Dramatic Anachronism in Plato’s Phaedrus

Socrates ended his first speech on love with the words: ‘As wolf loves lambs (hȏs lukoi arnas agapȏsin), so is lover’s attention to the boy (hȏs arnas philousin erastai).’ After describing the lover’s noxious attentions to the boy, Socrates was to narrate the benefits the non-lover would bestow on the boy if he gave his favours rather to him than to the lover. Instead, he said to Phaedrus ‘Not a word more shall you have from me (Ouket’ an to pera akousais emou legontos); let that be the end of my discourse (all’ ȇdȇ soi telos echetȏ ho logos, 241d1-3)’, and was leaving. Phaedrus begged him to stay and discuss all that was said. Socrates stopped, turned around and said: ‘You’ve a superhuman capacity when it comes to speeches (Theios g’ ei peri tous logous), Phaedrus (ȏ Phaidre); you’re simply amazing (kai atechnȏs thaumasios). Of the speeches which there have been during your lifetime, I think (oimai gar egȏ tȏn epi tou sou biou gegonotȏn logȏn) that no one has brought more into existence than you (mȇdena pleious ȇ se pepoiȇkenai gegenȇsthai), either by making them yourself (ȇtoi auton legonta) or by forcing others to make them, in one way or another (ȇ allous heni ge tȏi tropȏi prosanankazonta). Simmias the Theban is the one exception (Simmian Thȇbaion exairȏ logou); the rest you beat by a long way (tȏn de allȏn pampolu krateis). Just so, now (kai nun au), you seem to me to have become the cause of my making a speech (dokeis aitios moi gegenȇsthai logȏi tini rȇthȇnai).’ (242a7-b5, tr. C.J. Rowe).

The words concerning Simmias are anachronistic. At the time of the dramatic staging of the dialogue – the Peace of Nicias, which was made in 421 B.C. – Simmias was a little boy.

How do we know that the dialogue was staged in the time of peace? It takes place outside the city walls (exȏ teichous). Phaedrus tells Socrates that he decided to go for a walk (pros peripaton, 227a3) after the whole morning spent with Lysias and his speech (logos) concerning love (erȏtikos). Socrates exclaims: ‘I am so eager to hear about it (egȏ oun houtȏs epitetumȇka akousai), that even if your walk takes you to Megara (hȏst’ ean badizȏn poiȇi ton peripaton Megarade), up to the walls (kai prosbas tȏi teichei) and back again (palin apiȇis), I won’t leave you (ou mȇ sou apoleiphthȏ, 227d3-5).’ – Something, which was unthinkable at the time when Plato wrote the dialogue, in 405 B.C. For in 413 Sparta occupied Decelea in Attica, and since then even the annual solemn procession to Eleusis for the celebration of the Eleusinian Mysteries had to be abandoned and replaced by a journey by sea.

Implicated in profaning the Eleusinian mysteries, Phaedrus was in exile since 415. This is thus the latest possible dramatic date for the Phaedrus.

How do we know that Simmias must have been just a boy at the time when the Phaedrus was dramatically staged? Simmias and Cebes, another Theban, are Socrates’ main interlocutors in the Phaedo. In the Phaedo we find Socrates’ friends deeply unhappy about Socrates’ impending death. In contrast, Socrates himself appeared to be happy (eudaimȏn ephaineto, 58e3), convinced as he was that his death was to open a new and better life for him. Simmias and Cebes asked Socrates to prove that the human soul was immortal. Socrates did his best, yet they found his proofs unsatisfactory. Phaedo, himself a young man, reflected on the uneasy silence that followed the objections of ‘those two youngsters’ (tȏn neaniskȏn, 89a3), and on Socrates’ response:

‘What I especially admired was, first, the pleasure, kindliness, and approval with which he received the young men’s argument (alla egȏge malista ethaumasa autou prȏton men touto, hȏs hȇdeȏs kai eumenȏs kai agamenȏs tȏn neaniskȏn ton logon apedexato); next his acuteness in perceiving how their speeches had affected us (epeita hȇmȏn hȏs oxeȏs ȇistheto ho ‘peponthamen hupo tȏn logȏn); and finally his success in treating us (epeita hȏs eu hȇmas iasato), rallying us as if we were fleeing in defeat (kai hȏsper pepheugotas  kai hȇttȇmenous), and encouraging us to follow him in examining the argument together (anekalesato kai proutrepsen pros to parepesthai te kai suskopein ton logon, 89a1-7, tr. David Gallop).

