Alcidamas’ On Sophists, Isocrates’ Against the Sophists, and Plato’s Phaedrus

Alcidamas in his ‘accusation of the written speeches’ (katȇgoria tȏn graptȏn logȏn, On Sophists 1) borrowed thoughts and expressions from the closing section of Plato’s Phaedrus, which is devoted to the discussion of ‘propriety and impropriety in writing’ (euprepeias dȇ graphȇs peri kai aprepeias, 274a6). Socrates says in the latter that ‘whoever thinks that anything clear and permanent will result from what is written down (hȏs ti saphes kai bebaion ek grammatȏn esomenon) must be exceedingly simple-minded (pollȇs an euȇtheias gemoi, 275c6-7), Alcidamas says in the first paragraph of the On Sophists that he directs his accusation against those who ‘display their wisdom through means of no permanence (di abebaiȏn deiknuntes tȇn heautȏn sophian)’. Socrates says that ‘a man who has nothing to show of more value than the things he composed or wrote’ (ton mȇ echonta timiȏtera hȏn sunethȇken ȇ egrapsen, 278d8-9) does not deserve to be called a philosopher (kalein … philosophon, 278d3-4) but should be rightly called a poet (en dikȇi pou poiȇtȇn, 278e1), Alcidamas says that ‘those who waste their lives writing (kai tous ep’ auto touto ton bion katanaliskontas) are very deficient (apoleleiphthai polu) … in philosophy (philosophias hupeilȇphȏs); and they would be more rightly called poets than men of wisdom (kai polu dikaioteron an poiȇtas ȇ sophistas prosagoreuesthai, 2). (Alcidamas uses the terms philosopher and sophist synonymously.) In the Phaedrus ‘the written speech (ho gegrammenos logos) is rightly to be called a kind of phantom’ (eidȏlon an ti legoito dikaiȏs) of the speech of a man who knows (ton tou eidotos logon), which is living and has soul (zȏnta kai empsuchon, 276a8-9), Alcidamas says that ‘it is not even right to call “speeches” the written pieces (oude logous dikaion einai kaleisthai tous gegramenous), but phantoms (all hȏsper eidȏla), and figurines (kai schȇmata), and imitations of speeches (kai mimȇmata logȏn, 27)’, whereas ‘the speech spoken at the given moment from the mind itself (logos ho men ap’ autȇs tȇs dianoias en tȏi parautika legomenos) has soul and is living (empsuchos esti kai zȇi, 28)’.

The thoughts that Alcidamas borrowed from the Phaedrus are at variance with his own thoughts both on writing of speeches, to which he occasionally took recourse, and on extempore speaking, which was his forte: ‘I employ writing for the popular dissemination of my display-performances (tȏn epideixeȏn heineka tȏn eis tous ochlous ekpheromenȏn haptomai tou graphein) … for those who come to hear us after some time (tois de dia chronou men epi tas akroaseis aphigmenois) and for those who have never before met us (mȇdepote de proteron hȇmin entetuchȇkosin), we try to show something of what we have done in writing (epichiroumen ti deiknunai tȏn gegrammenȏn). For those who have been accustomed to listen to the written speeches of others (eithismenoi gar akroasthai tȏn allȏn tous graptous logous) would perhaps (isȏs an), if they hear us speaking ex tempore (hȇmȏn autoschediazontȏn akouontes), form a lower opinion of us than we deserve (elattona tȇs axias doxan kath’ hȇmȏn laboien). And, apart from this (chȏris de toutȏn), signs of progress (kai sȇmeia tȇs epidoseȏs) which are likely to be produced in the mind (hȇn eikos en tȇi dianoiai gignesthai) are very clear to see in the context of the written speeches (para tȏn graptȏn logȏn enargestata katidein estin). It is, though, not easy to judge if our extempore speaking is better than it was before (ei men gar beltion autoschediazomen nun ȇ proteron ou raidion epikrinein esti), for the recollection of what has been said is difficult (chalepai gar hai mnȇmai tȏn proeirȇmenȏn logȏn kathestȇkasin). But it is easy by examining written texts to contemplate, as it were in a mirror, the progress of the soul (eis de ta gegrammena katidontas hȏsper en katoptrȏi theȏrȇsai tas tȇs psuchȇs epidoseis raidion estin). Also (eti de), we undertake the writing of speeches both because we are eager to leave behind memorials of ourselves and to gratify our ambition (kai mnȇmeia katalipein hȇmȏn autȏn spoudazontes kai tȇi philotimiai charizomenoi logous graphein epichiroumen). (On Sophists 31-32, translation J.V. Muir)

