1 Isocrates’ Against the Sophists and Plato’s Euthydemus

In Against the Sophists, Isocrates criticises contemporary philosophers for addiction to eristic (eristikos ‘fond of arguing’, ‘captious’). In the first paragraph he despises them for ‘devoting themselves to disputations’ (peri tas eridas diatribontȏn), in paragraph 20 he uses stronger language: they are ‘wallowing in disputations’ (peri tas eridas kalindoumenȏn).

In the Euthydemus Plato makes a sharp dividing line between eristic and philosophy. Eristic is represented by two brothers, Euthydemus and Dionysodorus. They profess to be ‘the finest and quickest teachers of virtue alive’ (Aretȇn hoiȏ t’ einai paradounai kallist’ anthrȏpȏn kai tachista, 273d8-9), but virtue as they understand it is being able ‘to refute any statement (exelenchein to aei legomenon), no matter whether it is true or false’ (homoiȏs eante pseudos eante alȇthes ȇ, 272a8-b1). Philosophy, viewed as a ‘practice of virtue’ (aretȇs epimeleia, 275a), is represented by Socrates, who argues that wisdom (sophia) is teachable (didakton), that it is the sole source of happiness to men (hoti monon tȏn ontȏn eudaimona poiein ton anthrȏpon), and that to get engaged in philosophy is therefore essential (anankaion einai philosophein, 281c8-d1).

Isocrates’ criticism in Against the Sophists is brutal; in the Euthydemus, Plato responses to it with a display of Socrates’ irony.

The discussion is narrated by Socrates to his friend Crito; it took place in Lyceum, a gymnasium frequented by Socrates and his friends. The young man admired by all is Cleinias, all his admirers want the best for him, and since the two brothers proclaimed themselves to be ‘the finest and quickest teachers of virtue alive’, Socrates asked them to show their wisdom (epideiknunai tautȇn tȇn sophian, 274a8) by having a discussion with Cleinias, persuading him to study philosophy under them. The ensuing discussion between the two and Cleinias is in itself a remarkable display of Socrates’ irony.

Socrates expresses again and again his admiration of the two brothers: ‘Now, Crito, I wonder how I might give you a fair account of what happened (Ta dȇ meta tauta, ȏ Kritȏn, pȏs an kalȏs soi diȇgȇsaimȇn;). I mean, it’s a colossal task (ou gar smikron to ergon) to recall and then recount (analabein diexionta) such an incredible amount of cleverness (sophian amȇchanon hosȇn).’ (275c5-7) – I am using Robin Waterfield’s translation, and here I must interrupt, for his ‘such an incredible amount of cleverness’ spoils the incisive irony. Socrates’ sophian amȇchanon hosȇn simply means ‘such an incredible amount of wisdom’.

Socrates continues: ‘I shall have to imitate the poets and invoke the Muses and Memory as I embark on my account (hȏst’ egȏge, kathaper hoi poiȇtai, deomai archomenos tȇs diȇgȇseȏs Mousas te kai Mnȇmosunȇn epikaleisthai, 275c7-d1).’

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Watterfield notes: ‘Poets often invoked the Muse(s) at the end of a prologue and start of a main account – or, generally, at the start of some particularly difficult section of their work. Memory is said to be the mother of Muses.’

In this case, I believe, the invocation points to Phaedrus 237a: ‘Come then (Agete dȇ), you Muses (ȏ Mousai), assist the tale I tell’ (xum moi labesthe tou muthou).  In my preceding three posts (1-3 ‘The ancient dating of the Phaedrus as reflected in Isocrates’ Against the Sophists’) I argued that Isocrates in Against the Sophists was critically referring to the Phaedrus – ‘they 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) they are engaged in telling lies (pseudȇ legein epicheirousin, 1)’ – while gesturing towards the praise, which Socrates towards the end of the dialogue bestows on young Isocrates. Isocrates’ main criticism was that the philosophers claimed that they can teach virtue, i.e. what to do in life, and that through this knowledge they will attain happiness. By referring to Phaedrus in his turn, Plato accepted the challenge; Socrates’ discussion with Cleinias is all about search for knowledge that leads to happiness.

