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The two Dialogues together contain +the whole philosophy of Plato on the nature of love, which in the Republic +and in the later writings of Plato is only introduced playfully or as a +figure of speech. But in the Phaedrus and Symposium love and philosophy +join hands, and one is an aspect of the other. The spiritual and emotional +part is elevated into the ideal, to which in the Symposium mankind are +described as looking forward, and which in the Phaedrus, as well as in the +Phaedo, they are seeking to recover from a former state of existence. +Whether the subject of the Dialogue is love or rhetoric, or the union of +the two, or the relation of philosophy to love and to art in general, and +to the human soul, will be hereafter considered. And perhaps we may arrive +at some conclusion such as the following--that the dialogue is not strictly +confined to a single subject, but passes from one to another with the +natural freedom of conversation. + +Phaedrus has been spending the morning with Lysias, the celebrated +rhetorician, and is going to refresh himself by taking a walk outside the +wall, when he is met by Socrates, who professes that he will not leave him +until he has delivered up the speech with which Lysias has regaled him, and +which he is carrying about in his mind, or more probably in a book hidden +under his cloak, and is intending to study as he walks. The imputation is +not denied, and the two agree to direct their steps out of the public way +along the stream of the Ilissus towards a plane-tree which is seen in the +distance. There, lying down amidst pleasant sounds and scents, they will +read the speech of Lysias. The country is a novelty to Socrates, who never +goes out of the town; and hence he is full of admiration for the beauties +of nature, which he seems to be drinking in for the first time. + +As they are on their way, Phaedrus asks the opinion of Socrates respecting +the local tradition of Boreas and Oreithyia. Socrates, after a satirical +allusion to the 'rationalizers' of his day, replies that he has no time for +these 'nice' interpretations of mythology, and he pities anyone who has. +When you once begin there is no end of them, and they spring from an +uncritical philosophy after all. 'The proper study of mankind is man;' and +he is a far more complex and wonderful being than the serpent Typho. +Socrates as yet does not know himself; and why should he care to know about +unearthly monsters? Engaged in such conversation, they arrive at the +plane-tree; when they have found a convenient resting-place, Phaedrus pulls +out the speech and reads:-- + +The speech consists of a foolish paradox which is to the effect that the +non-lover ought to be accepted rather than the lover--because he is more +rational, more agreeable, more enduring, less suspicious, less hurtful, +less boastful, less engrossing, and because there are more of them, and for +a great many other reasons which are equally unmeaning. Phaedrus is +captivated with the beauty of the periods, and wants to make Socrates say +that nothing was or ever could be written better. Socrates does not think +much of the matter, but then he has only attended to the form, and in that +he has detected several repetitions and other marks of haste. He cannot +agree with Phaedrus in the extreme value which he sets upon this +performance, because he is afraid of doing injustice to Anacreon and Sappho +and other great writers, and is almost inclined to think that he himself, +or rather some power residing within him, could make a speech better than +that of Lysias on the same theme, and also different from his, if he may be +allowed the use of a few commonplaces which all speakers must equally +employ. + +Phaedrus is delighted at the prospect of having another speech, and +promises that he will set up a golden statue of Socrates at Delphi, if he +keeps his word. Some raillery ensues, and at length Socrates, conquered by +the threat that he shall never again hear a speech of Lysias unless he +fulfils his promise, veils his face and begins. + +First, invoking the Muses and assuming ironically the person of the non- +lover (who is a lover all the same), he will enquire into the nature and +power of love. For this is a necessary preliminary to the other question-- +How is the non-lover to be distinguished from the lover? In all of us +there are two principles--a better and a worse--reason and desire, which +are generally at war with one another; and the victory of the rational is +called temperance, and the victory of the irrational intemperance or +excess. The latter takes many forms and has many bad names--gluttony, +drunkenness, and the like. But of all the irrational desires or excesses +the greatest is that which is led away by desires of a kindred nature to +the enjoyment of personal beauty. And this is the master power of love. + +Here Socrates fancies that he detects in himself an unusual flow of +eloquence--this newly-found gift he can only attribute to the inspiration +of the place, which appears to be dedicated to the nymphs. Starting again +from the philosophical basis which has been laid down, he proceeds to show +how many advantages the non-lover has over the lover. The one encourages +softness and effeminacy and exclusiveness; he cannot endure any superiority +in his beloved; he will train him in luxury, he will keep him out of +society, he will deprive him of parents, friends, money, knowledge, and of +every other good, that he may have him all to himself. Then again his ways +are not ways of pleasantness; he is mighty disagreeable; 'crabbed age and +youth cannot live together.' At every hour of the night and day he is +intruding upon him; there is the same old withered face and the remainder +to match--and he is always repeating, in season or out of season, the +praises or dispraises of his beloved, which are bad enough when he is +sober, and published all over the world when he is drunk. At length his +love ceases; he is converted into an enemy, and the spectacle may be seen +of the lover running away from the beloved, who pursues him with vain +reproaches, and demands his reward which the other refuses to pay. Too +late the beloved learns, after all his pains and disagreeables, that 'As +wolves love lambs so lovers love their loves.' (Compare Char.) Here is +the end; the 'other' or 'non-lover' part of the speech had better be +understood, for if in the censure of the lover Socrates has broken out in +verse, what will he not do in his praise of the non-lover? He has said his +say and is preparing to go away. + +Phaedrus begs him to remain, at any rate until the heat of noon has passed; +he would like to have a little more conversation before they go. Socrates, +who has risen, recognizes the oracular sign which forbids him to depart +until he has done penance. His conscious has been awakened, and like +Stesichorus when he had reviled the lovely Helen he will sing a palinode +for having blasphemed the majesty of love. His palinode takes the form of +a myth. + +Socrates begins his tale with a glorification of madness, which he divides +into four kinds: first, there is the art of divination or prophecy--this, +in a vein similar to that pervading the Cratylus and Io, he connects with +madness by an etymological explanation (mantike, manike--compare +oionoistike, oionistike, ''tis all one reckoning, save the phrase is a +little variations'); secondly, there is the art of purification by +mysteries; thirdly, poetry or the inspiration of the Muses (compare Ion), +without which no man can enter their temple. All this shows that madness +is one of heaven's blessings, and may sometimes be a great deal better than +sense. There is also a fourth kind of madness--that of love--which cannot +be explained without enquiring into the nature of the soul. + +All soul is immortal, for she is the source of all motion both in herself +and in others. Her form may be described in a figure as a composite nature +made up of a charioteer and a pair of winged steeds. The steeds of the +gods are immortal, but ours are one mortal and the other immortal. The +immortal soul soars upwards into the heavens, but the mortal drops her +plumes and settles upon the earth. + +Now the use of the wing is to rise and carry the downward element into the +upper world--there to behold beauty, wisdom, goodness, and the other things +of God by which the soul is nourished. On a certain day Zeus the lord of +heaven goes forth in a winged chariot; and an array of gods and demi-gods +and of human souls in their train, follows him. There are glorious and +blessed sights in the interior of heaven, and he who will may freely behold +them. The great vision of all is seen at the feast of the gods, when they +ascend the heights of the empyrean--all but Hestia, who is left at home to +keep house. The chariots of the gods glide readily upwards and stand upon +the outside; the revolution of the spheres carries them round, and they +have a vision of the world beyond. But the others labour in vain; for the +mortal steed, if he has not been properly trained, keeps them down and +sinks them towards the earth. Of the world which is beyond the heavens, +who can tell? There is an essence formless, colourless, intangible, +perceived by the mind only, dwelling in the region of true knowledge. The +divine mind in her revolution enjoys this fair prospect, and beholds +justice, temperance, and knowledge in their everlasting essence. When +fulfilled with the sight of them she returns home, and the charioteer puts +up the horses in their stable, and gives them ambrosia to eat and nectar to +drink. This is the life of the gods; the human soul tries to reach the +same heights, but hardly succeeds; and sometimes the head of the charioteer +rises above, and sometimes sinks below, the fair vision, and he is at last +obliged, after much contention, to turn away and leave the plain of truth. +But if the soul has followed in the train of her god and once beheld truth +she is preserved from harm, and is carried round in the next revolution of +the spheres; and if always following, and always seeing the truth, is then +for ever unharmed. If, however, she drops her wings and falls to the +earth, then she takes the form of man, and the soul which has seen most of +the truth passes into a philosopher or lover; that which has seen truth in +the second degree, into a king or warrior; the third, into a householder or +money-maker; the fourth, into a gymnast; the fifth, into a prophet or +mystic; the sixth, into a poet or imitator; the seventh, into a husbandman +or craftsman; the eighth, into a sophist or demagogue; the ninth, into a +tyrant. All these are states of probation, wherein he who lives +righteously is improved, and he who lives unrighteously deteriorates. +After death comes the judgment; the bad depart to houses of correction +under the earth, the good to places of joy in heaven. When a thousand +years have elapsed the souls meet together and choose the lives which they +will lead for another period of existence. The soul which three times in +succession has chosen the life of a philosopher or of a lover who is not +without philosophy receives her wings at the close of the third millennium; +the remainder have to complete a cycle of ten thousand years before their +wings are restored to them. Each time there is full liberty of choice. +The soul of a man may descend into a beast, and return again into the form +of man. But the form of man will only be taken by the soul which has once +seen truth and acquired some conception of the universal:--this is the +recollection of the knowledge which she attained when in the company of the +Gods. And men in general recall only with difficulty the things of another +world, but the mind of the philosopher has a better remembrance of them. +For when he beholds the visible beauty of earth his enraptured soul passes +in thought to those glorious sights of justice and wisdom and temperance +and truth which she once gazed upon in heaven. Then she celebrated holy +mysteries and beheld blessed apparitions shining in pure light, herself +pure, and not as yet entombed in the body. And still, like a bird eager to +quit its cage, she flutters and looks upwards, and is therefore deemed mad. +Such a recollection of past days she receives through sight, the keenest of +our senses, because beauty, alone of the ideas, has any representation on +earth: wisdom is invisible to mortal eyes. But the corrupted nature, +blindly excited by this vision of beauty, rushes on to enjoy, and would +fain wallow like a brute beast in sensual pleasures. Whereas the true +mystic, who has seen the many sights of bliss, when he beholds a god-like +form or face is amazed with delight, and if he were not afraid of being +thought mad he would fall down and worship. Then the stiffened wing begins +to relax and grow again; desire which has been imprisoned pours over the +soul of the lover; the germ of the wing unfolds, and stings, and pangs of +birth, like the cutting of teeth, are everywhere felt. (Compare Symp.) +Father and mother, and goods and laws and proprieties are nothing to him; +his beloved is his physician, who can alone cure his pain. An apocryphal +sacred writer says that the power which thus works in him is by mortals +called love, but the immortals call him dove, or the winged one, in order +to represent the force of his wings--such at any rate is his nature. Now +the characters of lovers depend upon the god whom they followed in the +other world; and they choose their loves in this world accordingly. The +followers of Ares are fierce and violent; those of Zeus seek out some +philosophical and imperial nature; the attendants of Here find a royal +love; and in like manner the followers of every god seek a love who is like +their god; and to him they communicate the nature which they have received +from their god. The manner in which they take their love is as follows:-- + +I told you about the charioteer and his two steeds, the one a noble animal +who is guided by word and admonition only, the other an ill-looking villain +who will hardly yield to blow or spur. Together all three, who are a +figure of the soul, approach the vision of love. And now a fierce conflict +begins. The ill-conditioned steed rushes on to enjoy, but the charioteer, +who beholds the beloved with awe, falls back in adoration, and forces both +the steeds on their haunches; again the evil steed rushes forwards and +pulls shamelessly. The conflict grows more and more severe; and at last +the charioteer, throwing himself backwards, forces the bit out of the +clenched teeth of the brute, and pulling harder than ever at the reins, +covers his tongue and jaws with blood, and forces him to rest his legs and +haunches with pain upon the ground. When this has happened several times, +the villain is tamed and humbled, and from that time forward the soul of +the lover follows the beloved in modesty and holy fear. And now their +bliss is consummated; the same image of love dwells in the breast of +either, and if they have self-control, they pass their lives in the +greatest happiness which is attainable by man--they continue masters of +themselves, and conquer in one of the three heavenly victories. But if +they choose the lower life of ambition they may still have a happy destiny, +though inferior, because they have not the approval of the whole soul. At +last they leave the body and proceed on their pilgrim's progress, and those +who have once begun can never go back. When the time comes they receive +their wings and fly away, and the lovers have the same wings. + +Socrates concludes:-- + +These are the blessings of love, and thus have I made my recantation in +finer language than before: I did so in order to please Phaedrus. If I +said what was wrong at first, please to attribute my error to Lysias, who +ought to study philosophy instead of rhetoric, and then he will not mislead +his disciple Phaedrus. + +Phaedrus is afraid that he will lose conceit of Lysias, and that Lysias +will be out of conceit with himself, and leave off making speeches, for the +politicians have been deriding him. Socrates is of opinion that there is +small danger of this; the politicians are themselves the great rhetoricians +of the age, who desire to attain immortality by the authorship of laws. +And therefore there is nothing with which they can reproach Lysias in being +a writer; but there may be disgrace in being a bad one. + +And what is good or bad writing or speaking? While the sun is hot in the +sky above us, let us ask that question: since by rational conversation man +lives, and not by the indulgence of bodily pleasures. And the grasshoppers +who are chirruping around may carry our words to the Muses, who are their +patronesses; for the grasshoppers were human beings themselves in a world +before the Muses, and when the Muses came they died of hunger for the love +of song. And they carry to them in heaven the report of those who honour +them on earth. + +The first rule of good speaking is to know and speak the truth; as a +Spartan proverb says, 'true art is truth'; whereas rhetoric is an art of +enchantment, which makes things appear good and evil, like and unlike, as +the speaker pleases. Its use is not confined, as people commonly suppose, +to arguments in the law courts and speeches in the assembly; it is rather a +part of the art of disputation, under which are included both the rules of +Gorgias and the eristic of Zeno. But it is not wholly devoid of truth. +Superior knowledge enables us to deceive another by the help of +resemblances, and to escape from such a deception when employed against +ourselves. We see therefore that even in rhetoric an element of truth is +required. For if we do not know the truth, we can neither make the gradual +departures from truth by which men are most easily deceived, nor guard +ourselves against deception. + +Socrates then proposes that they shall use the two speeches as +illustrations of the art of rhetoric; first distinguishing between the +debatable and undisputed class of subjects. In the debatable class there +ought to be a definition of all disputed matters. But there was no such +definition in the speech of Lysias; nor is there any order or connection in +his words any more than in a nursery rhyme. With this he compares the +regular divisions of the other speech, which was his own (and yet not his +own, for the local deities must have inspired him). Although only a +playful composition, it will be found to embody two principles: first, that +of synthesis or the comprehension of parts in a whole; secondly, analysis, +or the resolution of the whole into parts. These are the processes of +division and generalization which are so dear to the dialectician, that +king of men. They are effected by dialectic, and not by rhetoric, of which +the remains are but scanty after order and arrangement have been +subtracted. There is nothing left but a heap of 'ologies' and other +technical terms invented by Polus, Theodorus, Evenus, Tisias, Gorgias, and +others, who have rules for everything, and who teach how to be short or +long at pleasure. Prodicus showed his good sense when he said that there +was a better thing than either to be short or long, which was to be of +convenient length. + +Still, notwithstanding the absurdities of Polus and others, rhetoric has +great power in public assemblies. This power, however, is not given by any +technical rules, but is the gift of genius. The real art is always being +confused by rhetoricians with the preliminaries of the art. The perfection +of oratory is like the perfection of anything else; natural power must be +aided by art. But the art is not that which is taught in the schools of +rhetoric; it is nearer akin to philosophy. Pericles, for instance, who was +the most accomplished of all speakers, derived his eloquence not from +rhetoric but from the philosophy of nature which he learnt of Anaxagoras. +True rhetoric is like medicine, and the rhetorician has to consider the +natures of men's souls as the physician considers the natures of their +bodies. Such and such persons are to be affected in this way, such and +such others in that; and he must know the times and the seasons for saying +this or that. This is not an easy task, and this, if there be such an art, +is the art of rhetoric. + +I know that there are some professors of the art who maintain probability +to be stronger than truth. But we maintain that probability is engendered +by likeness of the truth which can only be attained by the knowledge of it, +and that the aim of the good man should not be to please or persuade his +fellow-servants, but to please his good masters who are the gods. Rhetoric +has a fair beginning in this. + +Enough of the art of speaking; let us now proceed to consider the true use +of writing. There is an old Egyptian tale of Theuth, the inventor of +writing, showing his invention to the god Thamus, who told him that he +would only spoil men's memories and take away their understandings. From +this tale, of which young Athens will probably make fun, may be gathered +the lesson that writing is inferior to speech. For it is like a picture, +which can give no answer to a question, and has only a deceitful likeness +of a living creature. It has no power of adaptation, but uses the same +words for all. It is not a legitimate son of knowledge, but a bastard, and +when an attack is made upon this bastard neither parent nor anyone else is +there to defend it. The husbandman will not seriously incline to sow his +seed in such a hot-bed or garden of Adonis; he will rather sow in the +natural soil of the human soul which has depth of earth; and he will +anticipate the inner growth of the mind, by writing only, if at all, as a +remedy against old age. The natural process will be far nobler, and will +bring forth fruit in the minds of others as well as in his own. + +The conclusion of the whole matter is just this,--that until a man knows +the truth, and the manner of adapting the truth to the natures of other +men, he cannot be a good orator; also, that the living is better than the +written word, and that the principles of justice and truth when delivered +by word of mouth are the legitimate offspring of a man's own bosom, and +their lawful descendants take up their abode in others. Such an orator as +he is who is possessed of them, you and I would fain become. And to all +composers in the world, poets, orators, legislators, we hereby announce +that if their compositions are based upon these principles, then they are +not only poets, orators, legislators, but philosophers. All others are +mere flatterers and putters together of words. This is the message which +Phaedrus undertakes to carry to Lysias from the local deities, and Socrates +himself will carry a similar message to his favourite Isocrates, whose +future distinction as a great rhetorician he prophesies. The heat of the +day has passed, and after offering up a prayer to Pan and the nymphs, +Socrates and Phaedrus depart. + +There are two principal controversies which have been raised about the +Phaedrus; the first relates to the subject, the second to the date of the +Dialogue. + +There seems to be a notion that the work of a great artist like Plato +cannot fail in unity, and that the unity of a dialogue requires a single +subject. But the conception of unity really applies in very different +degrees and ways to different kinds of art; to a statue, for example, far +more than to any kind of literary composition, and to some species of +literature far more than to others. Nor does the dialogue appear to be a +style of composition in which the requirement of unity is most stringent; +nor should the idea of unity derived from one sort of art be hastily +transferred to another. The double titles of several of the Platonic +Dialogues are a further proof that the severer rule was not observed by +Plato. The Republic is divided between the search after justice and the +construction of the ideal state; the Parmenides between the criticism of +the Platonic ideas and of the Eleatic one or being; the Gorgias between the +art of speaking and the nature of the good; the Sophist between the +detection of the Sophist and the correlation of ideas. The Theaetetus, the +Politicus, and the Philebus have also digressions which are but remotely +connected with the main subject. + +Thus the comparison of Plato's other writings, as well as the reason of the +thing, lead us to the conclusion that we must not expect to find one idea +pervading a whole work, but one, two, or more, as the invention of the +writer may suggest, or his fancy wander. If each dialogue were confined to +the development of a single idea, this would appear on the face of the +dialogue, nor could any controversy be raised as to whether the Phaedrus +treated of love or rhetoric. But the truth is that Plato subjects himself +to no rule of this sort. Like every great artist he gives unity of form to +the different and apparently distracting topics which he brings together. +He works freely and is not to be supposed to have arranged every part of +the dialogue before he begins to write. He fastens or weaves together the +frame of his discourse loosely and imperfectly, and which is the warp and +which is the woof cannot always be determined. + +The subjects of the Phaedrus (exclusive of the short introductory passage +about mythology which is suggested by the local tradition) are first the +false or conventional art of rhetoric; secondly, love or the inspiration of +beauty and knowledge, which is described as madness; thirdly, dialectic or +the art of composition and division; fourthly, the true rhetoric, which is +based upon dialectic, and is neither the art of persuasion nor knowledge of +the truth alone, but the art of persuasion founded on knowledge of truth +and knowledge of character; fifthly, the superiority of the spoken over the +written word. The continuous thread which appears and reappears throughout +is rhetoric; this is the ground into which the rest of the Dialogue is +worked, in parts embroidered with fine words which are not in Socrates' +manner, as he says, 'in order to please Phaedrus.' The speech of Lysias +which has thrown Phaedrus into an ecstacy is adduced as an example of the +false rhetoric; the first speech of Socrates, though an improvement, +partakes of the same character; his second speech, which is full of that +higher element said to have been learned of Anaxagoras by Pericles, and +which in the midst of poetry does not forget order, is an illustration of +the higher or true rhetoric. This higher rhetoric is based upon dialectic, +and dialectic is a sort of inspiration akin to love (compare Symp.); in +these two aspects of philosophy the technicalities of rhetoric are +absorbed. And so the example becomes also the deeper theme of discourse. +The true knowledge of things in heaven and earth is based upon enthusiasm +or love of the ideas going before us and ever present to us in this world +and in another; and the true order of speech or writing proceeds +accordingly. Love, again, has three degrees: first, of interested love +corresponding to the conventionalities of rhetoric; secondly, of +disinterested or mad love, fixed on objects of sense, and answering, +perhaps, to poetry; thirdly, of disinterested love directed towards the +unseen, answering to dialectic or the science of the ideas. Lastly, the +art of rhetoric in the lower sense is found to rest on a knowledge of the +natures and characters of men, which Socrates at the commencement of the +Dialogue has described as his own peculiar study. + +Thus amid discord a harmony begins to appear; there are many links of +connection which are not visible at first sight. At the same time the +Phaedrus, although one of the most beautiful of the Platonic Dialogues, is +also more irregular than any other. For insight into the world, for +sustained irony, for depth of thought, there is no Dialogue superior, or +perhaps equal to it. Nevertheless the form of the work has tended to +obscure some of Plato's higher aims. + +The first speech is composed 'in that balanced style in which the wise love +to talk' (Symp.). The characteristics of rhetoric are insipidity, +mannerism, and monotonous parallelism of clauses. There is more rhythm +than reason; the creative power of imagination is wanting. + +''Tis Greece, but living Greece no more.' + +Plato has seized by anticipation the spirit which hung over Greek +literature for a thousand years afterwards. Yet doubtless there were some +who, like Phaedrus, felt a delight in the harmonious cadence and the +pedantic reasoning of the rhetoricians newly imported from Sicily, which +had ceased to be awakened in them by really great works, such as the odes +of Anacreon or Sappho or the orations of Pericles. That the first speech +was really written by Lysias is improbable. Like the poem of Solon, or the +story of Thamus and Theuth, or the funeral oration of Aspasia (if genuine), +or the pretence of Socrates in the Cratylus that his knowledge of philology +is derived from Euthyphro, the invention is really due to the imagination +of Plato, and may be compared to the parodies of the Sophists in the +Protagoras. Numerous fictions of this sort occur in the Dialogues, and the +gravity of Plato has sometimes imposed upon his commentators. The +introduction of a considerable writing of another would seem not to be in +keeping with a great work of art, and has no parallel elsewhere. + +In the second speech Socrates is exhibited as beating the rhetoricians at +their own weapons; he 'an unpractised man and they masters of the art.' +True to his character, he must, however, profess that the speech which he +makes is not his own, for he knows nothing of himself. (Compare Symp.) +Regarded as a rhetorical exercise, the superiority of his speech seems to +consist chiefly in a better arrangement of the topics; he begins with a +definition of love, and he gives weight to his words by going back to +general maxims; a lesser merit is the greater liveliness of Socrates, which +hurries him into verse and relieves the monotony of the style. + +But Plato had doubtless a higher purpose than to exhibit Socrates as the +rival or superior of the Athenian rhetoricians. Even in the speech of +Lysias there is a germ of truth, and this is further developed in the +parallel oration of Socrates. First, passionate love is overthrown by the +sophistical or interested, and then both yield to that higher view of love +which is afterwards revealed to us. The extreme of commonplace is +contrasted with the most ideal and imaginative of speculations. Socrates, +half in jest and to satisfy his own wild humour, takes the disguise of +Lysias, but he is also in profound earnest and in a deeper vein of irony +than usual. Having improvised his own speech, which is based upon the +model of the preceding, he condemns them both. Yet the condemnation is not +to be taken seriously, for he is evidently trying to express an aspect of +the truth. To understand him, we must make abstraction of morality and of +the Greek manner of regarding the relation of the sexes. In this, as in +his other discussions about love, what Plato says of the loves of men must +be transferred to the loves of women before we can attach any serious +meaning to his words. Had he lived in our times he would have made the +transposition himself. But seeing in his own age the impossibility of +woman being the intellectual helpmate or friend of man (except in the rare +instances of a Diotima or an Aspasia), seeing that, even as to personal +beauty, her place was taken by young mankind instead of womankind, he tries +to work out the problem of love without regard to the distinctions of +nature. And full of the evils which he recognized as flowing from the +spurious form of love, he proceeds with a deep meaning, though partly in +joke, to show that the 'non-lover's' love is better than the 'lover's.' + +We may raise the same question in another form: Is marriage preferable +with or without love? 'Among ourselves,' as we may say, a little parodying +the words of Pausanias in the Symposium, 'there would be one answer to this +question: the practice and feeling of some foreign countries appears to be +more doubtful.' Suppose a modern Socrates, in defiance of the received +notions of society and the sentimental literature of the day, alone against +all the writers and readers of novels, to suggest this enquiry, would not +the younger 'part of the world be ready to take off its coat and run at him +might and main?' (Republic.) Yet, if like Peisthetaerus in Aristophanes, +he could persuade the 'birds' to hear him, retiring a little behind a +rampart, not of pots and dishes, but of unreadable books, he might have +something to say for himself. Might he not argue, 'that a rational being +should not follow the dictates of passion in the most important act of his +or her life'? Who would willingly enter into a contract at first sight, +almost without thought, against the advice and opinion of his friends, at a +time when he acknowledges that he is not in his right mind? And yet they +are praised by the authors of romances, who reject the warnings of their +friends or parents, rather than those who listen to them in such matters. +Two inexperienced persons, ignorant of the world and of one another, how +can they be said to choose?--they draw lots, whence also the saying, +'marriage is a lottery.' Then he would describe their way of life after +marriage; how they monopolize one another's affections to the exclusion of +friends and relations: how they pass their days in unmeaning fondness or +trivial conversation; how the inferior of the two drags the other down to +his or her level; how the cares of a family 'breed meanness in their +souls.' In the fulfilment of military or public duties, they are not +helpers but hinderers of one another: they cannot undertake any noble +enterprise, such as makes the names of men and women famous, from domestic +considerations. Too late their eyes are opened; they were taken unawares +and desire to part company. Better, he would say, a 'little love at the +beginning,' for heaven might have increased it; but now their foolish +fondness has changed into mutual dislike. In the days of their honeymoon +they never understood that they must provide against offences, that they +must have interests, that they must learn the art of living as well as +loving. Our misogamist will not appeal to Anacreon or Sappho for a +confirmation of his view, but to the universal experience of mankind. How +much nobler, in conclusion, he will say, is friendship, which does not +receive unmeaning praises from novelists and poets, is not exacting or +exclusive, is not impaired by familiarity, is much less expensive, is not +so likely to take offence, seldom changes, and may be dissolved from time +to time without the assistance of the courts. Besides, he will remark that +there is a much greater choice of friends than of wives--you may have more +of them and they will be far more improving to your mind. They will not +keep you dawdling at home, or dancing attendance upon them; or withdraw you +from the great world and stirring scenes of life and action which would +make a man of you. + +In such a manner, turning the seamy side outwards, a modern Socrates might +describe the evils of married and domestic life. They are evils which +mankind in general have agreed to conceal, partly because they are +compensated by greater goods. Socrates or Archilochus would soon have to +sing a palinode for the injustice done to lovely Helen, or some misfortune +worse than blindness might be fall them. Then they would take up their +parable again and say:--that there were two loves, a higher and a lower, +holy and unholy, a love of the mind and a love of the body. + +'Let me not to the marriage of true minds +Admit impediments. Love is not love +Which alters when it alteration finds. + +... + +Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks +Within his bending sickle's compass come; +Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, +But bears it out even to the edge of doom.' + +But this true love of the mind cannot exist between two souls, until they +are purified from the grossness of earthly passion: they must pass through +a time of trial and conflict first; in the language of religion they must +be converted or born again. Then they would see the world transformed into +a scene of heavenly beauty; a divine idea would accompany them in all their +thoughts and actions. Something too of the recollections of childhood +might float about them still; they might regain that old simplicity which +had been theirs in other days at their first entrance on life. And +although their love of one another was ever present to them, they would +acknowledge also a higher love of duty and of God, which united them. And +their happiness would depend upon their preserving in them this principle-- +not losing the ideals of justice and holiness and truth, but renewing them +at the fountain of light. When they have attained to this exalted state, +let them marry (something too may be conceded to the animal nature of man): +or live together in holy and innocent friendship. The poet might describe +in eloquent words the nature of such a union; how after many struggles the +true love was found: how the two passed their lives together in the +service of God and man; how their characters were reflected upon one +another, and seemed to grow more like year by year; how they read in one +another's eyes the thoughts, wishes, actions of the other; how they saw +each other in God; how in a figure they grew wings like doves, and were +'ready to fly away together and be at rest.' And lastly, he might tell +how, after a time at no long intervals, first one and then the other fell +asleep, and 'appeared to the unwise' to die, but were reunited in another +state of being, in which they saw justice and holiness and truth, not +according to the imperfect copies of them which are found in this world, +but justice absolute in existence absolute, and so of the rest. And they +would hold converse not only with each other, but with blessed souls +everywhere; and would be employed in the service of God, every soul +fulfilling his own nature and character, and would see into the wonders of +earth and heaven, and trace the works of creation to their author. + +So, partly in jest but also 'with a certain degree of seriousness,' we may +appropriate to ourselves the words of Plato. The use of such a parody, +though very imperfect, is to transfer his thoughts to our sphere of +religion and feeling, to bring him nearer to us and us to him. Like the +Scriptures, Plato admits of endless applications, if we allow for the +difference of times and manners; and we lose the better half of him when we +regard his Dialogues merely as literary compositions. Any ancient work +which is worth reading has a practical and speculative as well as a +literary interest. And in Plato, more than in any other Greek writer, the +local and transitory is inextricably blended with what is spiritual and +eternal. Socrates is necessarily ironical; for he has to withdraw from the +received opinions and beliefs of mankind. We cannot separate the +transitory from the permanent; nor can we translate the language of irony +into that of plain reflection and common sense. But we can imagine the +mind of Socrates in another age and country; and we can interpret him by +analogy with reference to the errors and prejudices which prevail among +ourselves. To return to the Phaedrus:-- + +Both speeches are strongly condemned by Socrates as sinful and blasphemous +towards the god Love, and as worthy only of some haunt of sailors to which +good manners were unknown. The meaning of this and other wild language to +the same effect, which is introduced by way of contrast to the formality of +the two speeches (Socrates has a sense of relief when he has escaped from +the trammels of rhetoric), seems to be that the two speeches proceed upon +the supposition that love is and ought to be interested, and that no such +thing as a real or disinterested passion, which would be at the same time +lasting, could be conceived. 'But did I call this "love"? O God, forgive +my blasphemy. This is not love. Rather it is the love of the world. But +there is another kingdom of love, a kingdom not of this world, divine, +eternal. And this other love I will now show you in a mystery.' + +Then follows the famous myth, which is a sort of parable, and like other +parables ought not to receive too minute an interpretation. In all such +allegories there is a great deal which is merely ornamental, and the +interpreter has to separate the important from the unimportant. Socrates +himself has given the right clue when, in using his own discourse +afterwards as the text for his examination of rhetoric, he characterizes it +as a 'partly true and tolerably credible mythus,' in which amid poetical +figures, order and arrangement were not forgotten. + +The soul is described in magnificent language as the self-moved and the +source of motion in all other things. This is the philosophical theme or +proem of the whole. But ideas must be given through something, and under +the pretext that to realize the true nature of the soul would be not only +tedious but impossible, we at once pass on to describe the souls of gods as +well as men under the figure of two winged steeds and a charioteer. No +connection is traced between the soul as the great motive power and the +triple soul which is thus imaged. There is no difficulty in seeing that +the charioteer represents the reason, or that the black horse is the symbol +of the sensual or concupiscent element of human nature. The white horse +also represents rational impulse, but the description, 'a lover of honour +and modesty and temperance, and a follower of true glory,' though similar, +does not at once recall the 'spirit' (thumos) of the Republic. The two +steeds really correspond in a figure more nearly to the appetitive and +moral or semi-rational soul of Aristotle. And thus, for the first time +perhaps in the history of philosophy, we have represented to us the +threefold division of psychology. The image of the charioteer and the +steeds has been compared with a similar image which occurs in the verses of +Parmenides; but it is important to remark that the horses of Parmenides +have no allegorical meaning, and that the poet is only describing his own +approach in a chariot to the regions of light and the house of the goddess +of truth. + +The triple soul has had a previous existence, in which following in the +train of some god, from whom she derived her character, she beheld +partially and imperfectly the vision of absolute truth. All her after +existence, passed in many forms of men and animals, is spent in regaining +this. The stages of the conflict are many and various; and she is sorely +let and hindered by the animal desires of the inferior or concupiscent +steed. Again and again she beholds the flashing beauty of the beloved. +But before that vision can be finally enjoyed the animal desires must be +subjected. + +The moral or spiritual element in man is represented by the immortal steed +which, like thumos in the Republic, always sides with the reason. Both are +dragged out of their course by the furious impulses of desire. In the end +something is conceded to the desires, after they have been finally humbled +and overpowered. And yet the way of philosophy, or perfect love of the +unseen, is total abstinence from bodily delights. 'But all men cannot +receive this saying': in the lower life of ambition they may be taken off +their guard and stoop to folly unawares, and then, although they do not +attain to the highest bliss, yet if they have once conquered they may be +happy enough. + +The language of the Meno and the Phaedo as well as of the Phaedrus seems to +show that at one time of his life Plato was quite serious in maintaining a +former state of existence. His mission was to realize the abstract; in +that, all good and truth, all the hopes of this and another life seemed to +centre. To him abstractions, as we call them, were another kind of +knowledge--an inner and unseen world, which seemed to exist far more truly +than the fleeting objects of sense which were without him. When we are +once able to imagine the intense power which abstract ideas exercised over +the mind of Plato, we see that there was no more difficulty to him in +realizing the eternal existence of them and of the human minds which were +associated with them, in the past and future than in the present. The +difficulty was not how they could exist, but how they could fail to exist. +In the attempt to regain this 'saving' knowledge of the ideas, the sense +was found to be as great an enemy as the desires; and hence two things +which to us seem quite distinct are inextricably blended in the +representation of Plato. + +Thus far we may believe that Plato was serious in his conception of the +soul as a motive power, in his reminiscence of a former state of being, in +his elevation of the reason over sense and passion, and perhaps in his +doctrine of transmigration. Was he equally serious in the rest? For +example, are we to attribute his tripartite division of the soul to the +gods? Or is this merely assigned to them by way of parallelism with men? +The latter is the more probable; for the horses of the gods are both white, +i.e. their every impulse is in harmony with reason; their dualism, on the +other hand, only carries out the figure of the chariot. Is he serious, +again, in regarding love as 'a madness'? That seems to arise out of the +antithesis to the former conception of love. At the same time he appears +to intimate here, as in the Ion, Apology, Meno, and elsewhere, that there +is a faculty in man, whether to be termed in modern language genius, or +inspiration, or imagination, or idealism, or communion with God, which +cannot be reduced to rule and measure. Perhaps, too, he is ironically +repeating the common language of mankind about philosophy, and is turning +their jest into a sort of earnest. (Compare Phaedo, Symp.) Or is he +serious in holding that each soul bears the character of a god? He may +have had no other account to give of the differences of human characters to +which he afterwards refers. Or, again, in his absurd derivation of mantike +and oionistike and imeros (compare Cratylus)? It is characteristic of the +irony of Socrates to mix up sense and nonsense in such a way that no exact +line can be drawn between them. And allegory helps to increase this sort +of confusion. + +As is often the case in the parables and prophecies of Scripture, the +meaning is allowed to break through the figure, and the details are not +always consistent. When the charioteers and their steeds stand upon the +dome of heaven they behold the intangible invisible essences which are not +objects of sight. This is because the force of language can no further go. +Nor can we dwell much on the circumstance, that at the completion of ten +thousand years all are to return to the place from whence they came; +because he represents their return as dependent on their own good conduct +in the successive stages of existence. Nor again can we attribute anything +to the accidental inference which would also follow, that even a tyrant may +live righteously in the condition of life to which fate has called him ('he +aiblins might, I dinna ken'). But to suppose this would be at variance +with Plato himself and with Greek notions generally. He is much more +serious in distinguishing men from animals by their recognition of the +universal which they have known in a former state, and in denying that this +gift of reason can ever be obliterated or lost. In the language of some +modern theologians he might be said to maintain the 'final perseverance' of +those who have entered on their pilgrim's progress. Other intimations of a +'metaphysic' or 'theology' of the future may also be discerned in him: (1) +The moderate predestinarianism which here, as in the Republic, acknowledges +the element of chance in human life, and yet asserts the freedom and +responsibility of man; (2) The recognition of a moral as well as an +intellectual principle in man under the image of an immortal steed; (3) The +notion that the divine nature exists by the contemplation of ideas of +virtue and justice--or, in other words, the assertion of the essentially +moral nature of God; (4) Again, there is the hint that human life is a life +of aspiration only, and that the true ideal is not to be found in art; (5) +There occurs the first trace of the distinction between necessary and +contingent matter; (6) The conception of the soul itself as the motive +power and reason of the universe. + +The conception of the philosopher, or the philosopher and lover in one, as +a sort of madman, may be compared with the Republic and Theaetetus, in both +of which the philosopher is regarded as a stranger and monster upon the +earth. The whole myth, like the other myths of Plato, describes in a +figure things which are beyond the range of human faculties, or +inaccessible to the knowledge of the age. That philosophy should be +represented as the inspiration of love is a conception that has already +become familiar to us in the Symposium, and is the expression partly of +Plato's enthusiasm for the idea, and is also an indication of the real +power exercised by the passion of friendship over the mind of the Greek. +The master in the art of love knew that there was a mystery in these +feelings and their associations, and especially in the contrast of the +sensible and permanent which is afforded by them; and he sought to explain +this, as he explained universal ideas, by a reference to a former state of +existence. The capriciousness of love is also derived by him from an +attachment to some god in a former world. The singular remark that the +beloved is more affected than the lover at the final consummation of their +love, seems likewise to hint at a psychological truth. + +It is difficult to exhaust the meanings of a work like the Phaedrus, which +indicates so much more than it expresses; and is full of inconsistencies +and ambiguities which were not perceived by Plato himself. For example, +when he is speaking of the soul does he mean the human or the divine soul? +and are they both equally self-moving and constructed on the same threefold +principle? We should certainly be disposed to reply that the self-motive +is to be attributed to God only; and on the other hand that the appetitive +and passionate elements have no place in His nature. So we should infer +from the reason of the thing, but there is no indication in Plato's own +writings that this was his meaning. Or, again, when he explains the +different characters of men by referring them back to the nature of the God +whom they served in a former state of existence, we are inclined to ask +whether he is serious: Is he not rather using a mythological figure, here +as elsewhere, to draw a veil over things which are beyond the limits of +mortal knowledge? Once more, in speaking of beauty is he really thinking +of some external form such as might have been expressed in the works of +Phidias or Praxiteles; and not rather of an imaginary beauty, of a sort +which extinguishes rather than stimulates vulgar love,--a heavenly beauty +like that which flashed from time to time before the eyes of Dante or +Bunyan? Surely the latter. But it would be idle to reconcile all the +details of the passage: it is a picture, not a system, and a picture which +is for the greater part an allegory, and an allegory which allows the +meaning to come through. The image of the charioteer and his steeds is +placed side by side with the absolute forms of justice, temperance, and the +like, which are abstract ideas only, and which are seen with the eye of the +soul in her heavenly journey. The first impression of such a passage, in +which no attempt is made to separate the substance from the form, is far +truer than an elaborate philosophical analysis. + +It is too often forgotten that the whole of the second discourse of +Socrates is only an allegory, or figure of speech. For this reason, it is +unnecessary to enquire whether the love of which Plato speaks is the love +of men or of women. It is really a general idea which includes both, and +in which the sensual element, though not wholly eradicated, is reduced to +order and measure. We must not attribute a meaning to every fanciful +detail. Nor is there any need to call up revolting associations, which as +a matter of good taste should be banished, and which were far enough away +from the mind of Plato. These and similar passages should be interpreted +by the Laws. Nor is there anything in the Symposium, or in the Charmides, +in reality inconsistent with the sterner rule which Plato lays down in the +Laws. At the same time it is not to be denied that love and philosophy are +described by Socrates in figures of speech which would not be used in +Christian times; or that nameless vices were prevalent at Athens and in +other Greek cities; or that friendships between men were a more sacred tie, +and had a more important social and educational influence than among +ourselves. (See note on Symposium.) + +In the Phaedrus, as well as in the Symposium, there are two kinds of love, +a lower and a higher, the one answering to the natural wants of the animal, +the other rising above them and contemplating with religious awe the forms +of justice, temperance, holiness, yet finding them also 'too dazzling +bright for mortal eye,' and shrinking from them in amazement. The +opposition between these two kinds of love may be compared to the +opposition between the flesh and the spirit in the Epistles of St. Paul. +It would be unmeaning to suppose that Plato, in describing the spiritual +combat, in which the rational soul is finally victor and master of both the +steeds, condescends to allow any indulgence of unnatural lusts. + +Two other thoughts about love are suggested by this passage. First of all, +love is represented here, as in the Symposium, as one of the great powers +of nature, which takes many forms and two principal ones, having a +predominant influence over the lives of men. And these two, though +opposed, are not absolutely separated the one from the other. Plato, with +his great knowledge of human nature, was well aware how easily one is +transformed into the other, or how soon the noble but fleeting aspiration +may return into the nature of the animal, while the lower instinct which is +latent always remains. The intermediate sentimentalism, which has +exercised so great an influence on the literature of modern Europe, had no +place in the classical times of Hellas; the higher love, of which Plato +speaks, is the subject, not of poetry or fiction, but of philosophy. + +Secondly, there seems to be indicated a natural yearning of the human mind +that the great ideas of justice, temperance, wisdom, should be expressed in +some form of visible beauty, like the absolute purity and goodness which +Christian art has sought to realize in the person of the Madonna. But +although human nature has often attempted to represent outwardly what can +be only 'spiritually discerned,' men feel that in pictures and images, +whether painted or carved, or described in words only, we have not the +substance but the shadow of the truth which is in heaven. There is no +reason to suppose that in the fairest works of Greek art, Plato ever +conceived himself to behold an image, however faint, of ideal truths. 