Why did Alcidamas incorporate in the On Sophists thoughts from the Phaedrus that were alien to him? Isocrates attacked him in Against the Sophists very severely: ‘They are themselves so stupid (houtȏ anaisthȇtȏs autoi te diakeintai) and conceive others to be so dull (kai tous allous echein hupeilȇphasi) that (hȏste), although the speeches which they compose are worse (hȏste cheiron graphontes tous logous) than those which some laymen improvise (ȇ tȏn idiȏtȏn tines autoschediazousin), nevertheless they promise to make their students such clever orators (homȏs hupischnountai toioutous rȇtoras tous sunontas poiȇsein) that they will not overlook any of the possibilities which a subject affords (hȏste mȇden tȏn enontȏn en tois pragmasi paralipein, 9).’ (Translation G. Norlin) Alcidamas was bent on retaliating. But why should Isocrates be pained by thoughts borrowed from the Phaedrus? To this question we find the answer if we pay attention to the way Isocrates’ Against the Sophists is related to corresponding passages in the Phaedrus.

In the Phaedrus Socrates compares writing (graphȇ) to painting (zȏgraphia): ‘Writing has this strange feature (Deinon tout’ echei graphȇ), which makes it like painting (kai hȏs alȇthȏs homoion zȏgraphiai). The offspring of painting stand there as if alive (kai gar ta ekeinȇs ekgona hestȇke men hȏs zȏnta), but if you ask them something (ean d’ anarȇi ti), they preserve a quite solemn silence (semnȏs panu sigai).’ ‘With the written words it is the same (t’auton kai hoi logoi): you might think (doxais men an) that they speak as if they were thinking some thoughts (hȏs ti phronountas autous legein), but if you ask them about any of the things they say (ean de ti erȇi tȏn legomenȏn) out of a desire to learn (boulomenos mathein), they point to just one thing, always the same (hen ti sȇmainei monon t’auton aei).’ (275d4-9)

In paragraph 12 of Against the Sophists Isocrates writes: ‘But I marvel (Thaumazȏ d’) when I observe (hotan idȏ) these men setting themselves up as instructors of youth (toutous mathȇtȏn axiȏmenous) who cannot see that they are applying the analogy of an art with hard and fast rules to a creative process (hoi poiȇtikou pragmatos tetagmenȇn technȇn paradeigma pherontes lelȇthasi sphas autous). For, excepting these teachers, who does not know (tis gar ouk oide plȇn toutȏn) that the art of using letters remains fixed and unchanged (hoti to men tȏn grammatȏn akinȇtȏs echei kai menei kata t’auton), so that we continually and invariably use the same letters for the same purposes (hȏste tois autois aei peri tȏn autȏn chrȏmenoi diateloumen), while exactly the reverse is true of the art of discourse (to de tȏn logȏn pan t’ounantion peponthen). For what has been said by one speaker (to gar huph’ heterou rȇthen) is not equally useful for the speaker who comes after him (tȏi legonti met’ ekeinon ouch homoiȏs chrȇsimon estin); on the contrary, he is accounted most skilled in this art (all’ houtos einai dokei technikȏtatos) who speaks in a manner worthy of his subject (hȏs tis an axiȏs men legȇi tȏn pragmatȏn) and yet is able to discover in it topics which are nowise the same as those used by others (mȇden de tȏn autȏn tois allois heuriskein dunȇtai). (Translation G. Norlin)

Isocrates does not say that ‘these men’ use letters as a paradigm on analogy to which they judge discourses. He says that their doing so escaped their notice (lelȇthasi sphas autous); he maintains that only letters ‘point to just one thing, the same each time’, not the logoi (speeches, discourses, words) of which ‘the reverse is true’. He goes on to say that ‘the greatest proof (megiston sȇmeion) of the difference between them (tȇs anomoiotȇtos autȏn) is that speeches cannot be good (tous men gar logous ouch hoionte kalȏs echein) if they don’t fit the occasion, don’t have the propriety of style, and lack the originality of treatment (ȇn mȇ tȏn kairȏn kai tou prepontȏs kai tou kainȏs echein metaschȏsin), but the letters need none of it (tois de grammasin oudenos toutȏn prosedeȇsen, 13).’