Socrates’ invocation of Muses is not the first reference to the Phaedrus in the Euthydemus. At the beginning of the latter Socrates narrates that he was about to leave the Lyceum ‘but when I got up (anistamenou de mou), my regular supernatural signal occurred (egeneto to eiȏthos sȇmeion to daimonion), so I sat down again (palin oun ekathezomȇn), and not long afterwards (kai oligȏi husteron) those two, Euthydemus and Dionysodorus, entered (eiserchesthon toutȏ, ho t’ Euthudȇmos kai ho Dionusodȏros 272e3-273a2).’ In Phaedrus 242b8-9 Socrates was about to leave, having made his first speech on Eros, but was stopped: ‘At the moment when I was about to cross the river, dear friend (Hȇnik’ emellon, ȏgathe, ton potamon diabainein) there came to me my familiar divine sign (to daimonion te kai to eiȏthos sȇmeion moi gignesthai egeneto).’ Socrates realised that he must atone for his blasphemous first speech.

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Socrates continues: ‘So, Euthydemus started from roughly this direction (ȇrxato d’ oun enthende pothen ho Euthudȇmos), I think (hȏs egȏimai): “Cleinias (Ō Kleinia), which men are those who learn (poteroi eisi tȏn anthrȏpȏn hoi manthanontes), those who are wise or those who are ignorant (hoi sophoi ȇ hoi amatheis;)? – Here I take again liberty with Waterfield’s translation and won’t mention it, when I do so again. In this case it is his ‘clever’ for sophos that made me do so)

‘Faced with this momentous question, the lad (Kai to meirakion, hate megalou ontos tou erȏtȇmatos) blushed (ȇruthriasen te) and looked at me in puzzlement (kai aporȇsas eneblepsen eis eme). I saw that he was flustered (kai egȏ gnous auton tethorubȇmenon) and said: “Don’t worry (Tharrei, ȇn d’ egȏ), Cleinias (ȏ Kleinia). Just pluck up courage and give whichever answer you think is right (kai apokrinai andreiȏs, hopotera soi phainetai). Remember, you’ll probably benefit enormously (isȏs gar toi ȏphelei tȇn megistȇn ȏphelian).”

‘While I was saying this (Kai en toutȏi), Dionysodorus had leaned over to me (proskupsas moi pros to ous) with a big grin (panu meidiasas tȏi prosȏpȏi). “In fact (Kai mȇn), I can tell you now (soi prolegȏ) that whichever answer the lad gives (hoti hopoter’ an apokrinȇtai to merakion), he will be proved wrong (exelenchthȇsetai).”’ (275d2-e6)

I shall skip Euthydemus’ refutation, suffices to say that when Cleinias answered that ‘the wise people are those who learn’ Euthydemus pointed to him: you learned what you did not know: it is ignorant people who learn, not wise people. Then Dionysodorus took over and proved that wise people learn, not ignoramuses. Then again Euthydemus questioned the lad, ‘turning his questions back around the same spot’ (dipla estrephe ta erȏtȇmata peri tou autou), and asked: “Do those who learn learn what they know, or what they do not know?” Dionysodorus had again a brief word in Socrates’ ear: “This is another one like the first (Kai tout’ heteron toiouton hoion to proteron); all our questions are of this sort (panta toiauta hȇmeis erȏtȏmen), one can’t escape being trapped (aphukta)”. (276d6-e5)

