The introductory scene in the Laws, and the Phaedrus

 

In the opening scene of the Laws the Athenian suggests to his companions, Megillus, a Spartan, and Cleinias, a Cretan, that on their way they should discus laws:

Athenian: Tell me, gentlemen, to whom do you give the credit for establishing your codes of law? Is it a god or a man? (Qeo\j h1 tij a1nqrw&pwn u9mi=n, w} ce/noi, ei1lhfe th\n ai0ti/an th=j tw~n no/mwn diaqe/sewj;)

Cleinias: A god, sir, a god – and that’s the honest truth (Qeo/j, w} ce/ne, qeo/j, w(j ge to\ dikaio/taton ei0pei=n). Among us Cretans it is Zeus (para\ me\n h9mi=n Zeu/j); in Sparta (para\ de\ Lakedaimoni/oij) – which is where our friend here hails from (o3qen o3de e0sti/n) – they say it is Apollo, I believe (oi]mai fa/nai tou/touj A0po/llwna). Isn’t that right (h] ga/r;)?

Megillus: Yes, that’s right (Nai/).

(624a1-6, the introductory 6 lines of the Laws; translation Trevor J. Saunders, whose translation I use throughout my work on the Laws.)

Athenian: Well then, since you and your companion have been raised under laws with such a splendid ancestry (e0peidh\ de\ e0n toiou=toij h1qesi te/trafqe nomikoi=j su/ te kai\ o3de), I expect you will be quite happy if we spend our time together today in a discussion about constitutions and laws, and occupy our journey in a mutual exchange of views (prosdokw~ ou0k a2n a0hdw~j peri/ te politei/aj ta\ nu=n kai\ no/mwn th\n diatribh/n, le/gonta/j te kai\ a0kou/ontaj a3ma kata\ th\n porei/an, poih/sasqai). I’ve heard it said that from Cnossos to Zeus’ cave and shrine is quite a long way (pa/ntwj d’ h3 ge e0k Knwsou= o9do\j ei0j to\ tou= Dio\j a1ntron kai\ i9ero/n, w(j a0kou/omen, i9kanh/), and the tall trees along the route provide shady resting places which will be more than welcome in this stiflingly hot weather (kai\ a0na/paulai kata\ th\n o9do/n, w(j ei0ko/j, pni/gouj o1ntoj ta\ nu=n, e0n toi=j u9yhloi=j de/ndresi/n ei0si skiarai/). At our age, there is every excuse for having frequent rests in them (kai\ tai=j h9liki/aij pre/pon a2n h9mw~n ei1h to\ dianapau&esqai pukna\ e0n au0tai=j), so as to refresh ourselves by conversation (lo/goij te a0llh/louj paramuqoume/nouj). In this way we shall come to the end of the whole journey without having tired ourselves out (th\n o9do\n a3pasan ou3tw meta\ r9a|stw&nhj diapera=nai).

In the Phaedrus Socrates, styling himself as the Athenian stranger, admires the scene, which Phaedrus has chosen for reading to him – and discuss with him – Lysias’ Eroticus:

‘By Hera (Nh\ th\n H{ran), a fine stopping place (kalh/ ge h9 katagwgh/)! This plane-tree is very spreading and tall (h[ te ga\r pla/tanoj au3th ma/l’ a0mfilafh/j te kai\ u9yhlh/), and the tallness and shadiness of the agnus are quite lovely (tou= te a1gnou to\ u3yoj kai\ to\ su/skion pa/gkalon); and being in full flower (kai\ w(j a0kmh\n e1xei th=j a1nqhj) it seems the place to smell as sweetly as it could (w(j a2n eu0wde/staton pare/xoi to\n to/pon). The stream, too, flows very attractively under the plane, with the coolest water (h3 te au] phgh\ xariesta/th u9po\ th=j plata/nou r9ei= ma/la yuxrou= u3datoj), to judge by my foot (w#ste ge tw~| podi\ tekmh/rasqai). From the figurines and statuettes, the spot seems to be sacred to some Nymphs and to Achelous (Numfw~n te/ tinwn kai\ A0xelw~|ou i9ero\n a0po\ tw~n korw~n te kai\ a0galma/twn e1oiken ei]nai). Then again, if you like (ei0 d’ au] bou/lei), how welcome it is, the freshness of the place, and very pleasant (to\ eu1pnoun tou= to/pou w(j a0gaphto\n kai\ sfo/dra h9du/); it echoes with a summery shrillness to the cicadas’ song (qerino/n te kai\ liguro\n u9phxei= tw~|| tw~n qetti/gwn xorw~|). Most delightful of all is the matter of the grass (pa/ntwn de\ komyo/taton to\ th=j po/aj), growing on a gentle slope and thick enough to be just right to rest one’s head upon (o3ti e0n h0re/ma prosa/ntei i9kanh\ pe/fuke katakline/nti th\n kefalh\n pagka/lwj e1xein). So you have been the best of guides for a stranger (w#ste a1rista/ soi e0cena/ghtai), my dear Phaedrus (w} fi/le Fai=dre).’ (229b2-c5, translation C.J. Rowe, whose translation I use when I work on the Phaedrus).