When Isocrates speaks of speeches (logoi), he does not differentiate between written and unwritten speeches, but primarily he has in mind speeches carefully prepared in writing. The same is true of Plato’s use of the term logos/logoi in the Phaedrus in his discussion of rhetoric, which begins at 257c with Phaedrus’ fear that Lysias ‘may refrain from writing out of concern for his reputation’ (tach’ oun an hupo philotimias epischoi hȇmin tou graphein), and ends with Socrates’ ‘let that be enough on the subject of the scientific and unscientific aspects of speaking’ (to men technȇs te kai atechnias logȏn peri hikanȏs echetȏ, 274b3-4, tr. Rowe). The written logoi as something separate are introduced only in the section that follows, and even in this section, in the line 275d7 quoted above, ‘the written words’ stands for Socrates’ hoi logoi.

Plato in the last section of the Phaedrus does not oppose the written to the spoken word. He opposes writing in ‘black water with a pen (en hudati melani dia kalamou) with words incapable of defending themselves with arguments (meta logȏn adunatȏn men hautois logȏi boȇthein) and incapable of presenting the truth adequately (adunatȏn de hikanȏs t’alȇthȇ didaxai, 276c7-9), to the speech (logos, 276a1) ‘which is written together with knowledge in the soul of the learner (hos met’ epistȇmȇs graphetai en tȇi tou manthanontos psuchȇi) and can defend itself (dunatos amunai heautȏi, 276a5-6). What does Plato mean when Socrates speaks of a man ‘who makes use of the science of dialectic (tȇi de dialektikȇi chrȏmenos), takes a fitting soul (labȏn psuchȇn prosȇkousan) and plants in it words accompanied by knowledge (phuteuȇi te kai speirȇi met epistȇmȇs logous, 276e5-6)’? We get some sense of it when we look back at the Palinode where ‘the followers of Zeus (hoi men oun Dios) seek a beloved who is Zeus-like in soul (dion tina zȇtousi tȇn psuchȇn ton huph’ hautȏn erȏmenon); wherefore they look (skopousin oun) for one who is by nature disposed to the love of wisdom and the leading of men (ei philosophos te kai hȇgemonikos tȇn phusin), and when they have found him and come to love him (kai hotan auton heurontes erasthȏsin) they do all in their power (pan poiousin) to foster that disposition (hopȏs toioutos estai, 252e1-5) … And so, if the victory be won by the higher elements of mind guiding them into the ordered rule of the philosophic life (ean men dȇ oun eis tetagmenȇn te diaitan kai philosophian nikȇsȇi ta beltiȏ tȇs dianoias agagonta), their days on earth will be blessed with happiness and concord (makarion kai homonoȇtikon ton enthade bion diagousin, 256a7-b1). (Translation R. Hackforth)

To what a degree the contemporary philosophers embraced this view of philosophy we can learn from Isocrates’ Against the Sophists: ‘But these professors (Houtoi toinun) have gone so far in their lack of scruple (eis touto tolmȇs elȇluthasin) that they attempt to persuade (hȏste peirȏntai peithein) our young men (tous neȏterous) that (hȏs) if they will only study under them (ȇn autois plȇsiazȏsin) they will know what to do in life (ha te prakteon estin eisontai) and through this knowledge (kai dia tautȇs tȇs epistȇmȇs) will become happy and prosperous (eudaimones genȇsontai, 3).’ Isocrates believed that no knowledge, no philosophy can have this power and in support of his view he reminded the reader of Socrates at his trial: ‘More than that (kai), although they set themselves as masters and dispensers of goods so precious (tȇlikoutȏn agathȏn hautous didaskalous kai kurious katastȇsantes), they are not ashamed (ouk aischunontai) of asking for them a price of three or four minae (treis ȇ tettaras mnas huper toutȏn aitountes)! Why (all’), if they were to sell any other commodity for so trifling a fraction of its worth (ei men ti tȏn allȏn ktȇmatȏn pollostou merous tȇs axias epȏloun) they would not deny their folly (ouk an ȇmphȇsbȇtȇsan hȏs eu phronountes tunchanousi); nevertheless, although they set so insignificant a price on the whole stock of virtue and happiness (sumpasan de tȇn aretȇn kai tȇn eudaimonian houtȏs oligou timȏntes), they pretend to wisdom and assume the right to instruct the rest of the world (hȏs noun echontes didaskaloi tȏn allȏn axiousi gignesthai).’ (3-4, translation Norlin)

