Let me
recapitulate. Socrates asked whether a rhetorician mustn’t know the truth of
whatever he is going to speak, if he is to speak well. Phaedrus answered that
according to what he had heard, the rhetorician does not need to know what is
really just or good, or beautiful, but only what appears so to people who will
give judgement, ‘because persuasion comes from that and not from the truth’. So
Socrates asked: ‘When an expert on rhetoric who is ignorant of good and evil
finds a city in the same condition … actually persuades the city to do evil
instead of good, what harvest do you think rhetoric reaps after that from the
seed it sowed?’
Phaedrus
answered ‘Not a very good one (Ou panu ge epieikȇ)’, and Socrates asked: ‘Have we abused the science of
speaking more coarsely than we should (Ar’ oun agroikoteron tou deontos
leloidorȇkamen tȇn tȏn logȏn technȇn;)? She might perhaps say (hȇ d’ isȏs an eipoi): “I do not insist that anyone who
learns how to speak should be ignorant of the truth (egȏ gar ouden’ agnoounta t’alȇthes anankazȏ manthanein legein); on the contrary (all’), if
my advice is anything (ei ti emȇ sumboulȇ), it is that he should get the truth first (ktȇsamenon ekeino) and then seize hold of me (houtȏs eme lambanein); but this at any rate is my boast (tode d’ oun mega legȏ), that without me (hȏs aneu emou) the man who knows what is true (tȏi ta onta eidoti) will be quite unable to persuade scientifically (ouden
ti mallon estai peithein technȇi).’ – Phaedrus: ‘So will she be right saying this (Oukoun
dikaia erei, legousa tauta;)? – Socrates: ‘I say she will (Phȇmi);
if, that is, the arguments advancing on her (ean hoi g’ epiontes autȇi logoi) testify that she is a science (marturȏsin einai technȇi). For I seem as it were to hear (hȏsper gar akouein dokȏ) certain arguments approaching and solemnly protesting even
before the case comes to court (tinȏn prosiontȏn kai diamarturomenȏn logȏn)
that she is lying (hoti pseudetai), and is not a science (kai ouk
esti technȇ) but an unscientific knack (all’
atechnos tribȇ); of speaking (tou de legein),
saith the Spartan (phȇsin ho Lakȏn),
a genuine science (etumos technȇ), without a grasp of truth (aneu
tou alȇtheias hȇphthai), neither exists (out’ estin)
nor will come into existence in the future (oute mȇpote husteron genȇtai).’ (260d2-e7, translations from the Phaedrus
are C. J. Rowe’s)
***
Why does suddenly,
out of the blue, enter ‘the Spartan’ (ho Lakȏn)
with an important message? I have argued that Plato composed the Phaedrus
as a response to Aristophanes’ Frogs, in 405 BC., in the last year of
the Peloponnesian war. Doesn’t this entry of the Spartan provide a powerful
argument against my dating?
In 406 the
Athenian navy won a splendid victory in the battle of Arginusae, references to
which play an important role in the Frogs. B.B. Rogers says in the
‘Introduction’ to his edition and translation of the comedy: ‘After the battle
of Arginusae, Athens had her last chance of emerging in safety from the
Peloponnesian war. The Lacedaemonians offered to evacuate Deceleia and conclude
a general peace, on the terms that each side should retain what it then held.
The wiser citizens were naturally anxious to embrace the offer, but the
populace, inflamed by the frenzy of Cleophon, rejected it altogether. On that
occasion, according to Aristotle, he appeared in the assembly tipsy and wearing
a military breastplate. And Aeschines adds that he threatened to chop off the
head of any one who dared to speak of peace.’ (The Frogs of Aristophanes,
2nd edition, 1919, pp. xxxviii-xxxix). By the time Aristophanes
staged his comedy, the people of Athens berated their folly. As Aeschylus
ascends from the Hades to save the city, the Chorus sings:
prȏta men euodian agathȇn apionti poiȇtȇi
es phaos ornumenȏi dote, daimones hoi kata gaias,
tȇi te polei megalȏn agathȏn agathas epinoias
‘First, as
the poet triumphant is passing away to the light, grant him
success on his journey, ye powers that are ruling below, grant that
he find for the city good counsels to guide her aright;'
panchu gar ek megalȏn acheȏn pausaimeth’ an houtȏs
argaleȏn t’ en hoplois xunodȏn. Kleophȏn de machesthȏ
k’allos ho boulomenos toutȏn patriois en arourais.
'so we at
last shall be free from the anguish, the fear, and the woe, freed from
the onset of war. Let Cleophon and his band battle, if
battle they must, far away in their own fatherland.'
Translation
Rogers, who notes on Cleophon: ‘He is here bidden to go and fight, since
fighting is what he so much desires, in his native fields of Thrace (his
mother’s country).’
Although
throughout the Peloponnesian wars a number of instances could be found to which
Socrates might be pointing with his question concerning a rhetorician who
persuades the city to do evil instead of good, I believe that when Plato made
Socrates ask the question, he had – and was sure his readers would have –
primarily Cleophon’s rhetorical performance in mind.
The entry of
the Spartan into the discussion reminds the readers that the Lacedaemonians are
worth listening to. The Spartan’s insistence that ‘a genuine science, without a
grasp of truth, neither exists nor will come into existence in the future’
forms a pivotal point around which the whole subsequent discussion on rhetoric
will be turning.
