Friday, October 6, 2023

Myth of Cicadas, speaking and writing

 


Socrates: So what is the way to write acceptably, or not acceptably (Ti/j ou]n o9 tro/poj tou= kalw~j te kai\ mh\ gra/fein;)? Do we need (deo/meqa/ ti), Phaedrus (w} Fai=dre), to examine Lysias on this subject (Lusi/an te peri\ tou/tou e0ceta/sai), and anyone else (kai\ a1llon) who has so far written anything (o3stij pw&pote/ ti ge/grafen), or will write anything (h2 gra/yei), whether it is a composition relating to the city’s affairs (ei1te politiko\n su/ggramma), or a private one (ei1te i0diwtiko/n), and whether he writes it as a poet, in verse (e0n me/trw| w(j pohth/j), or in plain man’s prose (h2 a1neu me/trou w(j i0diw&thj;)?

Phaedrus: You really ask if we need to (E)rwta=|j ei0 deo/meqa;)? What would anyone live for, if I may put it as strongly as that (ti/noj me\n ou]n e3neka ka1n tij w(j ei0pei=n zw&|h), if not for such pleasures as this (a0ll h2 tw~n toiou/twn h9donw~n e3neka;)? Not, I think, for those (ou0 ga/r pou e0kei/nwn ge) which have to be preceded by pain (w{n proluphqh=nai dei=) if one is to enjoy pleasure at all (h2 mhde\ h9sqh=nai) – a feature possessed by nearly all the pleasures relating to the body (o4 dh\ o0li/gou pa=sai ai9 peri\ to\ sw~ma h9donai\ e1xousi): which is why indeed they are rightly called slavish (dio\ kai\ dikai/wj a0ndrapodw&deij ke/klhntai).

Socrates: We have plenty of time (Sxolh\ me\n dh/), it seems (w(j e1oike); and I think, too (kai\ a3ma moi dokou=sin), that as the cicadas sing above our heads in their usual fashion in the heat (w(j e0n tw~| pni/gei u9pe\r kefalh=j h9mw~n oi9 te/ttigej a1|dontej), and converse with each other (kai\ a0llh/loij dialego/menoi), they look down on us too (kaqora=n kai\ h9ma=j). So if they saw us as well (ei0 ou]n i1doien kai\ nw&), just like most people (kaqa/per tou\j pollou/j) at midday, not conversing (e0n meshmbri/a| mh\ dialegome/nouj) but nodding off (a0lla\ nusta/zontaj) under their spell through lazy-mindedness (kai\ khloume/nouj u9f au9tw~n di a0rgi/an th=j dianoi/aj), they would justly laugh at us (dikai/wj a2n katagelw~|en), thinking that some slaves had come to their retreat (h9gou/menoi a0ndra/pod a1tta sfi/sin e0lqo/nta e0j to\ katagw&gion) and were having their midday sleep around the spring, like sheep (w#sper proba/tia meshmbria/zonta peri\ th\n krhnh\n eu3dein); but if they see us conversing (e0a\n de\ o9rw~si dialegome/nouj) and sailing past them unbewitched by their Siren song (kai\ paraple/onta/j sfaj w#sper Seirh=naj a0khlh/touj), perhaps they may respect us and give us that gift which they have from the gods to give to men (o4 ge/raj para\ qew~n e1xousin a0nqrw&poij dido/nai, ta/x a2n doi=en a0gasqe/ntej).

Phaedrus: What is this gift they have (E1xousi de\ dh\ ti/ tou=to;)? I don’t seem to have heard of it (a0nh/kooj ga/r, w(j e1oike, tugxa/nw w!n).

