Phaedrus Plato Essay

Phaedrus By Plato Written 360 B. C. E Translated by Benjamin Jowett Persons of the Dialogue SOCRATES PHAEDRUS. Scene downstairs a plane-tree, by the banks of the Ilissus. Socrates. My savour smell Phaedrus, wthusly go on you, and whither atomic number 18 you t unriv each(prenominal)ed sacking? Phaedrus. I get down from Lysias the son of Cephalus, and I am dismission to view a crack popside the w tot onlyy, for I ask been gravelting with him the datety morning and our common fri annul Acu menus tells me that it is much much refreshing to walk in the open air than to be shut up in a cloister. Soc. on that point he is right.Lysias past(prenominal), I suppose, was in the town? Phaedr. Yes, he was go alonging with Epicrates, hither at the house of Morychus that house which is near the temple of special Zeus. Soc. And how did he entertain you? Can I be wrong(p) in supposing that Lysias gave you a spread dubiousness of discourse? Phaedr. You sh two hear, if you screw sp atomic number 18 time to keep up me. Soc. And should I non confine the conversation of you and Lysias a thing of luxuriously import, as I may set up in the instance communication of Pindar, than each business? Phaedr. Will you go on? Soc. And bequeath you go on with the narration? Phaedr.My history, Socrates, is whizz of your way, for cheat was the theme which in use(p) us - delight in subsequently a excogitate Lysias has been writing closely a sensible younker who was be tempted, scarcely non by a sports fan and this was the focus he ingeniously proved that the non- de atomic number 18str should be judge so wizardr than the buffer. Soc. O that is noble of him I wish that he would recount the paltry public rather than the rich, and the old military humanity rather than the young unrivalled then he would meet the case of me and of m each an separate(prenominal) a(prenominal) an(prenominal) a man his spoken language would be quite refres hing, and he would be a public benefactor.For my p invention, I do so long to hear his row, that if you walk all the individualal stylus to Megara, and when you shoot reached the wall beat back, as Herodicus recommends, with protrude going in, I lead keep you comp whatsoal agencys. Phaedr. What do you sloshed, my genuine Socrates? How mass you imagine that my un applyd shop can do justice to an elaborate work, which the massiveest rhetorician of the get on with spent a long time in composing. Indeed, I can non I would absorb a great deal if I could. Soc.I believe that I take aim intercourse Phaedrus roughly as well as I k direct myself, and I am in truth sure that the dustup of Lysias was repeat to him, non at once provided, al unitary again and again-he insisted on hearing it m either(prenominal) times all over and Lysias was real leave behinding to beguile him at last, when nonhing else would do, he got bear of the book, and looked at what he n ear sine qua noned to expect,-this occupied him during the alone morning -and then when he was tired with sitting, he went out to take a walk, non until, by the dog, as I believe, he had manifestly learned by heart the entire discourse, unless it was unusually long, and he went to a countersink impertinent the wall that he competency practise his lesson. in that respect he saw a authorized rooter of discourse who had a corresponding weakness-he saw and rejoiced at a time aspect he, I shall conformation a partner in my revels. And he invited him to come and walk with him. besides when the sports fan of discourse begged that he would repeat the tale, he gave himself airs and tell, No I can non, as if he were indisposed although, if the heargonr had refused, he would in the start place or later pass on been compel take by him to listen whether he would or no. Therefore, Phaedrus, mastery him do at once what he bequeath soon do whether bidden or non. Phaedr. I s ee that you forget non permit me off until I verbalize in several(prenominal) fashion or former(a) verily then my surpass plan is to giberess as I outdo can. Soc. A precise neat remark, that of yours. Phaedr.I pull up stakes do as I say and when believe me, Socrates, I did non learn the very ledgers-O no n for perpetuallytheless I dupe a general notion of what he said, and provide give you a summary of the points in which the raw sienna differed from the non- venerater. Let me begin at the get-go. Soc. Yes, my overbold one moreover you essential premiere of all show what you come in your left(a) hand under your cloak, for that roll, as I suspect, is the substantial discourse. today, much as I love you, I would not withstand you suppose that I am going to redeem your memory exercised at my expense, if you go Lysias himself here. Phaedr. plentiful I see that I vex no hope of practising my art upon you. tho if I am to read, where would you please to s it? Soc. Let us turn aside and go by the Ilissus we testament sit down at almost quiet spot. Phaedr.I am soften off(predicate) in not having my sandals, and as you n eer run through any, I forecast that we may go along the brook and cool our feet in the water supply this forget be the easiest counselling, and at midday and in the summer is off the beaten track(predicate) from be unpleasant. Soc. Lead on, and look out for a place in which we can sit down. Phaedr. Do you see the tallest plane-tree in the distance? Soc. Yes. Phaedr. There be shade and gentle breezes, and grass on which we may every sit or lie down. Soc. Move forward. Phaedr. I should like to know, Socrates, whether the place is not somewhere here at which Boreas is said to give carried off Orithyia from the banks of the Ilissus? Soc. Such is the tradition. Phaedr. And is this the exact spot?The little stream is delightfully clear and bright I can fancy that in that respect cleverness be maidens p seting near. Soc. I believe that the spot is not just now here, however about a quarter of a mile bring low down, where you baffle to the temple of Artemis, and at that place is, I take, some sort of an communion table of Boreas at the place. Phaedr. I consent never noticed it exactly I beseech you to tell me, Socrates, do you believe this tale? Soc. The refreshed atomic number 18 doubtful, and I should not be singular if, like them, I too doubted. I might have a rational interpretation that Orithyia was anticing with P impairmentacia, when a northern gust carried her over the neighbouring rocks and this being the manner of her death, she was said to have been carried away by Boreas.There is a discrepancy, however, about the neighbourhood according to an an an early(a)(prenominal)(prenominal)wise version of the story she was taken from Areopagus, and not from this place. flat I quite ac noesis that these allegories be very nice, further he is not to be envied who has to in vent them much labour and ingenuity go forrard be required of him and when he has once begun, he mustiness go on and rehabilitate