Socrates at his trial illustrated his attitude to those who professed to teach virtue with a story. He recently asked Callias: ‘Is there anyone who understands human and political virtue (tis tȇs toiautȇs aretȇs, tȇs anthrȏpinȇs kai politikȇs, epistȇmȏn estin; 20b4-9)?’ Callias answered that there was. Socrates asked ‘Who is he (Tis)? and of what country (kai podapos)? and what does he charge (kai posou didaskei;)?’ Callias replied: ‘Evenus (Euȇnos) the Parian (Parios), and his charge is five minae (pente mnȏn).’ When he heard this, Socrates said to himself: ‘Happy is Euenus, if he really has this wisdom (kai egȏ ton Euȇnon emakarisa ei hȏs alȇthȏs echoi tautȇn tȇn technȇn), and teaches at such a moderate charge (kai houtȏs emmelȏs didaskei). Had I the same, I should have been very proud and conceited (egȏ g’oun kai autos ekallunomȇn te kai hȇbrunomȇn an ei ȇpistamȇn tauta); but the truth is that I have no knowledge of the kind (all’ ou gar epistamai, ȏ andres Athȇnaioi, Plato, Apology 20b4-c3, tr. B. Jowett).

Isocrates proclaimed in § 11: ‘I should have preferred above great riches (Egȏ de pro pollȏn men an chrȇmatȏn etimȇsamȇn) that philosophy had as much power (tȇlikouton dunasthai tȇn philosophian) as these men claim (hoson houtoi legousin); for, perhaps, I should not have been left behind as the very last (isȏs gar ouk an hȇmeis pleiston apeleiphthȇmen) nor enjoyed the least share in it (oud’ an elachiston meros apelausamen autȇs). But since it has no such power (epeidȇ d’ ouch houtȏs echei), I could wish (bouloimȇn an) that this prating might cease (pausasthai tous phluarountas).’

What is Isocrates referring to when he says that in philosophy he wouldn’t have been left behind if it had as much power as these men claim? Before he wrote Against the Sophists, he was writing speeches for others to deliver in the law courts (the first of his forensic speeches is dated 403, the last 393 B.C.); he can be hardly referring to that period of his life. He must be referring to something that suggested that he was seen as a man with great ability in philosophy, and that he was seen as such ‘by these men’, and this ‘something’ was well known. Towards the end of the Phaedrus Socrates says: ‘Isocrates is still young, Phaedrus (Neos eti, ȏ Phaidre, Isokratȇs), but I don’t mind telling you the future I prophesy for him (ho mentoi manteuomai kat’ autou, legein ethelȏ). It seems to me that his natural powers give him a superiority over anything that Lysias has achieved in literature (Dokei moi ameinȏn ȇ kata tous peri Lusian einai logous ta tȇs phuseȏs), and also that in the point of character he is of a nobler composition (eti te ȇthei gennikȏterȏi kekrasthai); hence it would not surprise me (hȏste ouden an genoito thaumaston) if with advancing years he made all his literary predecessors look like a small fry; that is, supposing him to persist in the actual type of writing in which he engages at present (proïousȇs tȇs hȇlikias ei peri autous te tous logous, hois nun epicheirei, pleon ȇ paidȏn dienenkoi tȏn pȏpote hapsamenȏn logȏn); still more so (eti te), if he should become dissatisfied with such work (ei mȇ autȏi apochrȇsai tauta), and a sublime impulse led him to do greater things (epi meizȏ de tis auton agoi hormȇ theiotera). For that mind of his, Phaedrus, contains an innate tincture of philosophy (phusei gar, ȏ phile, enesti tis philosophia tȇi tou andros dianoiai).’ (278e10-279b1, translation R. Hackforth)

The prophesy is conditional on Isocrates’ transcending his preoccupation with writing: ‘a man who has nothing to show of more value than the things he composed or wrote’ (ton mȇ echonta timiȏtera hȏn sunethȇken ȇ egrapsen, 278d8-9)’ does not deserve to be called a philosopher (kalein … philosophon, 278d3-4). This is why Isocrates devoted the next two paragraphs of Against the Sophists (§§ 12 and 13, quoted earlier) to disparaging Socrates’ deprecation of the art of writing.