Socrates: It certainly isn’t appropriate (Ou0 me\n dh\ pre/pei ge) for a man who loves the Muses (filo/mouson a1ndra) not to have heard of things like this (tw~n toiou/twn a0nh/koon ei]nai). The story is (le/getai d) that these cicadas were once men (w#j pot h]san ou[toi a1nqrwpoi), belonging to a time before the Muses were born (tw~n pri\n Mou/saj gegone/nai), and that with the birth of the Muses (genome/nwn de\ Mousw~n) and the appearance of song (kai\ fanei/shj w|)dh=j) some of the men of the time were so unhinged by pleasure (ou3twj a1ra tine\j tw~n to/te e0cepla/ghsan u9f h9donh=j) that in their singing (w#ste a1|dontej) they neglected (h0me/lhsan) to eat (si/twn te) and drink (kai\ potw~n), and failed to notice (kai\ e1laqon) that they had died (teleuth/santej au9tou/j); from them the race of cicadas was afterwards born (e0c w{n to\ tetti/gwn ge/noj met e0kei=no fu/etai), with this gift from the Muses (ge/raj tou=to para\ Mousw~n labo/n), that from their birth they have no need of sustenance (mhde\n trofh=j dei=sqai geno/menon), but immediately sing, without food or drink (a0ll a1sito/n te kai\ a1poton eu0qu\j a1|dein), until they die (e3wj a2n teleuth/sh|), and after that go and report to the Muses (kai\ meta\ tau=ta e0lqo\n para\ Mou/saj a0pagge/llein) which among those here honours which of them (ti/j ti/na au0tw~n tima=| tw~n e0nqa/de). To Terpsichore they report those who have honoured her in the choral dance (Teryixo/ra| me\n ou]n tou\j e0n toi=j xoroi=j tetimhko/taj au0th\n a0pagge/llontej), and make them dearer to her (poiou=si prosfileste/rouj); to Erato (th=| de\ E0ratoi=), those who have honoured her in the affairs of love (tou\j e0n toi=j e0rwtikoi=j); and to the other Muses similarly (kai\ tai=j a1llaij ou3twj), according to the form of honour belonging to each (kata\ to\ ei]doj e9ka/sthj timh=j); but to Calliope, the eldest (th=| de\ presbuta/th| Kallio/ph|), and to Ourania who comes after her (kai\ th=| met au0th\n Ou0rani/a|), they announce those who spend their time in philosophy and honour the music which belongs to them (tou\j e0n filosofi/a| dia/gonta/j te kai\ timw~ntaj th\n e0kei/nwn mousikh/n a0gge/llousin) – who most of all the Muses have as their sphere both the heavens and the talk (ai3 dh\ ma/lista tw~n Mousw~n peri/ te ou0rano\n kai\ lo/gouj ou]sai) both divine (qei/ouj te) and human (kai\ a0nqrwpi/nouj), and whose utterances are the most beautiful (i9a=sin kalli/sthn fwnh/n). So there are many reasons (pollw~n dh\ ou]n e3neka) why we should say something (lekte/on ti), and not sleep in the midday heat (kai\ ou0 kaqeudhte/on e0n th=| meshmbri/a|).

Phaedrus: Indeed we should (Lekte/on ga\r ou]n).

Socrates: So we must consider what we proposed for consideration just now: in what way it is acceptable to make and write a speech, and in what way it is not (Ou0kou=n, o3per nu=n prouqe/meqa ske/yasqai to\n lo/gon o3ph| kalw~j e1xei le/gein te kai\ gra/fein kai\ o3ph| mh/, skepte/on).

Phaedrus: Clearly (Dh=lon).

Socrates: Well then (A]r ou]n), for things that are going to be said well and acceptably, at least, mustn’t there be knowledge in the mind of the speaker (ou0x u9pa/rxein dei= toi=j eu] ge kai\ kalw~j r9hqhsome/noij th\n tou= le/gontoj dia/noian ei0dui=an) of the truth about whatever he intends to speak about (to\ a0lhqe\j w{n a2n e0rei=n pe/ri me/llh|;)?

Phaedrus: What I have heard about this (Ou9twsi\ peri\ tou/tou a0kh/koa), my dear Socrates (w} fi/le Sw&kratej), is that there is no necessity (ou0k ei]nai a0na/gkhn) for the man who intends to be an orator (tw~| me/llonti r(h/tori e1sesqai) to understand what is really just (ta\ tw~| o1nti di/kaia manqa/nein), but only what would appear so (a0lla\ ta\ do/cant a1n) to the majority (plh/qei) of those who will give judgement (oi3per dika/sousin), and not what is really good (ou0de\ ta\ o1ntwj a0gaqa/) or fine (h2 kala/) but whatever will appear so (a0ll o3sa do/cei); because persuasion comes from that (e0k ga\r tou/twn ei]nai to\ pei/qein) and not from the truth (a0ll ou0k e0k th=j a0lhqei/aj).

