After disposing of the Magi, the seven Persian noblemen discussed the future government. Otanes pleaded for democracy, Megabyzos for oligarchy, Darius for Monarchy, and the four remaining noblemen adhered to the proposal of Darius.
Then Otanes,
whose proposal of equality under law for everyone was defeated, made another
speech: ’Fellow partisans (Andres stasiȏtai) it is clear (dȇla gar dȇ) that one of us will have to be the
king (hoti dei hena ge tina hȇmeȏn basilea genesthai) … I will not compete with you (egȏ men nun humin ouk enagȏnieumai), for I have no wish to rule or to
be ruled either (oute gar archein oute archesthai ethelȏ). And on this condition (epi toutȏi de) I withdraw from the competition (hupexistamai tȇs archȇs), on which (ep’ hȏi te) I will not be ruled by any one of you (hup’ oudenos humeȏn arxomai), neither I myself (oute autos egȏ) nor any of my descendants (oute hoi ap’ emeu aei
ginomenoi).’ The six having accepted this condition, Otanes stood down.
Herodotus remarks: ‘To this day the family of Otanes
continues to be the only free family in Persia, submitting to the king only in
so far as they wish to, while not disobeying the laws of Persia.’ (III.83)
The
remaining six then discussed the fairest way of deciding who should be the
king. They decided to mount their horses on the outskirts of the city, and he,
whose horse neighed first after the sun went up, was to have the monarchy, thus
leaving the matter to chance (III. 84). Darius’ crucial argument for Monarchy
was: ‘One ruler, provided he is the best.’ But the remaining six didn’t even
raise the question of who from among them was the best. But only five of the
remaining six left the matter to chance.
Darius had a clever groom called Oebares, to whom he turned
for help. As soon as it was dark, Oebares took from the stables the mare
Darius’ horse was particularly fond of, and tied her on the outskirts of the
city. Then he brought along the stallion and led him round and round the mare,
getting closer and closer in narrowing circles, and finally allowed him to
mount her. Next morning just before dawn the six men, according to their
agreement, came riding on their horses through the city suburb, and when they
reached the spot where the mare had been tethered, Darius’ horse started
forward and neighed. At the same instant, though the sky was clear, there was a
flesh of lightening and a clap of thunder; it was a sign from heaven; the
election of Darius was assured, and the other five leapt from their saddles and
bowed to the ground at his feet. (III. 85-86)
Herodotus
says that Darius’ first act was to erect a stone monument with a carving of a
man on horseback, and the following inscription: “Darius, son of Hystaspes, by
the virtue of his horse (giving the name of the horse to ounoma legȏn)
and of his groom Oebares, won the kingdom of Persia (ektȇsato tȇn Perseȏn basilȇiȇn).”
(III. 88)
***
Herodotus is
a great narrator and we may presume that he was widely read in Athens. The
Athenians would have found especially appealing Darius’ speech in favour of monarchy,
in which Darius conjures up a democracy that develops towards the rule of the
best man, which must have reminded every Athenian of the Athenian democracy in
the days of Pericles: “Again, in a democracy (dȇmou te au archontos), malpractices are bound to occur (adunata mȇ ou kakotȇta engignesthai); in this case, however, corrupt
dealings in government services (kakotȇtos toinun engignomenȇs es ta koina) lead not to private feuds (echtea men ouk engignetai
toisi kakoisi) [as in oligarchy], but to close personal associations (philiai
de ischurai), the men responsible for them (hoi gar kakountes ta koina)
putting their heads together and mutually supporting one another (sunkupsantes
poieusi). And so it goes on (touto de toiouto ginetai), until
somebody or other comes forward as the people’s champion (es ho an prostas tis
tou dȇmou) and breaks up the cliques (tous toioutous pausȇi).