The Phaedo thus makes it quite certain that Socrates’ reference to Simmias in the Phaedrus was an anachronism. What the anachronism refers to, in my view, is the time Plato finished the dialogue. Simmias could come to Athens only after the unconditional surrender of the Athenians to the Spartans and their allies, with which the Peloponnesian war ended in 404 B.C.

That Simmias and Cebes became Socrates’ followers we learn from Xenophon. In the first book of the Memorabilia he says that Simmias and Cebes ‘consorted with Socrates (ekeinȏi sunȇsan) that they might become gentlemen (hina kaloi te k’agathoi genomenoi), and be able to do their duty by house and household, and relatives and friends, and city and citizens (kai oikȏi kai oiketais kai oikeiois kai philois kai polei kai politais dunainto kalȏs chrȇsthai (I.ii.48). In the third book Socrates asks Theodotȇ: ‘What is the reason (dia ti), do you suppose (oiei) that Apollodorus and Antisthenes (Apollodȏron te kai Antisthenȇn) never leave me (oudepote mou apoleipesthai;)? And why (dia ti de kai) do Cebes and Simmias (Kebȇta kai Simmian) come to me from Thebes (Thȇbȇthen paragignesthai)?’ (III.xi.17, translation from the Memorabilia E.C. Marchant).

On its own, Socrates’ anachronistic reference to Simmias in the Phaedrus, viewed as a pointer to the time when Plato accomplished the dialogue, leaves open the possibility that the dialogue could have been written any time from the moment the Peloponnesian war ended to the time when Socrates was indited of corrupting the youth of Athens and of introducing new deities. Yet I believe that he finished the dialogue shortly after the end of the war, which means that Simmias came to Athens as soon as it became possible, avid as he was to hear all that Socrates could tell him, and to hear all that those around Socrates could tell him about Socrates.

What makes me sure that Plato finished the Phaedrus shortly after the end of the Peloponnesian war is the Charmides, his second dialogue. Socrates’ main interlocutor in the Charmides is Critias, one of the Thirty, who were nominally appointed to draft new constitution kata ta patria, i.e. in accordance with the ancient patriarchal rule, but at once ceased full power. At the end of the dialogue Socrates bewails his inability to make a proper investigation; throughout the dialogue he did his best to discover what sȏphrosunȇ (‘self-control’, ‘self-knowledge’, ‘each person doing their own thing’) is, and failed. But Charmides waves Socrates’ ignorance aside – ‘I don’t really believe you at all’ – and expresses his wish to be instructed in sȏphrosunȇ by Socrates. Critias not only approved of his wish, he ordered Charmides to let himself be educated by Socrates. Charmides replies: ‘I’d be behaving terribly (deina gar an poioiȇn) if I didn’t obey you (ei mȇ peithoimȇn soi), my guardian (tȏi epitropȏi) and didn’t do (kai mȇ poioiȇn) what you tell me (ha keleueis).’ – Critias: ‘I’m telling you (Alla mȇn keleuȏ egȏge).’ – Charmides: ‘Well then, I’ll do it (Poiȇsȏ toinun), starting today (apo tautȇsi tȇs hȇmeras arxamenos)’ (176b9-c3).

The whole dialogue is narrated by Socrates, and the last couple of lines, which are of crucial importance for its dating, are best given as Socrates narrated them to his noble friend (ȏ hetaire ‘my friend’ 154b8, ȏ gennada ‘my noble friend’ 155d3):

‘What are you two plotting to do?’ I asked (Houtoi, ȇn d’ egȏ, ti bouleuesthon poiein;).

‘Nothing (Ouden),’ said Charmides (ephȇ ho Charmidȇs). ‘We’ve done our plotting (alla bebouleumetha).’

‘Are you going to resort to the use of force (Biasȇi ara), without even giving me a preliminary hearing in court?’ I asked (ȇn d’ egȏ, kai oud’ anakrisin moi dȏseis;)’.