After producing his talk, rivalling Lysias’ Eroticus, Socrates intends to leave, but Phaedrus begs him to stay: ‘Don’t go yet (Mh/pw ge), Socrates (w} Sw&kratej); not until the heat of the day has passed (pri\n a2n to\ kau=ma pare/lqh). Don’t you see that it’s just about midday (h2 ou0x o9ra=|j w(j sxedo\n h1dh meshmbri/a i3statai), the time when we say that everything comes to a stop (h9 dh\ kaloume/nh staqera/;)? Let’s wait (a0lla\ paramei/nantej) and discuss what has been said (kai\\ a3ma peri\ tw~n ei0rhme/nwn dialexqe/ntej), and then we’ll go, when it’s cooler (ta/xa e0peida\n a0poyuxh=| i1men).’ (242a3-6)

The motive of the stifling heat (pni=goj) – evocated in Laws 625b3: pni/gouj o1ntoj ta\ nu=n (‘in this stiflingly hot weather’) – comes to the fore in Phaedrus 258e2 (e0n tw~| pni/gei, ‘in the heat’), where Socrates considers examining Lysias on the subject of writing, and again at 279b4, where Phaedrus says that it’s time to end the discussion ‘now that the heat has become milder (e0peidh\ kai\ to\ pni=goj h0piw&teron ge/gonen)’.

Vindicating the hypothesis

 

In the post entitled ‘Conspiracy? What is it about’ I asked what Cleinias is talking about when he maintains that they must enrol the Athenian stranger as their partner in the foundation of the state, or abandon the project. I said that he must mean enrolling the whole of Plato, all his dialogues.

In the meantime I’ve found a passage that vindicates this hypothesis.

In Book VII the Athenian says: We have a great many poets who compose in hexameters and trimeters and all the standard metres (Le/gw mh\n o3ti poihtai/ te h9mi=n ei0si/n tinej e0pw~n e9came/trwn pa/mpolloi kai\ trime/trwn kai\ pa/ntwn dh\ tw~n legome/nwn me/trwn); some of these authors try to be serious (oi9 me\n e0pi\ spoudh/n), while others aim at a comic effect (oi9d’ e0pi\ ge/lwta w(rmhko/tej). Over and over again it’s claimed that in order to educate young people properly we have to cram their heads full of this stuff (e0n oi[j fasi dei=n oi9 polla/kij muri/oi tou\j o0rqw~j paideuome/nouj tw~n ne/wn tre/fein kai\ diakorei=j poiei=n); we have to organise recitations of it so that they never stop listening to it and acquire a vast repertoire (poluhko/ouj t’ e0n tai=j a0nagnw&sesin poiou=ntaj kai\ polumaqei=j), getting whole poets off by heart (o3louj poihta\j e0kmanqa/nontaj). Another school of thought excerpts the outstanding works of all the poets (oi9 de\ e0k pa/ntwn kefa/laia e0kle/cantej) and compiles a treasury of complete passages (kai/ tinaj o3laj r(h/seij ei0j tau0to\n sunagago/ntej), claiming that if the wide knowledge of a fully informed person is to produce a sound and sensible citizen, these extracts must be committed to memory and learn by rote (e0kmanqa/nein fasi\ dei=n ei0j mnh/mhn tiqeme/nouj, ei0 me/llei tij a0gaqo\j h9mi=n kai\ sofo\j e0k polupeiri/aj kai\ polumaqi/aj gene/sqai). I suppose you’re now pressing me to be quite frank (tou/toij dh\ su\ keleu/eij e0me\ ta\ nu=n parrhsiazo/menon) and show these people where they are right and where they’ve gone wrong (a0pofai/nesqai ti/ te kalw~j le/gousi kai\ ti/ mh/;)?