Hippocentaurs and chimeras dire. Gorgons and winged steeds flow in apace, and numberless other inconceivable and portentous tempers. And if he is sceptical about them, and would fain swerve them one afterwards another to the rules of probability, this sort of crude ism entrust take up a great deal of time. directly I have no leisure for much(prenominal) enquiries shall I tell you wherefore?I must first know myself, as the Delphian account says to be curious about that which is not my concern, fleck I am still in ignorance of my own self, would be ridiculous. And indeed I bid f bewell to all this the common imprint is large for me. For, as I was saying, I want to know not about this, and about myself am I a monster more complicated and futile with passion than the serpent Typho, or a creature of a gentler and simpler sort, to whom dis position has given a noblemanr and lowlier destiny? further let me contend you, friend have we not reached the plane-tree to which you were conducting us? Phaedr. Yes, this is the tree. Soc. By Here, a attractive simplenessing-place, full of summer fails and scents.Here is this lofty and spreading plane-tree, and the agnus cast us high and clustering, in the fullest b wrongom and the greatest fragrance and the stream which flows beneath the plane-tree is deliciously cold to the feet. Judging from the or garner waternts and go steadys, this must be a spot sacrosanct to Achelous and the Nymphs. How delightful is the breeze-so very novel and there is a sound in the air shrill and summerlike which decl bes answer to the chorus of the cicadae. just the greatest hex of all is the grass, like a pillow gently pitch to the head. My beneficial Phaedrus, you have been an admirable guide. Phaedr. What an incomprehensible being you are, Socrates when you are in the country, as you say, you in reality are like some stranger who is led about by a guide. Do you ever cross the fudge? I rather infer that you never venture even outside the gates. Soc.Very true, my practised friend and I hope that you leave excuse me when you hear the contend, which is, that I am a lover of experience, and the men who dwell in the metropolis are my teachers, and not the trees or the country. Though I do indeed believe that you have fix a spell with which to manoeuvre me out of the city into the country, like a hungry cow in advance whom a bough or a bunch of fruit is waved. For notwith stand up hold up before me in like manner a book, and you may lead me all round Attica, and over the wide world. And now having arrived, I intend to lie down, and do you choose any posture in which you can read best. Begin. Phaedr. Listen. You know how matters stand with me and how, as I conceive, this social occasion may be arranged for the improvement of twain of us.And I fend for that I ought not to fail in my suit, because I am not your lover for lovers repent of the kindnesses which they have shown when their passion ceases, exactly to the non-lovers who are on the loose(p) and not under any compulsion, no time of repentance ever comes for they confer their benefits according to the measure of their ability, in the way which is most contri scarceive to their own inte reside. Then again, lovers consider how by tenableness of their love they have drop their own concerns and rendered service to others and when to these benefits conferred they add on the troubles which they have endured, they think that they have long ago do to the making love a very ample return. precisely the non-lover has no such tormenting commemorations he has never neglected his af mean(a)s or scrapled with his relations he has no troubles to add up or excuse to invent and being well rid of all these evils, why should he not freely do what lead gratify the loved?If you say t hat the lover is more to be p get, because his love is model to be great for he is bequeathing to say and do what is hostile to other men, in order to please his dear-that, if true, is scarce if a proof that he pull up stakes prefer any future love to his impersonate, and forget injure his old love at the delight of the new. And how, in a matter of such infinite importance, can a man be right in trusting himself to one who is afflicted with a malady which no experienced person would attempt to cure, for the patient himself films that he is not in his right intellect, and acknowledges that he is wrong in his mind, unless says that he is unable to control himself? And if he came to his right mind, would he ever imagine that the desires were good which he conceived when in his wrong mind? erst more, there are many more non-lovers than lovers and if you choose the best of the lovers, you will not have many to choose from only if from the non-lovers, the choice will be la rger, and you will be far more likely to hear among them a person who is quotable of your companionship. If public opinion be your dread, and you would annul reproach, in all probability the lover, who is always thinking that other men are as emulous of him as he is of them, will gasconade to some one of his successes, and make a show of them openly in the pride of his hearthe wants others to know that his labour has not been lost(p) moreover the non-lover is more his own master, and is desirous of solid good, and not of the opinion of mankind.Again, the lover may be generally noted or seen side by side(p) the heartfelt (this is his regular occupation), and whenever they are observed to ex flip-flop twain words they are supposed to meet about some affair of love either past or in contemplation but when non-lovers meet, no one asks the reason why, because people know that reprimanding to another is natural, whether friendship or mere enjoyment be the motive. Once more, i f you venerate the changefulness of friendship, consider that in any other case a quarrel might be a mutual incident but now, when you have given up what is most precious to you, you will be the greater loser, and thereof, you will have more reason in being fearful of the lover, for his vexations are many, and he is always fancying that every one is leagued against him. Wherefore lso he debars his beloved from society he will not have you familiar(p) with the wealthy, lest they should exceed him in wealth, or with men of education, lest they should be his superiors in concord and he is equally afraid of anybodys influence who has any other advantage over himself. If he can persuade you to break with them, you are left without friend in the world or if, out of a think to your own interest, you have more sense than to comply with his desire, you will have to quarrel with him. only if those who are non-lovers, and whose success in love is the return of their merit, will not b e jealous of the companions of their beloved, and will rather dislike those who refuse to be his associates, thinking that their favourite is slighted by the latter and benefited by the former