***
Socrates asks
Phaedrus: ‘What is it that the opposing parties in the law-courts do (en
dikastȇriois hoi antidikoi ti drȏsin;)? Isn’t it just speaking in opposition to each other (ouk
antilegousin mentoi;)?’ – Phaedrus: ‘Just that (Tout’ auto).’ – S.:
‘On the subject of what is just (peri tou dikaiou te) and unjust (kai
adikou;)? – P.: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – S.: ‘So the man who does this
scientifically (Oukoun ho technȇi touto drȏn)
will make the same thing appear (poiȇsei phanȇnai to auto) to the same people (tois autois) at one time just (tote
men dikaion), but at any time he wishes (hotan de boulȇtai),
unjust (adikon;)?’ – P.: ‘Certainly (Ti mȇn;).’
– S.: ‘And in public addresses (Kai en dȇmȇgoriai dȇ tȇi polei) he will make the same things (dokein
ta auta) appear at one time good (tote men agatha), at another time
the opposite (tote d’ au t’anantia;)?’ – P.: ‘Just so (Houtȏs).’
(261c4-d5)
Plato in the
Phaedrus accepts the view of rhetoric as a science of persuasion, which
characterised it in the Athenian democracy. Contrast the view of rhetoric which
Socrates proclaims at his trial: ‘The excellence of a rhetorician consists in
telling the truth (Aretȇ rȇtoros t’alȇthȇ legein, Pl. Ap. 18a5-6).’
The science
of persuasion, thus understood, involves deception, and it is precisely at this
point, Plato argues, that the preoccupation with truth is essential, if it is
to become a science. Socrates: ‘Does deception come about more in the case of
things which are widely different (apatȇ poteron en polu diapherousi gignetai
mallon) or in those
which differ little (ȇ oligon;)?’ – Phaedrus.: ‘In those which
differ little (En tois oligon).’ – S.: ‘Now when you are passing over
from one thing to its opposite you will be more likely to escape detection if
you take small steps than if you take large ones (Alla
ge dȇ kata smikron
metabainȏn mallon lȇseis elthȏn epi to enation ȇ kata mega).’ – P.: Certainly (Pȏs d’ ou;).’ – S.: ‘In that case the person who intends to deceive someone else,
but be undeceived himself, must have a precise knowledge of the resemblance and
the dissimilarity between the things that are (Dei ara ton mellonta apatȇsein men allon, auton de mȇ apatȇsesthai, tȇn homoiotȇta tȏn ontȏn kai anomoiotȇta akribȏs dieidenai).’ – P.: ‘Necessarily (Anankȇ men oun).’ – S.: So will he be able (Ȇ oun hoios te estai), if he is ignorant of the truth of
each thing (alȇtheian agnoȏn hekastou), to identify the resemblance,
whether small or great, which the other things have to the thing he does not
know (tȇn tou agnooumenou homoiotȇta smikran te kai megalȇn en tois allois diagignȏskein;)?’ – P.: ‘Impossible (Adunaton).’ – S.: ‘Then clearly those who
hold beliefs contrary to what is the case and are deceived have this kind of
thing creeping on them through certain resemblances (Oukoun tois para ta
onta doxazousi kai apatȏmenois dȇlon hȏs to pathos touto di’ homoiotȇtȏn tinȏn eiserruȇ).’ – P.: ‘It does happen that way (Gignetai
g’oun houtȏs).’ – S.: ‘So is there any way in which a man will be
expert (Estin oun hopȏs technikos estai) at making
others cross over little by little from what is the case on each occasion, via
the resemblances (metabibazein kata smikron dia tȏn homoiotȇtȏn apo tou ontos hekastote), leading them
away towards the opposite (epi t’ounantion apagȏn), or at escaping this himself (ȇ autos touto diapheugein), if he has not recognised (ho mȇ egnȏrikȏs)
what each thing that is actually is (ho estin hekaston tȏn ontȏn;)?’ P.: ‘No, never (Ou mȇ pote).’ – S.: ‘In that case, my friend, anyone who does not know the truth,
but has made it his business to hunt down appearances, will give us a science
of speech which is, so it seems, ridiculously unscientific (Logȏn ara technȇn, ȏ hetaire, ho tȇn alȇtheian mȇ eidȏs, doxas de tethȇreukȏs, geloian tina, hȏs eoike, kai atechnon parexetai).’ – P.: ‘You may be right (Kinduneuei).’
(261e6-262c4)
At this
point Socrates suggests to Phaedrus: ‘So do you want to take the speech of
Lysias which you are carrying with you, and the ones I made, and see in them
something of the features which we say are scientific and unscientific (Boulei
oun en tȏi Lusiou logȏi hon phereis, kai en hois hȇmeis eipomen idein ti hȏn ephamen atechnȏn te kai entechnȏn einai;)?’ – Phaedrus: ‘More than anything (Pantȏn ge pou malista); as things are, our discussion is somewhat bare (hȏs nun ge psilȏs pȏs legomen), because we do not have sufficient examples (ouk echontes hikana
paradeigmata).’ – Socrates: ‘What is more (Kai mȇn),
by some chance (kata tuchȇn ge tina) – so it seems (hȏs eoiken) – the two speeches which were given do have in them example (errȇthȇtȇn tȏ logȏ echonte ti paradeigma) of how someone who knows the
truth (hȏs an ho eidȏs to alȇthes) can mislead his audience by
making play in what he says (prospaizȏn en logois paragoi tous akouontas). I myself (kai egȏge),
Phaedrus (ȏ Phaidre), blame the gods of this place (aitiȏmai tous entopious theous); and perhaps too the interpreters of the Muses (isȏs de kai hoi tȏn Mousȏn prophȇtai) who sing over our heads (hoi huper kephalȇs ȏidoi, i.e. the cicadas, see 258e6-259d7)
may have breathed this gift upon us (epipepneukotes an hȇmin eien touto to geras) – for I don’t think I share in any science of
speaking (ou gar pou egȏge technȇs tinos tou legein metochos).’ (262c5-d6).
