On my
website, in ‘Plato’s first two dialogues’ I discussed the Phaedrus and the Charmides.
In considering the Phaedrus as
Plato’s first and the Charmides as
his second dialogue I was guided by the Seventh
Letter, in which Plato speaks of his youthful hopes of getting engaged in
politics. His desire to do politics was the strongest in the closing days of
democracy, which is reflected in the Phaedrus,
and in the opening stage of the oligarchy, which is reflected in the Charmides. On my blog I am going to
discuss the Hippias Major as Plato’s
third dialogue. In doing so I remain to be guided by the Seventh Letter, where Plato says that when the rule of The Thirty
turned into tyranny, he ‘withdrew from the evils of those days’ (emauton epanȇgagon apo tȏn tote kakȏn, SL
325a5). I view the Hippias Major as
written in the days of his withdrawal from the evils that marked the latter
days of the Thirty.
One of the
reasons for this dating I find in the concept of ‘withdrawing’ that Plato uses.
The verb epanȇgagon
(‘withdrew’) is composed of agȏ, which means ‘lead’, ‘bring’, and
prepositions ana, which means ‘up’,
‘upwards’, and epi, which suggests a
place ‘on’ or ‘upon’ which something or someone ‘is led’. The words emauton epanȇgagon thus mean ‘I drew myself up to’, ‘I
elevated myself to’. In the Republic
Plato uses the term epanagȏgȇ to signify the ‘elevation (epanagȏgȇn) of the highest principle in the
soul (tou beltistou en psuchȇ) to the
contemplation of that which is best in existence (pros tȇn tou aristou en tois
ousi thean,
532c5-6). On the proposed dating of the Phaedrus,
the meadow of truth on which the Forms reside (Phdr. 248b-c) was the place to which Plato elevated himself. The
Form that in the Phaedrus enables the
soul of a philosopher to gain access to the realm of Forms is Beauty; the
question ‘what beauty is’ (ti esti to
kalon) dominates the philosophic discussion in the Hippias Major.
In the Seventh Letter Plato says that after the
subsequent defeat of the Thirty and the restoration of democracy he was ‘once
again, though less urgently, impelled with a desire to take part in public and
political affairs’ (325a7-b1, tr. R.G. Bury). This means that the time of his ‘withdrawing’
was marked by a suspension of his desire to engage in politics, which gives me
another reason for viewing the Hippias
Major as written in those days, for the sophist Hippias is presented in the
dialogue as a successful politician; as such he is exposed to Socrates’
sarcastic irony.
Another
reason for the proposed dating I derive from the relationship between the Phaedrus and the Charmides as viewed against the ‘background’ of the Apology, in which Socrates founds his
whole defence on his philosophic ignorance, declaring that he knows nothing
beautiful and good (ouden kalon k’agathon
eidenai, 21d4). In the second speech on love in the Phaedrus Plato lets Socrates transgress his avowed ignorance when
he begins the speech with the proof of the immortality of the soul based on its
definition as the `self-mover’ (to hauto
kinoun, 245c7). The Charmides
indicates that Socrates protested against this transgression, for in it he
refers to ‘motion that moves itself’ (kinȇsis autȇ heautȇn kinein,168e9-10)
as one of the things of which he does not know whether they are at all possible
or completely impossible. The next thing in which Socrates transgresses his
ignorance in the same speech in the Phaedrus
is the realm of the Forms to which one is guided by beauty. In the Hippias Major Socrates corrects this
second transgression by presenting himself as a man who does not even know what
beauty is.