At 278c7-d3 Socrates told the two: ‘Enough of your games (tauta men oun pepaisthȏ humin). For your next exhibition (to de dȇ meta tauta epideixaton), convince the lad (protreponte to meirakion) of the necessity of pursuing wisdom and virtue (hopȏs chrȇ sophias te kai aretȇs epimelȇthȇnai).’ To give them an example of questions he wanted them to ask, he began to ask Cleinias: ‘Do all men (Ara ge pantes anthrȏpoi), do we all want to do well (boulometha eu prattein;)? When Cleinias agreed that everybody wanted to do well, Socrates asked: ‘In what way would we be doing well (pȏs an eu prattoimen)? If we had plenty of good things (ar’ an ei hȇmin polla agatha eiȇ)?’ (278e3-279a3) … The simplicity of questions, with which Socrates lead Cleinias to the conviction that ‘wisdom’ (sophia, 279c1) – used synonymously with ‘knowledge’ (epistȇmȇ, 281a8) and ‘inteligence’ (phronȇsis, 281b6) – is the key to happiness, makes one wonder: how could it have happened to Isocrates that in Against the Sophists – after the presentation of his educational program presented as philosophy – he proclaimed confidently: ‘Now as for the sophists who have lately sprung up (Hoi men oun arti tȏn sophistȏn anaphuomenoi) and have very recently embraced these pretensions (kai neȏsti prospeptȏkotes tais alazoneiais), even though they flourish at the moment (ei kai nun pleonazousin), they will all, I am sure, come round to this position (eu oid’ hoti pantes epi tautȇn katenechthȇsontai tȇn hupothesin, 19)’?

Obviously, had the Euthydemus been already written when Isocrates opened his school in Athens, he not only would not have made such proclamation, he could not have written Against the Sophists. But there must be more to it; he must have had grounds for believing that virtue cannot be taught, grounds which the contemporary philosophers, all followers of Socrates, had to accept.

In the first place, he presumably believed that Plato could not defend his assertion made in the Phaedrus that ‘if (ean men dȇ oun) the victory be won by the higher elements of mind guiding them [the lover and his beloved] into the ordered rule of the philosophic life (eis tetagmenȇn te diaitan kai philosophian nikȇsȇi ta beltiȏ tȇs dianoias agagonta), their days on earth will be blessed with happiness and concord (makarion men kai homonoȇtikon ton enthade bion diagousin, 256a7-b1, tr. Hackforth)’. This momentous assertion was compromised by the prayer with which Socrates ended the Palinode. For he asked Eros to ‘turn Lysias to philosophy even as his brother Polemarchus has been turned’ (epi philosophian de, hȏsper h’adelphos autou Polemarchos tetraprai, trepson), so that Phaedrus can ‘live with him for Love in singleness of purpose with the aid of philosophical discourse’ (haplȏs pros Erȏta meta philosophȏn logȏn ton bion poiȇtai, 257b3-6, tr. Hackforth)’. When Plato wrote these lines – in 405, in democracy – all this appeared to be entirely appropriate. It all went wrong when in 404 the democracy was overturned and the Thirty tyrants put Polemarchus to death. It was a sordid affair, which Lysias depicts in Against Eratosthenes (17-20), the man directly responsible for Polemarchus’ imprisonment.

Secondly, in his discourse Isocrates virtually identified himself with Socrates who at his trial denied that he ever taught virtue and with biting irony pointed to Evenus who professed to teach virtue for five minas: ‘Happy is Evenus, I said to myself (kai egȏ ton Euȇnon emakarisa), if he really has this wisdom (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 kai hȇbrunomȇn an ei ȇpistamȇn tauta); but the truth is that I have no knowledge of the kind (all’ ou gar epistamai, Plato, Apology 20b9-c3, tr. B. Jowett).’ Isocrates wrote in Against the Sophists that philosophers ‘are making greater promises (meizous poieisthai tas huposcheseis) than they can possibly fulfil (hȏn emellon epitelein, 1) … they attempt to persuade young men (peirȏntai peithein tous neȏterous) that (hȏs) if they will 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). 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).’ (4)

But in the Euthydemus Plato displayed another side of the authentic Socrates. Aristotle says in the Nicomachean Ethics that Socrates thought that ‘all the virtues were practical wisdom’ (phronȇseis ȏieto einai pasas tas aretas, 144b19-20), and that all virtues ‘are forms of scientific knowledge’ (epistȇmas einai pasas, 1144b29-30, tr. W.D. Ross). Furthermore, in the Eudemian Ethics Aristotle maintains that ‘Socrates said’ (ephȇ Sȏkratȇs) that ‘all forms of knowledge (pasai hai epistȇmai), were good luck (eutuchiai ȇsan, 1247b14-15),’ which looks like a reflection on the Euthydemus, as will be seen.