‘I certainly am (Hȏs biasomenou),’ he replied (ephȇ), since Critias here orders me to (epeidȇper hode ge epitattei) – which is why you should plot what you’ll do (pros tauta su au bouleuou hoti poiȇseis).’

‘But there’s no time left for plotting,’ I said (All’ oudemia, ephȇn egȏ, leipetai boulȇ). ‘Once you’re intent on doing something (soi gar epicheirounti prattein hotioun) and are resorting to the use of force (kai biazomenȏi), no man alive will be able to resist you (oudeis hoios t’ estai enantiousthai antrȏpȏn).’

‘Well then (Mȇ toinun),’ he said (ȇ d’ hos), ‘don’t resist me either (mȇde su enantiou).’

‘I won’t,’ I said (Ou toinun, ȇn d’ egȏ, enantiȏsomai). (Translation Donald Watt).

As we know from Plato’s Apology, the Thirty summoned Socrates and four others to their office and ordered them to imprison a man and bring him to Athens for execution. Socrates disobeyed, as he said at his trial:

‘When the oligarchy came into power (epeidȇ oligarchia egeneto), the Thirty Commissioners summoned me and four others to the Round Chamber (hoi triakonta metapempsamenoi me pempton auton eis tȇn tholon) and ordered us to go and fetch Leon of Salamis for execution (prosetaxan agagein ek Salaminos Leonta ton Salaminion hina apothanoi) … Powerful as it was, that government did not terrify me into doing a wrong action (eme gar ekeinȇ hȇ archȇ ouk exeplȇxen, houtȏs ischura ousa, hȏste adikon ti ergasasthai); when we came out of the Round Chamber (all’ epeidȇ ek tȇs tholou exȇlthomen) the other four went off to Salamis (hoi men tessares ȏichonto eis Salamina) and arrested Leon (kai ȇgagon Leonta), and I went home (egȏ de ȏichomȇn apiȏn oikade).’ (32c4-d7, tr. Hugh Tredennick)

I cannot see how Plato could have written the closing lines of the Charmides after this incident.

The Phaedrus, Plato’s first dialogue, was in my view written and published in its totality before Plato conceived of writing the Charmides. What makes me think so? The second part of the Phaedrus is devoted to Plato’s outline of rhetoric, which was to derive its power from philosophy: Socrates maintains that unless Phaedrus ‘engages in philosophy sufficiently well’ (hikanȏs philosophȇsȇi) he will never be a sufficiently good speaker either about anything (oude hikanos pote legein estai peri oudenos, 261a4-5, tr. C.J. Rowe). Rhetoric was a powerful political tool in democracy, but there was no place for it in the oligarchy as Critias envisaged it. Xenophon says that when Critias became one of the Thirty and was drafting laws with Charicles, ‘he inserted a clause (en tois nomois egrapse) which made it illegal to teach the art of words’, i.e. to teach rhetoric (logȏn technȇn mȇ didaskein). Xenophon says that ‘it was a calculated insult to Socrates (epȇreazȏn ekeinȏi), whom he saw no other means of attacking (kai ouk echȏn hopȇi epilaboito), except by imputing to him the practice constantly attributed to philosophers by the many (alla to koinȇi tois philosophois hupo tȏn pollȏn epitimȏmenon epipherȏn autȏi, I.ii.31, tr. Marchant). Pace Xenophon, the Phaedrus gave Critias reason to believe that the law against rhetoric was going to hit Socrates. Xenophon says that Critias and Charicles ‘sent for Socrates (kalesante ton Sȏkratȇn), showed him the law (ton te nomon edeiknutȇn autȏi), and forbade him to hold conversation with the young (kai tois neois apeipetȇn mȇ dialegesthai, I.ii.33)’. Socrates asked them ‘to fix the age limit below which a man is to be accounted young’ (horisate moi mechri posȏn etȏn dei nomizein neous einai tous anthrȏpous). Charicles replied: ‘So long, as he is not permitted to sit in the Council (Hosouper chronou bouleuein ouk exestin), because as yet he lacks wisdom (hȏs oupȏ phronimois ousi). You shall not converse (mȇde su dialegou) with anyone who is under thirty (neȏterois triakonta etȏn, I.ii. 35, tr. Marchant).’