Cleinias: Of course (Pw~j ga\r ou1;).

Athenian: Each of these authors has produced a lot of fine work (polla\ me\n e3kaston tou/twn ei0rhke/nai kalw~j), and a lot of rubbish too (polla\ de\ kai\ tou0nanti/on) – but if that’s so (ei0 d’ ou3tw tou=t’ e1xei), I maintain that learning so much of it puts the young at risk (ki/nduno/n fhmi ei]nai fe/rousan toi=j paisi\n th\n polumaqi/an).

Cleinias: So what recommendation would you give the Guardian of the Laws [i.e. to Cleinias, and to Megillus] (Pw#j ou=n kai\ ti/ parainoi/hj a2n tw~| nomofu/laki;).

Athenian: What about (Tou= pe/ri le/geij;)?

Cleinias: The model work that will enable him to decide what material all the children may learn (Tou= pro/j ti/ para/deigma/ pote a0poble/faj a2n to\ me\n e0w&|h pa/ntaj manqa/nein tou\j ne/ouj), and what not (to\ d’ a0pokwlu/oi). Tell us, without any hesitation (le/ge kai\ mhde\n a0po/knei le/gwn).

Athenian: My dear Cleinias, I suspect I’ve had a bit of luck (W)gaqe\ Kleini/a, kinduneu/w kata/ ge/ tina tro/pon hu0tuxhke/nai).

Cleinias: How’s that (Tou= dh\ pe/ri;)?

Athenian: Because I haven’t got far to look for a model (Tou= mh\ panta/pasi paradei/gmatoj a0porei=n). You see, when I look back now over this discussion of ours, which has lasted from dawn up till this very moment (Nu=n ga\r a0poble/yaj pro\j tou\j lo/gouj ou4j e0c e3w me/xri deu=ro dh\ dielhlu/qamen h9mei=j) – a discussion in which I think I sense the inspiration of heaven (w(j me\n e0moi\ faino/meqa, ou0k a1neu tino\j e0pipnoi/aj qew~n) – well, it’s come to look, to my eyes, just like a literary composition (e1docan d’ ou]n moi panta/pasi poih/sei tini\ prosomoi/wj ei0rh=sqai). Perhaps not surprisingly, I was overcome by a feeling of immense satisfaction at the sight of my ‘collected works’, so to speak (kai/ moi i1swj ou0d\e\n qaumasto\n pa/qoj e0ph=lqe lo/gouj oi0kei/ouj oi[on a9qro/ouj e0pible/yanti ma/la h9sqh=nai), because, of all the addresses I have ever learned or listened to, whether in verse or in this kind of free prose style I’ve been using (tw~n ga\r dh\ plei/stwn lo/gwn ou3j e0n poih/masin h2 xu/dhn ou3twj ei0rhme/nouj mema/qhka kai\ a0kh/koa), it’s these that have impressed me as being the most eminently acceptable and the most entirely appropriate for the ears of the younger generation (pa/ntwn moi metriw&tatoi/ ge ei]nai katefa/nhsan kai\ prosh/kontej ta\ ma/lista a)kou/ein ne/oij). So I could hardly commend a better model than this to the Guardian of the Laws in charge of education (tw~| dh\ nomofu/laki/ te kai\ paideuth=| para/deigma ou0k a2n e1xoimi, w(j oi]mai, tou/twn be/ltion fra/zein). Here’s what he must tell the teachers to teach the children (h2 tau=ta/ te dida/skein parakeleu/esqai toi=si didaska/loij tou\j pai=daj), and if he comes across similar and related material while working through prose writings, or the verse of poets, or when listening to unwritten compositions in simple prose that show a family resemblance to our discussion today (ta/ te tou/twn e0xo/mena kai\ o9moi=a, a2n a1ra pou peritugxa/nh| poihtw~n te poih/mata dieciw_n kai\ gagramme/na kataloga/dhn h2 kai\ yilw~j ou3twj a1neu tou= gegra/fqai lego/mena, a0delfa/ pou tou/twn tw~n lo/gwn), he must on no account let them slip through his fingers (mh\ meqie/nai tro/pw| mhdeni/), but have them committed to writing (gra/fesqai de/). His first job will be to compel the teachers to learn this material (kai\ prw~ton me\n tou\j didaska/louj au0tou\j a0nagka/zein manqa/nein te) and speak well of it (kai\ e0painei=n), and must not employ as his assistance any teachers who disapprove of it (ou4j d’ a2n mh\ a0re/skh| tw~n didaska/lwn, mh\ xrh=sqai tou/toij sunergoi=j); he should employ only those who endorse his own high opinion (ou4j d’ a2n tw~| e0pai/nw| sumyh/fouj e1xh|, tou/toij xrw&menon), and entrust them with the teaching and education of children (tou\j ne/ouj au0toi=j paradido/nai dida/skein te kai\ paideu/ein). That, then, is my doctrine on literature and its teachers, so let me finish there (ou[to/j moi mu=qoj e0ntau=qa kai\ ou3tw teleuta/tw, peri\ grammatistw~n te ei0rhme/noj a3ma kai\ gramma/twn).