When Cleinias agreed that all men want to do well (eu prattein), and that we would do well if we had plenty of good things (polla k’agatha), Socrates asked, what kind of good things: ‘Wealth’ (to ploutein)? ‘Health (to hugiainein), to be good looking (to kalon einai), and to have adequate physical characteristics’ (to sȏma hikanȏs paraskeuasthai)? ‘Good birth (eugeneiai), power (dunameis), and honours in one’s own land’ (kai timai en tȇi heautou)? ‘To be self-responsible (sȏphrona te einai), just (dikaion), and courageous’ (andreion)? (297a7-b5)

When Cleinias agreed that all those were good things, Socrates asked: ‘How shall we cast wisdom (tȇn de sophian pou chorou taxomen)? As good (en tois agathois), or what (ȇ pȏs legeis)?’ – Cleinias: ‘As good (En tois agathois).’ – Socrates: ‘Now, make sure (Enthumou dȇ) that we aren’t overlooking anything good (mȇ ti paraleipȏmen tȏn agathȏn) – at least anything worth mentioning (hoti kai axion logou).’ – When Cleinas replied that nothing was overlooked, Socrates ‘remembered’ (anamnȇstheis): ‘Good heavens (Nai ma Dia), we are in danger (kinduneuomen ge) of missing out the greatest good of all (to megiston tȏn agathȏn paralipein)! Good luck (Tȇn eutuchian), Cleinias (ȏ Kleinia), which is unanimously (ho pantes phasi) – even by pretty uneducated people (kai hoi panu phauloi) – held to be the greatest good of all (megiston tȏn agathȏn einai).’ – Cleinias: ‘You’right (Alȇthȇ legeis).’ – Socrates: ‘Then I had another afterthought and said (Kai egȏ au palin metanoȇsas eipon hoti): ‘You and I, Cleinias, have just come very close to making ourselves objects of our visitors’ [i.e. Euthedemus’ and Dionusodorus’] derision (Oligou katagelastoi egenometha hupo tȏn xenȏn egȏ te kai su).’ – Cleinias: ‘Why (Ti dȇ touto;)?’ – Socrates: ‘Because our inclusion of good luck in the list is redundant.’ [Waterfield’s translation of this line is neat; I shall attempt to get closer to the original: ‘For it is ridiculous, you know (Katagelaston dȇpou), to put that, which is already in the list, in again (ho palai prokeitai touto palin protithenai), and to say the same twice (kai dis t’auta legein).] – Cleinias: ‘What are you getting at (Pȏs touto legeis;)? – Socrates: ‘Wisdom is good luck, you know (Hȇ sophia dȇpou eutuchia estin); this is something even a child would appreciate (touto de k’an pais gnoiȇ, ‘even a child would know this’).