As can be
seen, Socrates points to his two speeches as an exemplification of the
scientific principle that he has just adumbrated, but gets himself entangled in
his self-proclaimed ignorance. Phaedrus gets impatient: ‘So be it (Estȏ hȏs legeis); only make clear what you’re saying
(monon dȇlȏson ho phȇis).’ – Socrates: ‘Well then, read me the beginning of
Lysias’ speech (Ithi dȇ moi anagnȏthi tȇn tou Lusiou logou archȇn).’
– Phaedrus: ‘You know how matters are with me (Peri men tȏn emȏn pragmatȏn
epistasai), and you have heard me say how I think it is our advantage that
this should happen (kai hȏs nomizȏ sumpherein hȇmin toutȏn genomenȏn, akȇkoas);
and I claim that I should not fail to achieve what I ask (axiȏ de mȇ dia
touto atuchȇsai hȏn deomai) because I happen not to be in love with you (hoti
ouk erastȇs sou tunchanȏ). Those who are in love repent of the services
they do when – (hȏs ekeinois men tote metamelei)‘ – Socrates: ‘Stop (Pausai).
We must say, then, where Lysias goes wrong and what he does unscientifically (ti
dȇ oun houtos hamartanei kai atechnon poiei lekteon). Am I right (ȇ gar;)?’
Phaedrus.: ‘Yes (Nai).’ (262d7-263a1)
But instead
of explaining ‘where Lysias goes wrong and what he does unscientifically’, as
one might expect, Socrates returns to the principle (outlined above at
261e6-262c4) that promises to transform the ‘art of persuasion’ into real science (technȇ). Socrates asks: ‘Isn’t this sort of thing, at least, clear to
anyone (Ar’ oun ou panti dȇlon to ge toionde) –
that we are in agreement about some things like this (hȏs peri men enia tȏn
toioutȏn homonoȇtikȏs echomen, Verdenius notes on tȏn toioutȏn ‘such
as I am thinking of’), and at odds about others (peri d’ enia stasiastikȏs)?’
– Phaedrus: ‘I think I understand what you mean (Dokȏ men ho legeis
manthanein), but tell me this more clearly (eti d’ eipe saphesteron).’
– Socrates: ‘When someone utters the word (Hotan tis onoma eipȇi) “iron”
(sidȇrou) or “silver” (ȇ argurou), don’t we all have the same
thing in mind (ar’ ou to auto pantes dienoȇthȇmen)?’ – Phaedrus:
‘Absolutely (Kai mala).’ – S.: ‘What about the words “just” or “good” (Ti
d’ hotan dikaiou ȇ agathou)? Don’t we diverge (ouk allos allȇi pheretai),
and disagree both with each other (kai amphisbȇtoumen allȇlois te)
and with ourselves (kai hȇmin autois;)? – P.: ’Certainly (Panu
men oun)’. – S.: ‘Then we are in accord in some cases (En men ara tois sumphȏnoumen),
not in others (en de tois d’ou;)?’ – P.: ‘Just so (Houtȏ).’ – S.:
‘So in which of the two are we easier to deceive (Poterȏthi oun
euapatȇtoteroi esmen), and in which does rhetoric have the greater power (kai
hȇ rȇtorikȇ en poterois meizon dunatai;)?’
When Phaedrus answers ‘Clearly in
those cases where we go in different directions (Dȇlon en hois planȏmetha),’
Socrates makes an important point: ‘So the man who intends to pursue a science
of rhetoric (Oukoun ton mellonta technȇn rȇtorikȇn metienai) must first
have divided these up methodically (prȏton men dei tauta hodȏi diȇirȇsthai),
and grasped some mark which distinguishes each of the two kinds (kai
eilȇphenai tina charaktȇra hekaterou tou eidous), those in which people are
bound to tread uncertainly (en hȏi te anankȇ to plȇthos planasthai), and
those in which they are not (kai en hȏi mȇ).’ – Phaedrus: ‘A fine kind
of thing he will have identified, Socrates, if he grasps this latter kind (Kalon
g’oun an, ȏ Sȏkrates, eidos eiȇ katanenoȇkȏs).’ – Socrates: ‘Then (Epeita
ge), I think (oimai), as he comes across each thing (pros
hekastȏi gignomenon), he must not be caught unawares (mȇ lanthanein)
but look sharply to see which of the two types the thing he is going to speak
about belongs to (all’ oxeȏs aisthanesthai peri hou an mellȇi erein poterou
on tunchanei tou genous).’ (263a2-c5)
Having established this, Socrates
asks: ‘Well then (Ti oun;), are we to say that love belongs with the
disputed cases or the undisputed ones (ton erȏta poteron phȏmen einai tȏn
amphisbȇtȇsimȏn ȇ tȏn mȇ;)?’ Phaedrus replies: ‘With the disputed (Tȏn
amphisbȇtȇsimȏn), surely (dȇpou); otherwise, do you think it would
have been possible for you to say (ȇ oiei an soi enchȏrȇsai eipein) what
you said about it just now (ha nundȇ eipes peri autou), both that it is
harmful to beloved and lover (hȏs blabȇ te esti tȏi erȏmenȏi kai tȏi erȏnti)
and then on the other hand (kai authis) that it is really the greatest
of all goods (hȏs megiston tȏn agathȏn tunchanei;)?’ (263c7-12)
Phaedrus’ words are framed so as to
make us expect that Socrates will exemplify his newly formulated
scientific principle by showing us how he moved by small steps from proving the
love to be ‘harmful to beloved and lover’ to proving ‘that it is really the
greatest of all goods’.