Criticising the Phaedrus in the Laws

 

In the Phaedrus Zeus’ love for Ganymede comes to the fore in the Palinode at the point when the Lover has caught his beloved:

‘Once the boy had admitted his lover and accepted his conversation and his company, the goodwill that he experiences at close quarters from his lover amazes the beloved, as he clearly sees that not even all his other friends and his relations together have anything to offer by way of affection in comparison with the friend who is divinely possessed. And when he continues doing this and association is combined with physical contact in the gymnasium and on the other occasions when people come together, then it is that the springs of that stream which Zeus as lover of Ganymede named “desire” (himeron, i3meron) flow in abundance upon the lover, some sinking within him, and some flowing off outside him as he brims over.’ (255b3-c4, tr. C.J. Rowe; quoted from ‘The philosopher-lover catches his beloved’, posted on September 29, 2023)

In the Laws it comes to the fore as follows:

‘When male and female come together in order to have a child (th=| qhlei/a| kai\ th=| tw~n a0rre/nwn fu/sei ei0j koinwni/an i0ou/sh| th=j gennh/sewj), the pleasure they experience seems to arise entirely naturally (h9 peri\ tau=ta h9donh\ kata\ fu/sin a0podedo/sqai dokei=). But homosexual intercourse and lesbianism seem to be unnatural crimes of the first rank, and are committed because men and women cannot control their desire for pleasure (a0rre/nwn de\ pro\j a1rrenaj h2 qhleiw~n pro\j qhlei/aj para\ fu/sin kai\ tw~n prw&twn to\ to/lmhm’ ei]nai di’ a0kra/teian h9donh=j). It is the Cretans we all hold to blame for making up the story of Ganymede (pa/ntej de\ dh\ Krhtw~n to\n peri\ Ganumh/dh mu=qon kathgorou=men w(j logopoihsa/ntwn tou/twn); they were so firmly convinced that their laws came from Zeus (e0peidh\ para\ Dio\j au0toi=j oi9 no/moi pepisteume/noi h]san gegone/nai) that they saddled him with this fable (tou=ton to\n mu/qon prosteqhke/nai kata\ tou= Dio/j), in order to have a divine ‘precedent’ when enjoying that particular pleasure (i3na e9po/menoi dh\ tw~| qew~| karpw~ntai kai\ tau/thn th\n h9donh/n).’ (636c3-d4, tr. T.J. Saunders)

 

Conspiracy? What is it about?

As I have pointed out in my last post, the Laws ends with a discussion between Megillus, the Spartan, and Cleinias, the Cretan. Megillus says to Cleinias that they either have to abandon the project of founding the state, or refuse their Athenian visitor leave them: ‘and by entreaties and every ruse we can think of enrol him as a partner in the foundation of the state’. The conspiracy is particularly poignant if we take into account the Athenian’s preceding speech, in which he promised them his full support: ‘It looks, my friends, as if things are on the proverbial knife-edge (To\ lego/menon, w} fi/loi, e0n koinw|~ kai\ me/sw| e1oiken h9mi=n kei=sqai), and we must “chance our arm”, as the saying is. If we are prepared to stake the whole constitution on a throw of “three sixes” or “three ones” (kai\ ei1per kinduneu/ein peri\ th=j politei/aj e0qe/lomen sumpa/shj, h1 tri/j e3c, fasi/n, h2 trei=j ku/bouj ba/llontej), then that’s what we’ll have to do (tau=ta poihte/on), and I’ll shoulder part of the risk (e0gw_ d’ u9mi=n sugkinduneu/sw) by giving a full explanation of my views on education (tw~| fra/zein te kai\ e0chgei=sqai ta/ ge dedogme/na e0moi\ peri\ th=j paidei/aj).’