Apart from
the Seventh Letter I take as my guide
the closing section of the Phaedrus. In
it the ability of providing boȇthia, of ‘coming
to aid’, ‘giving assistance’, ‘coming to rescue’ comes to the fore. In the Phaedrus this ability is ascribed solely
to the spoken word, which is ‘living and has soul’ (logon zȏnta kai empsuchon, 276a8), in contrast to the written
word, which is viewed as deprived of it. Comparing the written word to painting
of living beings (zȏgraphia),
Socrates says: ‘The painter’s products stand before us as though they were
alive: but if you question them, they maintain a most majestic silence. It is
the same with written words: they seem to talk to you as though they were
intelligent, but if you ask them anything about what they say, from a desire to
be instructed, they go on telling you just the same thing for ever. And once a
thing is put in writing, the composition, whatever it may be, drifts all over
the place, getting into the hands not only of those who understand it, but
equally of those who have no business with it; it doesn’t know how to address the
right people, and not address the wrong. And when it is ill-treated and
unfairly abused it always needs its parent to come to its help (tou patros aei deitai boȇthou), being
unable to defend or help itself (out’
amunasthai oute boȇthȇsai dunatos hautȏi).’ (275d5-e5) With the writer
Socrates contrasts ‘the dialectician who selects a soul of the right type, and
in it he plants and sows his words founded on knowledge, words which can defend
both themselves and him who planted them (logous
hoi heautois tȏi te phuteusanti boȇthein hikanoi),
words which instead of remaining barren contain a seed whence new words grow up
in new characters (en allois ȇthesi phuomenoi);
whereby the seed is vouched immortality, and its possessor the fullest measure
of blessedness that man can attain unto.’ (276e5-a4) In the Phaedrus Plato not only did his best to
make his written word as similar to the spoken word in its power of expression,
but within the dialogue itself he displayed the drama of the written and the
spoken word. The only ‘written word’ is Lysias’ erotic piece; when thoroughly
criticised, it can’t defend itself. Socrates’ two speeches are spoken, and then
they are discussed. I have no doubt that this is what Plato did with the
dialogue itself; he read it to a selected audience, defending it in discussion against
any criticism it might raise. I believe that he did the same with the Charmides and the Hippias Major. This, I believe, is particularly important to have
in mind when we read the Hippias Major;
it is a philosophic comedy that needs to be read aloud; reading aloud enhances
the seriousness and importance of its subject: the investigation of the beauty
itself.
In the Phaedrus Plato defended himself and
Socrates against the chorus of Aristophanes’ Frogs that alleged that abandoning the art (mousikȇ)
was the prise one had to pay for becoming a follower of Socrates; the Phaedrus shows that philosophy is the
highest form of mousikȇ
(see ‘Plato’s first two
dialogues’ on my website). The reign of
the Thirty put Plato in a situation in which his ability to defend Socrates and
himself became far more urgent, acquiring a truly existential dimension.
Xenophon says in the Memorabilia that when the Thirty
appointed Critias and Charicles as their legislators, the former inserted a law
that made it illegal to teach rhetoric (logȏn
technȇn mȇ didaskein, I.ii.31); the two used the law against Socrates,
forbidding him to converse with anyone who was under thirty ‘because as yet he
lacks wisdom’ (I.ii.35). It was in the Phaedrus
that Socrates outlined rhetoric founded on dialectic, and Plato was in his
mid-twenties when the Thirty took power. This alone would have prompted Plato
to write the Hippias Major in defence
of Socrates, and in his own self-defence. In the dialogue Socrates argues that
‘the legislators make the law on the assumption that it is a principal good (agathon megiston) of the state’ and that
‘when, therefore, would-be legislators miss the good (hotan ara agathou hamartȏsin hoi epicheirountes tous nomous tithenai),
they have missed law and legality (nomimou
te kai nomou hȇmartȇkasi, 284d3-7, tr. B. Jowett).’
The situation in which Plato wrote the
Hippias Major was marked by an
incident in which Socrates conspicuously disobeyed the Thirty. In Plato’s Apology Socrates says about it: ‘When the oligarchy of the Thirty was
in power, they sent for me and four others into the rotunda, and bade us bring
Leon the Salaminian from Salamis, as they wanted to put him to death. This was
a specimen of the sort of commands which they were always giving with the view
of implicating as many as possible in their crimes; and I showed again, not in
word only but in deed, that, if I may be allowed to use such an expression, I
care not a straw for death, and that my great and only care is lest I should do
an unrighteous or unholy thing. For the strong arm of that oppressive power did
not frighten me into doing wrong; and when we came out of the rotunda the other
four went to Salamis and fetched Leon, but I went quietly home. For which I
might have lost my life, had not the power of the Thirty shortly afterwards
come to an end.’ (Plato, Apology
32c4-d8, tr. B. Jowett) In the Seventh
Letter Plato refers to this incident as the major factor in his decision to
‘withdraw from the evils of those days’ (324d6-325a3). Theramenes, who
established the rule of the Thirty and became their first leader refers to the
execution of Leon the Salaminian as a major factor in his decision to distance
himself from the Thirty, as can be learnt from his defence speech against
Critias’ accusations in front of the Senate. Xenophon presents both these
speeches in his Hellenica and there
is no better source for our getting informed about the situation in which – on
my dating – Plato wrote the Hippias Major.