This (ek de autȏn) wins him the admiration (thaumazetai houtos dȇ) of the people (hupo tou dȇmou),
and as a result (thȏmazomenos de an ȏn)
he soon finds himself entrusted with absolute power (ephanȇ mounarchos eȏn) – all of which is another proof (kai en toutȏi dȇloi kai houtos) that the best form of government is
monarchy (hȏs hȇ mounarchiȇ kratiston).”
When Plato
in the Palinode in the Phaedrus gave voice to the view that the best
should rule, he did not leave the choice of the best man to chance:
‘The region
above the heavens (ton de huperouranion topon) has never yet been celebrated
as it deserves by any earthly poet, nor will it ever be (oute tis humnȇse pȏ tȏn tȇide
poiȇtȇs oute pote humnȇsei kat’ axian). But it is like this (echei de hȏde)
– for one must be bold enough (tolmȇteon gar oun) to say what is true (to ge alȇthes eipein), especially (allȏs te) when speaking about truth (kai
peri alȇtheias legonta). This region is occupied by being which really is, which is
without colour or shape, intangible, observable by the steersman of the soul
alone, by intellect, and to which the class of true knowledge relates (hȇ gar achrȏmatos te kai aschȇmatistos kai anaphȇs ousia ontȏs ousa, psuchȇs kubernȇtȇi monȏi theatȇ nȏi, peri hȇn to tȇs alȇthous epistȇmȇs genos, touton echei ton topon).’ (Pl. Phdr. 247c3-d1, tr.
C.J. Rowe)
Clearly, only
the man who has the true knowledge, who knows the truth, is entitled to rule
the city.
***
Aristophanes’
comedy of the Frogs was produced during the Lenaean festival, at the
commencement of the year B.C. 405; its production thus (roughly) coincided with
the Phaedran Palinode of Plato (see ‘The Phaedrus and the Charmides:
Plato in Athens 405-404’, History of Political Thought, Summer 2022). The
comedy was so admired (houtȏ de ethaumasthȇ), that the Frogs were staged again (hȏste kai anedidachthȇ), as we learn from Dikaearchos, referred
to in two ancient introductions to the play.
I shall
argue that Plato wrote his Palinode inspired by the song in Aristophanes’ Frogs,
in which the chorus celebrates Aeschylus’ forthcoming return to Athens: ‘Blest
is the man (makarios g’ anȇr) who possesses keen intelligent mind (echȏn xunesin ȇkribȏmenȇn). This full often we find (para de polloisin
mathein). For this man (hode gar), having shown that his thinking
was propitious (eu phronein dokȇsas), now to earth reascends (palin apeisin oikad’ au),
for the good of the citizens (ep’ agathȏi men tois politais), for the good of his relatives and
his friends (ep’ agathȏi de tois heautou sungenesi te kai
philoisi), just
because he possesses a keen intelligent mind (dia to sunetos einai).’
(1482-1490)
The song
that follows, I believe, is the addition made by Aristophanes for the
re-staging of the Frogs in response to Plato’s Phaedran Palinode:
‘Right it is
and befitting (charien oun), not by Socrates sitting (mȇ Sȏkratei parakathȇmenon), idle talk to pursue (lalein),
stripping tragedy-art of all things noble and true (apobalonta mousikȇn ta
te megista paraliponta tȇs tragȏidikȇs technȇs). Surely the mind to school
fine-drawn quibbles to seek, fine-set phrases to speak, is but the part of a
fool (to d’ epi semnoisi logoisi kai skariphȇsmoisi lȇrȏn diatribȇn argon
poieistai, paraphronountos andros). (1491-1499, tr. B.B. Rogers)
The only comment on this passage I
could find is that of B.B. Rogers: ‘Nobody could be long in the company of
Socrates without being drawn into some argumentative conversation. This