Instead, Socrates introduces a new
point: ‘Admirably said (Arista legeis); but tell me this too (all’
eipe kai tode) – for of course because of my inspired condition then, I
don’t quite remember (egȏ gar toi dia to enthousiastikon ou panu memnȇmai)
– whether I defined love (ei hȏrisamȇn erȏta) when beginning my speech (archomenos
tou logou).’ – Phaedrus: ‘Yes indeed you did, most emphatically (Nȇ Dia
amȇchanȏs hȏs sphodra).’ – Socrates: ‘Hey now (Pheu)! How much more
scientific you’re saying the Nymphs (hosȏi legeis technikȏteras Numphas),
daughters of Achelous (tas Achelȏiou), and Pan (kai Pana), son of
Hermes (ton Hermou), are than Lysias son of Cephalus in the business of
speaking (Lusiou tou Kephalou pros logous einai). Or am I wrong (ȇ
ouden legȏ)? Did Lysias too compel us when beginning his speech on love
to take love as some one definite thing (alla kai ho Lusias
archomenos tou erȏtikou ȇnankasen hȇmas hupolabein ton Erȏta hen ti tȏn ontȏn),
which he himself had in mind (ho autos eboulȇthȇ), and did he
then bring the whole speech which followed to its conclusion by ordering it in relation
to that (kai pros touto ȇdȇ suntaxamenos panta ton husteron logon
dieperanato;)? Shall we read the beginning again (boulei palin anagnȏmen
tȇn archȇn autou;)?’ – Phaedrus: ‘If you think we should (Ei soi ge dokei);
but what you’re looking for (ho mentoi zȇteis) isn’t there (ouk est’
autothi).’ (263d1-e4)
Socrates insists: ‘Quote it (Lege),
so that I can hear the man himself (hina akousȏ autou ekeinou).’ The
quotation is this time slightly longer; Socrates lets Phaedrus finish the last
introductory sentence, which he interrupted on the previous reading: ‘Those who are in love repent of the
services they do when their desire ceases (epeidan tȇs epithumias pausȏntai).’ – Socrates: ‘Indeed he seems
to be a long way from doing what we are looking for (Ȇ pollou dein eoike poiein hode ge ho zȇtoumen), since he doesn’t even begin at the beginning, but from the end,
trying to swim through his speech in reverse, on his back (hos oude ap’
archȇs all’ apo teleutȇs ex huptias anapalin dianein
epicheirei ton logon),
and begins (kai archetai) from the things which the lover would say to
his beloved when he had already finished (aph’ hȏn pepaumenos an ȇdȇ ho erastȇs legoi pros ta paidika). Or am I wrong (ȇ ouden eipon), Phaedrus, my dear (Phaidre, philȇ kephalȇ;)?’ (263e5-264a8)
***
Rowe notes on Socrates’ ex huptias at
264a5: “‘on his back’: so ‘taking it easy’, de Vries; or else ex huptias itself
means ‘backwards’ (so LSJ, s.v. huptios, following some ancient readers
of the Phaedrus), in which case it is explained and supported by anapalin
(‘in reverse’).” Rowe takes on board LSJ’s explanation of huptios and
translates Socrates’ hos
oude ap’ archȇs all’ apo teleutȇs ex huptias anapalin dianein epicheirei ton logon accordingly. But what does Socrates
mean when he says that Lysias ‘doesn’t even begin from the beginning (ap’
archȇs), but from the end, trying to swim through his speech in reverse, on his
back’? To answer this question, we must realise, firstly, that with these word
Socrates clarifies his earlier question: ‘Did
Lysias too compel us when beginning his speech on love to take love as some one
definite thing, which he himself had in mind, and did he then bring the whole speech
which followed to its conclusion by ordering it in relation to that?’ For had
Lysias done so, he would have swam correctly, from the beginning towards the
end. Secondly, we must look into Lysias’ speech, where we can see that Lysias
slowly ‘swims’ to the point, which in Socrates’ view is the main point, i.e. to
something approaching a characterization of Erȏs (‘Love’) in its
negativity. At 231d2-6 Lysias says: ‘They themselves [i.e. those who are in
love] agree (kai gar autoi homologousi) that they are sick rather than
in their right mind (nosein mallon ȇ sȏphronein), and that they know
that they are out of their mind (kai eidenai hoti kakȏs phronousin), but
cannot control themselves (all’ ou dunasthai hautȏn kratein).’ At
233a5-b2 he adds: ‘For they praise words and actions [of the boy they are at
any time in love with] even if it means disregarding what is best (ekeinoi
men gar kai para to beltiston ta te legomena kai ta prattomena epainousin),
in part because they are afraid to incur dislike (ta men dediotes mȇ
apechthȏntai), in part because their own judgement is weekend as a result
of their desire (ta de kai autoi cheiron dia tȇn epithumian gignȏskontes).
For such are the ways that loves displays itself (toiauta gar ho erȏs
epideiknutai).’