‘And Cleinias was surprised (kai hos ethaumasen) – a sign of his youth (houtȏs eti neos) and naivety (kai euȇthȇs esti, 279d7-8) – and because I recognized (k’agȏ gnous) that he was surprised (auton thaumazonta), I said: ”Surely you’re aware (Ara ouk oistha, ephȇn), Cleinias (ȏ Kleinia), that as regards good performance in pipe-playing (hoti peri aulȇmatȏn eupragian) the pipe-players (hoi aulȇtai) have the best luck (eutuchestatoi eisin;)?’ He agreed (Sunephȇ). “And that the same goes for scribes,” I went on, “as regards reading and writing (Oukoun, ȇn d’ egȏ, kai peri grammatȏn graphȇs te kai anagnȏseȏs hoi grammatistai;)?” “Yes (Pany ge).” “Moreover (Ti de;), surely, you wouldn’t expect anyone to have better luck, when faced with maritime dangers (pros tous tȇs thalattȇs kindunous m’ȏn oiei eutuchsterous tinas einai), than wise helmsmen (tȏn sophȏn kubernȇtȏn), generally speaking (hȏs epi pan eipein;)?” “Of course not (Ou dȇta).” “And would you prefer to face military risks and hazards (Ti de; strateuomenos meta poterou an hȇdion tou kindunou te kai tȇs tuchȇs metechois) in the company of a wise or an ignorant commander (meta sophou stratȇgou ȇ meta amathous)?” “A wise one (Meta sophou).” “And would you rather take your chances with a wise or an ignorant doctor when you’re ill (Ti de; asthenȏn meta poterou an hȇdeȏs kinduneuois, meta sophou iatrou ȇ meta amathous;)?” “A wise one (Meta sophou).” “Isn’t it (Ar’ oun),” I said (ȇn d’ egȏ), “because you think that you will have better luck in your affairs (hoti eutuchesteron an oiei prattein) if you are attended by a wise man (meta sophou prattȏn) rather than an ignoramus (ȇ meta amathous;)?” He agreed (Sunechȏrei). “In every walk of life, then, wisdom causes luck (Hȇ sophia ara pantachou eutuchein poiei tous anthrȏpous): wisdom can never fail at all (ou gar dȇpou hamartanoi g’ an pote ti hȇ sophia), but must do right (all’ anankȇ orthȏs prattein) and attain its goal (kai tunchanein). Otherwise it would no longer be wisdom (ȇ gar an ouketi sophia eiȇ).” The long and short of it was that we finally agreed (Sunȏmologȇsamen teleutȏntes) – I don’t know how (ouk oid’ hopȏs) – that if wisdom is present (en kephalaiȏi houtȏs touto echein, sophias parousȇs), whoever has it (hȏi an parȇi) has no need of good luck (mȇden prosdeisthai eutuchias).’ (279c1-280b3)

One may wonder, why this elaborate proof is introduced by Socrates’ insistence that ‘even a child would know that wisdom is good luck’. I believe that this is an example of Socrates’ ‘irony’ (eirȏneia), which underlines the fact that Plato presents here a piece of thinking, which is emphatically Socrates’ own, and is of great importance. I put ‘irony’ in quotation marks, for this is not how Socrates’ irony is normally understood. But Aristotle in Nicomachean Ethics defines ‘those who use irony’ (eirȏnes), as ‘those who disclaim qualities that bring reputation (houtoi ta endoxa aparnountai), as Socrates used to do’ (hoion kai Sȏkratȇs epoiei, 1127b22-26).’

3 The ancient dating of the Phaedrus as reflected in Isocrates’ Against the Sophists

Next, Isocrates presents in Against the Sophists his educational program: ‘It is my duty not only to rebuke others (dei mȇ monon tȏn allȏn katȇgorein), but also to set forth my own views (alla kai tȇn emautou dȇlȏsein dianoian, 14)’. He devotes to this task paragraphs 14-18, and in all these paragraphs there can be found striking similarities to the outline of reformed rhetoric presented by Plato in the Phaedrus.

Phaedrus asks: ‘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)

Isocrates says in paragraph 14, in which he introduces his own views on the subject: ‘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).’

In paragraph 15 he further develops this thought: ‘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); for it teaches them to take from a readier source the topics which they otherwise hit upon in haphazard fashion (hois gar nun entunchanousi planȏmenoi, tout’ ex hetoimoterou lambanein autous edidaxen). But it cannot fully fashion men who are without natural aptitude into good debaters or writers (tous de katadeesteran tȇn phusin echontas agȏnistas men agathous ȇ logȏn poiȇtas ouk an apoteleseien), although it is capable of leading them on to self-improvement and to a greater degree of intelligence on many subjects (autous d’an hautȏn proagagoi kai pros polla phronimȏterȏs diakeisthai poiȇseien).’