perpetual talking which surrounded Socrates is in truth the adoleschia
of which the comic poets speak, and to which Plato makes such a pathetic reference
in the Phaedo (70c1).’ Rogers appears to have missed Plato’s reference to adoleschia in Phaedrus 269e1-270a8: ‘It is not surprising,
I suppose, my good fellow, that Pericles (kinduneuei, ȏ ariste, eikotȏs ho
Periklȇs) turned out to be the most complete of all with respect to
rhetoric (pantȏn teleȏtatos eis tȇn rȇtorikȇn genesthai). All sciences
of importance (pasai hosai megalai tȏn technȏn) require the addition of
babbling (prosdeontai adoleschias) and lofty talk about nature (kai
meteȏrologias phuseȏs peri); for the relevant high-mindedness (to gar
hupsȇlonoun touto) and effectiveness in all directions (kai pantȇi
telesiourgon) seem to come to a man from some such sort as that (eoiken
enteuthen pothen eisienai). This is something that Pericles acquired in
addition to his natural ability (ho kai Periklȇs pros tȏi euphuȇs einai ektȇsato);
for I think because he fell in with Anaxagoras, who was just such a person (prospesȏn
gar oimai toioutȏi onti Anaxagorai), and became filled with such lofty talk
(meteȏrologias emplȇstheis), and arrived at the nature of mind and the
absence of mind (kai epi phusin nou te kai anoias aphikomenos), which were
the very subjects about which Anaxagoras used to talk so much (hȏn dȇ peri
ton polun logon epoieito Anaxagoras), he was able to draw from there and
apply (enteuthen heilkusen) to the science of speaking (epi tȇn tȏn
logȏn technȇn) what was applicable to it (to prosphoron autȇi).’
(Translation C.J. Rowe)
Aristophanes in the Frogs does
not mention Pericles by name, but Pericles was very much on his mind just as he
was very much on the mind of his audience. When Dionysus could not decide
whether to prefer Euripides or Aeschylus as tragedians, he asked them to
declare what plan of safety for Athens each of them has got (peri tȇs poleȏs
hȇntin’ echeton sȏterian, 1436). Aeschylus suggested that Athens will be
safe ‘when the Athenians shall count the enemy’s soil as 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).’ Rogers notes: ‘It is, as the Scholiast remarks, the counsel which
was given by Pericles at the commencement of the war.’
But let me return to the lines 1491-1499.
Clearly, with the words – ‘Right it is and befitting (charien oun), not by Socrates sitting
(mȇ Sȏkratei parakathȇmenon), idle talk to pursue (lalein) –
the chorus introduces these lines as one of Socrates’ associates. At whom but
Plato can Aristophanes be pointing at? Indicative are the words apobalonta
mousikȇn ‘having thrown away the art’ – which Rogers leaves untranslated – which
refer to Plato’s first philosophic encounter with Socrates: ‘When Plato was
about to compete for the prize with a tragedy (mellȏn agȏnieisthai tragȏidiai),
he listened to Socrates in front of the theatre of Dionysus (pro tou
Dionusiakou theatrou Sȏkratous akousas), and then consigned his poems to
the flames (katephlexe ta poiȇmata) (Dion. Laert. III. 5).’
The Phaedran Palinode made it possible
for Aristophanes to gesture towards Plato as the man who could bring about peace,
and save Athens. The opening scene of the Phaedrus brings us to the time
of Nicias’ peace: Socrates and Phaedrus leave the city walls, both barefooted, enjoying
their walk along the river Ilissus, and finding a nice place below a plane tree,
where they then spend the whole day in philosophic discussions.