What it takes is not just a part of Plato, however important, but the whole of Plato.

But what does it mean “the whole of Plato”? E.B. England in the ‘Introduction’ to his Commentary speaks of the Laws as ‘the treasury of pregnant truths which Plato in extreme old age left, under the title of Laws, as his last legacy to humanity’. This sounds nice, but it must be corrected: Plato’s ‘last legacy to humanity’ are all his dialogues.

But the problems are enormous. Take just a passage referred to in ‘When giving speeches and writing them becomes a disgrace’, where Plato maintains that ‘whoever writes a political composition, and thinks there is any certainty or clarity in it, then it is a reproach to its writer’. In the Laws he says that ‘legal instructions, once written down, remain fixed and permanent, ready to stand up for scrutiny for ever (ta\ peri\ no/mouj prosta/gmata e0n gra/mmasi teqe/nta, w(j dw&sonta ei0j pa/nta xro/non e1legxon, pa/ntwj h0remei=, 891a1-2).’

Plato’s Laws and Phaedrus

 

The Laws open with the words of an Athenian: “Qeo\j h1 tij a0nqrw&pwn u9mi=n, w} ce/noi, ei1lhfe th\n ai0ti/an th=j tw~n no/mwn diaqe/sewj;” Trevor J. Saunders translates ‘Tell me, gentlemen, to whom do you give the credit for establishing your codes of law? Is it a god or a man’ (published 1970). Tom Griffith, in his translation published in 2016, translates: ‘Is it a god, my friends, who in your view should take the credit for your legal arrangements? Or some human?’

The Greek tij ei1lhfe th\n ai0ti/an is active; the Athenian xenos asks Cleinias, the Cretan, and Megillus, the Lacedaemonian, ‘who took upon himself the responsibility’ for the establishment of the laws.

In the following three books the three amuse themselves by discussing laws. Only at the close of the third book we learn that this discussion may have a practical purpose.

Cleinias: As luck would have it (E1oiken kata\ tu/xhn tina\ h9mi=n ta\ tw~n lo/gwn tou/twn pa/ntwn w{n diech/lqomen gegone/nai), I find that all the subjects we have discussed in our conversation are relevant to my needs here and now (sxedo\n ga\r ei0j xrei/an au0tw~n e1gwg’ e0lh/luqa ta\ nu=n). How fortunate that I’ve fallen in with you and Megillus (kai\ kata/ tina au] kairo\n su/ te parage/gonaj a3ma kai\ Me/gilloj o3de)! I won’t keep you in the dark about my position (ou0 ga\r a0pokru/yomai sfw_ to\ nu=n e0moi\ sumbai=non) – indeed, I think that meeting you is a good omen for the future (a0lla\ kai\ pro\j oi0wno/n tina poiou=mai). The greater part of Crete (h9 ga\r plei/sth th=j Krh/thj) is attempting to found a colony (e0pixeirei= tina a0poiki/an poih/sasqai), and has given responsibility for the job to the Cnossians (kai\ prosta/ttei toi=j Knwsi/oij e0pimelhqh=nai tou= pra/gmatoj); and the state of Cnossos has delegated it to myself and nine colleagues (h9 de\ tw~n Knwsi/wn po/lij e0moi/ te kai\ a1lloij e0nne/a). Our brief is to compose a legal code on the basis of such local laws as we find satisfactory (a3ma de\ kai\ no/mouj tw~n te au0to/qi, ei1 tinej h9ma=j a1re/skousi, ti/qesqai keleu/ei), and to use foreign laws as well (kai\ ei1 tinej e9te/rwqen) – the fact that they are not Cretan must not count against them (mhde\n u9pologizome/nouj to\ ceniko\n au0tw~n), provided their quality seems superior (a2n belti/ouj fai/nwntai). So what about doing me – and you – a favour (nu=n ou]n kai\ e0moi/ te kai\ u9mi=n tau/thn dw~men xa/rin)? Let’s take a selection of the topics we have covered and construct an imaginary community, pretending that we are its original founders (e0k tw~n ei0rhme/nwn e0kle/cantej, tw~| lo/gw| susthsw&meqa po/lin, oi[on e0c a0rxh=j katoiki/zontej). That will allow us to consider the question before us (kai\ a3ma me\n h9mi=n ou[ zhtou=men e0pi/skeyij genh/setai), and it may be that I’ll use this framework for the future state (a3ma de\ e0gw_ ta/x’ a2n xrhsai/mhn ei0j th\n me/llousan po/lin tau/th| th=| susta/sei).

