In Aristophanes’
Frogs, instead of Euripides, Dionysus
brings out from Hades Aeschylus, for only he can save the city in its time of
peril. Pluto, the Lord of the underworld invites Dionysus to a parting
festivity and the Chorus sings in praise of Aeschylus:
‘Blest the
man (Makarios g’ anêr) who possesses
(echôn) a keen intelligent mind (xunesin êkribômenên). This full often
we find (para de polloisi mathein).
He, the bard of renown (hode gar eu
phronein dokêsas 'of renown for his good/right thinking'), now to earth reascends (palin apeisi oikad’ au), goes, a joy to his town (ep’ agathô̢ men tois politais 'to bring good/benefit to the citizens'), goes, a
joy to his friends (ep’ agathô̢ de tois
heautou xungenesi kai philoisi 'to bring good ...'), just because he possesses a keen
intelligent mind (dia to sunetos einai).
Right it is
and befitting (Charien oun), not (mê), by Socrates sitting, idle talk to
pursue (Sôkratei parakathêmenon lalein),
stripping tragedy-art of all things noble and true (apobalonta mousikên, ta te megista tês tragô̢ dikês technês).
Surely the mind to school fine-drawn quibbles to seek, fine-set phrases to
speak (to d’epi semnoisi logoisi kai
skariphêsmoisi lêrôn diatribên argon poieisthai), is but the part of a
fool (paraphronountos andros).’
(1482-99, tr. B. B. Rogers)
Rogers
leaves untranslated apobalonta mousikên, which means ‘having thrown away mousikê’. Chorus’ Charien oun mê Sôkratei parakathêmenon lalein apobalonta mousikên means
‘It is gratifying not to chat sitting by Socrates, having thrown away mousikê’. The circumstancial
participial clause apobalonta mousikên
indicates the condition under which ‘to chat sitting by Socrates’ had been
taking place.
In pointing
to Rogers’ omission, I have left untranslated mousikê, for with reference to Socrates it is misleading to
translate it as ‘art’. In the Phaedo Socrates
says: ‘Often in my past life the same dream had visited me (pollakis moi phoitôn to auto enupnion en
tô̢ proelthonti biô̢), now in one guise, now in another (allot’ en allê opsei phainomenon), but
always saying the same thing (to auto de
legon): “Socrates (Ô Sôkrates),”
it said (ephê), “make art (mousikên poiei) and practise it (kai ergazou).” Now in earlier times I
used to assume that the dream was urging and telling me to do exactly what I
was doing (kai egô en ge tô̢ prosthen
chronô̢ hoper epratton touto hupelambanon auto moi parakeleuesthai te kai
epikeleuein) (60e4-61a1) … to make art (mousikên poiein), since philosophy is a very
high artform (hôs philosophias men
ousês megistês mousikês ‘since philosophy is the greatest mousikê‘),
and that was what I was making (emou de
touto prattontos). But now that the trial was over (nun d’ epeidê hê te dikê egeneto) and the festival of the god
was preventing my death (kai hê te tou
theou heortê diekôlue me apothnê̢skein), I thought that in case it was art in the popular sense that the dream
was commanding me to make, I ought not to disobey it (edoxe chrênai, ei ara pollakis moi prostattoi to enupnion tautên tên dêmôdê mousikên poiein, mê
apeithênai autô̢), but should make it (alla poiein); as it was safer (asphalesteron
gar einai) not to go off (mê apienai)
before I’d fulfilled a sacred duty (prin
aphosiôsasthai), by making verses (poiêsanta
poiêmata) and thus obeying the dream (pithomenon
tô̢ enupniô̢).’ (61a3-b1, translation D. Gallop)
If we view
the Phaedrus as Plato’s first dialog
written prior to the Charmides, as proposed,
we can’t help seeing it as Plato’s response to Aristophanes’ invective, with
which the chorus in the Frogs assails
Socrates and his friends. In my preceding post I quoted Rogers as saying that
the Frogs was greatly admired: ‘the
victorious poet was crowned in the full theatre with the usual wreath of
Bacchic ivy. But it achieved a far higher success than this. It enjoyed the,
apparently, unique distinction of being acted a second time, as we should say,
by request; and at this second
representation the poet was again crowned, not now with mere leaves of ivy, but
a wreath made from Athene’s sacred olive, an honour reserved for citizens who
were deemed to have rendered important services to Athene’s city.’
Plato was in
his early (if born in 427 B. C.) or mid-twenties (if born in 429 B. C.) when
the Frogs were staged. How could he have left Aristophanes’ invective
unanswered?