'Not +in that way was wisdom seen.' + +We may now pass on to the second part of the Dialogue, which is a criticism +on the first. Rhetoric is assailed on various grounds: first, as desiring +to persuade, without a knowledge of the truth; and secondly, as ignoring +the distinction between certain and probable matter. The three speeches +are then passed in review: the first of them has no definition of the +nature of love, and no order in the topics (being in these respects far +inferior to the second); while the third of them is found (though a fancy +of the hour) to be framed upon real dialectical principles. But dialectic +is not rhetoric; nothing on that subject is to be found in the endless +treatises of rhetoric, however prolific in hard names. When Plato has +sufficiently put them to the test of ridicule he touches, as with the point +of a needle, the real error, which is the confusion of preliminary +knowledge with creative power. No attainments will provide the speaker +with genius; and the sort of attainments which can alone be of any value +are the higher philosophy and the power of psychological analysis, which is +given by dialectic, but not by the rules of the rhetoricians. + +In this latter portion of the Dialogue there are many texts which may help +us to speak and to think. The names dialectic and rhetoric are passing out +of use; we hardly examine seriously into their nature and limits, and +probably the arts both of speaking and of conversation have been unduly +neglected by us. But the mind of Socrates pierces through the differences +of times and countries into the essential nature of man; and his words +apply equally to the modern world and to the Athenians of old. Would he +not have asked of us, or rather is he not asking of us, Whether we have +ceased to prefer appearances to reality? Let us take a survey of the +professions to which he refers and try them by his standard. Is not all +literature passing into criticism, just as Athenian literature in the age +of Plato was degenerating into sophistry and rhetoric? We can discourse +and write about poems and paintings, but we seem to have lost the gift of +creating them. Can we wonder that few of them 'come sweetly from nature,' +while ten thousand reviewers (mala murioi) are engaged in dissecting them? +Young men, like Phaedrus, are enamoured of their own literary clique and +have but a feeble sympathy with the master-minds of former ages. They +recognize 'a POETICAL necessity in the writings of their favourite author, +even when he boldly wrote off just what came in his head.' They are +beginning to think that Art is enough, just at the time when Art is about +to disappear from the world. And would not a great painter, such as +Michael Angelo, or a great poet, such as Shakespeare, returning to earth, +'courteously rebuke' us--would he not say that we are putting 'in the place +of Art the preliminaries of Art,' confusing Art the expression of mind and +truth with Art the composition of colours and forms; and perhaps he might +more severely chastise some of us for trying to invent 'a new shudder' +instead of bringing to the birth living and healthy creations? These he +would regard as the signs of an age wanting in original power. + +Turning from literature and the arts to law and politics, again we fall +under the lash of Socrates. For do we not often make 'the worse appear the +better cause;' and do not 'both parties sometimes agree to tell lies'? Is +not pleading 'an art of speaking unconnected with the truth'? There is +another text of Socrates which must not be forgotten in relation to this +subject. In the endless maze of English law is there any 'dividing the +whole into parts or reuniting the parts into a whole'--any semblance of an +organized being 'having hands and feet and other members'? Instead of a +system there is the Chaos of Anaxagoras (omou panta chremata) and no Mind +or Order. Then again in the noble art of politics, who thinks of first +principles and of true ideas? We avowedly follow not the truth but the +will of the many (compare Republic). Is not legislation too a sort of +literary effort, and might not statesmanship be described as the 'art of +enchanting' the house? While there are some politicians who have no +knowledge of the truth, but only of what is likely to be approved by 'the +many who sit in judgment,' there are others who can give no form to their +ideal, neither having learned 'the art of persuasion,' nor having any +insight into the 'characters of men.' Once more, has not medical science +become a professional routine, which many 'practise without being able to +say who were their instructors'--the application of a few drugs taken from +a book instead of a life-long study of the natures and constitutions of +human beings? Do we see as clearly as Hippocrates 'that the nature of the +body can only be understood as a whole'? (Compare Charm.) And are not +they held to be the wisest physicians who have the greatest distrust of +their art? What would Socrates think of our newspapers, of our theology? +Perhaps he would be afraid to speak of them;--the one vox populi, the other +vox Dei, he might hesitate to attack them; or he might trace a fanciful +connexion between them, and ask doubtfully, whether they are not equally +inspired? He would remark that we are always searching for a belief and +deploring our unbelief, seeming to prefer popular opinions unverified and +contradictory to unpopular truths which are assured to us by the most +certain proofs: that our preachers are in the habit of praising God +'without regard to truth and falsehood, attributing to Him every species of +greatness and glory, saying that He is all this and the cause of all that, +in order that we may exhibit Him as the fairest and best of all' (Symp.) +without any consideration of His real nature and character or of the laws +by which He governs the world--seeking for a 'private judgment' and not for +the truth or 'God's judgment.' What would he say of the Church, which we +praise in like manner, 'meaning ourselves,' without regard to history or +experience? Might he not ask, whether we 'care more for the truth of +religion, or for the speaker and the country from which the truth comes'? +or, whether the 'select wise' are not 'the many' after all? (Symp.) So we +may fill up the sketch of Socrates, lest, as Phaedrus says, the argument +should be too 'abstract and barren of illustrations.' (Compare Symp., +Apol., Euthyphro.) + +He next proceeds with enthusiasm to define the royal art of dialectic as +the power of dividing a whole into parts, and of uniting the parts in a +whole, and which may also be regarded (compare Soph.) as the process of the +mind talking with herself. The latter view has probably led Plato to the +paradox that speech is superior to writing, in which he may seem also to be +doing an injustice to himself. For the two cannot be fairly compared in +the manner which Plato suggests. The contrast of the living and dead word, +and the example of Socrates, which he has represented in the form of the +Dialogue, seem to have misled him. For speech and writing have really +different functions; the one is more transitory, more diffuse, more elastic +and capable of adaptation to moods and times; the other is more permanent, +more concentrated, and is uttered not to this or that person or audience, +but to all the world. In the Politicus the paradox is carried further; the +mind or will of the king is preferred to the written law; he is supposed to +be the Law personified, the ideal made Life. + +Yet in both these statements there is also contained a truth; they may be +compared with one another, and also with the other famous paradox, that +'knowledge cannot be taught.' Socrates means to say, that what is truly +written is written in the soul, just as what is truly taught grows up in +the soul from within and is not forced upon it from without. When planted +in a congenial soil the little seed becomes a tree, and 'the birds of the +air build their nests in the branches.' There is an echo of this in the +prayer at the end of the Dialogue, 'Give me beauty in the inward soul, and +may the inward and outward man be at one.' We may further compare the +words of St. Paul, 'Written not on tables of stone, but on fleshly tables +of the heart;' and again, 'Ye are my epistles known and read of all men.' +There may be a use in writing as a preservative against the forgetfulness +of old age, but to live is higher far, to be ourselves the book, or the +epistle, the truth embodied in a person, the Word made flesh. Something +like this we may believe to have passed before Plato's mind when he +affirmed that speech was superior to writing. So in other ages, weary of +literature and criticism, of making many books, of writing articles in +reviews, some have desired to live more closely in communion with their +fellow-men, to speak heart to heart, to speak and act only, and not to +write, following the example of Socrates and of Christ... + +Some other touches of inimitable grace and art and of the deepest wisdom +may be also noted; such as the prayer or 'collect' which has just been +cited, 'Give me beauty,' etc.; or 'the great name which belongs to God +alone;' or 'the saying of wiser men than ourselves that a man of sense +should try to please not his fellow-servants, but his good and noble +masters,' like St. Paul again; or the description of the 'heavenly +originals'... + +The chief criteria for determining the date of the Dialogue are (1) the +ages of Lysias and Isocrates; (2) the character of the work. + +Lysias was born in the year 458; Isocrates in the year 436, about seven +years before the birth of Plato. The first of the two great rhetoricians +is described as in the zenith of his fame; the second is still young and +full of promise. Now it is argued that this must have been written in the +youth of Isocrates, when the promise was not yet fulfilled. And thus we +should have to assign the Dialogue to a year not later than 406, when +Isocrates was thirty and Plato twenty-three years of age, and while +Socrates himself was still alive. + +Those who argue in this way seem not to reflect how easily Plato can +'invent Egyptians or anything else,' and how careless he is of historical +truth or probability. Who would suspect that the wise Critias, the +virtuous Charmides, had ended their lives among the thirty tyrants? Who +would imagine that Lysias, who is here assailed by Socrates, is the son of +his old friend Cephalus? Or that Isocrates himself is the enemy of Plato +and his school? No arguments can be drawn from the appropriateness or +inappropriateness of the characters of Plato. (Else, perhaps, it might be +further argued that, judging from their extant remains, insipid rhetoric is +far more characteristic of Isocrates than of Lysias.) But Plato makes use +of names which have often hardly any connection with the historical +characters to whom they belong. In this instance the comparative favour +shown to Isocrates may possibly be accounted for by the circumstance of his +belonging to the aristocratical, as Lysias to the democratical party. + +Few persons will be inclined to suppose, in the superficial manner of some +ancient critics, that a dialogue which treats of love must necessarily have +been written in youth. As little weight can be attached to the argument +that Plato must have visited Egypt before he wrote the story of Theuth and +Thamus. For there is no real proof that he ever went to Egypt; and even if +he did, he might have known or invented Egyptian traditions before he went +there. The late date of the Phaedrus will have to be established by other +arguments than these: the maturity of the thought, the perfection of the +style, the insight, the relation to the other Platonic Dialogues, seem to +contradict the notion that it could have been the work of a youth of twenty +or twenty-three years of age. The cosmological notion of the mind as the +primum mobile, and the admission of impulse into the immortal nature, also +afford grounds for assigning a later date. (Compare Tim., Soph., Laws.) +Add to this that the picture of Socrates, though in some lesser +particulars,--e.g. his going without sandals, his habit of remaining within +the walls, his emphatic declaration that his study is human nature,--an +exact resemblance, is in the main the Platonic and not the real Socrates. +Can we suppose 'the young man to have told such lies' about his master +while he was still alive? Moreover, when two Dialogues are so closely +connected as the Phaedrus and Symposium, there is great improbability in +supposing that one of them was written at least twenty years after the +other. The conclusion seems to be, that the Dialogue was written at some +comparatively late but unknown period of Plato's life, after he had +deserted the purely Socratic point of view, but before he had entered on +the more abstract speculations of the Sophist or the Philebus. Taking into +account the divisions of the soul, the doctrine of transmigration, the +contemplative nature of the philosophic life, and the character of the +style, we shall not be far wrong in placing the Phaedrus in the +neighbourhood of the Republic; remarking only that allowance must be made +for the poetical element in the Phaedrus, which, while falling short of the +Republic in definite philosophic results, seems to have glimpses of a truth +beyond. + +Two short passages, which are unconnected with the main subject of the +Dialogue, may seem to merit a more particular notice: (1) the locus +classicus about mythology; (2) the tale of the grasshoppers. + +The first passage is remarkable as showing that Plato was entirely free +from what may be termed the Euhemerism of his age. For there were +Euhemerists in Hellas long before Euhemerus. Early philosophers, like +Anaxagoras and Metrodorus, had found in Homer and mythology hidden +meanings. Plato, with a truer instinct, rejects these attractive +interpretations; he regards the inventor of them as 'unfortunate;' and they +draw a man off from the knowledge of himself. There is a latent criticism, +and also a poetical sense in Plato, which enable him to discard them, and +yet in another way to make use of poetry and mythology as a vehicle of +thought and feeling. What would he have said of the discovery of Christian +doctrines in these old Greek legends? While acknowledging that such +interpretations are 'very nice,' would he not have remarked that they are +found in all sacred literatures? They cannot be tested by any criterion of +truth, or used to establish any truth; they add nothing to the sum of human +knowledge; they are--what we please, and if employed as 'peacemakers' +between the new and old are liable to serious misconstruction, as he +elsewhere remarks (Republic). And therefore he would have 'bid Farewell to +them; the study of them would take up too much of his time; and he has not +as yet learned the true nature of religion.' The 'sophistical' interest of +Phaedrus, the little touch about the two versions of the story, the +ironical manner in which these explanations are set aside--'the common +opinion about them is enough for me'--the allusion to the serpent Typho may +be noted in passing; also the general agreement between the tone of this +speech and the remark of Socrates which follows afterwards, 'I am a +diviner, but a poor one.' + +The tale of the grasshoppers is naturally suggested by the surrounding +scene. They are also the representatives of the Athenians as children of +the soil. Under the image of the lively chirruping grasshoppers who inform +the Muses in heaven about those who honour them on earth, Plato intends to +represent an Athenian audience (tettigessin eoikotes). The story is +introduced, apparently, to mark a change of subject, and also, like several +other allusions which occur in the course of the Dialogue, in order to +preserve the scene in the recollection of the reader. + +... + +No one can duly appreciate the dialogues of Plato, especially the Phaedrus, +Symposium, and portions of the Republic, who has not a sympathy with +mysticism. To the uninitiated, as he would himself have acknowledged, they +will appear to be the dreams of a poet who is disguised as a philosopher. +There is a twofold difficulty in apprehending this aspect of the Platonic +writings. First, we do not immediately realize that under the marble +exterior of Greek literature was concealed a soul thrilling with spiritual +emotion. Secondly, the forms or figures which the Platonic philosophy +assumes, are not like the images of the prophet Isaiah, or of the +Apocalypse, familiar to us in the days of our youth. By mysticism we mean, +not the extravagance of an erring fancy, but the concentration of reason in +feeling, the enthusiastic love of the good, the true, the one, the sense of +the infinity of knowledge and of the marvel of the human faculties. When +feeding upon such thoughts the 'wing of the soul' is renewed and gains +strength; she is raised above 'the manikins of earth' and their opinions, +waiting in wonder to know, and working with reverence to find out what God +in this or in another life may reveal to her. + +ON THE DECLINE OF GREEK LITERATURE. + +One of the main purposes of Plato in the Phaedrus is to satirize Rhetoric, +or rather the Professors of Rhetoric who swarmed at Athens in the fourth +century before Christ. As in the opening of the Dialogue he ridicules the +interpreters of mythology; as in the Protagoras he mocks at the Sophists; +as in the Euthydemus he makes fun of the word-splitting Eristics; as in the +Cratylus he ridicules the fancies of Etymologers; as in the Meno and +Gorgias and some other dialogues he makes reflections and casts sly +imputation upon the higher classes at Athens; so in the Phaedrus, chiefly +in the latter part, he aims his shafts at the rhetoricians. The profession +of rhetoric was the greatest and most popular in Athens, necessary 'to a +man's salvation,' or at any rate to his attainment of wealth or power; but +Plato finds nothing wholesome or genuine in the purpose of it. It is a +veritable 'sham,' having no relation to fact, or to truth of any kind. It +is antipathetic to him not only as a philosopher, but also as a great +writer. He cannot abide the tricks of the rhetoricians, or the pedantries +and mannerisms which they introduce into speech and writing. He sees +clearly how far removed they are from the ways of simplicity and truth, and +how ignorant of the very elements of the art which they are professing to +teach. The thing which is most necessary of all, the knowledge of human +nature, is hardly if at all considered by them. The true rules of +composition, which are very few, are not to be found in their voluminous +systems. Their pretentiousness, their omniscience, their large fortunes, +their impatience of argument, their indifference to first principles, their +stupidity, their progresses through Hellas accompanied by a troop of their +disciples--these things were very distasteful to Plato, who esteemed genius +far above art, and was quite sensible of the interval which separated them +(Phaedrus). It is the interval which separates Sophists and rhetoricians +from ancient famous men and women such as Homer and Hesiod, Anacreon and +Sappho, Aeschylus and Sophocles; and the Platonic Socrates is afraid that, +if he approves the former, he will be disowned by the latter. The spirit +of rhetoric was soon to overspread all Hellas; and Plato with prophetic +insight may have seen, from afar, the great literary waste or dead level, +or interminable marsh, in which Greek literature was soon to disappear. A +similar vision of the decline of the Greek drama and of the contrast of the +old literature and the new was present to the mind of Aristophanes after +the death of the three great tragedians (Frogs). After about a hundred, or +at most two hundred years if we exclude Homer, the genius of Hellas had +ceased to flower or blossom. The dreary waste which follows, beginning +with the Alexandrian writers and even before them in the platitudes of +Isocrates and his school, spreads over much more than a thousand years. +And from this decline the Greek language and literature, unlike the Latin, +which has come to life in new forms and been developed into the great +European languages, never recovered. + +This monotony of literature, without merit, without genius and without +character, is a phenomenon which deserves more attention than it has +hitherto received; it is a phenomenon unique in the literary history of the +world. How could there have been so much cultivation, so much diligence in +writing, and so little mind or real creative power? Why did a thousand +years invent nothing better than Sibylline books, Orphic poems, Byzantine +imitations of classical histories, Christian reproductions of Greek plays, +novels like the silly and obscene romances of Longus and Heliodorus, +innumerable forged epistles, a great many epigrams, biographies of the +meanest and most meagre description, a sham philosophy which was the +bastard progeny of the union between Hellas and the East? Only in +Plutarch, in Lucian, in Longinus, in the Roman emperors Marcus Aurelius and +Julian, in some of the Christian fathers are there any traces of good sense +or originality, or any power of arousing the interest of later ages. And +when new books ceased to be written, why did hosts of grammarians and +interpreters flock in, who never attain to any sound notion either of +grammar or interpretation? Why did the physical sciences never arrive at +any true knowledge or make any real progress? Why did poetry droop and +languish? Why did history degenerate into fable? Why did words lose their +power of expression? Why were ages of external greatness and magnificence +attended by all the signs of decay in the human mind which are possible? + +To these questions many answers may be given, which if not the true causes, +are at least to be reckoned among the symptoms of the decline. There is +the want of method in physical science, the want of criticism in history, +the want of simplicity or delicacy in poetry, the want of political +freedom, which is the true atmosphere of public speaking, in oratory. The +ways of life were luxurious and commonplace. Philosophy had become +extravagant, eclectic, abstract, devoid of any real content. At length it +ceased to exist. It had spread words like plaster over the whole field of +knowledge. It had grown ascetic on one side, mystical on the other. +Neither of these tendencies was favourable to literature. There was no +sense of beauty either in language or in art. The Greek world became +vacant, barbaric, oriental. No one had anything new to say, or any +conviction of truth. The age had no remembrance of the past, no power of +understanding what other ages thought and felt. The Catholic faith had +degenerated into dogma and controversy. For more than a thousand years not +a single writer of first-rate, or even of second-rate, reputation has a +place in the innumerable rolls of Greek literature. + +If we seek to go deeper, we can still only describe the outward nature of +the clouds or darkness which were spread over the heavens during so many +ages without relief or light. We may say that this, like several other +long periods in the history of the human race, was destitute, or deprived +of the moral qualities which are the root of literary excellence. It had +no life or aspiration, no national or political force, no desire for +consistency, no love of knowledge for its own sake. It did not attempt to +pierce the mists which surrounded it. It did not propose to itself to go +forward and scale the heights of knowledge, but to go backwards and seek at +the beginning what can only be found towards the end. It was lost in doubt +and ignorance. It rested upon tradition and authority. It had none of the +higher play of fancy which creates poetry; and where there is no true +poetry, neither can there be any good prose. It had no great characters, +and therefore it had no great writers. It was incapable of distinguishing +between words and things. It was so hopelessly below the ancient standard +of classical Greek art and literature that it had no power of understanding +or of valuing them. It is doubtful whether any Greek author was justly +appreciated in antiquity except by his own contemporaries; and this neglect +of the great authors of the past led to the disappearance of the larger +part of them, while the Greek fathers were mostly preserved. There is no +reason to suppose that, in the century