This meant that Socrates was forbidden from conversing with Plato, who was at that time approaching his mid-twenties. That the prohibition hurt both Socrates and Plato can be seen in the Lysis, which is in my view the first dialogue Plato wrote after the demise of the Thirty and the renewal of democracy. In the dialogue Socrates tells Lysis that it is not his youth that prevents him from doing many things he would like to do, but his lack of knowledge. Socrates asks: ‘Don’t you think that the Athenians will trust you with their affairs (Athȇnaious oiei soi ouk epitrepsein ta hautȏn), as soon as they realize (hotan aisthanȏntai) that you know enough (hoti hikanȏs phroneis;)?’ – Lysis replies: ‘I do (Egȏge).’ (Lysis 209d4-5).

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I believe that Plato inserted his anachronic reference to Simmias into the prelude to Socrates’ second speech, his palinode, as a mark for himself. He did so in the spirit of the third part of the Phaedrus, in which he viewed writing as his preferred pastime: ‘laying up a store of reminders for himself (heautȏi hupomnȇmata thȇsaurizomenos), when he may reach the forgetful old age (eis to lȇthȇs gȇras ean hikȇtai, 276d3-4)’.

But when he in the Phaedo made the young Phaedo call Simmias and Cebes youngsters, he did so for readers removed in time and space from the days in which the dialogue was written and published. As he grew old, it became important for him that his readers were aware that the Phaedrus was his first dialogue. In the Laws, the work of his old age, which was published after his death, he wrote: ‘Truth is the beginning of every good thing, both to Gods and to men (alȇtheia dȇ pantȏn men agathȏn theois hȇgeitai, pantȏn de anthrȏpois); and he who would be blessed and happy, should be from the first a partaker of truth (hȇs ho genȇsesthai mellȏn makarios te kai eudaimȏn ex archȇs euthus metochos eiȇ), that he may live a true man as long as possible (hina hȏs pleiston chronon alȇthȇs diabioi), for then he can be trusted (pistos gar, 730c1-4, tr. B. Jowett).’ It was the Phaedran Palinode in which Plato presented his readers with the truth (tȇn alȇtheian, 249b6), the true being (to on ontȏs, 249c4), which consists of things to which the philosopher is always as close as possible (pros gar ekeinois aei estin kata dunamin), ‘those things his closeness to which gives a god his divinity’ (pros hoisper theos ȏn theios estin, 249c5-6, tr. C.J. Rowe).

The Sophist corrects the Phaedrus

In my preceding post I pointed out that the Sophist points to aspects of the Phaedrus, with which it is in agreement. Now I shall focus on points where the Sophist corrects the Phaedrus.

In the Phaedrus adoleschia figures as a term of high praise:

Socrates: ‘I am inclined to think (Kinduneuei), my good friend (ȏ ariste), that it was not surprising that Pericles became the most finished exponent of rhetoric there has ever been (eikotȏs ho Periklȇs pantȏn teleȏtatos eis tȇn rȇtorikȏn genesthai) … All the great arts need supplementing by a study of Nature: your artist must cultivate adoleschia (‘garrulity’, ‘loquacity’, ‘babbling’, ‘idle talking’ are all inadequate renderings at this place) and high-flown speculation (Pasai hois megalai tȏn technȏn prosdeontai adoleschias kai meteȏrologias phuseȏs peri); from that source alone can come the mental elevation and thoroughly finished execution (to gar hupsȇlonoun touto kai pantȇi telesiourgon eoiken enteuthen pothen eisienai); and that is what Pericles acquired to supplement his inborn capacity (ho kai Periklȇs pros tȏi euphuȇs einai ektȇsato)’ (Phdr. 269e1-270a3, tr. R. Hackforth).