***
Phaedrus
replies: ‘What he makes his speech about, Socrates, is certainly an ending (Estin
ge toi dȇ, ȏ Sȏkrates, teleutȇ, peri hȏn ton logon poieitai).’ (264b1-2)
***
Christopher
Rowe notes on Phaedrus’ reply to Socrates: ‘Some translators either have not
noticed the pun, or deliberately suppress it: out of a sense of decorum, or
because they think Plato above that sort of thing? It seems innocuous enough.
Alternatively the view is that no levity is to be allowed in a serious
discussion. But is it all in any case quite so straight-faced?’
Speaking of translators who ‘either have not
noticed the pun, or deliberately suppress it’, Rowe must be thinking in the
first place of Hackforth, who translates Phaedrus’ words: ‘I grant you,
Socrates, that the substance of his address is really a peroration.’ Lysias’
speech is anything but a peroration.
I have not
noticed any pun in Phaedrus’ words, and it took me a while to realise what Rowe
is, presumably, talking about. Does one talk of a penis as an ‘ending’? I
remember vaguely that my mother talked of my willy as a ‘koneček’, a diminutive of ‘konec’ i.e.
‘end’, ‘ending’ - both ‘koneček’ and ‘konec’ are masculin nouns. But I doubt it that the Ancient Greeks would refer to the membrum
virile by teleutȇ, a female gender noun.
Phaedrus’ reply to Socrates is fully
explainable by the first sentence of Lysias’ speech: ‘You know how matters are with me,
and you have heard me say how I think it is our advantage that this should
happen.’ Any pun that Rowe appears to be speaking about would detract the
reader from what Socrates has said and what he is going to say.
***
Socrates: ‘What
about the rest (Ti de t’alla;)? Don’t the elements of the speech seem to
have been thrown in a random heap (ou chudȇn dokei beblȇsthai ta tou logou;)? Or do you think the second thing
he said had to be placed second for some necessary reason (ȇ phainetai to deuteron eirȇmenon ek tinos anankȇs deuteron dein tethȇnai),
or any of the others where they were (ȇ ti allo tȏn rȇthentȏn;)?
It seems to me (emoi men gar edoxen), as one who knows nothing about it
(hȏs mȇden eidoti), that the writer had said just what
happened to occur to him, in a not ignoble way (ouk agennȏs to epion eirȇsthai tȏi graphonti); but do you know of any constraint deriving from the
science of speech-writing which made him place these thoughts one beside
another in this order (su d’ echeis tina anankȇn logographikȇn hȇi tauta ekeinos houtȏs ephexȇs par’ allȇla ethȇken;)?’ – Ph.: ‘You’re kind (Chrȇstos ei) to think me competent (hoti me hȇgȇi hikanon einai) to understand so precisely what he
has done (ta ekeinou houtȏs akribȏs diidein).’ – S.: ‘This much I think you would say (Alla tode ge oimai se
phanai an): that every speech should be put together like a living
creature (dein panta logon hȏsper zȏion sunestanai), as it were with a body of its own (sȏma ti echonta auton hautou), so as not to lack either a head or feet (hȏste mȇte akephalon onta mȇte apoun), but to have both middle parts (alla mesa te echein) and
extremities (kai akra), so written as to fit both each other and
the whole (preponta allȇlois kai tȏi holȏi gegrammena).’ – P.: ‘Yes indeed (Pȏs gar ou;).’ (264b3-c6)
***
Socrates’
last entry is of some importance for Rowe’s interpretation of Plato’s Phaedrus
and, in consequence, of Plato’s dialogues in their totality. In the first
paragraph of his article on ‘The argument and structure of Plato’s Phaedrus’
(Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society, 1986, p. 106) he
writes: ‘At the end of their discussion of Lysias’ written logos,
Socrates and Phaedrus agree on the principle that ‘every logos should be
put together like a living creature, as it were with a body of its own,
so as not to lack either a head or feet, but to have both middle parts and
extremities, so written as to fit both each other and the whole’ (264c). If we
accept Ficino’s view [i.e. that in the second speech of Socrates “the principal
mysteries” of the Phaedrus are contained], the Phaedrus appears
to be in an even worse case than Lysias’ Eroticus: instead of having no
head, it will have two – a large one consisting in Socrates’ speech, and a much
smaller one, consisting in the final conclusions about speaking and writing.’
But when
Socrates formulates the given principle, he doesn’t have the Phaedrus in
mind; what he and Phaedrus talk about is Lysias’ speech and Socrates’ two
speeches. It is true that Socrates formulates the principle as generally valid,
but this general validity is predetermined by his generalizing question ‘Did Lysias too compel us when beginning his
speech on love to take love as some one definite thing, which he himself had in
mind, and did he then bring the whole speech which followed to its conclusion
by ordering it in relation to that?’ (263d7-e2) and by his answer to this
question ‘Indeed he
seems to be a long way from doing what we are looking for, since he doesn’t
even begin at the beginning, but from the end, trying to swim through his
speech in reverse, on his back, and begins from the things which the lover
would say to his beloved when he had already finished’ (264a4-7) The question
is, how is it possible that when Plato wrote the Phaedrus, he could hold
that every well written logos should begin with a definition of ‘some one definite thing’, which the author
‘had in mind’, and ‘then bring the whole speech which followed to its
conclusion by ordering it in relation to that’. On any existing late dating of
the Phaedrus there is no answer to this question. On my dating of the Phaedrus
Plato wrote the dialogue at the time when his ambition to become a politician
were at its strongest. He did not intend to write any dialogues; what he had in
mind were the speeches he was to give to the assembly of the people of Athens.