But why did Plato introduce in the Phaedrus, towards the very end of the dialogue, Socrates’ praise of Isocrates as a young man? The comparison between Isocrates’ outline of his educational program (paragraphs 14-18) with corresponding passages in Plato’s outline of philosophic rhetoric in the Phaedrus may help us find the answer to this question.

Isocrates says: ‘While many of those who have pursued philosophy (polloi men tȏn philosophȇsantȏn) have remained in private life (idiȏtai dietelesan ontes), others, on the other hand (alloi de tines), who have never taken lessons from any one of the sophists (oudeni pȏpote sungenomenoi tȏn sophistȏn) have become able orators and statesmen (kai legein kai politeuesthai deinoi gegonasin). For ability (hai men dunameis), whether in speech (kai tȏn logȏn) or any other activity (kai tȏn allȏn ergȏn hapantȏn), is found in those who are well endowed by nature (en tois euphuesin engignontai) and have been schooled by practical experience (kai tois peri tas empeirias gegumnasmenois). Formal training (hȇ de paideusis) makes such men more skilful and more resourceful in discovering the possibilities of a subject (tous men toioutous technikȏterous kai pros to zȇtein euporȏterous epoiȇsen)’ (14-15)

Phaedrus asks in the Phaedrus: ‘By what means and from what source can one attain the art of the true rhetorician, the real master of persuasion (tȇn tou tȏi onti rȇtorikou te kai pithanou technȇn pȏs kai pothen an tis dunaito porisasthai;)?’ Socrates answers: ‘If you mean how can one become a finished performer (To men dunasthai, ȏ Phaidre, hȏste agȏnistȇn teleon genesthai), then probably (eikos) – indeed I might say undoubtedly (isȏs de kai anankaion) – it is the same as with everything else (echein hȏsper t’alla): if you have an innate capacity for rhetoric (ei men soi huparchei phusei rȇtorikȏi einai), you will become a famous rhetorician (esȇi rȇtȏr ellogimos), provided you also acquire knowledge and practice (proslabȏn epistȇmȇn te kai meletȇn); but if you lack any of these three (hotou d’an elleipȇis toutȏn) you will be correspondingly unfinished (tautȇi d’ atelȇs esȇi).’ (269c9-d6, translation R. Hackforth)

The correspondence between these two passages is obvious. Socrates’ praise of Isocrates makes one thing clear: Isocrates devoted himself to rhetoric from his early youth. When Plato wrote the Phaedrus in 405 B.C. (See ‘Plato’s first two dialogues’ on my website) Isocrates was 31 years old, born as he was in 436 B.C. He opened paragraph 14 with the words ‘However, if it is my duty not only to rebuke others (Ei de dei mȇ monon katȇgorein tȏn allȏn), but also to set forth my own views (alla kai tȇn emautou dȇlȏsai dianoian), I think (hȇgoumai) all intelligent people will agree with me (pantas an moi tous eu phronountas suneipein) that while many of those who have pursued philosophy (hoti polloi men tȏn philosophȇsantȏn …‘ This suggests, in view of the correspondence between Isocrates’ Against the Sophists 14-15 and Phaedrus 269c9-d6, that when Plato wrote the given passage, he agreed with Isocrates on this point – and on some other points, as will be seen. In this light, Socrates’ praise of Isocrates is an expression of Plato’s gratitude to him.

Isocrates begins to unfold his educational program in paragraph 16: ‘I hold  (phȇmi gar egȏ) that to obtain a knowledge of the forms out of which we make and compose all speeches (tȏn men ideȏn, ex hȏn tous logous hapantas kai legomen kai suntithemen, labein epistȇmȇn) is not so very difficult (ouk einai tȏn panu chalepȏn) if anyone entrusts himself (ȇn tis hauton paradȏi), not to those who make rash promises (mȇ tois raidiȏs hupischnoumenois), but to those who have some knowledge of these things (alla tois eidosi ti peri autȏn).’