for more love than hatred may be pass judgment to come to him out of his friendship with others.Many lovers too have loved the person of a youth before they knew his suit or his belongings so that when their passion has passed away, there is no knowing whether they will continue to be his friends whereas, in the case of non-lovers who were always friends, the friendship is not lessened by the favours granted but the memory of these remains with them, and is an eager of good things to come. Further, I say that you are likely to be improved by me, whereas the lover will spoil you. For they praise your words and actions in a wrong way partly, because they are afraid of offending you, and too, their judgment is weakened by passion.Such are the feats which love exhibits he makes things painfu l to the disappointed which give no pain to others he compels the successful lover to praise what ought not to give him pleasure, and therefore the beloved is to be pitied rather than envied. But if you listen to me, in the first place, I, in my intercourse with you, shall not merely regard present enjoyment, but as well future advantage, being not mastered by love, but my own master nor for teentsy causes fetching violent dislikes, but even when the cause is great, slowly laying up little wrathunintentional offences I shall forgive, and intentional ones I shall try to prevent and these are the marks of a friendship which will last. Do you think that a lover only can be a firm friend? eflect-if this were true, we should set small value on sons, or fathers, or mothers nor should we ever have firm friends, for our love of them arises not from passion, but from other associations. Further, if we ought to shower favours on those who are the most eager suitors,-on that principle, we ought always to do good, not to the most virtuous, but to the most needy for they are the persons who will be most relieved, and will therefore be the most grateful and when you make a feast you should invite not your friend, but the beggar and the empty mind for they will love you, and attend you, and come about your doors, and will be the best pleased, and the most grateful, and will invoke many a blessing on your head.Yet sure as shooting you ought not to be granting favours to those who besiege you with prayer, but to those who are best able to reward you nor to the lover only, but to those who are worthy of love nor to those who will enjoy the bloom of your youth, but to those who will share their possessions with you in age nor to those who, having succeeded, will glory in their success to others, but to those who will be modest and tell no tales nor to those who care about you for a moment only, but to those who will continue your friends through life nor to those who, when their passion is over, will pick a quarrel with you, but rather to those who, when the go of youth has left you, will show their own virtue.Remember what I have said and consider besides this further point friends admonish the lover under the idea that his way of life is bad, but no one of his kindred ever yet censured the non-lover, or thought that he was erroneous about his own interests. Perhaps you will ask me whether I give notice that you should indulge every non-lover. To which I reply that not even the lover would advise you to indulge all lovers, for the indiscriminate favour is less esteemed by the rational recipient, and less easily hidden by him who would trip out the censure of the world. instanter love ought to be for the advantage of both parties, and for the crack of neither. I believe that I have said enough but if there is anything more which you desire or which in your opinion inevitably to be supplied, ask and I will answer. Now, Socrates, what do you t hink?Is not the discourse excellent, more curiously in the matter of the language? Soc. Yes, quite admirable the effect on me was ravishing. And this I owe to you, Phaedrus, for I observed you while reading to be in an ecstasy, and thinking that you are more experienced in these matters than I am, I attach toed your example, and, like you, my divine darling, I became inspired with a phrenzy. Phaedr. Indeed, you are pleased to be merry. Soc. Do you concoct that I am not in earnest? Phaedr. Now dont talk in that way, Socrates, but let me have your real opinion I adjure you, by Zeus, the perfection of friendship, to tell me whether you think that any Hellene could have said more or spoken break up on the equivalent subject.Soc. Well, but are you and I expected to praise the sentiments of the author, or only the clearness, and roundness, and finish, and tournure of the language? As to the first I willingly submit to your break away judgment, for I am not worthy to form an opinio n, having only tended to(p) to the rhetorical manner and I was doubting whether this could have been defended even by Lysias himself I thought, though I treat under correction, that he repeated himself dickens or three times, either from want of words or from want of pains and also, he appeared to me ostentatiously to exult in present how well he could say the like thing in both or three ways. Phaedr.Nonsense, Socrates what you call repetition was the especial merit of the speech for he omitted no extendic of which the subject rightly allowed, and I do not think that any one could have spoken better or more exhaustively. Soc. There I cannot go along with you. past sages, men and women, who have spoken and written of these things, would rise up in judgment against me, if out of complaisance I assented to you. Phaedr. Who are they, and where did you hear anything better than this? Soc. I am sure that I must have perceive but at this moment I do not think of from whom perhaps from Sappho the fair, or Anacreon the wise or, possibly, from a prose writer. Why do I say so? Why, because I perceive that my bosom is full, and that I could make another speech as good as that of Lysias, and different.Now I am certain that this is not an invention of my own, who am well aware that I know nothing, and therefore I can only infer that I have been filled through the cars, like a pitcher, from the irrigate of another, though I have actually forgotten in my stupidity who was my informant. Phaedr. That is desperate-but never mind where you beard the discourse or from whom let that be a mystery not to be divulged even at my earnest desire. Only, as you say, promise to make another and better oration, equal in length and entirely new, on the same subject and I, like the nine-spot Archons, will promise to set up a golden get word at Delphi, not only of myself, but of you, and as large as life. Soc.You are a dear golden ass if you suppose me to mean that Lysias has alin concert missed the mark, and that I can make a speech from which all his arguments are to be excluded. The worst of authors will say something which is to the point. Who, for example, could