In the Sophist the term adoleschia is used with contempt. In a division, which is set aside on the way to the fifth definition of the Sophist, the Eleatic Stranger says: ‘I should say (Dokȏ mȇn) that the habit which leads a man to neglect his own affairs for the pleasure of conversation (to ge di’ hȇdonȇn tȇs peri tauta diatribȇs ameles tȏn oikeiȏn gignomenon), of which the style is far from being agreeable to the majority of his hearers (peri de tȇn lexin tois pollois tȏn akouontȏn ou meth’ hȇdonȇs akouomenon), may be fairly termed loquacity: such is my opinion (kaleisthai kata gnȏmȇn tȇn emȇn ouch heteron adoleschikou).’ – Theaetetus: ‘That is the common name for it (Legetai gar oun houtȏ pȏs).’ (Soph. 225d7-11, tr. B. Jowett)

In using the term adoleschia with disdain, the Sophist is in agreement with its use elsewhere in Plato. So why does it cause such a problem to distinguished interpreters of the Sophist? Cornford, translating adoleschikon as ‘babbling’, asks ‘Who are these babblers?’ and goes on to say: ‘I cannot agree with Campbell that Socrates is meant, though he did neglect his affairs and become poor in pursuit of his mission; nor with Diès that babbler is the true dialectician. This would make the true philosopher a species of Eristic, arguing for fame or victory. It is true that the term “babbling” was applied to philosophy by its enemies and in particular to Socratic conversation. Plato himself adopts it as a left-handed complement, together with meteȏrologos, the term of reproach for Ionian science. This suggests that the babblers here, who do not take fees, must be some followers of Socrates who could also be described as Eristics. There can be little doubt that the Megareans are meant, as Susemihl suggested. They were also followers of the Eleatic school, and at Phaedrus 261c disputation (antilogikȇ) includes, together with political and forensic oratory, the dialectical arguments of Zeno, “the Eleatic Palamedes” – his art of “making the same things appear to his hearers both like and unlike, one and many, at rest and moving”. The whole is condemned as an art of deception.’ (Cornford, Plato’s Theory of Knowledge, 1935, third impression 1949, pp. 176-7).

Cornford is wrong when he says that in the Phaedrus the whole art of disputation (antilogikȇ) ‘is condemned as an art of deception’. True, in the Phaedrus antilogikȇ is characterised as the art of deception (apatȇ, 261e6), but it is not condemned, far from it. It is viewed as essential to rhetoric, coming to the fore in Socrates’ conception of scientific rhetoric (rȇtorikȇ technȇ, 261a7) defined by him as psuchagȏgia (‘leading of the soul’). Let me begin with Socrates’ definition:

‘Well then (Ar’ oun), will not the science of rhetoric as a whole be a kind of leading of the soul by means of things said (ou to men holon hȇ rȇtorikȇ an eiȇ technȇ psuchagȏgia tis dia logȏn), not only in law-courts (ou monon in dikastȇriois) and all other kinds of public gatherings (kai hosoi alloi dȇmosioi sullogoi), but in private ones too (alla kai en idiois) – the same science (hȇ autȇ), whether it is concerned with small matters or large ones (smikrȏn te kai megalȏn peri), and something which possesses no more value (kai ouden entimoteron), if properly understood (to ge orthon), when it comes into play with things of importance than when it does with things of no importance (peri spoudaia ȇ peri phaula gignomenon)? Is this what you’ve heard about it (ȇ pȏs su tauta akȇkoas;)?’ – Phaedrus; ‘No, I must say (Ou ma ton Di’), not absolutely that (ou pantapasin houtȏs): a science of speaking and writing is perhaps especially employed in lawsuits (alla malista men pȏs peri tas dikas legetai te kai graphetai technȇi), though also in public addresses (legetai de kai peri dȏmȇgorias); I have not heard of any extension of it beyond that (epi pleon de ouk akȇkoa).’ (Phdr. 261a7-b5, tr. C.J. Rowe)

Socrates’ question ‘Is this what you’ve heard about it?’ and Phaedrus’ rejoinder ‘No, I must say …’ emphasises the fact that the definition of rhetoric as psuchagȏgia introduces a new conception of rhetoric, which is fundamental to the conception of it outlined in the Phaedrus. In the discussion that followed Socrates substantiated it:

Socrates: ‘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) Socrates went on to explain how the intended deception (apatȇ, 261e6) was to be achieved scientifically (technȇi, 261c10).