Plato opens his program at Phaedrus 271c6-d5. Socrates: ‘I’m willing to say how one should write, if it is to be as scientific as it is possible to be (hȏs de dei graphein, ei mellei technikȏs echein kath’ hoson endechetai, legein ethelȏ) … Since the power of speech is in fact a leading of the soul (Epeidȇ logou dunamis tunchanei psuchagȏgia ousa), the man who is going to be an expert in rhetoric (ton mellonta rȇtorikon esesthai) must know how many forms soul has (anankȇ eidenai psuchȇ hosa eidȇ echei). Their number is so and so (estin oun tosa kai tosa), and they are of such and such kinds (kai toia kai toia), which is why some people are like this, and others like that (hothen hoi men toioide, hoi de toioide gignontai); and since these have been distinguished in this way (toutȏn de dȇ houtȏ diȇirȇmenȏn), then again there are so many forms of speeches (logȏn au tosa kai tosa estin eidȇ), each one of such and such a kind (toionde hekaston).’ (Translation C. J. Rowe)

Norlin translates Isocrates’ tȏn men ideȏn, ex hȏn tous logous hapantas kai legomen kai suntithemen, labein epistȇmȇn as ‘knowledge of the elements out of which we make and compose all speeches’, Rowe translates Plato’s logȏn au tosa kai tosa estin eidȇ as ‘there are so many forms of speeches’. I changed Norlin translation in this respect, for Isocrates and Plato talk about the same thing when they speak of the forms of speeches. But leaving this unanimity aside, there are profound differences between Isocrates’ and Plato’s account. In Isocrates’ program all reference to the forms of souls is missing; in Plato’s outline the knowledge of the forms of souls is of primary importance, knowledge of the forms of speeches comes second.

Socrates says: ‘So people of one kind (hoi men oun toioide) are easily persuaded for this reason by one kind of speech to hold one kind of opinion (hupo tȏn toiȏnde logȏn dia tȇnde tȇn aitian es ta toiade eupeitheis), while people of another kind (hoi de toioide) are for these reasons (dia tade) difficult to persuade (duspeitheis); having then grasped these things satisfactorily (dei dȇ tauta hikanȏs noȇsanta), after that (meta tauta) the student must observe them as they are in real life (theȏmenon auta en tais praxesin onta te), and actually being put into practice (kai prattomena), and be able to follow them with keen perception (oxeȏs tȇi aisthȇsei dunasthai epakolouthein), or otherwise get no advantage, as yet (ȇ mȇden einai pȏ pleon autȏi), from the things he heard earlier (hȏn tote ȇkouen logȏn) when he was with his teacher (sunȏn, 271d5-e2).’

This corresponds to Isocrates’: ‘But to choose from these forms those which should be employed for each subject (to de toutȏn eph’ hekastȏi tȏn pragmatȏn has dei proelesthai), to join them together (kai mixai pros allȇlas), to arrange them properly (kai taxai kata tropon), and also (eti de), not to miss what the occasion demands (tȏn kairȏn mȇ diamartein) but appropriately to adorn the whole speech with striking thoughts (alla kai tois enthumȇmasi prepontȏs holon ton logon katapoikilai) and to cloth it in flowing and melodious phrase (kai tois onomasin euruthmȏs kai mousikȏs eipein) – these things, I hold, require much study (tauta de pollȇs epimeleias deisthai) and are the task of a vigorous and imaginative mind (kai psuchȇs andrikȇs kai doxastikȇs ergon einai, 16-17).

For Plato the question of what kind of people – with what forms of souls – are persuaded by what kind of speech and for what reason is a matter of knowledge: ‘the man who is going to be an expert in rhetoric (ton mellonta rȇtorikon esesthai) must know how many forms soul has (anankȇ eidenai psuchȇ hosa eidȇ echei, 271d1-2)’. This introductory stipulation governs Plato’s outline in its entirety. According to Isocrates only the forms of speeches are the mater of knowledge (§ 16), all the rest is a matter of imaginatively grasping the occasion and properly structuring and adorning one’s speech to fit in with.