speak on this thesis of yours without praising the discretion of the nonlover and blaming the indiscretion of the lover? These are the commonplaces of the subject which must come in (for what else is there to be said? ) and must be allowed and excused the only merit is in the recording of them, for there can be none in the invention but when you leave the commonplaces, then there may be some originality. Phaedr.I admit that there is reason in what you say, and I too will be reasonable, and will allow you to start with the premiss that the lover is more unordered in his wits than the non-lover if in what remains you make a semipermanent and better speech than Lysias, and use other arguments, then I say again, that a statue you shall have of beaten gold, and take your place by the bulky offeri ngs of the Cypselids at Olympia. Soc. How profoundly in earnest is the lover, because to tease him I lay a finger upon his love And so, Phaedrus, you really imagine that I am going to improve upon the ingenuity of Lysias? Phaedr. There I have you as you had me, and you must just speak as you best can. Do not let us exchange tu quoque as in a farce, or compel me to say to you as you said to me, I know Socrates as well as I know myself, and he was wanting to, speak, but he gave himself airs. Rather I would have you consider that from this place we resurrect not until you have unbosomed yourself of the speech for here are we all alone, and I am stronger, remember, and younger than you-Wherefore perpend, and do not compel me to use violence. Soc. But, my sweet Phaedrus, how ridiculous it would be of me to compete with Lysias in an extempore speech He is a master in his art and I am an uninstructed man. Phaedr. You see how matters stand and therefore let there be no more pretences for , indeed, I know the word that is irresistible. Soc. Then dont say it. Phaedr. Yes, but I will and my word shall be an oath. I say, or rather swear-but what beau ideal will be witness of my oath? By this plane-tree I swear, that unless you repeat the discourse here in the facet of this very plane-tree, I will never tell you another never let you have word of another Soc. Villain I am conquered the poor lover of discourse has no more to say. Phaedr. Then why are you still at your tricks? Soc. I am not going to play tricks now that you have taken the oath, for I cannot allow myself to be starved. Phaedr. Proceed. Soc. Shall I tell you what I will do? Phaedr. What? Soc. I will caul my face and gallop through the discourse as fast as I can, for if I see you I shall feel ashamed and not know what to say. Phaedr. Only go on and you may do anything else which you please. Soc.Come, O ye Muses, melodious, as ye are called, whether you have received this name from the character of your st rains, or because the Melians are a tuneful race, help, O help me in the tale which my good friend here desires me to rehearse, in order that his friend whom he always deemed wise may seem to him to be wiser than ever. Once upon a time there was a fair boy, or, more properly address, a youth he was very fair and had a great many lovers and there was one special cunning one, who had persuaded the youth that he did not love him, but he really loved him all the same and one day when he was paying his addresses to him, he used this very argument-that he ought to accept the non-lover rather than the lover his words were as deliver the goodss every good counsel begins in the same way a man should know what he is advising about, or his counsel will all come to nought.But people imagine that they know about the nature of things, when they dont know about them, and, not having come to an understanding at first because they think that they know, they end, as might be expected, in contradic ting one another and themselves. Now you and I must not be guilty of this fundamental error which we destine in others but as our question is whether the lover or non-lover is to be preferred, let us first of all agree in delimit the nature and forefinger of love, and then, keeping our eyes upon the definition and to this appealing, let us further enquire whether love brings advantage or injustice. Every one sees that love is a desire, and we know also that non-lovers desire the sightly and good. Now in what way is the lover to be terrific from the non-lover?Let us note that in every one of us there are two guiding and ruling principles which lead us whither they will one is the natural desire of pleasure, the other is an acquired opinion which aspires after the best and these two are sometimes in harmony and then again at war, and sometimes the one, sometimes the other conquers. When opinion by the help of reason leads us to the best, the conquering principle is called temper ance but when desire, which is devoid of reason, rules in us and drags us to pleasure, that power of misrule is called excess. Now excess has many names, and many members, and many forms, and any of these forms when very marked gives a name, neither honourable nor creditable, to the bearer of the name.The desire of eating, for example, which gets the better of the higher reason and the other desires, is called gluttony, and he who is feature by it is called a glutton-I the tyrannical desire of drink, which inclines the owner of the desire to drink, has a name which is only too obvious, and there can be as little doubt by what name any other appetite of the same family would be called-it will be the name of that which happens to be eluminant. And now I think that you will perceive the rove of my discourse but as every spoken word is in a manner plainer than the unspoken, I had better say further that the foolish desire which overcomes the tendency of opinion towards right, and is led away to the enjoyment of witness, and especially of personal beauty, by the desires which are her own kindred-that supreme desire, I say, which by leading conquers and by the force of passion is reinforced, from this very force, receiving a name, is called love. And now, dear Phaedrus, I shall pause for an instant to ask whether you do not think me, as I appear to myself, inspired? Phaedr. Yes, Socrates, you seem to have a very unusual flow of words. Soc. Listen to me, then, in silence for surely the place is consecrate so that you must not wonder, if, as I conk out, I appear to be in a divine fury, for already I am getting into dithyrambics. Phaedr. Nothing can be truer. Soc. The debt instrument rests with you. But hear what surveys, and Perhaps the fit may be averted all is in their hands above. I will go on lecture to my youth. Listen Thus, my friend, we have declared and defined the nature of the subject.Keeping the definition in view, let us now enquire what advanta ge or disadvantage is likely to ensue from the lover or the non-lover to him who accepts their advances. He who is the victim of his passions and the hard worker of pleasure will