Diogenes
Laertius in his ‘Life of Plato’ says that when Plato (III.6) ‘was about to
compete for the prize with a tragedy (mellôn
agônieisthai tragôdia̢), he listened to Socrates in front of the theatre
of Dionysus (pro tou Dionusiakou theatrou
Sôkratous akousas), and then consigned his poems to the flames (katephlexe ta poiêmata), with the words (eipôn)
“Come hither, O fire-god (Hêphaiste,
promol’ hôde), Plato has now need of thee (Platôn nun ti seio chatizei)” From that time onward (tounteuthen dê), having reached his twentieth year (gegonôs eikosi etê), he was the pupil
of Socrates (diêkouse Sôkratous
III.5-6).’ R. D. Hicks in his edition of Diogenes notes that ‘Aelian (V.H. ii. 30) has pro tôn Dionusiôn “before the festival of Dionysius”’ instead of
Diogenes’ “in front of the theatre of Dionysus”. These two variations do not exclude
each other, for it could have happened “in front of the theatre of Dionysus” in
the time “before the festival of Dionysius”. The festival of Dionysus took
place in Lenaea, the month corresponding to our January-February. One can well
imagine that people made a fire in front of the theatre to keep warm, and Plato
threw his tragedies into the flames. I believe that Aristophanes’ ‘having
thrown away mousikê’ (apobalonta mousikên) authenticates Diogenes’/Aelian’s
story.
To properly
understand this event, we must go to Aristotle’s explanation of how Plato
conceived the Forms. For he says that before his philosophic encounter with
Socrates Plato adhered to Heraclitean doctrines according to which ‘the whole
sensible world is always in a state of flux (hôs hapantôn tôn aisthêtôn aei reontôn) and there is no
knowledge about it (kai epistêmês peri autôn ouk ousês,
987a33-4).’ [The term epistêmê for
‘knowledge’ is here of fundamental importance, for it involves the minds’
‘standing at’ (epi-histêmi) the
object that does not change.] When Plato then encountered Socrates ‘who as the
first brought his mind to stand-still
on definitions (peri horismôn epistêsantos prôtou tên dianoian),
having accepted him (ekeinon apodexamenos),
because of it (dia to toiouton) he
assumed (hupelaben) that this
concerned different entities (hôs peri heterôn
touto gignomenon) and not the things perceived by senses (kai ou tôn aisthêtôn, 987b3-6) … and
these entities he called Forms (ta men
toiauta tôn ontôn ideas prosêgoreuse, 987b7-8).’ – Plato conceived the
Forms under the impact of his first philosophic encounter with Socrates.
***
Chorus of
the Frogs accused Socrates and ‘those
sitting by him’ (Sôkratei
parakathêmenous, 1491-2) of ‘engaging in idle amusement’ (diatribên argon poieisthai, 1498). Plato in
the Phaedrus answers this invective
at the turning point of the dialogue, when Socrates and Phaedrus decide to
discuss the art of writing with reference to the three speeches on love
presented in the first part (Lysias’ speech read by Phaedrus, and two speeches
presented by Socrates).
Socrates:
‘Then what is the nature (Tis oun ho
tropos) of good writing and bad (tou
kalôs te kai mê graphein;)? Is it incumbent on us (deometha ti), Phaedrus (ô
Phaidre), to examine Lysias on this point (Lusian te peri toutôn exetasai), and all such as have written or
mean to write anything at all (kai allon
hostis pôpote ti gegraphen ê grapsei), whether in the field of public
affairs (eite politikon sungramma) or
private (eite idiôtikon), whether in
the verse of the poet (en metrô̢ hôs
poiêtês) or the plain speech of prose (ê aneu metrou hôs idiôtês;)?’ – Phaedrus: ‘Is it incumbent (Erôta̢s ei deometha;)! Why, life itself
would hardly be worth living save for pleasures like this (tinos men oun heneka k’an tis hôs eipein zô̢ê, all’ ê tôn
toioutôn hêdonôn heneka;): certainly not for those pleasures that
involve previous pain (ou gar pou
ekeinôn ge hôn prolupêthênai dei ê mêde hêsthênai), as do almost
all concerned with the body (ho dê
oligou pasai hai peri to sôma hêdonai echousi), which for that reason are
rightly called slavish (dio kai dikaiôs
andrapodôdeis keklêntai).’ – Socrates: ‘Well, I suppose we can spare the
time (Scholê men dê, hôs eoike);
and I think too that the cicadas overhead, singing after their wont in the hot
sun (kai hama moi dokousin hôs en tô̢
pnigei huper kephalês hêmôn hoi tettiges a̢dontes) and conversing with
one another (kai allêlois dialegomenoi),
don’t fail to observe us as well (kathoran
kai hêmas). So if they were to see us two (ei oun idoien kai nô) behaving like ordinary folk (kathaper tous pollous) at midday (en mesêmbria̢), not conversing (mê dialegomenous) but dozing (alla nustazontas) lazy-minded under their spell (kai