before the taking of Constantinople, +much more was in existence than the scholars of the Renaissance carried +away with them to Italy. + +The character of Greek literature sank lower as time went on. It consisted +more and more of compilations, of scholia, of extracts, of commentaries, +forgeries, imitations. The commentator or interpreter had no conception of +his author as a whole, and very little of the context of any passage which +he was explaining. The least things were preferred by him to the greatest. +The question of a reading, or a grammatical form, or an accent, or the uses +of a word, took the place of the aim or subject of the book. He had no +sense of the beauties of an author, and very little light is thrown by him +on real difficulties. He interprets past ages by his own. The greatest +classical writers are the least appreciated by him. This seems to be the +reason why so many of them have perished, why the lyric poets have almost +wholly disappeared; why, out of the eighty or ninety tragedies of Aeschylus +and Sophocles, only seven of each had been preserved. + +Such an age of sciolism and scholasticism may possibly once more get the +better of the literary world. There are those who prophesy that the signs +of such a day are again appearing among us, and that at the end of the +present century no writer of the first class will be still alive. They +think that the Muse of Literature may transfer herself to other countries +less dried up or worn out than our own. They seem to see the withering +effect of criticism on original genius. No one can doubt that such a decay +or decline of literature and of art seriously affects the manners and +character of a nation. It takes away half the joys and refinements of +life; it increases its dulness and grossness. Hence it becomes a matter of +great interest to consider how, if at all, such a degeneracy may be +averted. Is there any elixir which can restore life and youth to the +literature of a nation, or at any rate which can prevent it becoming +unmanned and enfeebled? + +First there is the progress of education. It is possible, and even +probable, that the extension of the means of knowledge over a wider area +and to persons living under new conditions may lead to many new +combinations of thought and language. But, as yet, experience does not +favour the realization of such a hope or promise. It may be truly answered +that at present the training of teachers and the methods of education are +very imperfect, and therefore that we cannot judge of the future by the +present. When more of our youth are trained in the best literatures, and +in the best parts of them, their minds may be expected to have a larger +growth. They will have more interests, more thoughts, more material for +conversation; they will have a higher standard and begin to think for +themselves. The number of persons who will have the opportunity of +receiving the highest education through the cheap press, and by the help of +high schools and colleges, may increase tenfold. It is likely that in +every thousand persons there is at least one who is far above the average +in natural capacity, but the seed which is in him dies for want of +cultivation. It has never had any stimulus to grow, or any field in which +to blossom and produce fruit. Here is a great reservoir or treasure-house +of human intelligence out of which new waters may flow and cover the earth. +If at any time the great men of the world should die out, and originality +or genius appear to suffer a partial eclipse, there is a boundless hope in +the multitude of intelligences for future generations. They may bring +gifts to men such as the world has never received before. They may begin +at a higher point and yet take with them all the results of the past. The +co-operation of many may have effects not less striking, though different +in character from those which the creative genius of a single man, such as +Bacon or Newton, formerly produced. There is also great hope to be +derived, not merely from the extension of education over a wider area, but +from the continuance of it during many generations. Educated parents will +have children fit to receive education; and these again will grow up under +circumstances far more favourable to the growth of intelligence than any +which have hitherto existed in our own or in former ages. + +Even if we were to suppose no more men of genius to be produced, the great +writers of ancient or of modern times will remain to furnish abundant +materials of education to the coming generation. Now that every nation +holds communication with every other, we may truly say in a fuller sense +than formerly that 'the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the +suns.' They will not be 'cribbed, cabined, and confined' within a province +or an island. The East will provide elements of culture to the West as +well as the West to the East. The religions and literatures of the world +will be open books, which he who wills may read. The human race may not be +always ground down by bodily toil, but may have greater leisure for the +improvement of the mind. The increasing sense of the greatness and +infinity of nature will tend to awaken in men larger and more liberal +thoughts. The love of mankind may be the source of a greater development +of literature than nationality has ever been. There may be a greater +freedom from prejudice and party; we may better understand the whereabouts +of truth, and therefore there may be more success and fewer failures in the +search for it. Lastly, in the coming ages we shall carry with us the +recollection of the past, in which are necessarily contained many seeds of +revival and renaissance in the future. So far is the world from becoming +exhausted, so groundless is the fear that literature will ever die out. + + +PHAEDRUS + +by + +Plato + +Translated by Benjamin Jowett + + +PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Socrates, Phaedrus. + +SCENE: Under a plane-tree, by the banks of the Ilissus. + + +SOCRATES: My dear Phaedrus, whence come you, and whither are you going? + +PHAEDRUS: I come from Lysias the son of Cephalus, and I am going to take a +walk outside the wall, for I have been sitting with him the whole morning; +and our common friend Acumenus tells me that it is much more refreshing to +walk in the open air than to be shut up in a cloister. + +SOCRATES: There he is right. Lysias then, I suppose, was in the town? + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, he was staying with Epicrates, here at the house of +Morychus; that house which is near the temple of Olympian Zeus. + +SOCRATES: And how did he entertain you? Can I be wrong in supposing that +Lysias gave you a feast of discourse? + +PHAEDRUS: You shall hear, if you can spare time to accompany me. + +SOCRATES: And should I not deem the conversation of you and Lysias 'a +thing of higher import,' as I may say in the words of Pindar, 'than any +business'? + +PHAEDRUS: Will you go on? + +SOCRATES: And will you go on with the narration? + +PHAEDRUS: My tale, Socrates, is one of your sort, for love was the theme +which occupied us--love after a fashion: Lysias has been writing about a +fair youth who was being tempted, but not by a lover; and this was the +point: he ingeniously proved that the non-lover should be accepted rather +than the lover. + +SOCRATES: O that is noble of him! I wish that he would say the poor man +rather than the rich, and the old man rather than the young one;--then he +would meet the case of me and of many a man; his words would be quite +refreshing, and he would be a public benefactor. For my part, I do so long +to hear his speech, that if you walk all the way to Megara, and when you +have reached the wall come back, as Herodicus recommends, without going in, +I will keep you company. + +PHAEDRUS: What do you mean, my good Socrates? How can you imagine that my +unpractised memory can do justice to an elaborate work, which the greatest +rhetorician of the age spent a long time in composing. Indeed, I cannot; I +would give a great deal if I could. + +SOCRATES: I believe that I know Phaedrus about as well as I know myself, +and I am very sure that the speech of Lysias was repeated to him, not once +only, but again and again;--he insisted on hearing it many times over and +Lysias was very willing to gratify him; at last, when nothing else would +do, he got hold of the book, and looked at what he most wanted to see,-- +this occupied him during the whole morning;--and then when he was tired +with sitting, he went out to take a walk, not until, by the dog, as I +believe, he had simply learned by heart the entire discourse, unless it was +unusually long, and he went to a place outside the wall that he might +practise his lesson. There he saw a certain lover of discourse who had a +similar weakness;--he saw and rejoiced; now thought he, 'I shall have a +partner in my revels.' And he invited him to come and walk with him. But +when the lover of discourse begged that he would repeat the tale, he gave +himself airs and said, 'No I cannot,' as if he were indisposed; although, +if the hearer had refused, he would sooner or later have been compelled by +him to listen whether he would or no. Therefore, Phaedrus, bid him do at +once what he will soon do whether bidden or not. + +PHAEDRUS: I see that you will not let me off until I speak in some fashion +or other; verily therefore my best plan is to speak as I best can. + +SOCRATES: A very true remark, that of yours. + +PHAEDRUS: I will do as I say; but believe me, Socrates, I did not learn +the very words--O no; nevertheless I have a general notion of what he said, +and will give you a summary of the points in which the lover differed from +the non-lover. Let me begin at the beginning. + +SOCRATES: Yes, my sweet one; but you must first of all show what you have +in your left hand under your cloak, for that roll, as I suspect, is the +actual discourse. Now, much as I love you, I would not have you suppose +that I am going to have your memory exercised at my expense, if you have +Lysias himself here. + +PHAEDRUS: Enough; I see that I have no hope of practising my art upon you. +But if I am to read, where would you please to sit? + +SOCRATES: Let us turn aside and go by the Ilissus; we will sit down at +some quiet spot. + +PHAEDRUS: I am fortunate in not having my sandals, and as you never have +any, I think that we may go along the brook and cool our feet in the water; +this will be the easiest way, and at midday and in the summer is far from +being unpleasant. + +SOCRATES: Lead on, and look out for a place in which we can sit down. + +PHAEDRUS: Do you see the tallest plane-tree in the distance? + +SOCRATES: Yes. + +PHAEDRUS: There are shade and gentle breezes, and grass on which we may +either sit or lie down. + +SOCRATES: Move forward. + +PHAEDRUS: I should like to know, Socrates, whether the place is not +somewhere here at which Boreas is said to have carried off Orithyia from +the banks of the Ilissus? + +SOCRATES: Such is the tradition. + +PHAEDRUS: And is this the exact spot? The little stream is delightfully +clear and bright; I can fancy that there might be maidens playing near. + +SOCRATES: I believe that the spot is not exactly here, but about a quarter +of a mile lower down, where you cross to the temple of Artemis, and there +is, I think, some sort of an altar of Boreas at the place. + +PHAEDRUS: I have never noticed it; but I beseech you to tell me, Socrates, +do you believe this tale? + +SOCRATES: The wise are doubtful, and I should not be singular if, like +them, I too doubted. I might have a rational explanation that Orithyia was +playing with Pharmacia, when a northern gust carried her over the +neighbouring rocks; and this being the manner of her death, she was said to +have been carried away by Boreas. There is a discrepancy, however, about +the locality; according to another version of the story she was taken from +Areopagus, and not from this place. Now I quite acknowledge that these +allegories are very nice, but he is not to be envied who has to invent +them; much labour and ingenuity will be required of him; and when he has +once begun, he must go on and rehabilitate Hippocentaurs and chimeras dire. +Gorgons and winged steeds flow in apace, and numberless other inconceivable +and portentous natures. And if he is sceptical about them, and would fain +reduce them one after another to the rules of probability, this sort of +crude philosophy will take up a great deal of time. Now I have no leisure +for such enquiries; shall I tell you why? I must first know myself, as the +Delphian inscription says; to be curious about that which is not my +concern, while I am still in ignorance of my own self, would be ridiculous. +And therefore I bid farewell to all this; the common opinion is enough for +me. For, as I was saying, I want to know not about this, but about myself: +am I a monster more complicated and swollen with passion than the serpent +Typho, or a creature of a gentler and simpler sort, to whom Nature has +given a diviner and lowlier destiny? But let me ask you, friend: have we +not reached the plane-tree to which you were conducting us? + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, this is the tree. + +SOCRATES: By Here, a fair resting-place, full of summer sounds and scents. +Here is this lofty and spreading plane-tree, and the agnus castus high and +clustering, in the fullest blossom and the greatest fragrance; and the +stream which flows beneath the plane-tree is deliciously cold to the feet. +Judging from the ornaments and images, this must be a spot sacred to +Achelous and the Nymphs. How delightful is the breeze:--so very sweet; and +there is a sound in the air shrill and summerlike which makes answer to the +chorus of the cicadae. But the greatest charm of all is the grass, like a +pillow gently sloping to the head. My dear Phaedrus, you have been an +admirable guide. + +PHAEDRUS: What an incomprehensible being you are, Socrates: when you are +in the country, as you say, you really are like some stranger who is led +about by a guide. Do you ever cross the border? I rather think that you +never venture even outside the gates. + +SOCRATES: Very true, my good friend; and I hope that you will excuse me +when you hear the reason, which is, that I am a lover of knowledge, and the +men who dwell in the city are my teachers, and not the trees or the +country. Though I do indeed believe that you have found a spell with which +to draw me out of the city into the country, like a hungry cow before whom +a bough or a bunch of fruit is waved. For only hold up before me in like +manner a book, and you may lead me all round Attica, and over the wide +world. And now having arrived, I intend to lie down, and do you choose any +posture in which you can read best. Begin. + +PHAEDRUS: Listen. You know how matters stand with me; and how, as I +conceive, this affair may be arranged for the advantage of both of us. And +I maintain that I ought not to fail in my suit, because I am not your +lover: for lovers repent of the kindnesses which they have shown when +their passion ceases, but to the non-lovers who are free and not under any +compulsion, no time of repentance ever comes; for they confer their +benefits according to the measure of their ability, in the way which is +most conducive to their own interest. Then again, lovers consider how by +reason of their love they have neglected their own concerns and rendered +service to others: and when to these benefits conferred they add on the +troubles which they have endured, they think that they have long ago made +to the beloved a very ample return. But the non-lover has no such +tormenting recollections; he has never neglected his affairs or quarrelled +with his relations; he has no troubles to add up or excuses to invent; and +being well rid of all these evils, why should he not freely do what will +gratify the beloved? If you say that the lover is more to be esteemed, +because his love is thought to be greater; for he is willing to say and do +what is hateful to other men, in order to please his beloved;--that, if +true, is only a proof that he will prefer any future love to his present, +and will injure his old love at the pleasure of the new. And how, in a +matter of such infinite importance, can a man be right in trusting himself +to one who is afflicted with a malady which no experienced person would +attempt to cure, for the patient himself admits that he is not in his right +mind, and acknowledges that he is wrong in his mind, but says that he is +unable to control himself? And if he came to his right mind, would he ever +imagine that the desires were good which he conceived when in his wrong +mind? Once more, there are many more non-lovers than lovers; and if you +choose the best of the lovers, you will not have many to choose from; but +if from the non-lovers, the choice will be larger, and you will be far more +likely to find among them a person who is worthy of your friendship. If +public opinion be your dread, and you would avoid reproach, in all +probability the lover, who is always thinking that other men are as emulous +of him as he is of them, will boast to some one of his successes, and make +a show of them openly in the pride of his heart;--he wants others to know +that his labour has not been lost; but the non-lover is more his own +master, and is desirous of solid good, and not of the opinion of mankind. +Again, the lover may be generally noted or seen following the beloved (this +is his regular occupation), and whenever they are observed to exchange two +words they are supposed to meet about some affair of love either past or in +contemplation; but when non-lovers meet, no one asks the reason why, +because people know that talking to another is natural, whether friendship +or mere pleasure be the motive. Once more, if you fear the fickleness of +friendship, consider that in any other case a quarrel might be a mutual +calamity; but now, when you have given up what is most precious to you, you +will be the greater loser, and therefore, you will have more reason in +being afraid of the lover, for his vexations are many, and he is always +fancying that every one is leagued against him. Wherefore also he debars +his beloved from society; he will not have you intimate with the wealthy, +lest they should exceed him in wealth, or with men of education, lest they +should be his superiors in understanding; and he is equally afraid of +anybody's influence who has any other advantage over himself. If he can +persuade you to break with them, you are left without a friend in the +world; or if, out of a regard to your own interest, you have more sense +than to comply with his desire, you will have to quarrel with him. But +those who are non-lovers, and whose success in love is the reward of their +merit, will not be jealous of the companions of their beloved, and will +rather hate those who refuse to be his associates, thinking that their +favourite is slighted by the latter and benefited by the former; for more +love than hatred may be expected to come to him out of his friendship with +others. Many lovers too have loved the person of a youth before they knew +his character or his belongings; so that when their passion has passed +away, there is no knowing whether they will continue to be his friends; +whereas, in the case of non-lovers who were always friends, the friendship +is not lessened by the favours granted; but the recollection of these +remains with them, and is an earnest of good things to come. + +Further, I say that you are likely to be improved by me, whereas the lover +will spoil you. For they praise your words and actions in a wrong way; +partly, because they are afraid of offending you, and also, their judgment +is weakened by passion. Such are the feats which love exhibits; he makes +things painful to the disappointed which give no pain to others; he compels +the successful lover to praise what ought not to give him pleasure, and +therefore the beloved is to be pitied rather than envied. But if you +listen to me, in the first place, I, in my intercourse with you, shall not +merely regard present enjoyment, but also future advantage, being not +mastered by love, but my own master; nor for small causes taking violent +dislikes, but even when the cause is great, slowly laying up little wrath-- +unintentional offences I shall forgive, and intentional ones I shall try to +prevent; and these are the marks of a friendship which will last. + +Do you think that a lover only can be a firm friend? reflect:--if this were +true, we should set small value on sons, or fathers, or mothers; nor should +we ever have loyal friends, for our love of them arises not from passion, +but from other associations. Further, if we ought to shower favours on +those who are the most eager suitors,--on that principle, we ought always +to do good, not to the most virtuous, but to the most needy; for they are +the persons who will be most relieved, and will therefore be the most +grateful; and when you make a feast you should invite not your friend, but +the beggar and the empty soul; for they will love you, and attend you, and +come about your doors, and will be the best pleased, and the most grateful, +and will invoke many a blessing on your head. Yet surely you ought not to +be granting favours to those who besiege you with prayer, but to those who +are best able to reward you; nor to the lover only, but to those who are +worthy of love; nor to those who will enjoy the bloom of your youth, but to +those who will share their possessions with you in age; nor to those who, +having succeeded, will glory in their success to others, but to those who +will be modest and tell no tales; nor to those who care about you for a +moment only, but to those who will continue your friends through life; nor +to those who, when their passion is over, will pick a quarrel with you, but +rather to those who, when the charm of youth has left you, will show their +own virtue. Remember what I have said; and consider yet this further +point: friends admonish the lover under the idea that his way of life is +bad, but no one of his kindred ever yet censured the non-lover, or thought +that he was ill-advised about his own interests. + +'Perhaps you will ask me whether I propose that you should indulge every +non-lover. To which I reply that not even the lover would advise you to +indulge all lovers, for the indiscriminate favour is less esteemed by the +rational recipient, and less easily hidden by him who would escape the +censure of the world. Now love ought to be for the advantage of both +parties, and for the injury of neither. + +'I believe that I have said enough; but if there is anything more which you +desire or which in your opinion needs to be supplied, ask and I will +answer.' + +Now, Socrates, what do you think? Is not the discourse excellent, more +especially in the matter of the language? + +SOCRATES: Yes, quite admirable; the effect on me was ravishing. And this +I owe to you, Phaedrus, for I observed you while reading to be in an +ecstasy, and thinking that you are more experienced in these matters than I +am, I followed your example, and, like you, my divine darling, I became +inspired with a phrenzy. + +PHAEDRUS: Indeed, you are pleased to be merry. + +SOCRATES: Do you mean that I am not in earnest? + +PHAEDRUS: Now don't talk in that way, Socrates, but let me have your real +opinion; I adjure you, by Zeus, the god of friendship, to tell me whether +you think that any Hellene could have said more or spoken better on the +same subject. + +SOCRATES: Well, but are you and I expected to praise the sentiments of the +author, or only the clearness, and roundness, and finish, and tournure of +the language? As to the first I willingly submit to your better judgment, +for I am not worthy to form an opinion, having only attended to the +rhetorical manner; and I was doubting whether this could have been defended +even by Lysias himself; I thought, though I speak under correction, that he +repeated himself two or three times, either from want of words or from want +of pains; and also, he appeared to me ostentatiously to exult in showing +how well he could say the same thing in two or three ways. + +PHAEDRUS: Nonsense, Socrates; what you call repetition was the especial +merit of the speech; for he omitted no topic of which the subject rightly +allowed, and I do not think that any one could have spoken better or more +exhaustively. + +SOCRATES: There I cannot go along with you. Ancient sages, men and women, +who have spoken and written of these things, would rise up in judgment +against me, if out of complaisance I assented to you. + +PHAEDRUS: Who are they, and where did you hear anything better than this? + +SOCRATES: I am sure that I must have heard; but at this moment I do not +remember from whom; perhaps from Sappho the fair, or Anacreon the wise; or, +possibly, from a prose writer. Why do I say so? Why, because I perceive +that my bosom is full, and that I could make another speech as good as that +of Lysias, and different. Now I am certain that this is not an invention +of my own, who am well aware that I know nothing, and therefore I can only +infer that I have been filled through the ears, like a pitcher, from the +waters of another, though I have actually forgotten in my stupidity who was +my informant. + +PHAEDRUS: That is grand:--but never mind where you heard the discourse or +from whom; let that be a mystery not to be divulged even at my earnest +desire. Only, as you say, promise to make another and better oration, +equal in length and entirely new, on the same subject; and I, like the nine +Archons, will promise to set up a golden image at Delphi, not only of +myself, but of you, and as large as life. + +SOCRATES: You are a dear golden ass if you suppose me to mean that Lysias +has altogether missed the mark, and that I can make a speech from which all +his arguments are to be excluded. The worst of authors will say something +which is to the point. Who, for example, could speak on this thesis of +yours without praising the discretion of the non-lover and blaming the +indiscretion of the lover? These are the commonplaces of the subject which +must come in (for what else is there to be said?) and must be allowed and +excused; the only merit is in the arrangement of them, for there can be +none in the invention; but when you leave the commonplaces, then there may +be some originality. + +PHAEDRUS: I admit that there is reason in what you say, and I too will be +reasonable, and will allow you to start with the premiss that the lover is +more disordered in his wits than the non-lover; if in what remains you make +a longer and better speech than Lysias, and use other arguments, then I say +again, that a statue you shall have of beaten gold, and take your place by +the colossal offerings of the Cypselids at Olympia. + +SOCRATES: How profoundly in earnest is the lover, because to tease him I +lay a finger upon his love! And so, Phaedrus, you really imagine that I am +going to improve upon the ingenuity of Lysias? + +PHAEDRUS: There I have you as you had me, and you must just speak 'as you +best can.' Do not let us exchange 'tu quoque' as in a farce, or compel me +to say to you as you said to me, 'I know Socrates as well as I know myself, +and he was wanting to speak, but he gave himself airs.' Rather I would +have you consider that from this place we stir not until you have unbosomed +yourself of the speech; for here are we all alone, and I am stronger, +remember, and younger than you:--Wherefore perpend, and do not compel me to +use violence. + +SOCRATES: But, my sweet Phaedrus, how ridiculous it would be of me to +compete with Lysias in an extempore speech! He is a master in his art and +I am an untaught man. + +PHAEDRUS: You see how matters stand; and therefore let there be no more +pretences; for, indeed, I know the word that is irresistible. + +SOCRATES: Then don't say it. + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, but I will; and my word shall be an oath. 