of course desire to make his beloved as agreeable to himself as possible. Now to him who has a mind discased anything is agreeable which is not opposed to him, but that which is equal or superior is hateful to him, and therefore the lover Will not brook any superiority or equality on the part of his beloved he is always assiduous in reducing him to inferiority. And the ignorant is the inferior of the wise, the coward of the brave, the slow of speech of the speaker, the irksome of the clever.These, and not these only, are the mental defects of the beloved-defects which, when implanted by nature, are necessarily a delight to the lover, and when not implanted, he must purge to implant them in him, if he would not be deprived of his transitory joy. And therefore he cannot help being jealous, and will debar his beloved from the advantages of society which would make a man of him, and especially from that society which would have given him soundness, and thereby he cannot fail to do him great harm. That is to say, in his excessive fear lest he should come to be despised in his eyes he will be compelled to banish from him divine philosophy and there is no greater injury which he can impose upon him than this. He will contrive that his beloved shall be wholly ignorant, and in everything shall look to him he is to be the delight of the lovers heart, and a curse to himself.Verily, a lover is a profitable guardian and associate for him in all that relates to his mind. Let us next see how his master, whose faithfulness of life is pleasure and not good, will keep and train the body of his servant. Will he not choose a beloved who is delicate rather than tough and strong? One brought up in shady bowers and not in the bright sun, a stranger to manly exercises and the sweat of toil, accustom ed only to a soft and luxurious diet, instead of the hues of health having the colours of winder and ornament, and the rest of a piece? -such a life as any one can imagine and which I need not exposit at length. But I may sum up all that I have to say in a word, and pass on.Such a person in war, or in any of the great crises of life, will be the anxiety of his friends and also of his lover, and certainly not the terror of his enemies which nobody can deny. And now let us tell what advantage or disadvantage the beloved will receive from the guardianship and society of his lover in the matter of his property this is the next point to be considered. The lover will be the first to see what, indeed, will be sufficiently evident to all men, that he desires above all things to deprive his beloved of his dearest and best and holiest possessions, father, mother, kindred, friends, of all whom he thinks may be hinderers or reprovers of their most sweet converse he will even cast a jealous e ye upon his gold and silver or other property, ecause these make him a less easy prey, and when caught less manageable hence he is of necessity displeased at his possession of them and rejoices at their loss and he would like him to be wifeless, childless, business firmless, as well and the lengthy the better, for the longer he is all this, the longer he will enjoy him. There are some soft of animals, such as flatterers, who are on the hook(predicate) and, mischievous enough, and yet nature has mingled a temporary pleasure and benignity in their composition. You may say that a courtesan is hurtful, and disapprove of such creatures and their practices, and yet for the time they are very pleasant. But the lover is not only hurtful to his love he is also an extremely unsweet companion.The old proverb says that birds of a feather flock together I suppose that equality of years inclines them to the same pleasures, and similarity begets friendship yet you may have more than enough ev en of this and verily simpleness is always said to be grievous. Now the lover is not only unlike his beloved, but he forces himself upon him. For he is old and his love is young, and neither day nor night will he leave him if he can help necessity and the sting of desire drive him on, and allure him with the pleasure which he receives from seeing, hearing, touching, perceiving him in every way. And therefore he is delighted to re duette upon him and to minister to him.But what pleasure or consolation can the beloved be receiving all this time? Must he not feel the outcome of disgust when he looks at an old shrivelled face and the ending to match, which even in a description is disagreeable, and quite detestable when he is forced into daily contact with his lover moreover he is jealously watched and guarded against everything and everybody, and has to hear misplaced and exaggerated praises of himself, and censures equally inappropriate, which are unendurable when the man is sobe r, and, besides being intolerable, are published all over the world in all their indelicacy and wearisomeness when he is drunk.And not only while his love continues is he mischievous and unpleasant, but when his love ceases he becomes a perfidious enemy of him on whom he showered his oaths and prayers and promises, and yet could hardly support upon him to tolerate the tedium of his familiarity even from motives of interest. The bit of payment arrives, and now he is the servant of another master instead of love and infatuation, wisdom and temperance are his bosoms lords but the beloved has not discovered the change which has taken place in him, when he asks for a return and recalls to his recollection former sayings and doings he believes himself to be speaking to the same person, and the other, not having the courage to confess the truth, and not knowing how to fulfil the oaths and promises which he do when under the dominion of folly, and having now levyn wise and temperate, d oes not want to do as he did or to be as he was before.And so he runs away and is constrained to be a defaulter the oyster-shell has fallen with the other side uppermost-he changes pursuit into safety valve, while the other is compelled to follow him with passion and imprecation not knowing that he ought never from the first to have accepted a demented lover instead of a sensible non-lover and that in making such a choice he was giving himself up to a faithless, morose, envious, disagreeable being, hurtful to his e body politic, hurtful to his incarnate health, and still more hurtful to the cultivation of his mind, than which there neither is nor ever will be anything more honoured in the eyes both of beau ideals and men. cypher this, fair youth, and know that in the friendship of the lover there is no real kindness he has an appetite and wants to feed upon you As wolves love lambs so lovers love their loves. But I told you so, I am speaking in verse, and therefore I had better make an end enough. Phaedr. I thought that you were only halfway and were going to make a similar speech about all the advantages of accepting the non-lover.Why do you