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Hackforth notes on Phaedrus 269d: ‘Both substance and language here are very similar to Isocrates, contra Soph. par. 16-17 [in fact par. 14-15], and (in a rather less degree) to the later Antidosis par. 186-9. It is quite possible that Plato had been reading the former work recently, but there is no suggestion of attack or even disagreement on this point, in any case, it is a commonplace which gives no ground for supposing borrowing on either side.’

To explain away the similarities between Against the Sophists 14-15 and Phaedrus 269d by referring to both these passages as ‘a common place’ is wrong. Isocrates presents the quoted lines (par. 14-15) emphatically as his own views, in contrast to the philosophers criticised for ‘having gone so far in their having no scruple (houtoi toinun 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). 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)

Philosophers thus criticised did not advertise their teaching of justice (dikaiosunȇn, Against the Sophists 5), of virtue (aretȇn), and of self-control (kai sȏphrosunȇn, Against the Sophists 20) by promising to help their students acquiring virtue, justice and self-control, and thus making them eudaimonas (‘happy and prosperous’) only if they were endowed by nature with the ability to obtain these qualities.

Isocrates’ ‘imitation’ of Phaedrus 269d in Against the Sophists 14 is intentional; he claims the thought it presents as his original insight.

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Norlin notes on Against the Sophists 4: ‘Socrates (Plato, Apology 20 B) speaks with the same sarcasm of a sophist named Evenus, who professed to teach all the virtues necessary to a good man and good citizen for five minae.’

When Isocrates wrote Against the Sophists Socrates’ defence speech must have been still a living memory in the minds of all those who were at the trial, who heard and spoke about it, let alone in the mind of all those who read Plato’s Apology. Philosophers whom Isocrates exposes to his opprobrium were the followers of Socrates. How could it have happened that they turned their back so radically on Socrates as he presented himself at his trial? This question must be asked, for Isocrates’ testimony on this point should be taken seriously.

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In paragraph 16 of Against the Sophists Isocrates begins to unfold his educational program: ‘I hold  (phȇmi gar egȏ) that to obtain a knowledge of the elements out of which we make and compose all discourses (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).’

Compare Plato’s opening of the program of a reformed rhetoric outlined in the Phaedrus: ‘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).’ (271c10-d5, translation C. J. Rowe)

Norlin’s ‘elements’ for Isocrates’ ideȏn and Rowe’s ‘forms’ for Plato’s eidȇ does not help the reader to find any resemblance between Isocrates’ and Plato’s outline of rhetoric. But leaving this aside, there is a profound difference between the two. 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. And yet, it is just this difference which indicates that when Isocrates wrote the given passage, he had the Phaedran passage clearly in his mind if not in front of his eyes. For when Socrates finished the outline, Phaedrus said: ‘still, it seems no light business’ (kaitoi ou smikron ge phainetai ergon) and Socrates responded: ‘It is just for this reason  (toutou toi heneka) that we must turn all our arguments upside down (chrȇ pantas tous logous anȏ kai katȏ metastrephonta) and look to see (episkopein) whether any easier and shorter route to it appears anywhere (ei tis pȇi raiȏn kai brachutera phainȇtai ep’ autȇn hodos), so that someone doesn’t waist his time going off on a long and rough road (hina mȇ matȇn pollȇn apiȇi kai tracheian) when he could take a short and smooth one (exon oligȇn te kai leian).’ , 272b5-c2, tr. Rowe). Isocrates responded to this when he said in par. 16: ‘to obtain a knowledge of the elements (tȏn ideȏn ‘of the forms’) out of which we make and compose all discourses is not so very difficult if anyone entrusts himself, not to those who make rash promises, but to those who have some knowledge of these things’.