Yet in the last section of the Phaedrus,
when he had the dialogue in front of his mind, he could not help but see it as
a logos to which his principle formulated at 264c applied. And so he
made sure that ‘the
final conclusions about speaking and writing’ could be viewed as the feet on
which the whole dialogue stands. For he integrates ‘the final conclusions about
speaking and writing’ into the second part of the dialogue by seeing it as
precondition for his solution ‘of the issues we wanted to look into (Hȏn dȇ peri boulȇthentes idein), which brought us to our present conclusion (aphikometha
eis tode): how we are to weigh up the reproach aimed at Lysias about his
writing of speeches (hopȏs to Lusiou oneidos exetasaimen tȇs tȏn logȏn graphȇs peri, 277a9-b1)’. With ‘the reproach
aimed at Lysias’ the second part of the dialogue begins (257c); furthermore, this
reproach links the second part to Socrates’ second speech, and thus to the
first part of the dialogue.
***
After discussing Lysias’ speech as an
example of deficient rhetoric, Socrates points to his two speeches: ‘For in my
view there was something in them (ȇn gar ti en autois, hȏs dokȏ), which
should be noticed (prosȇkon idein) by those who wish to inquire into
speeches (tois boulomenois peri logȏn skopein).’ – Phaedrus: ‘What sort
of thing do you mean (To poion dȇ legeis;)? – Socrates: ‘They were, I
think, opposites (Enantiȏ pou ȇstȇn): the one said that favours should
be granted to the lover, the other to the non-lover (ho men hȏs tȏi erȏnti,
ho d’ hȏs tȏi mȇ dei charizesthai, elegetȇn).’ – Phaedrus: ‘And very
manfully too (Kai mal’ andrikȏs).’ – S.: ‘I thought you were going to
speak the truth (Ōimȇn se t’alȇthes erein), and say “madly” (hoti
manikȏs); and that, in fact, was the very thing I was looking for (ho
mentoi ezȇtoun estin auto touto). We said, didn’t we, that love was a kind
of madness (manian gar tina ephȇsamen einai ton erȏta. ȇ gar;)?’ – P.:
‘Yes (Nai).’ – S.: ‘And that there were two kinds of madness (manias
de ge eidȇ duo), the one caused by sicknesses of a human sort (tȇn men
hupo nosȇmatȏn anthrȏpinȏn), the other coming about from a divinely caused
reversal of our customary ways of behaving (tȇn de hupo theias exallagȇs tȏn
eiȏthotȏn nomimȏn gignomenȇn).’ – P.: ‘Certainly (Panu ge).’ – S.:
‘And of the divine kind (Tȇs de theias) we distinguished four parts,
belonging to four gods (tettarȏn theȏn tettara merȇ dielomenoi), taking
the madness of the seer as Apollo’s inspiration (mantikȇn men epipnoian
Apollȏnos thentes), that of mystic rites as Dionysius’ (Dionusou de
telestikȇn), poetic madness, for its part, as the Muses’ (Mousȏn d’ au poiȇtikȇn),
and the fourth as that belonging to Aphrodite and Love (tetartȇn de
Aphroditȇs kai Erȏtos); the madness of love we said was best (erȏtikȇn
manian ephȇsamen te aristȇn einai), and by expressing the experience of
love through some kind of simile (kai ouk oid’ hopȇi to erȏtikon pathos
apeikazontes), which allowed us perhaps to grasp some truth (isȏs
men alȇthous tinos ephaptomenoi), though may be also it took us in a
wrong direction (tacha d’ an kai allose parapheromenoi), and mixing
together (kerasantes) a not wholly implausible speech (ou pantapasin
apithanon logon), we sang a playful hymn in the form of a story (muthikon
tina humnon prosepaisamen), in a fittingly quiet way (metriȏs te kai
euphȇmȏs), to my master and yours, Phaedrus, Love (ton emon te kai son despotȇn
Erȏta, ȏ Phaidre), watcher over beautiful boys (kalȏn paidȏn ephoron).’
– P.: ‘And it gave me great pleasure to hear it (Kai mala emoige ouk aȇdȏs
akousai).’ – S.: ‘Well then, let us take up this point from it (Tode
toinun autothen labȏmen): how the speech was able to pass from censure
to praise (hȏs apo tou psegein pros to epainein eschen ho logos
metabȇnai).’ – P.: ‘What aspect of that are you referring to, precisely
(Pȏs dȇ oun touto legeis;)?’ (264e7-265c7)
Hackforth translates Phaedrus’
question differently: ‘Well now, what do you make of that?’ And I believe his
translation is more apposite, for Phaedrus is not asking about some aspect ‘of
the speech passing from censure to praise’, but he is enquiring what does Socrates
mean by his question. For undoubtedly, he has still in mind Socrates’ notion of
‘crossing over little by little (metabibazein kata smikron) from what is
the case on each occasion, via the resemblances, leading the audience away
towards the opposite’ (dia tȏn homoiotȇtȏn apo tou ontos hekastote epi
t’ounantion, 262b5-7). When Socrates at that point suggested that his two
speeches can be taken as an example (paradeigma) of it, Phaedrus did not
properly take in what Socrates was saying. His response was: ‘Let it be as you
say’ (Estȏ hȏs legeis, Rowe’s ‘So be it’, 262d7). But now he appears to
have realised that on the way from Socrates’ first to his second speech there
was no passing ‘from what is the case on each occasion, via the resemblances,
leading the audience away towards the opposite’.