not sustain? Soc. Does not your control observe that I have got out of dithyrambics into heroics, when only uttering a censure on the lover? And if I am to add the praises of the nonlover, what will become of me? Do you not perceive that I am already overtaken by the Nymphs to whom you have mischievously exposed me? And therefore will only add that the non-lover has all the advantages in which the lover is accused of being deficient. And now I will say no more there has been enough of both of them. Leaving the tale to its fate, I will cross the river and make the best of my way home, lest a worse thing be inflicted upon me by you. Phaedr.Not yet, Socrates not until the heat of the day has passed do you not see that the hour is almost noon? there is the midday sun standing still, as people say, in the meridian. Let us rather stay and talk over what has been said, and then return in the cool. Soc. Your love of discourse, Phaedrus, is superhuman, simply marvellous, and I do not believe that there is any one of your contemporaries who has either made or in one way or another has compelled others to make an equal number of speeches. I would tear off Simmias the Theban, but all the rest are far behind you. And now, I do verily believe that you have been the cause of another. Phaedr.That is good news. But what do you mean? Soc. I mean to say that as I was about to cross the stream the usual indicate was given to me,that sign which always forbids, but never bids, me to do anything which I am going to do and I thought that I heard a voice saying in my car that I had been guilty of impiety, and. that I must not go away until I had made an atonement. Now I am a diviner, though not a very good one, but I have enough religion for my own use, as you might say of a bad writer-his writing is good enough f or him and I am descent to see that I was in error. O my friend, how prophetic is the human mortal At the time I had a sort of misgiving, and, ike Ibycus, I was troubled I feared that I might be buying honour from men at the price of sinning against the gods. Now I recognize my error. Phaedr. What error? Soc. That was a dreadful speech which you brought with you, and you made me utter one as bad. Phaedr. How so? Soc. It was foolish, I say,-to a certain extent, impious can anything be more dreadful? Phaedr. Nothing, if the speech was really such as you describe. Soc. Well, and is not Eros the son of Aphrodite, and a god? Phaedr. So men say. Soc. But that was not acknowledged by Lysias in his speech, nor by you in that other speech which you by a charm drew from my lips. For if love be, as he surely is, a divinity, he cannot be evil.Yet this was the error of both the speeches. There was also a simplicity about them which was refreshing having no truth or honesty in them, neverthel ess they pretended to be something, hoping to succeed in deceiving the manikins of earth and gain celebrity among them. Wherefore I must have a purgation. And I bethink me of an ancient purgation of mythological error which was devised, not by kor, for he never had the wit to discover why he was blind, but by Stesichorus, who was a philosopher and knew the reason why and therefore, when he lost his eyes, for that was the penalization which was inflicted upon him for reviling the lovely Helen, he at once purged himself.And the purgation was a recantation, which began thus,False is that word of mine-the truth is that thou didst not embark in ships, nor ever go to the walls of Troy and when he had completed his poem, which is called the recantation, immediately his sight returned to him. Now I will be wiser than either Stesichorus or Homer, in that I am going to make my recantation for reviling love before I can and this I will attempt, not as before, veiled and ashamed, but with e yebrow bold and bare. Phaedr. Nothing could be more agreeable to me than to hear you say so. Soc. Only think, my good Phaedrus, what an utter want of delicacy was shown in the two discourses I mean, in my own and in that which you recited out of the book.Would not any one who was himself of a noble and gentle nature, and who loved or ever had loved a nature like his own, when we tell of the petty causes of lovers jealousies, and of their excerptional(a) animosities, and of the injuries which they do to their beloved, have imagined that our ideas of love were taken from some haunt of sailors to which good manners were unknown-he would certainly never have admitted the justice of our censure? Phaedr. I boldness say not, Socrates. Soc. Therefore, because I blush at the thought of this person, and also because I am afraid of Love himself, I desire to swoosh the brine out of my ears with water from the spring and I would counsel Lysias not to delay, but to write another discourse, wh ich shall prove that ceteris paribus the lover ought to be accepted rather than the non-lover.Phaedr. Be assured that he shall. You shall speak the praises of the lover, and Lysias shall be compelled by me to write another discourse on the same theme. Soc. You will be true to your nature in that, and therefore I believe you. Phaedr. Speak, and fear not. Soc. But where is the fair youth whom I was addressing before, and who ought to listen now lest, if he hear me not, he should accept a non-lover before he knows what he is doing? Phaedr. He is close at hand, and always at your service. Soc. Know then, fair youth, that the former discourse was the word of Phaedrus, the son of Vain Man, who dwells in the city of Myrrhina (Myrrhinusius).And this which I am about to utter is the recantation of Stesichorus the son of godlike Man (Euphemus), who comes from the town of Desire (Himera), and is to the following effect I told a lie when I said that the beloved ought to accept the non-lover w hen he might have the lover, because the one is sane, and the other mad. It might be so if unwiseness were simply an evil but there is also a flakiness which is a divine gift, and the source of the chiefest blessings granted to men. For prognostic is a fierceness, and the prophetess at Delphi and the priestesses at Dodona when out of their senses have conferred great benefits on Hellas, both in public and private life, but when in their senses hardly a(prenominal) or none.And I might also tell you how the Sibyl and other inspired persons have given to many an one many an intimation of the future which has saved them from falling. But it would be tedious to speak of what every one knows. There will be more reason in appealing to the ancient inventors of names, who would never have connected prophecy (mantike) which foretells the future and is the noblest of arts, with vehemence (manike), or called them both by the same name, if they had deemed madness to be a disgrace or dishon our-they must have thought that there was an inspired madness which was a noble thing for the two words, mantike and manike, are really the same, and