In fact, in the Phaedrus actual discussions between Isocrates and Plato on this matter appear to be reflected, for prior to the complaint of Phaedrus that the proposed outline ‘seems no light business’, Socrates brought in ‘the writer’ (ho sungrapheus) who objected: ‘What do you mean (ti dȇ oun;)? Is this what it looks like to you (dokei houtȏs;)? Shouldn’t we accept some other account of the art of speech (mȇ allȏs pȏs apodekteon legomenȇs logȏn technȇs;)?’ (272b2-4; this translation is mine, for I can accept neither Hackforth’s nor Rowe’s translation of these words.) If this is so, then the praise of Isocrates’ exceptional talent for rhetoric in the closing section of the Phaedrus expresses Plato’s appreciation of the discussions he had with Isocrates on the subject. It is presented as Socrates’ praise of the young Isocrates in harmony with the dramatic date of the dialogue (279a). (In 1939 B.D. Meritt reported the discovery of an inscription that lists Phaedrus among those who were exiled in 415. The Phaedrus is dramatically staged during the ‘Peace of Nicias’, which began in 421 B.C.; Isocrates, born in 436, was fifteen years old.)

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In the Phaedrus, in the passage that immediately follows the quoted 271c10-d5 one, Socrates explains how the prerequisite knowledge of how many forms of souls and how many forms of speeches there are is to be further developped and applied: ‘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 me (sunȏn ‘when he was with his teacher’; Rowe’s ‘when he was with me’ can only refer to Socrates, who is speaking, but Socrates is merely expressing the proposed principles of teaching the scientific rhetoric, he doesn’t present himself as a teacher of it). 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).’ (271d5-272a6, tr. Rowe)

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From Isocrates’ point of view all this is unrealistic and irrelevant to rhetoric, and there are reasons to believe that Plato himself soon realised the folly. In the Charmides, which he wrote after the Phaedrus as his second dialogue (see ‘Plato’s first two dialogues, a reflection of his political hopes’ on my website), everybody is full of praise of Charmides’ beauty, but Socrates maintains the young man deserves real praise ‘provided that he happens to be endowed with a fine soul’ (ei tȇn psuchȇn tunchanei eu pephukȏs). When Critias insists that ‘he’s very beautiful and noble in that respect too’ (panu kalos kai agathos estin kai tauta), Socrates suggests: ‘Then why don’t we strip that part of him, and look at it’ (ti oun ouk apedusamen autou auto touto kai etheasamen), ‘he must be now of an age to be willing to engage in discussion’ (pantȏs gar pou tȇlikoutos ȏn ȇdȇ ethelei dialegesthai). (154e1-7) Discussion is the way to learn about the soul, and the whole of the Charmides may be viewed as Socrates’ endeavour to get an insight into the soul of Charmides. He limits the enquiry to the question whether Charmides has the virtue of sȏphrosunȇ (self-control, temperance, wisdom …), but even so the dialogue ends with his avowed ignorance concerning it. In his major closing entry, in which he reflects on his and Critias’ abortive investigation of what this virtue is, Socrates says to Charmides: ‘See whether you do possess it (all hora ei echeis te), because if you do possess it (ei gar echeis), I’d advise you (mallon an egȏge soi sumbouleusaimi) to consider me a fool (eme men lȇron hȇgeisthai einai), incapable of investigating anything in a reasoned argument (kai adunaton logȏi hotioun zȇtein), and yourself (seauton de) the happier the more self-controlled you are (hosȏiper sȏphronesteros ei, toioutȏi einai kai eudaimonesteron).’ (176a1-5) This can be viewed as Socrates crowning move in ‘stripping the soul of Charmides’, for Charmides replied: ‘But heavens (Alla ma Di’), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), I don’t know (ouk oida) whether I possess it (out’ ei echȏ) or whether I don’t (out’ ei mȇ echȏ). How can I know it (pȏs gar an eideiȇn), when, on your own admission, not even you and Critias are able to discover what on earth it is (ho ge mȇd’ humeis hoioi te este exeurein hoti pot’ estin, hȏs phȇis su;)? Still, I don’t really believe you at all (egȏ mentoi ou panu soi peithomai), Socrates, and I really do think I need the charm (kai emauton, ȏ Sȏkrates, panu oimai deisthai tȇs epȏidȇs)’ – the charm that instils sȏphrosunȇ in the soul (155e-158c) – and as far as I am concerned (kai to g’ emon), there’s no reason why I should not be charmed by you every day (ouden kȏluei epaidesthai hupo sou hosai hȇmerai), until you say (heȏs an phȇis su) I’ve had enough (hikanȏs echein).’ Critias, rightly, took Charmides’ decision to follow Socrates and not disappoint him as ‘a proof that he is self-controlled (tekmȇrion hoti sȏphroneis). Still, the Charmides shows that after Plato wrote and published the Phaedrus, he realised what a task it is to get an insight into another person’s soul.