Athenian: Well, Cleinias, that’s certainly welcome news (Ou0 po/lemo/n ge e0pagge/lleij, w} Kleini/a)! You may take it that I for my part am entirely at your disposal, unless Megillus has some objections (a0ll’ ei0 mh/ ti Megi/llw|| prosa/ntej, ta\ par’ e0mou= ge h9gou= soi pa/nta kata\ nou=n u9pa/rxein ei0j du/namin).

Cleinias: Splendid (Eu] le/geij)!

Megillus: Yes, I too am at your service (Kai\ mh\n kai\ ta\ par’ e0mou=).

Cleinias: I’m delighted you both agree (Ka/llist’ ei0rh/katon). Now then, let’s try (a0ta\r peirw&meqa) – initially only in theory (lo/gw| prw~ton) – to found our state (katoiki/zein th\n po/lin).

***

The Laws ends with the following discussion:

Megillus: My dear Cleinias (W} fi/le Kleini/a), judging from what we’ve heard said (e0k tw~n nu~n h9mi=n ei0rhme/nwn a9pa/ntwn), either we’ll have to abandon the project of founding the state (h2 th\n po/lin e0ate/on th=j katoiki/sewj) or refuse our visitor leave us (h2 to\n ce/non to/nde ou0k a0fete/on), and by entreaties and every ruse we can think of enrol him as a partner in the foundation of the state (a0lla\ deh/sesin kai\ mhxanai=j pa/saij koinwno\n poihte/on e0pi\ th\n th=j po/lewj katoi/kisin).

Cleinias: You’re quite right (A0lhqe/stata le/geij), Megillus (w} Megi/lle). That’s what I’m going to do (kai\ e0gw_ poih/sw tau=q ou3twj). May I enlist your help too (kai\ su\ sulla/mbane)?

Megillus: You may indeed (Sullh/yomai).

Messages from the Phaedrus

Socrates: So now we had due amusement from the subject of speaking (Ou0kou=n h1dh pepai/sqw metri/wj h9mi=n ta\ peri\ lo/gwn); and as for you, go and tell Lysias (kai\ su/ ge e0lqw_n fra/ze Lusi/a|) that we two came down to the spring and the sacred place of the Nymphs and listened to speeches (o3ti nw_ kataba/nte e0j to\ Numfw~n na=ma/ te kai\ mousei=on h0kou/samen lo/gwn) which instructed us to tell this to Lysias and anyone else who composes speeches (oi4 e0pe/stellon le/gein Lusi/a| te kai\ ei1 tij a1lloj sunti/qhsi lo/gouj), and to Homer and anyone else in their turn who has composed verses, whether without music or to be sung (kai\ O(mh/rw| kai\ ei1 tij a1lloj au] poi/hsin yilh\n h2 e0n w|)dh|= sune/qhke), and thirdly to Solon and whoever writes compositions in the form of political speeches, which he calls laws (tri/ton de\ So/lwni kai\ o3stij e0n politikoi=j lo/goij no/mouj o0noma/zwn suggra/mmata e1grayen): if he has composed these things knowing how the truth is (ei0 me\n ei0dw_j h[| to\ a0lhqe\j e1xei sune/qhke tau=ta), able to help his composition when he is challenged on its subjects (kai\ e1xwn bohqei=n, ei0j e1legxon i0w_n peri\ w{n e1graye), and with the capacity, when speaking in his own person, to show that what he has written is of little worth (kai\ le/gwn au0to\j dunato\j ta\ gegramme/na fau=la a0podei=cai), then such a man ought not to derive his title from these, and be called after them (ou1 ti tw~nde e0pwnumi/an e1xonta dei= le/gesqai to\n toiou=ton), but rather from those things in which he is seriously engaged (a0ll’ e0f’ oi[j e0spou/daken e0kei/nwn).