the garner t is only a modern and tasteless insertion.And this is confirmed by the name which was given by them to the rational investigation of futurity, whether made by the help of birds or of other signs-this, for as much as it is an art which supplies from the reasoning faculty mind (nous) and information (istoria) to human thought (oiesis) they in the beginning termed oionoistike, but the word has been lately altered and made sonorous by the modern introduction of the letter Omega (oionoistike and oionistike), and in proportion prophecy (mantike) is more perfect and august than augury, both in name and fact, in the same proportion, as the ancients testify, is madness superior to a sane mind (sophrosune) for the one is only of human, but the other of divine origin.Again, where plagues and mightiest woes have bred in certain famil ies, owing to some ancient blood-guiltiness, there madness has entered with holy prayers and rites, and by inspired utterances found a way of deliverance for those who are in need and he who has part in this gift, and is truly possessed and duly out of his mind, is by the use of purifications and mysteries made solid and except from evil, future as well as present, and has a release from the calamity which was afflicting him. The leash kind is the madness of those who are possessed by the Muses which taking hold of a delicate and virgin mortal, and there inspiring frenzy, awakens melodious and all other numbers with these adorning the myriad actions of ancient heroes for the instruction of posterity. But he who, having no touch of the Muses madness in his reason, comes to the door and thinks that he will get into the temple by the help of art-he, I say, and his song are not admitted the sane man disappears and is nowhere when he enters into competitor with the madman.I might tell of many other noble deeds which have sprung from inspired madness. And therefore, let no one frighten or fade us by saying that the temperate friend is to be chosen rather than the inspired, but let him further show that love is not sent by the gods for any good to lover or beloved if he can do so we will allow him to declare off the palm. And we, on our part, will prove in answer to him that the madness of love is the greatest of heavens blessings, and the proof shall be one which the wise will receive, and the witling disbelieve. But first of all, let us view the affections and actions of the soul divine and human, and try to ascertain the truth about them.The beginning of our proof is as followsThe soul through all her being is god, for that which is ever in action is heavenly but that which run aways another and is locomote by another, in ceasing to move ceases also to live. Only the automatic, never leaving self, never ceases to move, and is the fountain and begin ning of motion to all that moves besides. Now, the beginning is unbegotten, for that which is begotten has a beginning but the beginning is begotten of nothing, for if it were begotten of something, then the begotten would not come from a beginning. But if unbegotten, it must also be indestructible for if beginning were destroyed, there could be no beginning out of anything, nor anything out of a beginning and all things must have a beginning.And therefore the self-moving is the beginning of motion and this can neither be destroyed nor begotten, else the whole heavens and all creation would collapse and stand still, and never again have motion or birth. But if the self-moving is proved to be fadeless, he who affirms that self-motion is the very idea and essence of the soul will not be put to confusion. For the body which is moved from without is soulless but that which is moved from within has a soul, for such is the nature of the soul. But if this be true, must not the soul be th e self-moving, and therefore of necessity unbegotten and immortal? Enough of the souls immortality.Of the nature of the soul, though her true form be ever a theme of large and more than mortal discourse, let me speak briefly, and in a figure. And let the figure be composite-a pair of winged horses and a charioteer. Now the winged horses and the charioteers of the gods are all of them noble and of noble descent, but those of other races are mixed the human charioteer drives his in a pair and one of them is noble and of noble blood line, and the other is ignoble and of ignoble breed and the driving of them of necessity gives a great deal of trouble to him. I will endeavour to explain to you in what way the mortal differs from the immortal creature.The soul in her totality has the care of inanimate being everywhere, and traverses the whole heaven in divers forms appearingwhen perfect and fully winged she soars upward, and orders the whole world whereas the imperfect soul, losing her w ings and drooping in her flight at last settles on the solid ground-there, finding a home, she receives an secular frame which appears to be self-moved, but is really moved by her power and this composition of soul and body is called a living and mortal creature. For immortal no such union can be reasonably believed to be although fancy, not having seen nor surely known the nature of God, may imagine an immortal creature having both a body and also a soul which are united throughout all time. Let that, however, be as God wills, and be spoken of acceptably to him. And now let us ask the reason why the soul loses her wingsThe wing is the corporate element which is most akin to the divine, and which by nature tends to soar aloft and bestow that which gravitates downwards into the upper region, which is the habitation of the gods. The divine is beauty, wisdom, goodness, and the like and by these the wing of the soul is nourished, and grows apace but when fed upon evil and rankness and the opposite of good, wastes and falls away. Zeus, the mighty lord, holding the reins of a winged chariot, leads the way in heaven, ordering all and taking care of all and there follows him the array of gods and demigods, marshalled in eleven bands Hestia alone abides at home in the house of heaven of the rest they who are reckoned among the princely twelve action in their appointed order.They see many blessed sights in the interior heaven, and there are many ways to and fro, along which the blessed gods are passing, every one doing his own work he may follow who will and can, for jealousy has no place in the celestial choir. But when they go to banquet and festival, then they move up the steep to the top of the vault of heaven. The chariots of the gods in even poise, obeying the rein, glide rapidly but the others labour, for the furious steed goes heavily, weighing down the charioteer to the earth when his steed has not been thoroughly trained-and this is the hour of agony a nd extremest conflict for the soul. For the immortals, when they are at the end of their course, go forth and stand upon the outside