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According to Isocrates only the forms of speeches can be properly known, and all the rest is a matter of a good teacher on the one hand and of the daring mind that is capable of good judgment; his deliberations on teaching rhetoric are therefore considerably simpler: ‘But to choose from these elements those which should be employed for each subject (to de toutȏn eph’ hekastȏi tȏn pragmatȏn has [ideas] dei dielesthai), 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 hamartein) but appropriately to adorn the whole speech with striking thoughts (alla kai tois enthumȇmasi prepontȏs holon ton logon katapoikilai) and to clothe it in flowing and melodious phrase (kai tois onomasin euruthmȏs kai mousikȏs eipein) – these things, I hold (tauta de), require much study (pollȇs epimeleias deisthai) and are the task of a vigorous and imaginative mind (kai psuchȇs andrikȇs kai doxasitkȇs ergon einai): for this, the student must not only have the requisite aptitude (kai dein ton men mathȇtȇn pros tȏi tȇn phusin echein hoian chrȇ) but he must learn the different kinds of discourse (ta men eidȇ ta tȏn logȏn mathein) and practice himself in their use (peri de tas chrȇseis autȏn gumnasthȇnai); and the teacher, for his part (ton de didaskalon), must so expound the principles of the art with the utmost possible exactness (ta men houtȏs akribȏs hoiont’ einai dielthein) as to leave out nothing that can be taught (hȏste mȇden tȏn didaktȏn paralipein), and, for the rest (peri de tȏn loipȏn), he must in himself set such an example of oratory (toiouton hauton paradeigma paraschein) that the students who have taken form under his instruction (hȏste tous ektupȏthentas) and are able to pattern after him (kai mimȇsasthai dunamenous) will, from the outset, show in their speaking a degree of grace and charm which is not found in others (euthus anthȇroteron kai chariesteron tȏn allȏn phainesthai legontas).’ (16-18)

Socrates ends his exposition with the words: ‘recognising the right and the wrong time for these (toutȏn te 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); 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 that he speaks scientifically (phȇi de technȇi legein), the person who disbelieves him is in the stronger position (ho mȇ peithomenos kratei).’ (272a6-b2, tr. Rowe)

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

Isocrates ends his educational program, viewed as philosophy, with a prediction concerning contemporary philosophers (criticised in paragraphs 1-8): ‘Now as for the sophists who have lately sprung up (Hoi men oun arti tȏn sophistȏn anaphuomenoi) and have very recently embraced these pretensions (kai neȏsti prospeptȏkotes tais alazoneiais), even though they flourish at the moment (ei kai nun pleonazousin), they will all, I am sure, come round to this position (eu oid’ hoti pantes epi tautȇn katenechthȇsontai tȇn hupothesin, 19).’

Isocrates’ pretensions, his criticism and misrepresentation of Plato and of the other Socratic philosophers had to be answered; Plato responded to Isocrates’ Against the Sophists in the Euthydemus.