***
Socrates’ passing over from his first
to his second speech was dramatic. He ended his first speech with the words
‘the attentions of a lover do not come with goodwill (hȇ erastou philia ou
met’ eunoias gignetai); no, like food (alla sitiou tropon), for the
purpose of filling up (charin plȇsmonȇs) – as wolf loves lambs (hȏs
lukes arnas agapȏsin), so is lover’s affection for a boy (hȏs paida
philousin erastai, 241c7-d1).’ Then he wanted to go away, but as he was
about to cross the river he was stopped by his divine sign (to daimonion,
242b8-9). And he realised why: ‘A dreadful speech it was, Phaedrus, dreadful,
both the one you brought with you, and the one you compelled me to make (Deinon,
ȏ Phaidre, deinon te logon autos te ekomisas eme te ȇnankasas eipein,
242d4-5) … if love is, as indeed he is, a god or something divine (ei d’
estin, hȏsper oun esti, theos ȇ ti theion ho Erȏs), he could not be
anything evil (ouden an kakon eiȇ); whereas the two recent speeches
spoke of him as if he were like that (tȏ de logȏ tȏ nundȇ peri autou eipetȇn
hȏs toioutou ontos, 242d9-e4) … So I, my friend, must purify myself (emoi
men oun, ȏ phile, kathȇrasthai anankȇ), and for those who offend in the
telling of stories there is an ancient method of purification (estin de tois
hamartanousi peri muthologian katharmos archaios), which Homer did not
understand (hon Homȇros men ouk ȇistheto), but Stesichorus did (Stȇsichoros
de). For when he was deprived of sight (tȏn gar ommatȏn sterȇtheis)
because of his libel against Helen (dia tȇn Helenȇs kakȇgorian), he did
not fail to recognize the reason, like Homer; because he was a true follower of
Muses, he knew it (ouk ȇgnoȇsen hȏsper Homȇros, all’ hate mousikos ȏn egnȏ
tȇn aitian), and immediately composed the verses (kai poiei euthus)
“This tale I told is false. There is
no doubt:
Ouk est’ etumos
logos houtos
You made no journey in the well-decked
ships
oud’ ebas en
nȇusin euselmois
Nor voyaged to the citadel of Troy.”
oud’ hikeo
Pergama Troias
And after composing the whole of the
so-called Palinode (kai poiȇsas dȇ pasan tȇn kaloumenȇn Palinȏidian)
he at once regained his sight (parachrȇma aneblepsen – Rowe notes:
‘’Having first claimed, like Homer, that Helen herself went to Troy with Paris …
Stesichorus [so the story goes] then recanted and said that it was not Helen
but a phantom in her shape.’). So I shall follow a wiser course than
Stesichorus and Homer (egȏ oun sophȏteros ekeinȏn genȇsomai) in just
this respect (kat’ auto ge touto): I shall try to render my palinode to
Love before anything happens to me because of my libel against him (prin gar
ti pathein dia tȇn tou Erȏtos kakȇgorian peirasomai autȏi apodounai tȇn
palinȏidian), with my head bare (gumnȇi tȇi kephalȇi), and not
covered as it was before, for shame (kai ouk hȏsper tote hup’ aischunȇs
enkekalummenos).’ (243a2-b7)
No reader could forget this, so every
reader had to be asking what Plato was about with Socrates’ suggestion that one
could learn from his two speeches ‘how the speech was able to pass from censure
to praise’ (hȏs apo tou psegein pros to epainein eschen ho logos metabȇnai,
265c5-6).
***
Instead of answering Phaedrus’
question ‘What do you mean (Pȏs dȇ oun touto legeis; 265c7)?’, Socrates points
to something else, which his two speeches are supposed to exemplify: ‘To me it
seems (Emoi men phainetai) that the rest really was playfully done,
by way of amusement (ta men alla tȏi onti paidiai pepaisthai); but
by chance two principles of method of the following sort were expressed,
and it would be gratifying if one could grasp their significance in a
scientific way (toutȏn de tinȏn ek tuchȇs rȇthentȏn duoin eidoin, ei autoin
tȇn dunamin technȇi labein dunaito tis, ouk achari, 265c8-d1).’
Socrates’ previous reflection on his second speech ‘it allowed us perhaps to grasp some truth (isȏs
men alȇthous tinos ephaptomenoi), though may be also it took us in a wrong
direction (tacha d’ an kai allose parapheromenoi, 265b6-8)’, read in the
light of his new reflection, appears to mean that the only truth his second
speech allowed us to grasp were the two principles of method expressed in it.
But can Socrates really mean what he is thus suggesting?
Phaedrus asks what were the two
principles of method, and Socrates explains: ‘‘First, there is perceiving together and bringing into
one form items that are scattered in many places (Eis mian idean sunorȏnta agein ta pollachȇi diesparmena), in order that one can define each
thing (hina hekaston horizomenos) and make clear (dȇlon poiȇi) whatever it is that one wishes to instruct one’s
audience about on any occasion (peri hou an aei didaskein ethelȇi).