Socrates goes on to say: ‘But when he both has sufficient ability to say (hotan de eipein te hikanȏs echȇi) what sort of man is persuaded by what sort of things (hoios huph’ hoiȏn peithetai), and is capable of telling himself when he sees him (paragignomenon ge dunatos ȇi diaisthanomenos heautȏi endeiknusthai) that this is the man (hoti houtos esti) and this the nature (kai hautȇ hȇ phusis) which was discussed before (peri hȇs tote ȇsan hoi logoi), now actually present in front of him (nun ergȏi parousa hoi), to whom he must now apply these kinds of speech in this way (hȇi prosoisteon tousde hȏde tous logous) to persuade him of this kind of thing (epi tȇn tȏnde peithȏ); when he now has all of this (tauta d’ ȇdȇ panta echonti), and has also grasped the occasions (proslabonti kairous) for speaking (tou pote lekteon) and for holding back (kai epischeteon), and for speaking concisely (brachulogias te au) and piteously (kai eleeinologias) and in an exaggerated fashion (kai deinȏseȏs), and for all the forms of speeches he may learn (hekastȏn te hosa an eidȇ mathȇi logȏn), recognising the right and the wrong time for these (toutȏn tȇn eukairian te kai akairian diagnonti), then his grasp of the science will be well and completely finished (kalȏs te kai teleȏs estin hȇ technȇ apeirgasmenȇ), but not before that (proteron d’ ou).’ (271e2-272a8, tr. Rowe)

Isocrates continues: ‘For this, the student must not only have the requisite aptitude (kai dein ton men mathȇtȇn pros tȏi tȇn phusin echein hoian chrȇ) but must learn all the forms of speeches (ta men eidȇ ta tȏn logȏn mathein) and practice himself in their use (peri de tas chrȇseis autȏn gumnasthȇnai, 17).’

In Isocrates’ view, only the forms of speeches can be known, these must be learned and their use practiced. In contrast, Plato says at 273d8-e4: ‘Unless the aspirant to oratory (ean mȇ tis) can on the one hand list the various natures amongst his prospective audiences (tȏn te akousomenȏn tas phuseis diarithmȇsȇtai), and on the other divide things into their kinds and embrace each individual thing under a single form (kai kat’ eidȇ te diaireisthai ta onta kai miai ideai dunatos ȇi kath’ hen hekaston perilambanein), he will never be an expert in the science of speaking [and writing] (ou pot’ estai technikos logȏn peri) to the degree possible for mankind (kath’ hoson dunaton anthrȏpȏi). For him all this is possible, it all is presented as part of his explanation of ‘how one should write, if it is to be as scientific as it is possible to be’ (271c6-7). But how it was to be done he does not say. This contrasts with the clear indication he gives as to the forms of speeches the rhetorician must learn, giving as examples ‘speaking concisely (brachulogias te au) and piteously (kai eleeinologias) and in an exaggerated fashion (kai deinȏseȏs)’. ‘Speaking concisely’ is in fact one of the forms mentioned earlier in the account of the forms of speeches rhetoricians invented and presented in their rhetorical manuals (en tois bibliois tois peri logȏn technȇs gegrammenois, 269a7). Plato thus points to all forms of speeches he discussed earlier, beginning with a ‘preamble’ (prooimion, 266d7) and ending with ‘recapitulation’ (epanodos, 267d4).

Socrates ends his account with the words: ‘But in whichever of these things someone is lacking (all’ hoti an autȏn tis elleipȇi) when he speaks (legȏn) or teaches (ȇ didaskȏn) or writes (ȇ graphȏn), and says he speaks scientifically (phȇi de technȇi legein), the person who disbelieves him (ho mȇ peithomenos) is in the stronger position (kratei, 272a8-b2, tr. Rowe).’

Isocrates ends his account on the same note: ‘When all of these requisites are found together (kai toutȏn men hapantȏn sumpesontȏn), then the devotees of philosophy will achieve complete success (teleiȏs hexousi hoi philosophountes); but according as any one of the things which I have mentioned is lacking (kath’ ho d’ an elleiphthȇi ti tȏn eirȇmenȏn), to this extent must their disciples of necessity fall below the mark (anankȇ tautȇi cheiron diakeisthai tous plȇsiazontas, 18, tr. Norlin).’

Pointing his finger at Plato’s account in this way, Isocrates maintained that only his account was the right one.