Phaedrus: What are the titles you assign him then (Ti/naj ou]n ta\j e0pwnumi/aj au0tw~| ne/meij;)?

Socrates: To call him wise seems to me to be too much (To\ me\n sofo/n, w} Fai=dre, kalei=n e1moige me/ga ei]nai dokei=), and to be fitting only in the case of a god (kai\ qew~| mo/nw| pre/pein); to call him either a lover of wisdom – a philosopher – or something like that would both fit him more (to\ de\ h2 filo\sofon h2 toiou=to/n ti ma=llo/n te a2n au0tw~| kai\ a9rmo/ttoi) and be in better taste (kai\ e0mmeleste/rwj e1xoi).

Phaedrus: And not at all inappropriate (Kai\ ou0de/n ge a0po\ tro/pou).

Socrates: On the other hand, then, the man who does not possess things of more value than the things he composed or wrote (Ou0kou=n au] to\n mh\ e1xonta timiw&tera w{n sune/qhken h2 e1grayen), turning them upside down over a long period of time (a1nw ka/tw stre/fwn e0n xro/nw|), sticking them together and taking them apart (pro\j a1llhla kollw~n te kai\ kai\ a0fairw~n) – him, I think, you’ll rightly call a poet or author of speeches or writer of laws (e0n di/kh| pou poihth\n h2 lo/gwn suggrafe/a h2 nomogra/fon proserei=j;)?

Phaedrus: Of course (Ti/ mh/n;).

Socrates: Then tell that to your friend (Tau=ta toi/nun tw~| e9tai/rw| fra/ze).

When giving speeches and writing them becomes a disgrace

Socrates: And what about the matter of its being fine or shameful to give speeches and write them (Ti/ d’ au] peri\ tou= kalo\n h2 ai0sxro\n ei]nai to\ lo/gouj le/gein te kai\ gra/fein), and the circumstances under which it would rightly be called a disgrace or not (kai\ o3ph| gigno/menon e0n di/kh| a2n le/goito o1neidoj h2 mh//)? Hasn’t what we said a little earlier shown (a]ra ou0 dedh/lwken ta\ lexqe/nta o0li/gon e1mprosqen) –

Phaedrus: What are you referring to (Ta\ poi=a;)?

Socrates: Hasn’t it shown that whether Lysias or someone else ever wrote or writes in the future either for private purposes, or publicly (W(j ei1te Lusi/aj h1 tij a1lloj pw&pote e1grayen h2 gra/yei i0di/a| h2 dhmosi/a|), in the course of proposing laws (no/mouj tiqei/j), so writing a political composition (su/ggramma politiko\n gra/fwn), and thinks there is any great certainty or clarity in it (kai\ mega/lhn tina\ e0n au0tw~| bebaio/thta h9gou/menoj kai\ safh/neian), then it is a reproach to its writer (ou3tw me\n o1neidoj tw~| grafo/nti) whether anyone says so (ei1te ti/j fhsin) or not (ei1te mh/); for to be ignorant (to\ ga\r a0gnoei=n), whether awake or asleep, (u3par te kai\ o1nar) about what is just and unjust and bad and good (dikai/wn kai\ a0di/kwn pe/ri kai\ kakw~n kai\ a0gaqw~n) cannot truly escape being a matter of reproach (ou0k e0kfeu/gei th=| a0lhqei/a| mh\ ou0k e0ponei/diston ei]nai), even if the whole mass of people applauds it (ou0de\ a2n o9 pa=j o1xloj au0to\ e0paine/sh|).

Phaedrus: No indeed (Ou0 ga\r ou]n).