Just so with the things said just now about love (hȏsper ta nundȇ peri erȏtos),
about what it is when defined (ho estin horisthen): whether it was right
or wrong (eit’ eu eite kakȏs elechthȇ), the speech was able to say what was at any rate clear and
self-consistent because of that (to g’oun saphes kai to auto hautȏi homologoumenon dia tauta eschen eipein ho logos).’ – Phaedrus: ‘And what is the
second kind of principle you refer to (To d’ heteron dȇ eidos ti legeis), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates;)?’ – Socrates: ‘Being able to cut it up again, form by form (To palin
kat’ eidȇ dunasthai diatemnein), according to its natural joints (kat’
arthra hȇi pephuken), and not try to break any part into
pieces (kai mȇ epicheirein katagnunai meros mȇden),
like an inexpert butcher (kakou mageirou tropȏi chrȏmenon); as just now the two speeches (all’
hȏsper arti tȏ logȏ) took the unreasoning aspect of the mind as one form
together (to men aphron tȇs dianoias hen ti koinȇi eidos elabetȇn), and just as a single body naturally has its parts
in pairs, with both members of each pair having the same name (hȏsper de sȏmatos ex henos dipla kai homȏnuma pephuke), and labelled respectively left and right (skaia, ta de
dexia klȇthenta), so too the too speeches
regarded derangement as naturally a single form in us (houtȏ kai to tȇs paranoias hȏs hen en hȇmin pephukos eidos hȇgȇsamenȏ tȏ logȏ), and the one cut off the part on the left-hand side
(ho men to ep’ aristera temnomenos meros), then cutting it again
(palin touto temnȏn), and not giving up (ouk epanȇken)
until it had found among the parts a love which is, as we say, “left-handed” (prin en autois
epheurȏn onomazomenon skaion tina erȏta),
and abused it with full justice (eloidorȇsen mal’ en dikȇi), while the other speech led us to the parts of
madness on the right-hand side (ho d’ eis ta en dexiai tȇs manias agagȏn hȇmas),
and discovering and exhibiting a love which shares the same name as the
other, but is divine (homȏnumon ekeinȏi, theion d’ au tina erȏta epheurȏn kai proteinamenos), it praised it (epȇinesen) as cause of our greatest goods (hȏs megiston aition hȇmin agathȏn).’
(265d3-266b1)
As I have mentioned in one of my previous
posts (4a C. J. Rowe’s
arguments for a late dating of the Phaedrus – the structure of the Phaedrus), Hackforth notes that there are serious difficulties in this
paragraph: ‘Socrates speaks as though the generic concept of madness (to
aphron, paranoia, mania) had been common to his two speeches, and there had
been a formal divisional procedure followed in both of them. Neither of these
things is true. In the first speech Socrates starts by bringing erȏs
under the genus epithumia but this is superseded by hubris, which
is declared to be polumeles kai polueides [‘it has many branches and forms’]
(238a); it is then shown that erȏs is a species of hubris, but this is done not
by successive dichotomies, but by an informal discrimination from an indefinite
number of other species, of which only two are named. It is only in the second
speech that Socrates starts with a clear concept of “madness”; but here again
there is no scheme of successive divisions, whether dichotomous or other: there
is merely the single step of a fourfold division.’ (Plato’s PHAEDRUS,
Translated with an Introduction and Commentary by R. Hackforth, Cambridge at
the University Press, 1952, repr. 1972, p. 133, n. 1)’
As I was thinking
of this incongruity in connection with Rowe’s interpretation, which is founded on
Socrates’ suggestion at 265c-d ‘that the only fully serious aspect of the
[second] speech was a demonstration of the method of collection and division’ –
three passages in the second speech suddenly came to my mind, which might have
incriminated Plato and Socrates for introducing new deities. In the first of
these Socrates dismisses the traditional conception of the gods as irrational
(246c7-d2), in the second he presents the Forms as beings the ‘closeness to
which gives god his divinity’ (249c6), and in the third he presents two of
these beings, the nature of beauty (tȇn tou kallous phusin) together with self-control (meta
sȏphrosunȇs), as they are standing on a holy pedestal (en hagnȏi bathrȏi, 254b3-7). When Socrates says about his second speech
that ‘it allowed us perhaps to grasp some
truth, though may be also it took us in a wrong direction (265b6-8)’,
doesn’t he refer to these three passages in particular? If so, why didn’t he
leave those three passages out?
And so I
began to think that Plato must have circulated the first part of the Phaedrus
independently. Once in circulation, the passages for which he and Socrates
could be incriminated could not be simply taken away. A new part had to be
added, in which Socrates’ second speech could be played down as a mere paidia,
a myth told for amusement. Luckily for Plato, when the democrats defeated the
Thirty they passed an amnesty that applied to any crime committed prior to it;
in consequence, Plato could not be prosecuted for anything he wrote in the Phaedrus,
which was written and published in 405 B.C. (for this dating see ‘Plato’s first
two dialogues’ on my website).
Plato at the
same time indicates to an intelligent reader that he should not take the
‘downplaying’ of Socrates’ second speech seriously. He does so by sandwiching Socrates’
two reflections that are downplaying the second speech in between two separate
contributions to scientific rhetoric, both of which are important as such, while
Socrates’ suggestion that his two speeches, and his second speech in
particular, may serve as an example of their application, is spurious, as is
the downplaying of his second speech.
Let me add
that in his discussion of the second principle, that of divisions, Plato
presents a good example of how a speech, with ‘a minor’ change, can be turned
into its opposite. After presenting his first speech, Socrates dismissed it as
false (242d-243d); but in the discussion of the second principle of dialectic
he presented it as ‘the “left-handed” Eros, which was abused with full justice’
(266a5-7). But most importantly, Socrates ended his discussion of the second dialectic
principle by ascertaining that ‘the other speech led us to the parts of madness
on the right-hand side, and discovering and exhibiting a love which shares the
same name as the other, but is divine, it praised it as cause of our greatest
goods’ (266a6-b1). In doing so he reaffirmed the two most important themes of
the second speech, the immortality of the soul and the presentation of being
that really is, i.e. of the Forms; for it is on their foundation that the
divine Love is initiated in the dialogue.
