sorts of places, and in all sorts of forms and formats.