Socrates: ‘Not to be cast aside’ (Ou1toi a0po/blhton e1poj ei]nai dei=), Phaedrus (w} Fai=dre), must apply to whatever wise people say (o4 a2n ei1pwsi sofoi/), and we should always look to see (a0lla\ skopei=n) whether they may not be right (mh/ ti le/gwsi); what has just been said, particularly (kai\ dh\ kai\\ to\ nu=n lexqe/n), must not be dismissed (ou0k a0fete/on).

Phaedrus: Quite right (O0rqw~j le/geij).

Socrates: Let us consider it like this (W{de dh\ skopw~men au0to/).

Phaedrus: How (Pw~j;)?

Socrates: If I were persuading you (Ei1 se pei/qoimi e0gw&) to defend yourself against the enemy (polemi/ouj a0mu/nein) by getting a horse (kthsa/menon i3ppon), and neither of us knew what a horse was (a1mfw de\ i3ppon a0gnooi=men), but I happened to know just so much about you (toso/nde me/ntoi tugxa/noimi ei0dw_j peri\ sou=), that Phaedrus thinks a horse is that tame animal which has the largest ears (o3ti Fai=droj i3ppon h9gei=tai to\ tw~n h9me/rwn zw&|wn me/gista e1xon w}ta)

Phaedrus: It would be ridiculous, Socrates (Geloi=o/n g a1n, w} Sw&kratej, ei1h).

Socrates: Not yet (Ou1pw ge); but it would be when I tried earnestly to persuade you (a0ll o3te dh\ spoudh=| se pei/qoimi) by putting together a speech (suntiqei\j lo/gon) in praise of the donkey (e1painon kata\ tou= o1nou), labelling it a horse (i3ppon e0ponoma/zwn) and saying (kai\ le/gwn) that the beast would be an invaluable acquisition both at home (w(j pa/ntwn a1cion to\ qre/mma oi1koi te kekth=sqai) and on active service (kai\ e0pi\ stratia=j), useful to fight from (a0popolemei=n te xrh/simon) and capable of carrying baggage (kai\ pro/j g e0negkei=n dunato\n skeu/h), and good for many other purposes (kai\ a1lla polla\ w)fe/limon).

Phaedrus: Then it would be thoroughly ridiculous (Pagge/loio/n g a2n h1dh ei1h).

Socrates: Well then (A]r ou]n), isn’t it better to be ridiculous (ou0 krei=tton geloi=on) and well-intentioned (kai\ fi/lon) than to be clever (h2 deino/n te) and full of hostile intentions (kai\ e1xqro/n;)?

Phaedrus: It seems so (Fai/netai).

Socrates: So when an expert in rhetoric (O#tan ou]n o9 r9htoriko/j) who is ignorant of good and evil (a0gnow~n a0gaqo\n kai\ kako/n) finds a city in the same condition (labw_n po/lin w(sau/twj e1xousan) and tries to persuade it (pei/qh|), not by making his eulogy about a miserable donkey as if it were a horse (mh\ peri\ o1nou skia=j w(j i3ppou to\n e1painon poiou/menoj), but about what is evil as if it were good (a0lla\ peri\ kakou= w(j a0gaqou=), and having applied himself to popular opinions (do/caj de\ plh/qouj memelethkw&j) actually persuades the city to do evil (pei/sh| kaka\ pra/ttein) instead of good (a0nt a0gaqw~n), what harvest do you think rhetoric reaps after that from the seed it sowed (poi=o/n tin a2n oi1ei meta\ tau=ta th\n r9htorikh\n karpo\n w{n e1speire qeri/zein;)?

Phaedrus: Not a very good one (Ou0 pa/nu ge e0pieikh=).

 

 

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