***

The central point in Isocrates’ references to the Phaedrus was his reference in § 11 to Socrates’ praise of him at the end of Plato’s dialogue. The praise was presented in the form of a prophesy; this aspect of it Isocrates attacked in a general form at the beginning of Against the Sophists: : ‘Who can fail to hate (tis gar ouk an misȇseien) and at the same time despise (hama kai kataphronȇseie) … those (tȏn), who pretend to search for truth (hoi prospoiountai men tȇn alȇtheian zȇtein), but straightway at the beginning of their professions (euthus d’en archȇi tȏn epangelmatȏn) are engaged in telling lies (pseudȇ legein epicheirousin)? For I think it is manifest to all (oimai gar hapasin einai phaneron) that foreknowledge of future events is not vouchsafed to our human nature (hoti ta mellonta progignȏskein ou tȇs hȇmeteras phuseȏs estin, 1-2).’ It was the prophetic aspect that linked Socrates’ praise of the young Isocrates to the foregoing deprecation of the written word: ‘It would not surprise me (hȏste ouden an genoito thaumaston) … if he should become dissatisfied with such work (ei mȇ autȏi apochrȇsai tauta) [i.e. dissatisfied with writing], and a sublime impulse led him to do greater things (epi meizȏ de tis auton agoi hormȇ theiotera). For that mind of his, Phaedrus, contains an innate tincture of philosophy (phusei gar, ȏ phile, enesti tis philosophia tȇi tou andros dianoiai, 279a5-b1).’ Cleared of the prophetic aspect, Socrates’ praise of Isocrates, on which the prophecy was founded, remained intact. But there still remained the immediately preceding disparagement of the written word casting a shadow over the praise of Isocrates as a writer: ‘a man who has nothing to show of more value than the things he composed or wrote’ (ton mȇ echonta timiȏtera hȏn sunethȇken ȇ egrapsen, 278d8-9) does not deserve to be called a philosopher (kalein … philosophon, 278d3-4). This is why Isocrates devoted §§ 12-13 (quoted earlier) to demolishing this disparagement.

In the Phaedrus the deprecation of the written word on account of its unchangeability was contrasted with the living word of the man who knows, inscribed in the soul of the learner. Having demolished the pretentions of contemporary philosophers to knowledge of virtue, and having shown in §§ 12-13 that the aspect of unchangeability appertains to letters, not to the creative process of writing speeches, Isocrates at §11 pointed at Socrates’ praise of him in all its significance and importance for him. It meant that he could be very brief in outlining his own educational program: ‘To obtain a knowledge of the forms out of which we make and compose all speeches (tȏn men ideȏn, ex hȏn tous logous hapantas kai legomen kai suntithemen, labein epistȇmȇn) is not so very difficult (ouk einai tȏn panu chalepȏn) if anyone entrusts himself (ȇn tis hauton paradȏi), not to those who make rash promises (mȇ tois raidiȏs hupischnoumenois), but to those who have some knowledge of these things (alla tois eidosi ti peri autȏn).’ He didn’t have to give any examples of these forms; the examples he once had suggested to Plato were given in the Phaedrus.

All this effort of Isocrates at protecting his excellence as a writer of speeches face to face with the Phaedrus was jeopardised by Alcidamas’ appropriating the praise of the ‘living word that has soul in it’ for his extempore speeches, and by his turning against Isocrates the harsh criticism of writing in the Phaedrus.

In the Antidosis, ‘adopting the fiction of a capital charge brought against him by an informer, named Lysimachus’ (Norlin, Isocrates vol. II, p. 182), Isocrates wrote: ‘I consider that in all the world there are none so depraved (Pantȏn hȇgoumai ponȇrotatous) and so deserving of the severest punishment (kai megistȇs zȇmias axious) as those who have the audacity to charge others with the offences of which they themselves are guilty (hoitines hois autoi tunchanousin ontes enochoi, tauta tȏn allȏn tolmȏsi katȇgorein). And this is the very thing that Lysimachus has done (hoper Lusimachos pepoiȇken). For himself delivering a composed speech (houtos gar autos sungegrammena legȏn), has said more in complaint of my compositions (peri tȏn emȏn sungrammatȏn pleiȏ pepoiȇtai logon) than upon all other points (ȇ peri tȏn allȏn hapantȏn); it is as if one were to charge another with breaking into a temple (homoion ergazomenos hȏsper an ei tis hierosulias heteron diȏkȏn), while showing in his own hands plunder stolen from the gods (autos ta tȏn theȏn en toin cheroin echȏn phaneiȇ, 14, tr. Norlin).

Isocrates wrote Antidosis when he was 82 years old, using Alcidamas’ On Sophists as a framework within which he could voice Plato’s gibes levelled against him. The bitterness with which he received Alcidamas’ ‘accusation of written speeches’ (katȇgoria tȏn graptȏn logȏn, On Sophists 1) he thus directed against all subsequent charges levelled against him ‘by Lysimachus’.