In the Sophist the notion of antilogikȇ, which comes to the fore in divisions that pave the way to the fifth definition of the Sophist, corresponds to its conception in the Phaedrus. The Eleatic Stranger: ‘And when the war is one of words (Tȏi de [machȇtikȏi, 225a5] logois pros logous), it may be termed controversy (ti tis allo eipȇi plȇn amphisbȇtikon;)?’ – Theaetetus: ‘Yes’ (Ouden)- Str.: ‘And controversy may be of two kinds (To de ge peri tas amphisbȇtȇseis theteon ditton).’ – Th.: ‘What are they (Pȇi)?’ – Str.: ‘When long speeches are answered by long speeches (Kath’ hoson men gar gignetai mȇkesi te pros enantia mȇkȇ logȏn), and there is public discussion about the just and unjust (kai peri dikaia kai adika dȇmosiai), that is forensic controversy (dikanikon).’ – Th. ‘Yes’ (Nai). – Str.: ‘And there is a private sort of controversy (To d’ en tois idiois au), which is cut up into questions and answers (kai katakekermatismenon erȏtȇsesi pros apokriseis), and that is commonly called disputation (m’ȏn eithismetha kalein allo plȇn antilogikon;)?’ – Th. ‘Yes, that is the name (Ouden).’ … Str.: ‘I should say (Dokȏ mȇn) that the habit which leads a man to neglect his own affairs for the pleasure of conversation (to ge di’ hȇdonȇn tȇs peri tauta diatribȇs ameles tȏn oikeiȏn gignomenon), of which the style is far from being agreeable to the majority of his hearers (peri de tȇn lexin tois pollois tȏn akouontȏn ou meth’ hȇdonȇs akouomenon), may be fairly termed loquacity: such is my opinion (kaleisthai kata gnȏmȇn tȇn emȇn ouch heteron adoleschikou).’ (Soph. 225a12-d10, tr. B. Jowett)

That Plato points here his finger at the Phaedrus becomes even clearer in the sixth definition of the Sophist as ‘the purifier of the soul from conceits that stand in the way of knowledge’ (doxȏn empodiȏn mathȇmasin peri psuchȇn kathartȇn, 231e5-6, tr. Cornford), which Cornford comments with the words: ‘a description which (as Jackson and others have seen) applies to Socrates and to no one else’ (Cornford, p. 177) The Eleatic Stranger opens the divisions leading to the sixth definition with the art of Separating (diakritikȇ, 226c8), which he subdivides into that which separates things that are alike, which is set aside, and that which is concerned with separating the bad from the good,  the art of purification (katharmos, 226d10). The art of purification he divides into the arts that purify the body, such as medicine (iatrikȇ), gymnastic (gumnastikȇ), and the art of the bath-man (balaneutikȇ), and the purification which ‘removes evil from the soul’ (aphaeresis kakias psuchȇs, 227d9). It is in referring to the former that the Stranger takes on board and enlarges on a point that Socrates made in his definition of psychagȏgia in the Phaedrus:

‘The dialectical art (Tȇi tȏn logȏn methodȏi) never considers whether the benefit to be derived from the purge is greater or less than that to be derived from the sponge, and has no more interest in the one than in the other (spongistikȇs ȇ pharmakoposias ouden hȇtton oude ti mallon tunchanei melon ei to men smikra, to de megala hȇmas ȏphelei kathairon); her endeavour is to know what is and is not kindred in all arts, with a view to acquisition of intelligence (tou ktȇsasthai gar heneka noun pasȏn technȏn to sungenes kai to mȇ sungenes katanoein peirȏmenȇ); and having this in view, she honours them all alike (timai pros touto ex isou pasas), and when she makes comparisons, she counts one of them not a whit more ridiculous than another (kai thatera tȏn heterȏn kata tȇn homoiotȇta ouden hȇgeitai geloiotera); nor does she esteem him who adduces as his example of hunting, the general’s art, at all more decorous than another who cites that of the vermin-destroyer (semnoteron de ti ton dia stratȇgikȇs ȇ phtheiristikȇs dȇlounta thȇreutikȇn ouden nenomiken), but only as the greater pretender of the two (all’ hȏs to polu chaunoteron). And as to your question (kai dȇ kai nun, hoper ȇrou) concerning the name which was to comprehend all these arts of purification, whether of animate or inanimate bodies (ti proseroumen onoma sumpasas dunameis hosai sȏma eite empsuchon eite apsuchon eilȇchasi kathairein), the art of dialectic is in no wise particular about fine words (ouden autȇi dioisei poion ti lechthen euprepestaton einai doxei), if she may be only allowed to have a general name for all other purifications, binding them up together and separating them off from the purification of the soul or intellect (monon echetȏ chȏris tȏn tȇs psuchȇs katharseȏn panta sundȇsan hosa allo ti kathairei). For this is the purification at which she wants to arrive, and this we should understand to be her aim (ton gar peri tȇn dianoian katharmon apo tȏn allȏn epikecheirȇken aphorisasthai ta nun, ei ge hoper bouletai manthanomen).’ (227a7-c6, tr. B. Jowett)