Socrates: ‘By Hera (Nȇ tȇn Hȇran),
a fine stopping place (kalȇ ge hȇ katagȏgȇ)! This plane-tree (hȇ te
gar platanos hautȇ) is very spreading (mal’ amphilaphȇs te) and tall
(kai hupsȇlȇ), and the tallness and shadiness of the agnus (tou te
agnou to hupsos kai to suskion) are quite lovely (pankalon); and
being in full flower (kai hȏs akmȇn echei tȇs anthȇs) it seems to make
the place smell as sweetly as it could (hȏs an euȏdestaton parechoi ton
topon). The stream, too (hȇ te au pȇgȇ), flows very attractively
under the plane (chariestatȇ hupo tȇs platanou rei), with the coolest
weather (mala psuchrou hudatos), to judge by my foot (hȏste ge tȏi
podi tekmȇrasthai). From the figurines and statuettes, the spot seems to be
sacred to some Nymphs and to Achelous (Numphȏn de tinȏn kai Achelȏiou hieron
apo tȏn korȏn te kai agalmatȏn eoiken einai). Then again, if you like (ei
d’ au boulei), how welcome it is, the freshness of the place (to eupnoun
tou topou hȏs agapȇton), and very pleasant (kai sphodra hȇdu); it
echoes with a summery shrillness (therinon te kai liguron hupȇchei) to
the cicadas’ song (tȏi tȏn thettigȏn chorȏi). Most delightful of all is
the matter of the grass (pantȏn de kompsotaton to tȇs poas), growing on
a gentle slope (hoti en erȇma prosantei) and thick enough to be
just right (hikanȇ pehuke) to rest one’s head upon (kataklinenti tȇn
kephalȇn pankalȏs echein).’ (229b2-c5, tr. C.J. Rowe)
In the days, when these lines were
written, the city being surrounded by the forces of the enemy, one could only
dream about staying outside the city walls and experiencing such delights. Reading
these lines, one could not but berate bitterly the idiocy of Cleophon, the
leading demagogue, because of whom the offer of peace by Sparta was rejected (the
offer was made in 406, after the naval victory of the Athenians at the battle
of Arginousae.
The chorus of the Frogs ends the play
with the words ‘Let Cleophon now and his band battle, if battle they must, far
away in their own fatherland.’ It would be better to say ‘in their own motherland’
if one could say it in English; Cleophon’s mother was from Thessaly.
Clearly, Plato and Aristophanes were
in accord in their desire for peace; this unity of purpose animates both the
opening scene of the Phaedrus and Frogs 1491-1499: ‘Right it is and befitting, not by
Socrates sitting, idle
talk to pursue …’ But there is a problem: How many Athenians would have read the
opening scene of Plato’s Phaedrus? A few dozens at best. But the choric
song of Frogs 1491-1499 presupposes that the audience as a whole,
enthused by the vision of peace with which the Frogs culminate, realises that
the associate of Socrates to whom Aristophanes alludes can become the new
Pericles, can bring about peace and save Athens. Let me quote the closing
choric song:
‘First (prȏta men), as the poet
triumphant [i.e. Aeschylus] is passing away to the light, grant him success on
his journey (euodian agathȇn apionti poiȇtȇi es phaos ornumenȏi dote),
ye powers that are ruling below [i.e. in Hades] (daimones hoi kata gaias).
Grant that he find for the city good councils to guide her aright (tȇi te
polei megalȏn agathȏn agathas epinoias); so we at last shall be freed from
the anguish, the fear, and the woe (panchu gar ek megalȏn acheȏn pausaimeth’
an houtȏs), freed from the onset of war (argaleȏn t’ en hoplois xunodȏn).
Let Cleophon now and his band battle, if battle they must, far away in their
own fatherland (Kleophȏn de machesthȏ k’allos ho boulomenos toutȏn patriois en
arourais).’ (Tr. B.B. Rogers)
It is here that Herodotus’ implicit mediation
is essential. The information that Plato’s view of the best man’s rule
coincided with Darius’ view could spread through the audience as a whole while
the chorus sang the lines 1491-1499.
So let me end with Herodotus’ Darius: “Again, in a democracy, malpractices are
bound to occur; in this case, however, corrupt dealings in government services lead
not to private feuds [as in oligarchy], but to close personal associations, the
men responsible for them putting their heads together and mutually supporting
one another. And so it goes on, until somebody or other comes forward as the
people’s champion and breaks up the cliques. This wins him the admiration of
the people, and as a result he soon finds himself entrusted with absolute power
– all of which is another proof that the best form of government is monarchy.”
(Herodotus III. 82, tr. Aubry de Sélincourt, revised by A.R. Burn).
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