'I say, or +rather swear'--but what god will be witness of my oath?--'By this plane- +tree I swear, that unless you repeat the discourse here in the face of this +very plane-tree, I will never tell you another; never let you have word of +another!' + +SOCRATES: Villain! I am conquered; the poor lover of discourse has no +more to say. + +PHAEDRUS: Then why are you still at your tricks? + +SOCRATES: I am not going to play tricks now that you have taken the oath, +for I cannot allow myself to be starved. + +PHAEDRUS: Proceed. + +SOCRATES: Shall I tell you what I will do? + +PHAEDRUS: What? + +SOCRATES: I will veil my face and gallop through the discourse as fast as +I can, for if I see you I shall feel ashamed and not know what to say. + +PHAEDRUS: Only go on and you may do anything else which you please. + +SOCRATES: Come, O ye Muses, melodious, as ye are called, whether you have +received this name from the character of your strains, or because the +Melians are a musical race, help, O help me in the tale which my good +friend here desires me to rehearse, in order that his friend whom he always +deemed wise may seem to him to be wiser than ever. + +Once upon a time there was a fair boy, or, more properly speaking, a youth; +he was very fair and had a great many lovers; and there was one special +cunning one, who had persuaded the youth that he did not love him, but he +really loved him all the same; and one day when he was paying his addresses +to him, he used this very argument--that he ought to accept the non-lover +rather than the lover; his words were as follows:-- + +'All good counsel begins in the same way; a man should know what he is +advising about, or his counsel will all come to nought. But people imagine +that they know about the nature of things, when they don't know about them, +and, not having come to an understanding at first because they think that +they know, they end, as might be expected, in contradicting one another and +themselves. Now you and I must not be guilty of this fundamental error +which we condemn in others; but as our question is whether the lover or +non-lover is to be preferred, let us first of all agree in defining the +nature and power of love, and then, keeping our eyes upon the definition +and to this appealing, let us further enquire whether love brings advantage +or disadvantage. + +'Every one sees that love is a desire, and we know also that non-lovers +desire the beautiful and good. Now in what way is the lover to be +distinguished from the non-lover? Let us note that in every one of us +there are two guiding and ruling principles which lead us whither they +will; one is the natural desire of pleasure, the other is an acquired +opinion which aspires after the best; and these two are sometimes in +harmony and then again at war, and sometimes the one, sometimes the other +conquers. When opinion by the help of reason leads us to the best, the +conquering principle is called temperance; but when desire, which is devoid +of reason, rules in us and drags us to pleasure, that power of misrule is +called excess. Now excess has many names, and many members, and many +forms, and any of these forms when very marked gives a name, neither +honourable nor creditable, to the bearer of the name. The desire of +eating, for example, which gets the better of the higher reason and the +other desires, is called gluttony, and he who is possessed by it is called +a glutton; the tyrannical desire of drink, which inclines the possessor of +the desire to drink, has a name which is only too obvious, and there can be +as little doubt by what name any other appetite of the same family would be +called;--it will be the name of that which happens to be dominant. And now +I think that you will perceive the drift of my discourse; but as every +spoken word is in a manner plainer than the unspoken, I had better say +further that the irrational desire which overcomes the tendency of opinion +towards right, and is led away to the enjoyment of beauty, and especially +of personal beauty, by the desires which are her own kindred--that supreme +desire, I say, which by leading conquers and by the force of passion is +reinforced, from this very force, receiving a name, is called love +(erromenos eros).' + +And now, dear Phaedrus, I shall pause for an instant to ask whether you do +not think me, as I appear to myself, inspired? + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, Socrates, you seem to have a very unusual flow of words. + +SOCRATES: Listen to me, then, in silence; for surely the place is holy; so +that you must not wonder, if, as I proceed, I appear to be in a divine +fury, for already I am getting into dithyrambics. + +PHAEDRUS: Nothing can be truer. + +SOCRATES: The responsibility rests with you. But hear what follows, and +perhaps the fit may be averted; all is in their hands above. I will go on +talking to my youth. Listen:-- + +Thus, my friend, we have declared and defined the nature of the subject. +Keeping the definition in view, let us now enquire what advantage or +disadvantage is likely to ensue from the lover or the non-lover to him who +accepts their advances. + +He who is the victim of his passions and the slave of pleasure will of +course desire to make his beloved as agreeable to himself as possible. Now +to him who has a mind diseased anything is agreeable which is not opposed +to him, but that which is equal or superior is hateful to him, and +therefore the lover will not brook any superiority or equality on the part +of his beloved; he is always employed in reducing him to inferiority. And +the ignorant is the inferior of the wise, the coward of the brave, the slow +of speech of the speaker, the dull of the clever. These, and not these +only, are the mental defects of the beloved;--defects which, when implanted +by nature, are necessarily a delight to the lover, and when not implanted, +he must contrive to implant them in him, if he would not be deprived of his +fleeting joy. And therefore he cannot help being jealous, and will debar +his beloved from the advantages of society which would make a man of him, +and especially from that society which would have given him wisdom, and +thereby he cannot fail to do him great harm. That is to say, in his +excessive fear lest he should come to be despised in his eyes he will be +compelled to banish from him divine philosophy; and there is no greater +injury which he can inflict upon him than this. He will contrive that his +beloved shall be wholly ignorant, and in everything shall look to him; he +is to be the delight of the lover's heart, and a curse to himself. Verily, +a lover is a profitable guardian and associate for him in all that relates +to his mind. + +Let us next see how his master, whose law of life is pleasure and not good, +will keep and train the body of his servant. Will he not choose a beloved +who is delicate rather than sturdy and strong? One brought up in shady +bowers and not in the bright sun, a stranger to manly exercises and the +sweat of toil, accustomed only to a soft and luxurious diet, instead of the +hues of health having the colours of paint and ornament, and the rest of a +piece?--such a life as any one can imagine and which I need not detail at +length. But I may sum up all that I have to say in a word, and pass on. +Such a person in war, or in any of the great crises of life, will be the +anxiety of his friends and also of his lover, and certainly not the terror +of his enemies; which nobody can deny. + +And now let us tell what advantage or disadvantage the beloved will receive +from the guardianship and society of his lover in the matter of his +property; this is the next point to be considered. The lover will be the +first to see what, indeed, will be sufficiently evident to all men, that he +desires above all things to deprive his beloved of his dearest and best and +holiest possessions, father, mother, kindred, friends, of all whom he +thinks may be hinderers or reprovers of their most sweet converse; he will +even cast a jealous eye upon his gold and silver or other property, because +these make him a less easy prey, and when caught less manageable; hence he +is of necessity displeased at his possession of them and rejoices at their +loss; and he would like him to be wifeless, childless, homeless, as well; +and the longer the better, for the longer he is all this, the longer he +will enjoy him. + +There are some sort of animals, such as flatterers, who are dangerous and +mischievous enough, and yet nature has mingled a temporary pleasure and +grace in their composition. You may say that a courtesan is hurtful, and +disapprove of such creatures and their practices, and yet for the time they +are very pleasant. But the lover is not only hurtful to his love; he is +also an extremely disagreeable companion. The old proverb says that 'birds +of a feather flock together'; I suppose that equality of years inclines +them to the same pleasures, and similarity begets friendship; yet you may +have more than enough even of this; and verily constraint is always said to +be grievous. Now the lover is not only unlike his beloved, but he forces +himself upon him. For he is old and his love is young, and neither day nor +night will he leave him if he can help; necessity and the sting of desire +drive him on, and allure him with the pleasure which he receives from +seeing, hearing, touching, perceiving him in every way. And therefore he +is delighted to fasten upon him and to minister to him. But what pleasure +or consolation can the beloved be receiving all this time? Must he not +feel the extremity of disgust when he looks at an old shrivelled face and +the remainder to match, which even in a description is disagreeable, and +quite detestable when he is forced into daily contact with his lover; +moreover he is jealously watched and guarded against everything and +everybody, and has to hear misplaced and exaggerated praises of himself, +and censures equally inappropriate, which are intolerable when the man is +sober, and, besides being intolerable, are published all over the world in +all their indelicacy and wearisomeness when he is drunk. + +And not only while his love continues is he mischievous and unpleasant, but +when his love ceases he becomes a perfidious enemy of him on whom he +showered his oaths and prayers and promises, and yet could hardly prevail +upon him to tolerate the tedium of his company even from motives of +interest. The hour of payment arrives, and now he is the servant of +another master; instead of love and infatuation, wisdom and temperance are +his bosom's lords; but the beloved has not discovered the change which has +taken place in him, when he asks for a return and recalls to his +recollection former sayings and doings; he believes himself to be speaking +to the same person, and the other, not having the courage to confess the +truth, and not knowing how to fulfil the oaths and promises which he made +when under the dominion of folly, and having now grown wise and temperate, +does not want to do as he did or to be as he was before. And so he runs +away and is constrained to be a defaulter; the oyster-shell (In allusion to +a game in which two parties fled or pursued according as an oyster-shell +which was thrown into the air fell with the dark or light side uppermost.) +has fallen with the other side uppermost--he changes pursuit into flight, +while the other is compelled to follow him with passion and imprecation, +not knowing that he ought never from the first to have accepted a demented +lover instead of a sensible non-lover; and that in making such a choice he +was giving himself up to a faithless, morose, envious, disagreeable being, +hurtful to his estate, hurtful to his bodily health, and still more hurtful +to the cultivation of his mind, than which there neither is nor ever will +be anything more honoured in the eyes both of gods and men. Consider this, +fair youth, and know that in the friendship of the lover there is no real +kindness; he has an appetite and wants to feed upon you: + +'As wolves love lambs so lovers love their loves.' + +But I told you so, I am speaking in verse, and therefore I had better make +an end; enough. + +PHAEDRUS: I thought that you were only half-way and were going to make a +similar speech about all the advantages of accepting the non-lover. Why do +you not proceed? + +SOCRATES: Does not your simplicity observe that I have got out of +dithyrambics into heroics, when only uttering a censure on the lover? And +if I am to add the praises of the non-lover what will become of me? Do you +not perceive that I am already overtaken by the Nymphs to whom you have +mischievously exposed me? And therefore I will only add that the non-lover +has all the advantages in which the lover is accused of being deficient. +And now I will say no more; there has been enough of both of them. Leaving +the tale to its fate, I will cross the river and make the best of my way +home, lest a worse thing be inflicted upon me by you. + +PHAEDRUS: Not yet, Socrates; not until the heat of the day has passed; do +you not see that the hour is almost noon? there is the midday sun standing +still, as people say, in the meridian. Let us rather stay and talk over +what has been said, and then return in the cool. + +SOCRATES: Your love of discourse, Phaedrus, is superhuman, simply +marvellous, and I do not believe that there is any one of your +contemporaries who has either made or in one way or another has compelled +others to make an equal number of speeches. I would except Simmias the +Theban, but all the rest are far behind you. And now I do verily believe +that you have been the cause of another. + +PHAEDRUS: That is good news. But what do you mean? + +SOCRATES: I mean to say that as I was about to cross the stream the usual +sign was given to me,--that sign which always forbids, but never bids, me +to do anything which I am going to do; and I thought that I heard a voice +saying in my ear that I had been guilty of impiety, and that I must not go +away until I had made an atonement. Now I am a diviner, though not a very +good one, but I have enough religion for my own use, as you might say of a +bad writer--his writing is good enough for him; and I am beginning to see +that I was in error. O my friend, how prophetic is the human soul! At the +time I had a sort of misgiving, and, like Ibycus, 'I was troubled; I feared +that I might be buying honour from men at the price of sinning against the +gods.' Now I recognize my error. + +PHAEDRUS: What error? + +SOCRATES: That was a dreadful speech which you brought with you, and you +made me utter one as bad. + +PHAEDRUS: How so? + +SOCRATES: It was foolish, I say,--to a certain extent, impious; can +anything be more dreadful? + +PHAEDRUS: Nothing, if the speech was really such as you describe. + +SOCRATES: Well, and is not Eros the son of Aphrodite, and a god? + +PHAEDRUS: So men say. + +SOCRATES: But that was not acknowledged by Lysias in his speech, nor by +you in that other speech which you by a charm drew from my lips. For if +love be, as he surely is, a divinity, he cannot be evil. Yet this was the +error of both the speeches. There was also a simplicity about them which +was refreshing; having no truth or honesty in them, nevertheless they +pretended to be something, hoping to succeed in deceiving the manikins of +earth and gain celebrity among them. Wherefore I must have a purgation. +And I bethink me of an ancient purgation of mythological error which was +devised, not by Homer, for he never had the wit to discover why he was +blind, but by Stesichorus, who was a philosopher and knew the reason why; +and therefore, when he lost his eyes, for that was the penalty which was +inflicted upon him for reviling the lovely Helen, he at once purged +himself. And the purgation was a recantation, which began thus,-- + +'False is that word of mine--the truth is that thou didst not embark in +ships, nor ever go to the walls of Troy;' + +and when he had completed his poem, which is called 'the recantation,' +immediately his sight returned to him. Now I will be wiser than either +Stesichorus or Homer, in that I am going to make my recantation for +reviling love before I suffer; and this I will attempt, not as before, +veiled and ashamed, but with forehead bold and bare. + +PHAEDRUS: Nothing could be more agreeable to me than to hear you say so. + +SOCRATES: Only think, my good Phaedrus, what an utter want of delicacy was +shown in the two discourses; I mean, in my own and in that which you +recited out of the book. Would not any one who was himself of a noble and +gentle nature, and who loved or ever had loved a nature like his own, when +we tell of the petty causes of lovers' jealousies, and of their exceeding +animosities, and of the injuries which they do to their beloved, have +imagined that our ideas of love were taken from some haunt of sailors to +which good manners were unknown--he would certainly never have admitted the +justice of our censure? + +PHAEDRUS: I dare say not, Socrates. + +SOCRATES: Therefore, because I blush at the thought of this person, and +also because I am afraid of Love himself, I desire to wash the brine out of +my ears with water from the spring; and I would counsel Lysias not to +delay, but to write another discourse, which shall prove that 'ceteris +paribus' the lover ought to be accepted rather than the non-lover. + +PHAEDRUS: Be assured that he shall. You shall speak the praises of the +lover, and Lysias shall be compelled by me to write another discourse on +the same theme. + +SOCRATES: You will be true to your nature in that, and therefore I believe +you. + +PHAEDRUS: Speak, and fear not. + +SOCRATES: But where is the fair youth whom I was addressing before, and +who ought to listen now; lest, if he hear me not, he should accept a non- +lover before he knows what he is doing? + +PHAEDRUS: He is close at hand, and always at your service. + +SOCRATES: Know then, fair youth, that the former discourse was the word of +Phaedrus, the son of Vain Man, who dwells in the city of Myrrhina +(Myrrhinusius). And this which I am about to utter is the recantation of +Stesichorus the son of Godly Man (Euphemus), who comes from the town of +Desire (Himera), and is to the following effect: 'I told a lie when I +said' that the beloved ought to accept the non-lover when he might have the +lover, because the one is sane, and the other mad. It might be so if +madness were simply an evil; but there is also a madness which is a divine +gift, and the source of the chiefest blessings granted to men. For +prophecy is a madness, and the prophetess at Delphi and the priestesses at +Dodona when out of their senses have conferred great benefits on Hellas, +both in public and private life, but when in their senses few or none. And +I might also tell you how the Sibyl and other inspired persons have given +to many an one many an intimation of the future which has saved them from +falling. But it would be tedious to speak of what every one knows. + +There will be more reason in appealing to the ancient inventors of names +(compare Cratylus), who would never have connected prophecy (mantike) which +foretells the future and is the noblest of arts, with madness (manike), or +called them both by the same name, if they had deemed madness to be a +disgrace or dishonour;--they must have thought that there was an inspired +madness which was a noble thing; for the two words, mantike and manike, are +really the same, and the letter tau is only a modern and tasteless +insertion. And this is confirmed by the name which was given by them to +the rational investigation of futurity, whether made by the help of birds +or of other signs--this, for as much as it is an art which supplies from +the reasoning faculty mind (nous) and information (istoria) to human +thought (oiesis) they originally termed oionoistike, but the word has been +lately altered and made sonorous by the modern introduction of the letter +Omega (oionoistike and oionistike), and in proportion as prophecy (mantike) +is more perfect and august than augury, both in name and fact, in the same +proportion, as the ancients testify, is madness superior to a sane mind +(sophrosune) for the one is only of human, but the other of divine origin. +Again, where plagues and mightiest woes have bred in certain families, +owing to some ancient blood-guiltiness, there madness has entered with holy +prayers and rites, and by inspired utterances found a way of deliverance +for those who are in need; and he who has part in this gift, and is truly +possessed and duly out of his mind, is by the use of purifications and +mysteries made whole and exempt from evil, future as well as present, and +has a release from the calamity which was afflicting him. The third kind +is the madness of those who are possessed by the Muses; which taking hold +of a delicate and virgin soul, and there inspiring frenzy, awakens lyrical +and all other numbers; with these adorning the myriad actions of ancient +heroes for the instruction of posterity. But he who, having no touch of +the Muses' madness in his soul, comes to the door and thinks that he will +get into the temple by the help of art--he, I say, and his poetry are not +admitted; the sane man disappears and is nowhere when he enters into +rivalry with the madman. + +I might tell of many other noble deeds which have sprung from inspired +madness. And therefore, let no one frighten or flutter us by saying that +the temperate friend is to be chosen rather than the inspired, but let him +further show that love is not sent by the gods for any good to lover or +beloved; if he can do so we will allow him to carry off the palm. And we, +on our part, will prove in answer to him that the madness of love is the +greatest of heaven's blessings, and the proof shall be one which the wise +will receive, and the witling disbelieve. But first of all, let us view +the affections and actions of the soul divine and human, and try to +ascertain the truth about them. The beginning of our proof is as follows:- + +(Translated by Cic. Tus. Quaest.) The soul through all her being is +immortal, for that which is ever in motion is immortal; but that which +moves another and is moved by another, in ceasing to move ceases also to +live. Only the self-moving, never leaving self, never ceases to move, and +is the fountain and beginning of motion to all that moves besides. Now, +the beginning is unbegotten, for that which is begotten has a beginning; +but the beginning is begotten of nothing, for if it were begotten of +something, then the begotten would not come from a beginning. But if +unbegotten, it must also be indestructible; for if beginning were +destroyed, there could be no beginning out of anything, nor anything out of +a beginning; and all things must have a beginning. And therefore the self- +moving is the beginning of motion; and this can neither be destroyed nor +begotten, else the whole heavens and all creation would collapse and stand +still, and never again have motion or birth. But if the self-moving is +proved to be immortal, he who affirms that self-motion is the very idea and +essence of the soul will not be put to confusion. For the body which is +moved from without is soulless; but that which is moved from within has a +soul, for such is the nature of the soul. But if this be true, must not +the soul be the self-moving, and therefore of necessity unbegotten and +immortal? Enough of the soul's immortality. + +Of the nature of the soul, though her true form be ever a theme of large +and more than mortal discourse, let me speak briefly, and in a figure. And +let the figure be composite--a pair of winged horses and a charioteer. Now +the winged horses and the charioteers of the gods are all of them noble and +of noble descent, but those of other races are mixed; the human charioteer +drives his in a pair; and one of them is noble and of noble breed, and the +other is ignoble and of ignoble breed; and the driving of them of necessity +gives a great deal of trouble to him. I will endeavour to explain to you +in what way the mortal differs from the immortal creature. The soul in her +totality has the care of inanimate being everywhere, and traverses the +whole heaven in divers forms appearing--when perfect and fully winged she +soars upward, and orders the whole world; whereas the imperfect soul, +losing her wings and drooping in her flight at last settles on the solid +ground--there, finding a home, she receives an earthly frame which appears +to be self-moved, but is really moved by her power; and this composition of +soul and body is called a living and mortal creature. For immortal no such +union can be reasonably believed to be; although fancy, not having seen nor +surely known the nature of God, may imagine an immortal creature having +both a body and also a soul which are united throughout all time. Let +that, however, be as God wills, and be spoken of acceptably to him. And +now let us ask the reason why the soul loses her wings! + +The wing is the corporeal element which is most akin to the divine, and +which by nature tends to soar aloft and carry that which gravitates +downwards into the upper region, which is the habitation of the gods. The +divine is beauty, wisdom, goodness, and the like; and by these the wing of +the soul is nourished, and grows apace; but when fed upon evil and foulness +and the opposite of good, wastes and falls