Socrates: But the man who thinks that there is necessarily much that is merely for amusement in a written speech on any subject (O( de/ ge e0n me\n tw~| gegramme/nw| lo/gw| peri\ e9ka/stou paidia/n te h9gou/menoj pollh\n a0nagkai=on ei]nai), and that none has ever yet been written, whether in verse or in prose, which is worth much serious attention – or indeed spoken (kai\ ou0de/na pw&pote lo/gon e0n me/trw| ou0d’ a1neu me/trou mega/lhj a1cion spoudh=j grafh=nai ou0de\ lexqh=nai), in the way that rhapsodes produce theirs, to produce conviction without questioning or teaching (w(j oi9 r9ayw|dou/menoi a1neu a9nakri/sewj kai\ didaxh=j peiqou=j e3neka e/le/xqhsan), but that the best of them have really been a way of reminding people who know (a0lla\ tw~| o1nti au0tw~n tou\j belti/stouj ei0do/twn u9po/mnhsin gegone/nai); who thinks that clearness and completeness and seriousness exist only in those things that are taught about what is just and fine and good, and are said for the purpose of someone’s learning from them, and genuinely written in the soul (e0n de\ toi=j didaskome/noij kai\ maqh/sewj xa/rin legome/noij kai\ tw~| o1nti grafome/noij e0n yuxh=| peri\ dikai/wn te kai\ kalw~n kai\ a0gaqw~n mo/noij h9gou/menoj to/ te e0narge\j ei]nai kai\ te/leon kai\ a1cion spoudh=j); who thinks that the speeches of that kind should be said to be as it were his legitimate sons (dei=n de\ tou\j toiou/touj lo/gouj au9tou= le/gesqai oi[on u9ei=j gnhsi/ouj ei]nai), first of all the one written in him (prw~ton me\n to\n e0n au9tw~|), if it is found there (e0a\n eu9reqei\j e0nh=|), and in second place any offsprings and brothers of this one which have sprung out simultaneously, as they should, in other souls, in other men (e1peita ei1 tinej tou/tou e1kgonoi/ te kai\ a0delfoi\ a3ma e0n a1llaisin a1llwn yuxai=j kat’ a0ci/an e0ne/fusan) ; and who says goodbye to the other kinds (tou\j de a1llouj xai/rein e0w~n) – this is likely to be the sort man, Phaedrus (ou[toj de\ o9 toiou=toj a0nh\r kinduneu/ei, w} Fai=dre, ei]nai), that you and I would pray that we both might come to be (oi[on e0gw& te kai\ su\ eu0cai/meq a2n se/ te kai\ e0me\ gene/sqai).

Phaedrus: Quite definitely (Panta/pasi me\n ou]n) I wish and pray for what you say (e1gwge boulomai/ te kai\ eu1xomai a4 le/geij).

 

Scientific writing

Socrates: Until a man knows the truth Pri\n a1n tij to/ te a0lhqe\j e9ka/stwn ei0dh=|  about each of the things about which he speaks or writes (pe/ri w{n le/gei h2 gra/fei), and becomes capable of defining the whole by itself (kat’ au0to/ te pa=n o9ri/zesqai dunato\j ge/nhtai), and having defined it (o9risa/meno/j te), knows how to cut it again according to its forms until it can no longer be cut (pa/lin kat’ ei1dh me/xri tou= a0tmh/tou te/mnein e0pisthqh=|); and until he has reached an understanding of the nature of soul along the same lines (peri/ te yuxh=j fu/sewj diidw_n kata\ tau0ta/), discovering the form which fits each nature (to\ prosarmo/tton e9ka/sth| fu/sei ei]doj a0neuri/skwn), and so arranges and orders his speech (ou3tw tiqh=| kai\ diakosmh=| to\n lo/gon), offering a complex soul complex speeches containing all the modes (poiki/lh| me\n poiki/louj yuxh|= kai\ panarmoni/ouj didou\j lo/gouj), and simple speeches (a9plou=j de\) to a simple soul (a9plh=|) – not before then will he be capable of pursuing the making of speeches as a whole in a scientific way, to the degree that its nature allows (ou0 pro/teron dunato\n te/xnh| e1sesqai kaq’ o3son pe/fuke metaxeirisqh=nai to\ lo/gwn ge/noj), whether for the purpose of teaching (ou1te ti pro\j to\ dida/cai) or persuading (ou1te ti pro\j to\ pei=sai), as the whole of our previous argument has indicated (w(j o9 e1mprosqen pa=j memh/nuken h9mi=n lo/goj).

Phaedrus: Absolutely (Panta/pasi me\n ou]n); that was just about how it appeared to us (touto/ ge ou3tw pw~j e0fa/nh).