Let me recall, for comparison, the relevant part of Socrates’ definition of rhetoric in the Phaedrus: ‘Will not the science of rhetoric as a whole be a kind of leading of the soul by means of things said (ou to men holon hȇ rȇtorikȇ an eiȇ technȇ psuchagȏgia tis dia logȏn) … whether it is concerned with small matters or large ones (smikrȏn te kai megalȏn peri), and something which possesses no more value (kai ouden entimoteron), if properly understood (to ge orthon), when it comes into play with things of importance than when it does with things of no importance (peri spoudaia ȇ peri phaula gignomenon)?’

In the Phaedrus Socrates gives no example of such small matters, but in the Sophist it plays an important role. The Eleatic stranger says: ‘And as I know that the tribe of Sophists is troublesome and hard to be caught, I should recommend that we practice beforehand the method which is to be applied to him on some simple and smaller thing (egȏge nȏin sumbouleuȏ, chalepon kai dusthȇreuton hȇgȇsamenos einai to tou sophistou genos proteron en allȏi raioni tȇn methodon autou promeletan) … Then suppose that we work out some lesser example which will be a pattern of the greater (Boulei dȇta peri tinos tȏn phaulȏn metiontes peirathȏmen paradeigma auto thesthai tou meizonos;)? … What is there which is well known and not great, and is yet as susceptible of definition as any larger thing (Ti dȇta protaxaimeth’ an eugnȏston men kai smikron, logon de mȇdenos elattona echon tȏn meizonȏn;)? Shall I say an angler (hoion aspalieutȇs)? He is familiar to all of us (ar’ ou pasi te gnȏrimon), and not a very interesting or important person (kai spoudȇs ou panu ti pollȇs tinos epaxion;) … Yet I suspect that he will furnish us with the sort of definition and line of enquiry which we want (Methodon mȇn auton elpizȏ kai logon ouk anepitȇdeion hȇmin echein pros ho boulometha).’ (Soph. 218d2-219a2, tr. B. Jowett).’

***

Earlier on I wrote: ‘In using adoleschia contemptuously, the Sophist is in agreement with its use elsewhere in Plato. So why does it cause such a problem to distinguished interpreters of the Sophist?’ I illustrated their different interpretations with a quotation from Cornford, but I did not answer the question. The answer is, I believe, that the affinities between these two dialogues, combined with their divergence and discrepancy, cannot be explained on whatever late dating of the Phaedrus the interpreters may have adhered to. These difficulties disappear if we take into consideration the ancient dating of the Phaedrus as Plato’s first dialogue, written during Socrates’ lifetime: There were important points in the Phaedrus that Plato in the Sophist adhered to and enlarged upon, but there were as well important points that required correction.