Xenophon
says in the Hellenica that ‘as a first
step the Thirty arrested and brought to trial for their lives those persons
who, by common knowledge, had made a living in the time of the democracy by
acting as informers and had been offensive to the aristocrats (tois kalois k’agathois ‘to men beautiful
and good’); and the Senate was glad to pronounce these people guilty, and the
rest of the citizens – at least all those who were conscious that they were not
of the same sort themselves – were not at all displeased (II.iii.12) … In the
beginning Critias and Theramenes were agreed in their policy and friendly; but
when Critias showed himself eager to put many to death … Theramenes opposed
him, saying that it was not reasonable to put a man to death because he was
honoured by the commons, provided he was doing no harm to the aristocrats (i.e.
to the kaloi k’agathoi) … Then
Critias (for he still treated Theramenes as friend) replied that it was
impossible for people who wanted to gain power (tois pleonektein boulomenois 'for those who wanted to have more') not to put out of the way those
who were best able to thwart them (II.iii.15-16) … But when, on account of the
great numbers continually – and unjustly – put to death, it was evident that
many were banding together and wandering what the state was coming to,
Theramenes spoke again, saying that unless they admitted an equal number of
citizens into partnership with them in the management of the affairs, it would
be impossible for the oligarchy to endure. Accordingly Critias and the rest of
the Thirty, who were by this time alarmed and feared above all that the
citizens would flock to the support of Theramenes, enrolled a body of three
thousand, who were to share, as they said, in the government. Theramenes,
however, objected to this move also, saying that it seemed to him absurd that,
when they wanted to make the best of the citizens (tous beltistous, beltistos
is the superlative of agathos) their
associates, they should limit themselves to three thousand, as though this
number must somehow be good men and true (kalous
kai agathous einai) (II.iii.18-19) … One measure the Thirty resolved upon,
in order to get money to pay their guardsmen, was that each of their number
should seize one of the aliens residing in the city, and that they should put
these men to death and confiscate their property. So they bade Theramenes also
to seize anyone he pleased; and he replied: “But it is not honourable (kalon, i.e. Jowett’s ‘beautiful’ in the Hippias Major), as it seems to me,” he
said, “for people who style themselves the best citizens (beltistous) to commit acts of greater injustice than the informers
used to do. For they allowed those from whom they got money, to live; but shall
we, in order to get money, put to death men who are guilty of no wrong-doing?”’
(II.iii.21-22, translation from the Hellenica
C.L. Brownson)
The last
point of Theramenes’ disagreement with the Thirty has its relevance concerning
the dating of the Phaedrus, for one
of the aliens who was thus put to death and whose property was confiscated was
Polemarchus who is given a prominent place in the Palinode, Socrates’ second
speech on love. The Palinode ends with Socrates’ prayer to Eros: ‘If in our
earlier speech Phaedrus and I said anything harsh against you, blame Lysias as
the instigator of the speech, and make him cease from speeches of that kind,
turning him instead, as his brother Polemarchus has been turned, to philosophy,
so that his lover here may no longer waver as he does now between the two
choices, but may single-mindedly direct his life towards love accompanied by
talk (logoi) of a philosophical
kind.’ (257b1-b6, translation C.J. Rowe) The death of Polemarchus in the hands
of the Thirty must have cast a shadow over the central point of the Palinode,
which culminates with Socrates’ assertion that ‘if the victory be won by the
highest elements of mind guiding them (i.e. the lover and the beloved) into the
ordered rule of the philosophic life, their days on earth will be blessed with
happiness and concord (256a7-b1, translation R. Hackforth).’