away. Zeus, the mighty lord, +holding the reins of a winged chariot, leads the way in heaven, ordering +all and taking care of all; and there follows him the array of gods and +demi-gods, marshalled in eleven bands; Hestia alone abides at home in the +house of heaven; of the rest they who are reckoned among the princely +twelve march in their appointed order. They see many blessed sights in the +inner heaven, and there are many ways to and fro, along which the blessed +gods are passing, every one doing his own work; he may follow who will and +can, for jealousy has no place in the celestial choir. But when they go to +banquet and festival, then they move up the steep to the top of the vault +of heaven. The chariots of the gods in even poise, obeying the rein, glide +rapidly; but the others labour, for the vicious steed goes heavily, +weighing down the charioteer to the earth when his steed has not been +thoroughly trained:--and this is the hour of agony and extremest conflict +for the soul. For the immortals, when they are at the end of their course, +go forth and stand upon the outside of heaven, and the revolution of the +spheres carries them round, and they behold the things beyond. But of the +heaven which is above the heavens, what earthly poet ever did or ever will +sing worthily? It is such as I will describe; for I must dare to speak the +truth, when truth is my theme. There abides the very being with which true +knowledge is concerned; the colourless, formless, intangible essence, +visible only to mind, the pilot of the soul. The divine intelligence, +being nurtured upon mind and pure knowledge, and the intelligence of every +soul which is capable of receiving the food proper to it, rejoices at +beholding reality, and once more gazing upon truth, is replenished and made +glad, until the revolution of the worlds brings her round again to the same +place. In the revolution she beholds justice, and temperance, and +knowledge absolute, not in the form of generation or of relation, which men +call existence, but knowledge absolute in existence absolute; and beholding +the other true existences in like manner, and feasting upon them, she +passes down into the interior of the heavens and returns home; and there +the charioteer putting up his horses at the stall, gives them ambrosia to +eat and nectar to drink. + +Such is the life of the gods; but of other souls, that which follows God +best and is likest to him lifts the head of the charioteer into the outer +world, and is carried round in the revolution, troubled indeed by the +steeds, and with difficulty beholding true being; while another only rises +and falls, and sees, and again fails to see by reason of the unruliness of +the steeds. The rest of the souls are also longing after the upper world +and they all follow, but not being strong enough they are carried round +below the surface, plunging, treading on one another, each striving to be +first; and there is confusion and perspiration and the extremity of effort; +and many of them are lamed or have their wings broken through the ill- +driving of the charioteers; and all of them after a fruitless toil, not +having attained to the mysteries of true being, go away, and feed upon +opinion. The reason why the souls exhibit this exceeding eagerness to +behold the plain of truth is that pasturage is found there, which is suited +to the highest part of the soul; and the wing on which the soul soars is +nourished with this. And there is a law of Destiny, that the soul which +attains any vision of truth in company with a god is preserved from harm +until the next period, and if attaining always is always unharmed. But +when she is unable to follow, and fails to behold the truth, and through +some ill-hap sinks beneath the double load of forgetfulness and vice, and +her wings fall from her and she drops to the ground, then the law ordains +that this soul shall at her first birth pass, not into any other animal, +but only into man; and the soul which has seen most of truth shall come to +the birth as a philosopher, or artist, or some musical and loving nature; +that which has seen truth in the second degree shall be some righteous king +or warrior chief; the soul which is of the third class shall be a +politician, or economist, or trader; the fourth shall be a lover of +gymnastic toils, or a physician; the fifth shall lead the life of a prophet +or hierophant; to the sixth the character of poet or some other imitative +artist will be assigned; to the seventh the life of an artisan or +husbandman; to the eighth that of a sophist or demagogue; to the ninth that +of a tyrant--all these are states of probation, in which he who does +righteously improves, and he who does unrighteously, deteriorates his lot. + +Ten thousand years must elapse before the soul of each one can return to +the place from whence she came, for she cannot grow her wings in less; only +the soul of a philosopher, guileless and true, or the soul of a lover, who +is not devoid of philosophy, may acquire wings in the third of the +recurring periods of a thousand years; he is distinguished from the +ordinary good man who gains wings in three thousand years:--and they who +choose this life three times in succession have wings given them, and go +away at the end of three thousand years. But the others (The philosopher +alone is not subject to judgment (krisis), for he has never lost the vision +of truth.) receive judgment when they have completed their first life, and +after the judgment they go, some of them to the houses of correction which +are under the earth, and are punished; others to some place in heaven +whither they are lightly borne by justice, and there they live in a manner +worthy of the life which they led here when in the form of men. And at the +end of the first thousand years the good souls and also the evil souls both +come to draw lots and choose their second life, and they may take any which +they please. The soul of a man may pass into the life of a beast, or from +the beast return again into the man. But the soul which has never seen the +truth will not pass into the human form. For a man must have intelligence +of universals, and be able to proceed from the many particulars of sense to +one conception of reason;--this is the recollection of those things which +our soul once saw while following God--when regardless of that which we now +call being she raised her head up towards the true being. And therefore +the mind of the philosopher alone has wings; and this is just, for he is +always, according to the measure of his abilities, clinging in recollection +to those things in which God abides, and in beholding which He is what He +is. And he who employs aright these memories is ever being initiated into +perfect mysteries and alone becomes truly perfect. But, as he forgets +earthly interests and is rapt in the divine, the vulgar deem him mad, and +rebuke him; they do not see that he is inspired. + +Thus far I have been speaking of the fourth and last kind of madness, which +is imputed to him who, when he sees the beauty of earth, is transported +with the recollection of the true beauty; he would like to fly away, but he +cannot; he is like a bird fluttering and looking upward and careless of the +world below; and he is therefore thought to be mad. And I have shown this +of all inspirations to be the noblest and highest and the offspring of the +highest to him who has or shares in it, and that he who loves the beautiful +is called a lover because he partakes of it. For, as has been already +said, every soul of man has in the way of nature beheld true being; this +was the condition of her passing into the form of man. But all souls do +not easily recall the things of the other world; they may have seen them +for a short time only, or they may have been unfortunate in their earthly +lot, and, having had their hearts turned to unrighteousness through some +corrupting influence, they may have lost the memory of the holy things +which once they saw. Few only retain an adequate remembrance of them; and +they, when they behold here any image of that other world, are rapt in +amazement; but they are ignorant of what this rapture means, because they +do not clearly perceive. For there is no light of justice or temperance or +any of the higher ideas which are precious to souls in the earthly copies +of them: they are seen through a glass dimly; and there are few who, going +to the images, behold in them the realities, and these only with +difficulty. There was a time when with the rest of the happy band they saw +beauty shining in brightness,--we philosophers following in the train of +Zeus, others in company with other gods; and then we beheld the beatific +vision and were initiated into a mystery which may be truly called most +blessed, celebrated by us in our state of innocence, before we had any +experience of evils to come, when we were admitted to the sight of +apparitions innocent and simple and calm and happy, which we beheld shining +in pure light, pure ourselves and not yet enshrined in that living tomb +which we carry about, now that we are imprisoned in the body, like an +oyster in his shell. Let me linger over the memory of scenes which have +passed away. + +But of beauty, I repeat again that we saw her there shining in company with +the celestial forms; and coming to earth we find her here too, shining in +clearness through the clearest aperture of sense. For sight is the most +piercing of our bodily senses; though not by that is wisdom seen; her +loveliness would have been transporting if there had been a visible image +of her, and the other ideas, if they had visible counterparts, would be +equally lovely. But this is the privilege of beauty, that being the +loveliest she is also the most palpable to sight. Now he who is not newly +initiated or who has become corrupted, does not easily rise out of this +world to the sight of true beauty in the other; he looks only at her +earthly namesake, and instead of being awed at the sight of her, he is +given over to pleasure, and like a brutish beast he rushes on to enjoy and +beget; he consorts with wantonness, and is not afraid or ashamed of +pursuing pleasure in violation of nature. But he whose initiation is +recent, and who has been the spectator of many glories in the other world, +is amazed when he sees any one having a godlike face or form, which is the +expression of divine beauty; and at first a shudder runs through him, and +again the old awe steals over him; then looking upon the face of his +beloved as of a god he reverences him, and if he were not afraid of being +thought a downright madman, he would sacrifice to his beloved as to the +image of a god; then while he gazes on him there is a sort of reaction, and +the shudder passes into an unusual heat and perspiration; for, as he +receives the effluence of beauty through the eyes, the wing moistens and he +warms. And as he warms, the parts out of which the wing grew, and which +had been hitherto closed and rigid, and had prevented the wing from +shooting forth, are melted, and as nourishment streams upon him, the lower +end of the wing begins to swell and grow from the root upwards; and the +growth extends under the whole soul--for once the whole was winged. During +this process the whole soul is all in a state of ebullition and +effervescence,--which may be compared to the irritation and uneasiness in +the gums at the time of cutting teeth,--bubbles up, and has a feeling of +uneasiness and tickling; but when in like manner the soul is beginning to +grow wings, the beauty of the beloved meets her eye and she receives the +sensible warm motion of particles which flow towards her, therefore called +emotion (imeros), and is refreshed and warmed by them, and then she ceases +from her pain with joy. But when she is parted from her beloved and her +moisture fails, then the orifices of the passage out of which the wing +shoots dry up and close, and intercept the germ of the wing; which, being +shut up with the emotion, throbbing as with the pulsations of an artery, +pricks the aperture which is nearest, until at length the entire soul is +pierced and maddened and pained, and at the recollection of beauty is again +delighted. And from both of them together the soul is oppressed at the +strangeness of her condition, and is in a great strait and excitement, and +in her madness can neither sleep by night nor abide in her place by day. +And wherever she thinks that she will behold the beautiful one, thither in +her desire she runs. And when she has seen him, and bathed herself in the +waters of beauty, her constraint is loosened, and she is refreshed, and has +no more pangs and pains; and this is the sweetest of all pleasures at the +time, and is the reason why the soul of the lover will never forsake his +beautiful one, whom he esteems above all; he has forgotten mother and +brethren and companions, and he thinks nothing of the neglect and loss of +his property; the rules and proprieties of life, on which he formerly +prided himself, he now despises, and is ready to sleep like a servant, +wherever he is allowed, as near as he can to his desired one, who is the +object of his worship, and the physician who can alone assuage the +greatness of his pain. And this state, my dear imaginary youth to whom I +am talking, is by men called love, and among the gods has a name at which +you, in your simplicity, may be inclined to mock; there are two lines in +the apocryphal writings of Homer in which the name occurs. One of them is +rather outrageous, and not altogether metrical. They are as follows: + +'Mortals call him fluttering love, +But the immortals call him winged one, +Because the growing of wings (Or, reading pterothoiton, 'the movement of +wings.') is a necessity to him.' + +You may believe this, but not unless you like. At any rate the loves of +lovers and their causes are such as I have described. + +Now the lover who is taken to be the attendant of Zeus is better able to +bear the winged god, and can endure a heavier burden; but the attendants +and companions of Ares, when under the influence of love, if they fancy +that they have been at all wronged, are ready to kill and put an end to +themselves and their beloved. And he who follows in the train of any other +god, while he is unspoiled and the impression lasts, honours and imitates +him, as far as he is able; and after the manner of his God he behaves in +his intercourse with his beloved and with the rest of the world during the +first period of his earthly existence. Every one chooses his love from the +ranks of beauty according to his character, and this he makes his god, and +fashions and adorns as a sort of image which he is to fall down and +worship. The followers of Zeus desire that their beloved should have a +soul like him; and therefore they seek out some one of a philosophical and +imperial nature, and when they have found him and loved him, they do all +they can to confirm such a nature in him, and if they have no experience of +such a disposition hitherto, they learn of any one who can teach them, and +themselves follow in the same way. And they have the less difficulty in +finding the nature of their own god in themselves, because they have been +compelled to gaze intensely on him; their recollection clings to him, and +they become possessed of him, and receive from him their character and +disposition, so far as man can participate in God. The qualities of their +god they attribute to the beloved, wherefore they love him all the more, +and if, like the Bacchic Nymphs, they draw inspiration from Zeus, they pour +out their own fountain upon him, wanting to make him as like as possible to +their own god. But those who are the followers of Here seek a royal love, +and when they have found him they do just the same with him; and in like +manner the followers of Apollo, and of every other god walking in the ways +of their god, seek a love who is to be made like him whom they serve, and +when they have found him, they themselves imitate their god, and persuade +their love to do the same, and educate him into the manner and nature of +the god as far as they each can; for no feelings of envy or jealousy are +entertained by them towards their beloved, but they do their utmost to +create in him the greatest likeness of themselves and of the god whom they +honour. Thus fair and blissful to the beloved is the desire of the +inspired lover, and the initiation of which I speak into the mysteries of +true love, if he be captured by the lover and their purpose is effected. +Now the beloved is taken captive in the following manner:-- + +As I said at the beginning of this tale, I divided each soul into three-- +two horses and a charioteer; and one of the horses was good and the other +bad: the division may remain, but I have not yet explained in what the +goodness or badness of either consists, and to that I will now proceed. +The right-hand horse is upright and cleanly made; he has a lofty neck and +an aquiline nose; his colour is white, and his eyes dark; he is a lover of +honour and modesty and temperance, and the follower of true glory; he needs +no touch of the whip, but is guided by word and admonition only. The other +is a crooked lumbering animal, put together anyhow; he has a short thick +neck; he is flat-faced and of a dark colour, with grey eyes and blood-red +complexion (Or with grey and blood-shot eyes.); the mate of insolence and +pride, shag-eared and deaf, hardly yielding to whip and spur. Now when the +charioteer beholds the vision of love, and has his whole soul warmed +through sense, and is full of the prickings and ticklings of desire, the +obedient steed, then as always under the government of shame, refrains from +leaping on the beloved; but the other, heedless of the pricks and of the +blows of the whip, plunges and runs away, giving all manner of trouble to +his companion and the charioteer, whom he forces to approach the beloved +and to remember the joys of love. They at first indignantly oppose him and +will not be urged on to do terrible and unlawful deeds; but at last, when +he persists in plaguing them, they yield and agree to do as he bids them. +And now they are at the spot and behold the flashing beauty of the beloved; +which when the charioteer sees, his memory is carried to the true beauty, +whom he beholds in company with Modesty like an image placed upon a holy +pedestal. He sees her, but he is afraid and falls backwards in adoration, +and by his fall is compelled to pull back the reins with such violence as +to bring both the steeds on their haunches, the one willing and +unresisting, the unruly one very unwilling; and when they have gone back a +little, the one is overcome with shame and wonder, and his whole soul is +bathed in perspiration; the other, when the pain is over which the bridle +and the fall had given him, having with difficulty taken breath, is full of +wrath and reproaches, which he heaps upon the charioteer and his fellow- +steed, for want of courage and manhood, declaring that they have been false +to their agreement and guilty of desertion. Again they refuse, and again +he urges them on, and will scarce yield to their prayer that he would wait +until another time. When the appointed hour comes, they make as if they +had forgotten, and he reminds them, fighting and neighing and dragging them +on, until at length he on the same thoughts intent, forces them to draw +near again. And when they are near he stoops his head and puts up his +tail, and takes the bit in his teeth and pulls shamelessly. Then the +charioteer is worse off than ever; he falls back like a racer at the +barrier, and with a still more violent wrench drags the bit out of the +teeth of the wild steed and covers his abusive tongue and jaws with blood, +and forces his legs and haunches to the ground and punishes him sorely. +And when this has happened several times and the villain has ceased from +his wanton way, he is tamed and humbled, and follows the will of the +charioteer, and when he sees the beautiful one he is ready to die of fear. +And from that time forward the soul of the lover follows the beloved in +modesty and holy fear. + +And so the beloved who, like a god, has received every true and loyal +service from his lover, not in pretence but in reality, being also himself +of a nature friendly to his admirer, if in former days he has blushed to +own his passion and turned away his lover, because his youthful companions +or others slanderously told him that he would be disgraced, now as years +advance, at the appointed age and time, is led to receive him into +communion. For fate which has ordained that there shall be no friendship +among the evil has also ordained that there shall ever be friendship among +the good. And the beloved when he has received him into communion and +intimacy, is quite amazed at the good-will of the lover; he recognises that +the inspired friend is worth all other friends or kinsmen; they have +nothing of friendship in them worthy to be compared with his. And when +this feeling continues and he is nearer to him and embraces him, in +gymnastic exercises and at other times of meeting, then the fountain of +that stream, which Zeus when he was in love with Ganymede named Desire, +overflows upon the lover, and some enters into his soul, and some when he +is filled flows out again; and as a breeze or an echo rebounds from the +smooth rocks and returns whence it came, so does the stream of beauty, +passing through the eyes which are the windows of the soul, come back to +the beautiful one; there arriving and quickening the passages of the wings, +watering them and inclining them to grow, and filling the soul of the +beloved also with love. And thus he loves, but he knows not what; he does +not understand and cannot explain his own state; he appears to have caught +the infection of blindness from another; the lover is his mirror in whom he +is beholding himself, but he is not aware of this. When he is with the +lover, both cease from their pain, but when he is away then he longs as he +is longed for, and has love's image, love for love (Anteros) lodging in his +breast, which he calls and believes to be not love but friendship only, and +his desire is as the desire of the other, but weaker; he wants to see him, +touch him, kiss him, embrace him, and probably not long afterwards his +desire is accomplished. When they meet, the wanton steed of the lover has +a word to say to the charioteer; he would like to have a little pleasure in +return for many pains, but the wanton steed of the beloved says not a word, +for he is bursting with passion which he understands not;--he throws his +arms round the lover and embraces him as his dearest friend; and, when they +are side by side, he is not in a state in which he can refuse the lover +anything, if he ask him; although his fellow-steed and the charioteer +oppose him with the arguments of shame and reason. After this their +happiness depends upon their self-control; if the better elements of the +mind which lead to order and philosophy prevail, then they pass their life +here in happiness and harmony--masters of themselves and orderly--enslaving +the vicious and emancipating the virtuous elements of the soul; and when +the end comes, they are light and winged for flight, having conquered in +one of the three heavenly or truly Olympian victories; nor can human +discipline or divine inspiration confer any greater blessing on man than +this. If, on the other hand, they leave philosophy and lead the lower life +of ambition, then probably, after wine or in some other careless hour, the +two wanton animals take the two souls when off their guard and bring them +together, and they accomplish that desire of their hearts which to the many +is bliss; and this having once enjoyed they continue to enjoy, yet rarely +because they have not the approval of the whole soul. They too are dear, +but not so dear to one another as the others, either at the time of their +love or afterwards. They consider that they have given and taken from each +other the most sacred pledges, and they may not break them and fall into +enmity. At last they pass out of the body, unwinged, but eager to soar, +and thus obtain no mean reward of love and madness. For those who have +once begun the heavenward pilgrimage may not go down again to darkness and +the journey beneath the earth, but they live in light always; happy +companions in their pilgrimage, and when the time comes at which they +receive their wings they have the same plumage because of their love. + +Thus great are the heavenly blessings which the friendship of a lover will +confer upon you, my youth. Whereas the attachment of the non-lover, which +is alloyed with a worldly prudence and has worldly and niggardly ways of +doling out benefits, will breed in your soul those vulgar qualities which +the populace applaud, will send you bowling round the earth during a period +of nine thousand years, and leave you a fool in the world below. + +And thus, dear Eros, I have made and paid my recantation, as well and as +fairly as I could; more especially in the matter of the poetical figures +which I was compelled to use, because Phaedrus would have them. And now +forgive the past and accept the present, and be gracious and merciful to +me, and do not in thine anger deprive me of sight, or take from me the art +of love which thou hast given me, but grant that I may be yet more esteemed +in the eyes of the fair. And if Phaedrus or I myself said anything rude in +our first speeches, blame Lysias, who is the father of the brat, and let us +have no more of his progeny; bid him study philosophy, like his brother +Polemarchus; and then his lover Phaedrus will no longer halt between two +opinions, but will dedicate himself wholly to love and to philosophical +discourses. + +PHAEDRUS: I join in the prayer, Socrates, and say with you, if this be for +my good, may your words come to pass. But why did you make your second +oration so much finer than the first? I wonder why. And I begin to be +afraid that I shall lose conceit of Lysias, and that he will appear tame in +comparison, even if he be willing to put another as fine and as long as +yours into the field, which I doubt. For quite lately one of your +politicians was abusing him on this very account; and called him a 'speech +writer' again and again. So that a feeling of pride may probably induce +him to give up writing speeches. + +SOCRATES: What a very amusing notion! But I think, my young man, that you +are much mistaken in your friend if you imagine that he is frightened at a +little noise; and, possibly, you think that his assailant was in earnest? + +PHAEDRUS: I thought, Socrates, that he was. And you are aware that the +greatest and most influential statesmen are ashamed of writing speeches and +leaving them in a written form, lest they should be called Sophists by +posterity. + +SOCRATES: You seem to be unconscious, Phaedrus, that the 'sweet elbow' (A +proverb, like 'the grapes are sour,' applied to pleasures which cannot be +had, meaning sweet things which, like the elbow, are out of the reach of +the mouth. The promised pleasure turns out to be a long and tedious +affair.) of the proverb is really the long arm of the Nile. And you appear +to be equally unaware of the fact that this sweet elbow of theirs is also a +long arm. For there is nothing of which our great politicians are so fond +as of writing speeches and bequeathing them to posterity. And they add +their admirers' names at the top of the writing, out of gratitude to them. + +PHAEDRUS: What do you mean? I do not understand. + +SOCRATES: Why, do you not know that when a politician writes, he begins +with the names of his approvers? + +PHAEDRUS: How so? + +SOCRATES: Why, he begins in this manner: 'Be it enacted by the senate, +the people, or both, on the motion of a certain person,' who is our author; +and so putting on a serious face, he proceeds to display his own wisdom to +his admirers in what is often a long and tedious composition. Now what is +that sort of thing but a regular piece of authorship? + +PHAEDRUS: True. + +SOCRATES: And if the law is finally approved, then the author leaves the +theatre in high delight; but if the law is rejected and he is done out of +his speech-making, and not thought good enough to write, then he and his +party are in mourning. + +PHAEDRUS: Very true. + +SOCRATES: So far are they from despising, or rather so highly do they +value the practice of writing. + +PHAEDRUS: No doubt. + +SOCRATES: And when the king or orator has the power, as Lycurgus or Solon +or Darius had, of attaining an immortality or authorship in a state, is he +not thought by posterity, when they see his compositions, and does he not +think himself, while he is yet alive, to be a god? + +PHAEDRUS: Very true. + +SOCRATES: Then do you think that any one of this class, however ill- +disposed, would reproach Lysias with being an author? + +PHAEDRUS: Not upon your view; for according to you he would be casting a +slur upon his own favourite pursuit. + +SOCRATES: Any one may see that there is no disgrace in the mere fact of +writing. + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly not. + +SOCRATES: The disgrace begins when a man writes not well, but badly. + +PHAEDRUS: Clearly. + +SOCRATES: And what is well and what is badly--need we ask Lysias, or any +other poet or orator, who ever wrote or will write either a political or +any other work, in metre or out of metre, poet or prose writer, to teach us +this? + +PHAEDRUS: Need we? For what should a man live if not for the pleasures of +discourse? Surely not for the sake of bodily pleasures, which almost +always have previous pain as a condition of them, and therefore are rightly +called slavish. + +SOCRATES: There is time enough. And I believe that the grasshoppers +chirruping after their manner in the heat of the sun over our heads are +talking to one another and looking down at us. What would they say if they +saw that we, like the many, are not conversing, but slumbering at mid-day, +lulled by their voices, too indolent to think? Would they not have a right +to laugh at us? They might imagine that we were slaves, who, coming to +rest at a place of resort of theirs, like sheep lie asleep at noon around +the well. But if they see us discoursing, and like Odysseus sailing past +them, deaf to their siren voices, they may perhaps, out of respect, give us +of the gifts which they receive from the gods that they may impart them to +men. + +PHAEDRUS: What gifts do you mean? I never heard of any. + +SOCRATES: A lover of music like yourself ought surely to have heard the +story of the grasshoppers, who are said to have been human beings in an age +before the Muses. And when the Muses came and song appeared they were +ravished with delight; and singing always, never thought of eating and +drinking, until at last in their forgetfulness they died. And now they +live again in the grasshoppers; and this is the return which the Muses make +to them--they neither hunger, nor thirst, but from the hour of their birth +are always singing, and never eating or drinking; and when they die they go +and inform the Muses in heaven who honours them on earth. They win the +love of Terpsichore for the dancers by their report of them; of Erato for +the lovers, and of the other Muses for those who do them honour, according +to the several ways of honouring them;--of Calliope the eldest Muse and of +Urania who is next to her, for the philosophers, of whose music the +grasshoppers make report to them; for these are the Muses who are chiefly +concerned with heaven and thought, divine as well as human, and they have +the sweetest utterance. For many reasons, then, we ought always to talk +and not to sleep at mid-day. + +PHAEDRUS: Let us talk. + +SOCRATES: Shall we discuss the rules of writing and speech as we were +proposing? + +PHAEDRUS: Very good. + +SOCRATES: In good speaking should not the mind of the speaker know the +truth of the matter about which he is going to speak? + +PHAEDRUS: And yet, Socrates, I have heard that he who would be an orator +has nothing to do with true justice, but only with that which is likely to +be approved by the many who sit in judgment; nor with the truly good or +honourable, but only with opinion about them, and that from opinion comes +persuasion, and not from the truth. + +SOCRATES: The words of the wise are not to be set aside; for there is +probably something in them; and therefore the meaning of this saying is not +hastily to be dismissed. + +PHAEDRUS: Very true. + +SOCRATES: Let us put the matter thus:--Suppose that I persuaded you to buy +a horse and go to the wars. Neither of us knew what a horse was like, but +I knew that you believed a horse to be of tame animals the one which has +the longest ears. + +PHAEDRUS: That would be ridiculous. + +SOCRATES: There is something more ridiculous coming:--Suppose, further, +that in sober earnest I, having persuaded you of this, went and composed a +speech in honour of an ass, whom I entitled a horse beginning: 'A noble +animal and a most useful possession, especially in war, and you may get on +his back and fight, and he will carry baggage or anything.' + +PHAEDRUS: How ridiculous! + +SOCRATES: Ridiculous! Yes; but is not even a ridiculous friend better +than a cunning enemy? + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: And when the orator instead of putting an ass in the place of a +horse, puts good for evil, being himself as ignorant of their true nature +as the city on which he imposes is ignorant; and having studied the notions +of the multitude, falsely persuades them not about 'the shadow of an ass,' +which he confounds with a horse, but about good which he confounds with +evil,--what will be the harvest which rhetoric will be likely to gather +after the sowing of that seed? + +PHAEDRUS: The reverse of good. + +SOCRATES: But perhaps rhetoric has been getting too roughly handled by us, +and she might answer: What amazing nonsense you are talking! As if I +forced any man to learn to speak in ignorance of the truth! Whatever my +advice may be worth, I should have told him to arrive at the truth first, +and then come to me. At the same time I boldly assert that mere knowledge +of the truth will not give you the art of persuasion. + +PHAEDRUS: There is reason in the lady's defence of herself. + +SOCRATES: Quite true; if only the other arguments which remain to be +brought up bear her witness that she is an art at all. But I seem to hear +them arraying themselves on the opposite side, declaring that she speaks +falsely, and that rhetoric is a mere routine and trick, not an art. Lo! a +Spartan appears, and says that there never is nor ever will be a real art +of speaking which is divorced from the truth. + +PHAEDRUS: And what are these arguments, Socrates? Bring them out that we +may examine them. + +SOCRATES: Come out, fair children, and convince Phaedrus, who is the +father of similar beauties, that he will never be able to speak about +anything as he ought to speak unless he have a knowledge of philosophy. +And let Phaedrus answer you. + +PHAEDRUS: Put the question. + +SOCRATES: Is not rhetoric, taken generally, a universal art of enchanting +the mind by arguments; which is practised not only in courts and public +assemblies, but in private houses also, having to do with all matters, +great as well as small, good and bad alike, and is in all equally right, +and equally to be esteemed--that is what you have heard? + +PHAEDRUS: Nay, not exactly that; I should say rather that I have heard the +art confined to speaking and writing in lawsuits, and to speaking in public +assemblies--not extended farther. + +SOCRATES: Then I suppose that you have only heard of the rhetoric of +Nestor and Odysseus, which they composed in their leisure hours when at +Troy, and never of the rhetoric of Palamedes? + +PHAEDRUS: No more than of Nestor and Odysseus, unless Gorgias is your +Nestor, and Thrasymachus or Theodorus your Odysseus. + +SOCRATES: Perhaps that is my meaning. But let us leave them. And do you +tell me, instead, what are plaintiff and defendant doing in a law court-- +are they not contending? + +PHAEDRUS: Exactly so. + +SOCRATES: About the just and unjust--that is the matter in dispute? + +PHAEDRUS: Yes. + +SOCRATES: And a professor of the art will make the same thing appear to +the same persons to be at one time just, at another time, if he is so +inclined, to be unjust? + +PHAEDRUS: Exactly. + +SOCRATES: And when he speaks in the assembly, he will make the same things +seem good to the city at one time, and at another time the reverse of good? + +PHAEDRUS: That is true. + +SOCRATES: Have we not heard of the Eleatic Palamedes (Zeno), who has an +art of speaking by which he makes the same things appear to his hearers +like and unlike, one and many, at rest and in motion? + +PHAEDRUS: Very true. + +SOCRATES: The art of disputation, then, is not confined to the courts and +the assembly, but is one and the same in every use of language; this is the +art, if there be such an art, which is able to find a likeness of +everything to which a likeness can be found, and draws into the light of +day the likenesses and disguises which are used by others? + +PHAEDRUS: How do you mean? + +SOCRATES: Let me put the matter thus: When will there be more chance of +deception--when the difference is large or small? + +PHAEDRUS: When the difference is small. + +SOCRATES: And you will be less likely to be discovered in passing by +degrees into the other extreme than when you go all at once? + +PHAEDRUS: Of course. + +SOCRATES: He, then, who would deceive others, and not be deceived, must +exactly know the real likenesses and differences of things? + +PHAEDRUS: He must. + +SOCRATES: And if he is ignorant of the true nature of any subject, how can +he detect the greater or less degree of likeness in other things to that of +which by the hypothesis he is ignorant? + +PHAEDRUS: He cannot. + +SOCRATES: And when men are deceived and their notions are at variance with +realities, it is clear that the error slips in through resemblances? + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, that is the way. + +SOCRATES: Then he who would be a master of the art must understand the +real nature of everything; or he will never know either how to make the +gradual departure from truth into the opposite of truth which is effected +by the help of resemblances, or how to avoid it? + +PHAEDRUS: He will not. + +SOCRATES: He then, who being ignorant of the truth aims at appearances, +will only attain an art of rhetoric which is ridiculous and is not an art +at all? + +PHAEDRUS: That may be expected. + +SOCRATES: Shall I propose that we look for examples of art and want of +art, according to our notion of them, in the speech of Lysias which you +have in your hand, and in my own speech? + +PHAEDRUS: Nothing could be better; and indeed I think that our previous +argument has been too abstract and wanting in illustrations. + +SOCRATES: Yes; and the two speeches happen to afford a very good example +of the way in which the speaker who knows the truth may, without any +serious purpose, steal away the hearts of his hearers. This piece of good- +fortune I attribute to the local deities; and, perhaps, the prophets of the +Muses who are singing over our heads may have imparted their inspiration to +me. For I do not imagine that I have any rhetorical art of my own. + +PHAEDRUS: Granted; if you will only please to get on. + +SOCRATES: Suppose that you read me the first words of Lysias' speech. + +PHAEDRUS: 'You know how matters stand with me, and how, as I conceive, +they might be arranged for our common interest; and I maintain that I ought +not to fail in my suit, because I am not your lover. For lovers repent--' + +SOCRATES: Enough:--Now, shall I point out the rhetorical error of those +words? + +PHAEDRUS: Yes. + +SOCRATES: Every one is aware that about some things we are agreed, whereas +about other things we differ. + +PHAEDRUS: I think that I understand you; but will you explain yourself? + +SOCRATES: When any one speaks of iron and silver, is not the same thing +present in the minds of all? + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: But when any one speaks of justice and goodness we part company +and are at odds with one another and with ourselves? + +PHAEDRUS: Precisely. + +SOCRATES: Then in some things we agree, but not in others? + +PHAEDRUS: That is true. + +SOCRATES: In which are we more likely to be deceived, and in which has +rhetoric the greater power? + +PHAEDRUS: Clearly, in the uncertain class. + +SOCRATES: Then the rhetorician ought to make a regular division, and +acquire a distinct notion of both classes, as well of that in which the +many err, as of that in which they do not err? + +PHAEDRUS: He who made such a distinction would have an excellent +principle. + +SOCRATES: Yes; and in the next place he must have a keen eye for the +observation of particulars in speaking, and not make a mistake about the +class to which they are to be referred. + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: Now to which class does love belong--to the debatable or to the +undisputed class? + +PHAEDRUS: To the debatable, clearly; for if not, do you think that love +would have allowed you to say as you did, that he is an evil both to the +lover and the beloved, and also the greatest possible good? + +SOCRATES: Capital. But will you tell me whether I defined love at the +beginning of my speech? for, having been in an ecstasy, I cannot well +remember. + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, indeed; that you did, and no mistake. + +SOCRATES: Then I perceive that the Nymphs of Achelous and Pan the son of +Hermes, who inspired me, were far better rhetoricians than Lysias the son +of Cephalus. Alas! how inferior to them he is! But perhaps I am mistaken; +and Lysias at the commencement of his lover's speech did insist on our +supposing love to be something or other which he fancied him to be, and +according to this model he fashioned and framed the remainder of his +discourse. Suppose we read his beginning over again: + +PHAEDRUS: If you please; but you will not find what you want. + +SOCRATES: Read, that I may have his exact words. + +PHAEDRUS: 'You know how matters stand with me, and how, as I conceive, +they might be arranged for our common interest; and I maintain I ought not +to fail in my suit because I am not your lover, for lovers repent of the +kindnesses which they have shown, when their love is over.' + +SOCRATES: Here he appears to have done just the reverse of what he ought; +for he has begun at the end, and is swimming on his back through the flood +to the place of starting. His address to the fair youth begins where the +lover would have ended. Am I not right, sweet Phaedrus? + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, indeed, Socrates; he does begin at the end. + +SOCRATES: Then as to the other topics--are they not thrown down anyhow? +Is there any principle in them? Why should the next topic follow next in +order, or any other topic? I cannot help fancying in my ignorance that he +wrote off boldly just what came into his head, but I dare say that you +would recognize a rhetorical necessity in the succession of the several +parts of the composition? + +PHAEDRUS: You have too good an opinion of me if you think that I have any +such insight into his principles of composition. + +SOCRATES: At any rate, you will allow that every discourse ought to be a +living creature, having a body of its own and a head and feet; there should +be a middle, beginning, and end, adapted to one another and to the whole? + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: Can this be said of the discourse of Lysias? See whether you +can find any more connexion in his words than in the epitaph which is said +by some to have been inscribed on the grave of Midas the Phrygian. + +PHAEDRUS: What is there remarkable in the epitaph? + +SOCRATES: It is as follows:-- + +'I am a maiden of bronze and lie on the tomb of Midas; +So long as water flows and tall trees grow, +So long here on this spot by his sad tomb abiding, +I shall declare to passers-by that Midas sleeps below.' + +Now in this rhyme whether a line comes first or comes last, as you will +perceive, makes no difference. + +PHAEDRUS: You are making fun of that oration of ours. + +SOCRATES: Well, I will say no more about your friend's speech lest I +should give offence to you; although I think that it might furnish many +other examples of what a man ought rather to avoid. But I will proceed to +the other speech, which, as I think, is also suggestive to students of +rhetoric. + +PHAEDRUS: In what way? + +SOCRATES: The two speeches, as you may remember, were unlike; the one +argued that the lover and the other that the non-lover ought to be +accepted. + +PHAEDRUS: And right manfully. + +SOCRATES: You should rather say 'madly;' and madness was the argument of +them, for, as I said, 'love is a madness.' + +PHAEDRUS: Yes. + +SOCRATES: And of madness there were two kinds; one produced by human +infirmity, the other was a divine release of the soul from the yoke of +custom and convention. + +PHAEDRUS: True. + +SOCRATES: The divine madness was subdivided into four kinds, prophetic, +initiatory, poetic, erotic, having four gods presiding over them; the first +was the inspiration of Apollo, the second that of Dionysus, the third that +of the Muses, the fourth that of Aphrodite and Eros. In the description of +the last kind of madness, which was also said to be the best, we spoke of +the affection of love in a figure, into which we introduced a tolerably +credible and possibly true though partly erring myth, which was also a hymn +in honour of Love, who is your lord and also mine, Phaedrus, and the +guardian of fair children, and to him we sung the hymn in measured and +solemn strain. + +PHAEDRUS: I know that I had great pleasure in listening to you. + +SOCRATES: Let us take this instance and note how the transition was made +from blame to praise. + +PHAEDRUS: What do you mean? + +SOCRATES: I mean to say that the composition was mostly playful. Yet in +these chance fancies of the hour were involved two principles of which we +should be too glad to have a clearer description if art could give us one. + +PHAEDRUS: What are they? + +SOCRATES: First, the comprehension of scattered particulars in one idea; +as in our definition of love, which whether true or false certainly gave +clearness and consistency to the discourse, the speaker should define his +several notions and so make his meaning clear. + +PHAEDRUS: What is the other principle, Socrates? + +SOCRATES: The second principle is that of division into species according +to the natural formation, where the joint is, not breaking any part as a +bad carver might. Just as our two discourses, alike assumed, first of all, +a single form of unreason; and then, as the body which from being one +becomes double and may be divided into a left side and right side, each +having parts right and left of the same name--after this manner the speaker +proceeded to divide the parts of the left side and did not desist until he +found in them an evil or left-handed love which he justly reviled; and the +other discourse leading us to the madness which lay on the right side, +found another love, also having the same name, but divine, which the +speaker held up before us and applauded and affirmed to be the author of +the greatest benefits. + +PHAEDRUS: Most true. + +SOCRATES: I am myself a great lover of these processes of division and +generalization; they help me to speak and to think. And if I find any man +who is able to see 'a One and Many' in nature, him I follow, and 'walk in +his footsteps as if he were a god.' And those who have this art, I have +hitherto been in the habit of calling dialecticians; but God knows whether +the name is right or not. And I should like to know what name you would +give to your or to Lysias' disciples, and whether this may not be that +famous art of rhetoric which Thrasymachus and others teach and practise? +Skilful speakers they are, and impart their skill to any who is willing to +make kings of them and to bring gifts to them. + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, they are royal men; but their art is not the same with the +art of those whom you call, and rightly, in my opinion, dialecticians:-- +Still we are in the dark about rhetoric. + +SOCRATES: What do you mean? The remains of it, if there be anything +remaining which can be brought under rules of art, must be a fine thing; +and, at any rate, is not to be despised by you and me. But how much is +left? + +PHAEDRUS: There is a great deal surely to be found in books of rhetoric? + +SOCRATES: Yes; thank you for reminding me:--There is the exordium, showing +how the speech should begin, if I remember rightly; that is what you mean-- +the niceties of the art? + +PHAEDRUS: Yes. + +SOCRATES: Then follows the statement of facts, and upon that witnesses; +thirdly, proofs; fourthly, probabilities are to come; the great Byzantian +word-maker also speaks, if I am not mistaken, of confirmation and further +confirmation. + +PHAEDRUS: You mean the excellent Theodorus. + +SOCRATES: Yes; and he tells how refutation or further refutation is to be +managed, whether in accusation or defence. I ought also to mention the +illustrious Parian, Evenus, who first invented insinuations and indirect +praises; and also indirect censures, which according to some he put into +verse to help the memory. But shall I 'to dumb forgetfulness consign' +Tisias and Gorgias, who are not ignorant that probability is superior to +truth, and who by force of argument make the little appear great and the +great little, disguise the new in old fashions and the old in new fashions, +and have discovered forms for everything, either short or going on to +infinity. I remember Prodicus laughing when I told him of this; he said +that he had himself discovered the true rule of art, which was to be +neither long nor short, but of a convenient length. + +PHAEDRUS: Well done, Prodicus! + +SOCRATES: Then there is Hippias the Elean stranger, who probably agrees +with him. + +PHAEDRUS: Yes. + +SOCRATES: And there is also Polus, who has treasuries of diplasiology, and +gnomology, and eikonology, and who teaches in them the names of which +Licymnius made him a present; they were to give a polish. + +PHAEDRUS: Had not Protagoras something of the same sort? + +SOCRATES: Yes, rules of correct diction and many other fine precepts; for +the 'sorrows of a poor old man,' or any other pathetic case, no one is +better than the Chalcedonian giant; he can put a whole company of people +into a passion and out of one again by his mighty magic, and is first-rate +at inventing or disposing of any sort of calumny on any grounds or none. +All of them agree in asserting that a speech should end in a +recapitulation, though they do not all agree to use the same word. + +PHAEDRUS: You mean that there should be a summing up of the arguments in +order to remind the hearers of them. + +SOCRATES: I have now said all that I have to say of the art of rhetoric: +have you anything to add? + +PHAEDRUS: Not much; nothing very important. + +SOCRATES: Leave the unimportant and let us bring the really important +question into the light of day, which is: What power has this art of +rhetoric, and when? + +PHAEDRUS: A very great power in public meetings. + +SOCRATES: It has. But I should like to know whether you have the same +feeling as I have about the rhetoricians? To me there seem to be a great +many holes in their web. + +PHAEDRUS: Give an example. + +SOCRATES: I will. Suppose a person to come to your friend Eryximachus, or +to his father Acumenus, and to say to him: 'I know how to apply drugs +which shall have either a heating or a cooling effect, and I can give a +vomit and also a purge, and all that sort of thing; and knowing all this, +as I do, I claim to be a physician and to make physicians by imparting this +knowledge to others,'--what do you suppose that they would say? + +PHAEDRUS: They would be sure to ask him whether he knew 'to whom' he would +give his medicines, and 'when,' and 'how much.' + +SOCRATES: And suppose that he were to reply: 'No; I know nothing of all +that; I expect the patient who consults me to be able to do these things +for himself'? + +PHAEDRUS: They would say in reply that he is a madman or a pedant who +fancies that he is a physician because he has read something in a book, or +has stumbled on a prescription or two, although he has no real +understanding of the art of medicine. + +SOCRATES: And suppose a person were to come to Sophocles or Euripides and +say that he knows how to make a very long speech about a small matter, and +a short speech about a great matter, and also a sorrowful speech, or a +terrible, or threatening speech, or any other kind of speech, and in +teaching this fancies that he is teaching the art of tragedy--? + +PHAEDRUS: They too would surely laugh at him if he fancies that tragedy is +anything but the arranging of these elements in a manner which will be +suitable to one another and to the whole. + +SOCRATES: But I do not suppose that they would be rude or abusive to him: +Would they not treat him as a musician a man who thinks that he is a +harmonist because he knows how to pitch the highest and lowest note; +happening to meet such an one he would not say to him savagely, 'Fool, you +are mad!' But like a musician, in a gentle and harmonious tone of voice, +he would answer: 'My good friend, he who would be a harmonist must +certainly know this, and yet he may understand nothing of harmony if he has +not got beyond your stage of knowledge, for you only know the preliminaries +of harmony and not harmony itself.' + +PHAEDRUS: Very true. + +SOCRATES: And will not Sophocles say to the display of the would-be +tragedian, that this is not tragedy but the preliminaries of tragedy? and +will not Acumenus say the same of medicine to the would-be physician? + +PHAEDRUS: Quite true. + +SOCRATES: And if Adrastus the mellifluous or Pericles heard of these +wonderful arts, brachylogies and eikonologies and all the hard names which +we have been endeavouring to draw into the light of day, what would they +say? Instead of losing temper and applying uncomplimentary epithets, as +you and I have been doing, to the authors of such an imaginary art, their +superior wisdom would rather censure us, as well as them. 