kêloumenous huph’ hautôn di argian
tês dianoias), they would very properly have the laugh of us (dikaiôs an katagelô̢en), taking us for
a pair of slaves that had invaded their retreat (hêgoumenoi andrapod’ atta sphisin elthonta eis to katagôgion)
like sheep (hôsper probatia), to
have their midday sleep beside the spring (mesêmbriazonta
peri tên krênên heudein). If however they see us conversing (ean de horôsi dialegomenous) and
steering clear of their bewitching siren-song (kai parapleontas sphas hôsper Seirênas akêlêtous), they might
feel respect for us and grant us that boon which heaven permits them to confer
upon mortals (ho geras para theôn
echousin anthrôpois didonai, tach’ an doien agasthentes).’ – Phaedrus:
‘Oh, what is that (Echousi de dê ti
touto;)? I don’t think I have heard of it (anêkoos gar, hôs eoike, tunchanô ôn).’ (258d7-259b4)
Before I
give Socrates’ answer, I think it proper to remark that the chorus of the
cicadas in the Phaedrus functions as
a counterpart to the chorus of the Frogs in the Frogs. Plato wants his Phaedrus
to be seen as a response to Aristophanes’ play. In the preceding post I
reproduced the introductory scene of the Phaedrus
in which Socrates admires ‘the shrill summery music (therinon te kai liguron hupêchei) of the cicada-choir (tô̢ tôn tettigôn chorô̢, 230c2-3)’.
I’ve
proposed to see Socrates’ emphasis on the importance of engaging one’s mind and
keeping it active in earnest discussion and investigation, quoted above, as an
answer to Aristophanes’ invective that he and his followers engaged in ‘idle
amusement’. Socrates’ answer to Phaedrus’ question concerning the story about
the cicadas confirms the conjecture. For Aristophanes’ invective against
Socrates and his friends for their addiction to ‘idle amusement’ was to give substance
to their ‘having thrown away mousikê’.
Socrates in his myth of the cicadas presents philosophy as the greatest mousikê. Those who have conversations ‘sitting
by him’ are not ‘idly amusing themselves’. Far from ‘throwing away mousikê they are practicing the greatest
mousikê.
Socrates:
‘Surely it is unbecoming in a devotee of the Muses (Ou men dê prepei ge philomouson andra) not to have heard of a
thing like that (tôn toioutôn anêkoon
einai)! The story is (legetai d’) that once upon a time these
creatures were men (hôs pot’ êsan
houtoi anthrôpoi) – men of an age before there were any Muses (tôn prin Mousas gegonenai): and that
when the latter came into the world (genomenôn
de Mousôn), and music made its appearance (kai phaneisê̢s ô̢dês), some of the people of those days were so
thrilled (houtôs ara tines tôn tote
exeplagêsan) with pleasure (huph’
hêdonês) that they went on singing (hôste
a̢dontes), and quite forgot to eat (êmelêsan
sitôn te) and drink (kai potôn)
until they actually died without noticing it (kai elathon teleutêsantes hautous). From them (ex hôn) in due course sprang the race
of cicadas (to tettigôn genos met’
ekeino phuetai), to which the Muses have granted the boon (geras touto para Mousôn labon) of
needing no sustenance right from their birth (mêden trophês deisthai genomenon), but singing from the very
first, without food or drink (all’ asiton
te kai apoton euthus a̢dein), until the day of their death (heôs an teleutêsê̢): after which they
go and report to the Muses (kai meta
tauta elthon para Mousas apangellein) how they severally are paid honour
amongst mankind, and by whom (tis tina
autôn tima̢ tôn enthade). So for those whom they report as having
honoured Terpsichore in the dance they win that Muse’s favour (Terpsichora̢ men oun tous en tois chorois
tetimêkotas autên apangellontes poiousi prosphilesterous); for those that
have worshipped in the rites of love the favour of Erato (tê̢ de Eratoi tous en tois erôtikois); and so with all the others
(kai tais allais houtôs), according
to the nature of the worship paid to each (kata
to eidos hekastês timês). To the
eldest (Tê̢ de presbutatê̢), Calliope (Kalliopê̢), and to her next
sister (kai tê̢ met’ autên) Urania (Ourania̢), they tell of
those who live a life of philosophy and so do honour to the music of those
twain (tous en philosophia̢ diagontas
te kai timôntas tên ekeinôn mousikên angellousin) whose theme is the heavens and all the story of gods and men (hai dê malista tôn Mousôn peri te ouranon
kai logous ousai theious te kai anthrôpinous), and whose song is the noblest of them all (hiasin kallistên phônên).’ (259b5-d7, passages from the Phaedrus are translated by R. Hackforth)
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