But let me turn back to Xenophon’s Hellenica: ‘Then the Thirty, thinking that Theramenes was an
obstacle to their doing whatever they pleased, plotted against him, and kept
accusing him to individual senators, one to one man and another to another, of
injuring the government. And after passing the word to some young men, who
seemed to them most audacious, to be in attendance with daggers hidden under
their arms, they convened the Senate (sunelexan
tȇn boulȇn). Then when Theramenes arrived,
Critias arose and spoke as follows: “Gentlemen of the Senate (Ō andres bouleutai) … we find this man Theramenes trying, by what means he can, to destroy
both ourselves and you. As proof that this is true you will discover, if you
consider the matter, that no one finds more fault with the present proceedings
than Theramenes here, or offers more opposition when we wish to put some
demagogue out of the way. Now if he had held these views from the beginning, he
was, to be sure, an enemy, but nevertheless he would not justly be deemed a
scoundrel. In fact, however, he was the very man who took the initiative in the
policy of establishing a cordial understanding with the Lacedaemonians [i.e.
with Sparta]; he was the very man who began the overthrow of the democracy (tȇs tou dȇmou kataluseȏs), and
who urged you most to inflict punishment upon those who were first brought
before you for trial; but now, when you and we have manifestly become hateful
to the democrats (echthroi tȏi dȇmȏi), he no longer approves of what is going on, – just so that he
may get on the safe side again, and that we may be punished for what has been
done. Therefore he ought to be punished, not merely as an enemy, but also as a
traitor both to you and to ourselves … Now to let you know that this man’s
present doings are nothing new, but that he is, rather, a traitor by nature, I
will recall to you his past deeds. This man in the beginning, although he had
received honours at the hands of the democracy, was extremely eager, like his
father Hagnon, to change the democracy into the oligarchy of the Four Hundred
[in 411 B.C. Aristarchus helped to establish the short-lived oligarchical
government of the Four Hundred], and he was a leader of that government. When,
however, he perceived some opposition to the oligarchy, he took the lead again
– as champion of the democrats against the oligarchs. That is the reason, you
know, why he is nicknamed ‘Buskin’ (kothornos):
for as the buskin seems to fit both feet, so he faces both ways … Now when a
man clearly shows that he is always looking out for his own advantage and
taking no thought of honour or his friends, how in the world can it be right to
spare him? [‘taking no thought of honour’ stands for tou de kalou mȇden entrepomenos; to kalon, the central concept
of the Hippias Major and of Socrates’
second speech in the Phaedrus, was
the concept central to the thought of Critias and the Thirty and of Theramenes
as well; for each of them it had different connotations] … The constitution of
the Lacedaemonians [of Sparta] is, we know, deemed the best (kallistȇ, ‘most beautiful’, the superlative of kalos) of all constitutions. Now in
Lacedaemon if one of the ephors should undertake to find fault with the
government and to oppose what was being done instead of yielding to the
majority, do you not suppose that he would be regarded, not only by the ephors
themselves but also by the rest of the state, as having merited the severest
punishment? Even so you, if you are wise (ean
sȏphronȇte), will not spare Theramens, but
rather yourselves; for to leave him alive would cause many of those who hold
opposite views to yours to cherish high thoughts, while to destroy him would
cut off the hopes of them all, both within and without the city.”
(II.iii.23-34)
‘When
Critias had so spoken, he sat down and Theramenes rose and said: “… I quite
agree with him [i.e. with Critias], however, on this point, that if anyone is
desirous of deposing you from your office and is making strong those who are
plotting against you, it is just for him to incur the severest punishment. But
I think you can best (kallista, ‘most
beautifully’) judge who it is that is doing this, if you will consider the
course which each of us two has taken and is now taking. Well then, up to the
time when you became members of the Senate and magistrates were appointed and
the notorious informers were brought to trial, all of us held the same views;
but when these Thirty began to arrest men of worth and standing (kalous te k’agathous ‘beautiful and
good’), then I, on my side, began to hold views opposed to theirs. For when
Leon the Salaminian was put to death, – a man of capacity, both actually and by
repute, – although he was not guilty of a single act of wrong-doing, I knew
that those who were like him would be fearful, and, being fearful, would be
enemies of this government … I objected, also, when they said that each of us
must seize one of the resident aliens; for it was entirely clear that if these
men were put to death, the whole body of such aliens would become enemies of
the government. I objected likewise when they took away from the people their
arms, because I thought that we ought not to make the state weak; for I saw
that, in preserving us, the purpose of the Lacedaemonians had not been that we
might become few in number and unable to do them service; for if this had been
what they desired, it was within their power, by keeping up the pressure of