'Have a little +patience, Phaedrus and Socrates, they would say; you should not be in such +a passion with those who from some want of dialectical skill are unable to +define the nature of rhetoric, and consequently suppose that they have +found the art in the preliminary conditions of it, and when these have been +taught by them to others, fancy that the whole art of rhetoric has been +taught by them; but as to using the several instruments of the art +effectively, or making the composition a whole,--an application of it such +as this is they regard as an easy thing which their disciples may make for +themselves.' + +PHAEDRUS: I quite admit, Socrates, that the art of rhetoric which these +men teach and of which they write is such as you describe--there I agree +with you. But I still want to know where and how the true art of rhetoric +and persuasion is to be acquired. + +SOCRATES: The perfection which is required of the finished orator is, or +rather must be, like the perfection of anything else; partly given by +nature, but may also be assisted by art. If you have the natural power and +add to it knowledge and practice, you will be a distinguished speaker; if +you fall short in either of these, you will be to that extent defective. +But the art, as far as there is an art, of rhetoric does not lie in the +direction of Lysias or Thrasymachus. + +PHAEDRUS: In what direction then? + +SOCRATES: I conceive Pericles to have been the most accomplished of +rhetoricians. + +PHAEDRUS: What of that? + +SOCRATES: All the great arts require discussion and high speculation about +the truths of nature; hence come loftiness of thought and completeness of +execution. And this, as I conceive, was the quality which, in addition to +his natural gifts, Pericles acquired from his intercourse with Anaxagoras +whom he happened to know. He was thus imbued with the higher philosophy, +and attained the knowledge of Mind and the negative of Mind, which were +favourite themes of Anaxagoras, and applied what suited his purpose to the +art of speaking. + +PHAEDRUS: Explain. + +SOCRATES: Rhetoric is like medicine. + +PHAEDRUS: How so? + +SOCRATES: Why, because medicine has to define the nature of the body and +rhetoric of the soul--if we would proceed, not empirically but +scientifically, in the one case to impart health and strength by giving +medicine and food, in the other to implant the conviction or virtue which +you desire, by the right application of words and training. + +PHAEDRUS: There, Socrates, I suspect that you are right. + +SOCRATES: And do you think that you can know the nature of the soul +intelligently without knowing the nature of the whole? + +PHAEDRUS: Hippocrates the Asclepiad says that the nature even of the body +can only be understood as a whole. (Compare Charmides.) + +SOCRATES: Yes, friend, and he was right:--still, we ought not to be +content with the name of Hippocrates, but to examine and see whether his +argument agrees with his conception of nature. + +PHAEDRUS: I agree. + +SOCRATES: Then consider what truth as well as Hippocrates says about this +or about any other nature. Ought we not to consider first whether that +which we wish to learn and to teach is a simple or multiform thing, and if +simple, then to enquire what power it has of acting or being acted upon in +relation to other things, and if multiform, then to number the forms; and +see first in the case of one of them, and then in the case of all of them, +what is that power of acting or being acted upon which makes each and all +of them to be what they are? + +PHAEDRUS: You may very likely be right, Socrates. + +SOCRATES: The method which proceeds without analysis is like the groping +of a blind man. Yet, surely, he who is an artist ought not to admit of a +comparison with the blind, or deaf. The rhetorician, who teaches his pupil +to speak scientifically, will particularly set forth the nature of that +being to which he addresses his speeches; and this, I conceive, to be the +soul. + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: His whole effort is directed to the soul; for in that he seeks +to produce conviction. + +PHAEDRUS: Yes. + +SOCRATES: Then clearly, Thrasymachus or any one else who teaches rhetoric +in earnest will give an exact description of the nature of the soul; which +will enable us to see whether she be single and same, or, like the body, +multiform. That is what we should call showing the nature of the soul. + +PHAEDRUS: Exactly. + +SOCRATES: He will explain, secondly, the mode in which she acts or is +acted upon. + +PHAEDRUS: True. + +SOCRATES: Thirdly, having classified men and speeches, and their kinds and +affections, and adapted them to one another, he will tell the reasons of +his arrangement, and show why one soul is persuaded by a particular form of +argument, and another not. + +PHAEDRUS: You have hit upon a very good way. + +SOCRATES: Yes, that is the true and only way in which any subject can be +set forth or treated by rules of art, whether in speaking or writing. But +the writers of the present day, at whose feet you have sat, craftily +conceal the nature of the soul which they know quite well. Nor, until they +adopt our method of reading and writing, can we admit that they write by +rules of art? + +PHAEDRUS: What is our method? + +SOCRATES: I cannot give you the exact details; but I should like to tell +you generally, as far as is in my power, how a man ought to proceed +according to rules of art. + +PHAEDRUS: Let me hear. + +SOCRATES: Oratory is the art of enchanting the soul, and therefore he who +would be an orator has to learn the differences of human souls--they are so +many and of such a nature, and from them come the differences between man +and man. Having proceeded thus far in his analysis, he will next divide +speeches into their different classes:--'Such and such persons,' he will +say, are affected by this or that kind of speech in this or that way,' and +he will tell you why. The pupil must have a good theoretical notion of +them first, and then he must have experience of them in actual life, and be +able to follow them with all his senses about him, or he will never get +beyond the precepts of his masters. But when he understands what persons +are persuaded by what arguments, and sees the person about whom he was +speaking in the abstract actually before him, and knows that it is he, and +can say to himself, 'This is the man or this is the character who ought to +have a certain argument applied to him in order to convince him of a +certain opinion;'--he who knows all this, and knows also when he should +speak and when he should refrain, and when he should use pithy sayings, +pathetic appeals, sensational effects, and all the other modes of speech +which he has learned;--when, I say, he knows the times and seasons of all +these things, then, and not till then, he is a perfect master of his art; +but if he fail in any of these points, whether in speaking or teaching or +writing them, and yet declares that he speaks by rules of art, he who says +'I don't believe you' has the better of him. Well, the teacher will say, +is this, Phaedrus and Socrates, your account of the so-called art of +rhetoric, or am I to look for another? + +PHAEDRUS: He must take this, Socrates, for there is no possibility of +another, and yet the creation of such an art is not easy. + +SOCRATES: Very true; and therefore let us consider this matter in every +light, and see whether we cannot find a shorter and easier road; there is +no use in taking a long rough roundabout way if there be a shorter and +easier one. And I wish that you would try and remember whether you have +heard from Lysias or any one else anything which might be of service to us. + +PHAEDRUS: If trying would avail, then I might; but at the moment I can +think of nothing. + +SOCRATES: Suppose I tell you something which somebody who knows told me. + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: May not 'the wolf,' as the proverb says, 'claim a hearing'? + +PHAEDRUS: Do you say what can be said for him. + +SOCRATES: He will argue that there is no use in putting a solemn face on +these matters, or in going round and round, until you arrive at first +principles; for, as I said at first, when the question is of justice and +good, or is a question in which men are concerned who are just and good, +either by nature or habit, he who would be a skilful rhetorician has no +need of truth--for that in courts of law men literally care nothing about +truth, but only about conviction: and this is based on probability, to +which he who would be a skilful orator should therefore give his whole +attention. And they say also that there are cases in which the actual +facts, if they are improbable, ought to be withheld, and only the +probabilities should be told either in accusation or defence, and that +always in speaking, the orator should keep probability in view, and say +good-bye to the truth. And the observance of this principle throughout a +speech furnishes the whole art. + +PHAEDRUS: That is what the professors of rhetoric do actually say, +Socrates. I have not forgotten that we have quite briefly touched upon +this matter already; with them the point is all-important. + +SOCRATES: I dare say that you are familiar with Tisias. Does he not +define probability to be that which the many think? + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly, he does. + +SOCRATES: I believe that he has a clever and ingenious case of this sort: +--He supposes a feeble and valiant man to have assaulted a strong and +cowardly one, and to have robbed him of his coat or of something or other; +he is brought into court, and then Tisias says that both parties should +tell lies: the coward should say that he was assaulted by more men than +one; the other should prove that they were alone, and should argue thus: +'How could a weak man like me have assaulted a strong man like him?' The +complainant will not like to confess his own cowardice, and will therefore +invent some other lie which his adversary will thus gain an opportunity of +refuting. And there are other devices of the same kind which have a place +in the system. Am I not right, Phaedrus? + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: Bless me, what a wonderfully mysterious art is this which Tisias +or some other gentleman, in whatever name or country he rejoices, has +discovered. Shall we say a word to him or not? + +PHAEDRUS: What shall we say to him? + +SOCRATES: Let us tell him that, before he appeared, you and I were saying +that the probability of which he speaks was engendered in the minds of the +many by the likeness of the truth, and we had just been affirming that he +who knew the truth would always know best how to discover the resemblances +of the truth. If he has anything else to say about the art of speaking we +should like to hear him; but if not, we are satisfied with our own view, +that unless a man estimates the various characters of his hearers and is +able to divide all things into classes and to comprehend them under single +ideas, he will never be a skilful rhetorician even within the limits of +human power. And this skill he will not attain without a great deal of +trouble, which a good man ought to undergo, not for the sake of speaking +and acting before men, but in order that he may be able to say what is +acceptable to God and always to act acceptably to Him as far as in him +lies; for there is a saying of wiser men than ourselves, that a man of +sense should not try to please his fellow-servants (at least this should +not be his first object) but his good and noble masters; and therefore if +the way is long and circuitous, marvel not at this, for, where the end is +great, there we may take the longer road, but not for lesser ends such as +yours. Truly, the argument may say, Tisias, that if you do not mind going +so far, rhetoric has a fair beginning here. + +PHAEDRUS: I think, Socrates, that this is admirable, if only practicable. + +SOCRATES: But even to fail in an honourable object is honourable. + +PHAEDRUS: True. + +SOCRATES: Enough appears to have been said by us of a true and false art +of speaking. + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: But there is something yet to be said of propriety and +impropriety of writing. + +PHAEDRUS: Yes. + +SOCRATES: Do you know how you can speak or act about rhetoric in a manner +which will be acceptable to God? + +PHAEDRUS: No, indeed. Do you? + +SOCRATES: I have heard a tradition of the ancients, whether true or not +they only know; although if we had found the truth ourselves, do you think +that we should care much about the opinions of men? + +PHAEDRUS: Your question needs no answer; but I wish that you would tell me +what you say that you have heard. + +SOCRATES: At the Egyptian city of Naucratis, there was a famous old god, +whose name was Theuth; the bird which is called the Ibis is sacred to him, +and he was the inventor of many arts, such as arithmetic and calculation +and geometry and astronomy and draughts and dice, but his great discovery +was the use of letters. Now in those days the god Thamus was the king of +the whole country of Egypt; and he dwelt in that great city of Upper Egypt +which the Hellenes call Egyptian Thebes, and the god himself is called by +them Ammon. To him came Theuth and showed his inventions, desiring that +the other Egyptians might be allowed to have the benefit of them; he +enumerated them, and Thamus enquired about their several uses, and praised +some of them and censured others, as he approved or disapproved of them. +It would take a long time to repeat all that Thamus said to Theuth in +praise or blame of the various arts. But when they came to letters, This, +said Theuth, will make the Egyptians wiser and give them better memories; +it is a specific both for the memory and for the wit. Thamus replied: O +most ingenious Theuth, the parent or inventor of an art is not always the +best judge of the utility or inutility of his own inventions to the users +of them. And in this instance, you who are the father of letters, from a +paternal love of your own children have been led to attribute to them a +quality which they cannot have; for this discovery of yours will create +forgetfulness in the learners' souls, because they will not use their +memories; they will trust to the external written characters and not +remember of themselves. The specific which you have discovered is an aid +not to memory, but to reminiscence, and you give your disciples not truth, +but only the semblance of truth; they will be hearers of many things and +will have learned nothing; they will appear to be omniscient and will +generally know nothing; they will be tiresome company, having the show of +wisdom without the reality. + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, Socrates, you can easily invent tales of Egypt, or of any +other country. + +SOCRATES: There was a tradition in the temple of Dodona that oaks first +gave prophetic utterances. The men of old, unlike in their simplicity to +young philosophy, deemed that if they heard the truth even from 'oak or +rock,' it was enough for them; whereas you seem to consider not whether a +thing is or is not true, but who the speaker is and from what country the +tale comes. + +PHAEDRUS: I acknowledge the justice of your rebuke; and I think that the +Theban is right in his view about letters. + +SOCRATES: He would be a very simple person, and quite a stranger to the +oracles of Thamus or Ammon, who should leave in writing or receive in +writing any art under the idea that the written word would be intelligible +or certain; or who deemed that writing was at all better than knowledge and +recollection of the same matters? + +PHAEDRUS: That is most true. + +SOCRATES: I cannot help feeling, Phaedrus, that writing is unfortunately +like painting; for the creations of the painter have the attitude of life, +and yet if you ask them a question they preserve a solemn silence. And the +same may be said of speeches. You would imagine that they had +intelligence, but if you want to know anything and put a question to one of +them, the speaker always gives one unvarying answer. And when they have +been once written down they are tumbled about anywhere among those who may +or may not understand them, and know not to whom they should reply, to whom +not: and, if they are maltreated or abused, they have no parent to protect +them; and they cannot protect or defend themselves. + +PHAEDRUS: That again is most true. + +SOCRATES: Is there not another kind of word or speech far better than +this, and having far greater power--a son of the same family, but lawfully +begotten? + +PHAEDRUS: Whom do you mean, and what is his origin? + +SOCRATES: I mean an intelligent word graven in the soul of the learner, +which can defend itself, and knows when to speak and when to be silent. + +PHAEDRUS: You mean the living word of knowledge which has a soul, and of +which the written word is properly no more than an image? + +SOCRATES: Yes, of course that is what I mean. And now may I be allowed to +ask you a question: Would a husbandman, who is a man of sense, take the +seeds, which he values and which he wishes to bear fruit, and in sober +seriousness plant them during the heat of summer, in some garden of Adonis, +that he may rejoice when he sees them in eight days appearing in beauty? at +least he would do so, if at all, only for the sake of amusement and +pastime. But when he is in earnest he sows in fitting soil, and practises +husbandry, and is satisfied if in eight months the seeds which he has sown +arrive at perfection? + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, Socrates, that will be his way when he is in earnest; he +will do the other, as you say, only in play. + +SOCRATES: And can we suppose that he who knows the just and good and +honourable has less understanding, than the husbandman, about his own +seeds? + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly not. + +SOCRATES: Then he will not seriously incline to 'write' his thoughts 'in +water' with pen and ink, sowing words which can neither speak for +themselves nor teach the truth adequately to others? + +PHAEDRUS: No, that is not likely. + +SOCRATES: No, that is not likely--in the garden of letters he will sow and +plant, but only for the sake of recreation and amusement; he will write +them down as memorials to be treasured against the forgetfulness of old +age, by himself, or by any other old man who is treading the same path. He +will rejoice in beholding their tender growth; and while others are +refreshing their souls with banqueting and the like, this will be the +pastime in which his days are spent. + +PHAEDRUS: A pastime, Socrates, as noble as the other is ignoble, the +pastime of a man who can be amused by serious talk, and can discourse +merrily about justice and the like. + +SOCRATES: True, Phaedrus. But nobler far is the serious pursuit of the +dialectician, who, finding a congenial soul, by the help of science sows +and plants therein words which are able to help themselves and him who +planted them, and are not unfruitful, but have in them a seed which others +brought up in different soils render immortal, making the possessors of it +happy to the utmost extent of human happiness. + +PHAEDRUS: Far nobler, certainly. + +SOCRATES: And now, Phaedrus, having agreed upon the premises we may decide +about the conclusion. + +PHAEDRUS: About what conclusion? + +SOCRATES: About Lysias, whom we censured, and his art of writing, and his +discourses, and the rhetorical skill or want of skill which was shown in +them--these are the questions which we sought to determine, and they +brought us to this point. And I think that we are now pretty well informed +about the nature of art and its opposite. + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, I think with you; but I wish that you would repeat what was +said. + +SOCRATES: Until a man knows the truth of the several particulars of which +he is writing or speaking, and is able to define them as they are, and +having defined them again to divide them until they can be no longer +divided, and until in like manner he is able to discern the nature of the +soul, and discover the different modes of discourse which are adapted to +different natures, and to arrange and dispose them in such a way that the +simple form of speech may be addressed to the simpler nature, and the +complex and composite to the more complex nature--until he has accomplished +all this, he will be unable to handle arguments according to rules of art, +as far as their nature allows them to be subjected to art, either for the +purpose of teaching or persuading;--such is the view which is implied in +the whole preceding argument. + +PHAEDRUS: Yes, that was our view, certainly. + +SOCRATES: Secondly, as to the censure which was passed on the speaking or +writing of discourses, and how they might be rightly or wrongly censured-- +did not our previous argument show--? + +PHAEDRUS: Show what? + +SOCRATES: That whether Lysias or any other writer that ever was or will +be, whether private man or statesman, proposes laws and so becomes the +author of a political treatise, fancying that there is any great certainty +and clearness in his performance, the fact of his so writing is only a +disgrace to him, whatever men may say. For not to know the nature of +justice and injustice, and good and evil, and not to be able to distinguish +the dream from the reality, cannot in truth be otherwise than disgraceful +to him, even though he have the applause of the whole world. + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: But he who thinks that in the written word there is necessarily +much which is not serious, and that neither poetry nor prose, spoken or +written, is of any great value, if, like the compositions of the rhapsodes, +they are only recited in order to be believed, and not with any view to +criticism or instruction; and who thinks that even the best of writings are +but a reminiscence of what we know, and that only in principles of justice +and goodness and nobility taught and communicated orally for the sake of +instruction and graven in the soul, which is the true way of writing, is +there clearness and perfection and seriousness, and that such principles +are a man's own and his legitimate offspring;--being, in the first place, +the word which he finds in his own bosom; secondly, the brethren and +descendants and relations of his idea which have been duly implanted by him +in the souls of others;--and who cares for them and no others--this is the +right sort of man; and you and I, Phaedrus, would pray that we may become +like him. + +PHAEDRUS: That is most assuredly my desire and prayer. + +SOCRATES: And now the play is played out; and of rhetoric enough. Go and +tell Lysias that to the fountain and school of the Nymphs we went down, and +were bidden by them to convey a message to him and to other composers of +speeches--to Homer and other writers of poems, whether set to music or not; +and to Solon and others who have composed writings in the form of political +discourses which they would term laws--to all of them we are to say that if +their compositions are based on knowledge of the truth, and they can defend +or prove them, when they are put to the test, by spoken arguments, which +leave their writings poor in comparison of them, then they are to be +called, not only poets, orators, legislators, but are worthy of a higher +name, befitting the serious pursuit of their life. + +PHAEDRUS: What name would you assign to them? + +SOCRATES: Wise, I may not call them; for that is a great name which +belongs to God alone,--lovers of wisdom or philosophers is their modest and +befitting title. + +PHAEDRUS: Very suitable. + +SOCRATES: And he who cannot rise above his own compilations and +compositions, which he has been long patching and piecing, adding some and +taking away some, may be justly called poet or speech-maker or law-maker. + +PHAEDRUS: Certainly. + +SOCRATES: Now go and tell this to your companion. + +PHAEDRUS: But there is also a friend of yours who ought not to be +forgotten. + +SOCRATES: Who is he? + +PHAEDRUS: Isocrates the fair:--What message will you send to him, and how +shall we describe him? + +SOCRATES: Isocrates is still young, Phaedrus; but I am willing to hazard a +prophecy concerning him. + +PHAEDRUS: What would you prophesy? + +SOCRATES: I think that he has a genius which soars above the orations of +Lysias, and that his character is cast in a finer mould. My impression of +him is that he will marvellously improve as he grows older, and that all +former rhetoricians will be as children in comparison of him. And I +believe that he will not be satisfied with rhetoric, but that there is in +him a divine inspiration which will lead him to things higher still. For +he has an element of philosophy in his nature. This is the message of the +gods dwelling in this place, and which I will myself deliver to Isocrates, +who is my delight; and do you give the other to Lysias, who is yours. + +PHAEDRUS: I will; and now as the heat is abated let us depart. + +SOCRATES: Should we not offer up a prayer first of all to the local +deities? + +PHAEDRUS: By all means. + +SOCRATES: Beloved Pan, and all ye other gods who haunt this place, give me +beauty in the inward soul; and may the outward and inward man be at one. +May I reckon the wise to be the wealthy, and may I have such a quantity of +gold as a temperate man and he only can bear and carry.--Anything more? +The prayer, I think, is enough for me. + +PHAEDRUS: Ask the same for me, for friends should have all things in +common. + +SOCRATES: Let us go. + + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Phaedrus, by Plato + |