Let me attempt to explain Plato’s adoleschia in the Phaedrus on the basis of my dating of the dialogue. I believe that Plato wrote it in response to Aristophanes’ Frogs, staged in 405. The comedy culminates in Aeschylus’ leaving the Underworld to save the Athenians. The chorus sings ‘in delight (charien oun), not sitting around Socrates in babbling (mȇ Sȏkratei parakathȇmenon lalein) having thrown away art (apobalonta mousikȇn, 1491-3)’. I believe that with the hint of ‘throwing away art and sitting around Socrates’ the chorus points the finger at Plato. Diogenes Laertius says that when Plato was twenty years old (gegonȏs eikosi etȇ) and was about ‘to compete for a prize with a tragedy (agȏnieisthai tragȏidiai)’, ‘having listened to Socrates in front of the theatre of Dionysus (pro tou Dionysiakou theatrou Sȏkratous akousas) he burnt his poems (katephlexe ta poiȇmata) and from then on adhered to Socrates (t’ounteuthen diȇkouse Sȏkratous)’. (III. 5-6) The Lenaean Dionysiac festival took place in the month Gamelion, which corresponds to our January-February, and so we may imagine that Socrates’ audience was assembled around a fire. Plato through his poems into the fire with the words: ‘Come hither, O fire god (Hȇphaiste, promol’ hȏde), Plato now has need of thee’ (Platȏn nu ti seio chatizei, Diog. Laert. III. 5)’. The spectacular manner in which he thus became a follower of Socrates must have been much talked about. How else could Aristophanes have alluded to it in the culminating moment in the Frogs?

Some eighteen years earlier Aristophanes made fun of Socrates in the Clouds. Strepsiades, a peasant, the comedy’s hero, burns Socrates’ Thinkery (phrontistȇrion, 94), ‘the home of the babblers’ (tȇn oikian tȏn adoleschȏn, 1484-5), in the end of the play. Depicting Socrates and those around him as ‘babbling’ (lalein) in the Frogs, Aristophanes reminded his audience of the Clouds. There was no point in Plato’s trying to persuade his readers that Socrates was no adoleschȇs, he could not succeed in doing so. He chose a different way of defending him; he presented adoleschia as the source of profound thinking. And there was a good ground for his doing so.

In the Parmenides, after refuting the young Socrates’ immature theory of forms, Parmenides says to him: ‘Your impulse toward argument is noble and indeed divine (kalȇ men oun kai theia, eu isthi, hȇ hormȇ hȇn hormais epi tous logous). But train yourself more thoroughly while you are still young; drag yourself through what is generally regarded as useless, and condemned by the multitude as idle talk (helkuson de sauton kai gumnasai mallon dia tȇs dokousȇs achrȇstou einai kai kaloumenȇs hupo tȏn pollȏn adoleschias, heȏs eti neos ei). Otherwise (ei de mȇ), the truth will escape you (se diapheuxetai hȇ alȇtheia).’ (135d2-6, tr. R.E. Allen) In the opening line of the dialog we learn that Kephalos and his friends, interested in philosophy, came to Athens from Clazomenae in Asia Minor to learn about the discussion that young Socrates had with Zeno and Parmenides; they heard that Plato’s half-brother Antiphon could relate from memory the arguments discussed, having often heard them from Pythodorus, Zeno’s friend. Plato’s elder brother Adeimantus confirms the story: ‘When Antiphon was young, he used to rehearse them diligently (meirakion gar ȏn autous eu mala diemeletȇsen, 126c6-7).’

Having thus every reason to suppose that those for whom he wrote the dialogue knew the story, Plato reinforced the laudatory meaning of adoleschia by presenting it as the source from which Pericles drew the mental elevation and thoroughly finished execution of his speeches. We can learn from Aristophanes’ Frogs how strongly Pericles figured in the thoughts of the Athenians in that final year of the Peloponnesian War, when the democracy was still strong. Aeschylus won his contest with Euripides, and returned to Athens from the Underworld, for his advice – ‘When they shall count the enemy’s soil their own (tȇn gȇn hotan nomisȏsi tȇn tȏn polemiȏn einai spheteran), and theirs the enemy’s (tȇn de spheteran tȏn polemiȏn), when they know that ships are their true wealth (poron de tas naus), their so-called wealth delusion (aporian de ton poron, 1463-5)’ was the one that could save Athens, as the Athenians fervently believed. ‘It was the counsel which was given by Pericles at the commencement of the war’, as Rogers notes, summarizing Pericles’ speech, given in Thucydides i. 140-144, as follows: “What if the enemy ravages Attica? So long as Athens is the mistress of the sea, the whole world will be open to her fleets.” (BB. Rogers, The Frogs of Aristophanes, note on 1463).