famine a little while longer, to leave not a single man alive … It is not,
Critias, the men who prevent one’s making enemies in abundance nor the men who
teach one how to gain allies in the greatest numbers, – it is not these, I say,
who make one’s enemies strong; but it is much rather those who unjustly rob
others of property and put to death people who are guilty of no wrong, who, I
say, make their opponents numerous and betray not only their friends but also
themselves, and all to satisfy their covetousness … He dubs me ‘Buskin,’
because, as he says, I try to fit both parties. But for the man who pleases
neither party, – what in the name of the gods should we call him? For you in
the days of the democracy were regarded as the bitterest of the haters of the
commons (pantȏn misodȇmotatos), and under the aristocracy you have
shown yourself the bitterest of all haters of the better classes (pantȏn misochrȇstotatos). But
I, Critias, am for ever at war with the men who do not think there could be
good democracy until the slaves and those who would sell the state for lack of
a shilling should share in the government, and on the other hand I am forever
an enemy of those who do not think that a good oligarchy could be established
until they should bring the state to the point of being ruled absolutely by a
few. But to direct the government in company of those who have the means to be
of service, whether with horses of with shields, – this plan I regarded as best
in the former days and I do not change my opinion now. And if you can mention
any instance, Critias, where I joined hands with demagogues or despots and
undertook to deprive men of standing (kalous
te k’agathous ‘beautiful and good’) of their citizenship, then speak. For
if I am found guilty either of doing this thing now or of having ever done so
in the past, I admit that I should suffer the very utmost of all penalties and
be put to death.” (II.iii.37-49)
‘When with these words he ceased speaking and the Senate had
shown its good will by applause, Critias, realizing that if he should allow the
Senate to pass judgment on the case, Theramenes would escape, and thinking that
this would be unendurable, went and held a brief consultation with the Thirty,
and then went out and ordered the men with the daggers to take their stand at
the railing in plain sight of the Senate. Then he came in again and said:
“Senators, I deem it the duty of a leader who is what he ought to be, in case
he sees that his friends are being deceived, not to permit it. I therefore,
shall follow that course. Besides, these men who have taken their stand here
say that if we propose to let a man go who is manifestly injuring the
oligarchy, they will not suffer us to do so. Now it is provided in the new laws
that no one of those who are on the roll of the Three Thousand may be put to
death without your vote, the Thirty will have the power of life and death
outside the roll. I, therefore,” he said, “strike off this man Theramenes from
the roll, with the approval of all the Thirty. That being done,” he added, “we
now condemn him to death.” (II.iii.50-51)
‘When
Theramenes heard this, he sprang to the alter and said: “And I, sirs, ”said
he,” beg only bare justice, – that it be not within the power of Critias to
strike off either me or whomsoever of you he may wish, but rather that both in
your case and in mine the judgment may be rendered strictly in accordance with
that law which these men have made regarding those on the roll. To be sure,”
said he, “I know, I swear by the gods, only too well, that this alter will
avail me nothing, but I wish to show that these Thirty are not only most unjust
toward men, but also most impious toward the gods. But I am surprised at you,”
he said, “gentlemen of the aristocracy (ȏ andres kaloi k’agathoi ‘men beautiful and good’), that you
are not going to defend your own rights, especially when you know that my name
is not a whit easier to strike off than the name of each of you.” At this
moment the herald of the Thirty ordered the Eleven [a Board which had charge of
condemned prisoners and of the execution of the death sentence] to seize
Theramenes; and when they came in, attended by their servants and with Satyrus,
the most audacious and shameless of them, at their head, Critias said: “We hand
over to you,” said he, “this man Theramenes, condemned according to the law. Do
you, the Eleven, take him and lead him to the proper place and do that which
follows.”
‘When
Critias had spoken these words, Satyrus dragged Theramenes away from the alter,
and his servants lent their aid. And Theramenes, as was natural, called upon
gods and men to witness what was going on. But the senators kept quiet, seeing
that the men at the rail were of the same sort as Satyrus and that the space in
front of the senate-house was filled with guards-men, and being well aware that
the former had come armed with daggers.’ (II.iii.52-55)
***
One might
ask, how can I possibly think that in this political situation Plato might have
written Hippias Major, the dialogue
in which he presents Socrates – who openly defied the Thirty – at his best? In
reply I would ask: How Plato – who had written the Phaedrus, in which he defended Socrates against Aristophanes' slur,
and the Charmides, in which he
attempted to overcome Critias’ grudge against Socrates and bring the two
together for the benefit of the people of Athens – could have failed writing
it.