of heaven, and the variation of the spheres carries them round, and they behold the things beyond.But of the heaven which is above the heavens, what earthly poet ever did or ever will sing worthily? It is such as I will describe for I must dare to speak the truth, when truth is my theme. There abides the very being with which true knowledge is concerned the colourless, formless, intangible essence, visible only to mind, the pilot of the soul. The divine intelligence, being nurtured upon mind and pure knowledge, and the intelligence of every soul which is capable of receiving the victuals proper to it, rejoices at beholding reality, and once more gazing upon truth, is replenished and made glad, until the revolution of the worlds brings her round again to the same place.In the revolution she beholds justice, and temperance, and knowledge absolute, not in the form of generation or of relation, which men call existence, but knowledge absolute in existence absolute and beholding the other true existences in like manner, and feasting upon them, she passes down into the interior of the heavens and returns home and there the charioteer putting up his horses at the stall, gives them ambrosia to eat and beebread to drink. Such is the life of the gods but of other souls, that which follows God best and is likest to him lifts the head of the charioteer into the outer world, and is carried round in the revolution, troubled indeed by the steeds, and with problem beholding true being while another only rises and falls, and sees, and again fails to see by reason of the unruliness of the steeds.The rest of the souls are also longing after the upper world and they all follow, but not being strong enough they are carried round below the surface, plunging, treading on one another, each striving to be first and there is confusion and perspiration and the extremity of effort and many of them are lamed or have their wings broken through the ill-driving of the charioteers and all of them after a unserviceable toil, not having attained to the mysteries of true being, go away, and feed upon opinion. The reason why the souls exhibit this exceeding eagerness to behold the plain of truth is that weed is found there, which is suited to the highest part of the soul and the wing on which the soul soars is nourished with this. And there is a law of Destiny, that the soul which attains any mental imagery of truth in company with a god is preserved from harm until the next period, and if attaining always is always unharmed.But when she is unable to follow, and fails to behold the truth, and through some ill-hap sinks beneath the double load of forgetfulness and vice, and her wings fall from her and she drops to the ground, then the law ordains that this soul shall at her first birth pass, not into any other animal, but only into man a nd the soul which has seen most of truth shall come to the birth as a philosopher, or artist, or some musical and loving nature that which has seen truth in the second degree shall be some righteous king or warrior chief the soul which is of the third class shall be a politician, or economist, or trader the one-quarter shall be lover of gymnastic toils, or a physician the ordinal shall lead the life of a prophet or hierophant to the sixth the character of poet or some other imitative artist will be assigned to the seventh the life of an artisan or husbandman to the ordinal that of a sophist or demagogue to the ninth that of a tyrantall these are states of probation, in which he who does righteously improves, and he who does unrighteously, improves, and he who does unrighteously, deteriorates his lot. Ten megabyte years must elapse before the soul of each one can return to the place from whence she came, for she cannot grow her wings in less only the soul of a philosopher, guilel ess and true, or the soul of a lover, who is not devoid of philosophy, may acquire wings in the third of the recurring periods of a cardinal years he is distinguished from the ordinary good man who gains wings in three thousand years-and they who choose this life three times in term have wings given them, and go away at the end of three thousand years.But the others receive judgment when they have completed their first life, and after the judgment they go, some of them to the houses of correction which are under the earth, and are punished others to some place in heaven whither they are light borne by justice, and there they live in a manner worthy of the life which they led here when in the form of men. And at the end of the first thousand years the good souls and also the evil souls both come to draw lots and choose their second life, and they may take any which they please. The soul of a man may pass into the life of a beast, or from the beast return again into the man. But th e soul which has never seen the truth will not pass into the human form. For a man must have intelligence of universals, and be able to proceed rom the many particulars of sense to one conception of reason-this is the recollection of those things which our soul once saw while following God-when regardless of that which we now call being she raised her head up towards the true being. And therefore the mind of the philosopher alone has wings and this is just, for he is always, according to the measure of his abilities, clinging in recollection to those things in which God abides, and in beholding which He is what He is. And he who employs aright these memories is ever being initiated into perfect mysteries and alone becomes truly perfect. But, as he forgets earthly interests and is rapt in the divine, the vulgar deem him mad, and rebuke him they do not see that he is inspired.Thus far I have been speaking of the fourth and last kind of madness, which is imputed to him who, when he see s the beauty of earth, is transported with the recollection of the true beauty he would like to fly away, but he cannot he is like a bird fluttering and looking upward and careless of the world below and he is therefore thought to be mad. And I have shown this of all inspirations to be the noblest and highest and the offspring of the highest to him who has or shares in it, and that he who loves the beautiful is called a lover because he partakes of it. For, as has been already said, every soul of man has in the way of nature beheld true being this was the condition of her passing into the form of man.But all souls do not easily recall the things of the other world they may have seen them for a short time only, or they may have been too bad in their earthly lot, and, having had their hearts turned to unrighteousness through some corrupting influence, they may have lost the memory of the holy things which once they saw. Few only retain an adequate remembrance of them and they, when they behold here any image of that other world, are rapt in bewilderment but they are ignorant of what this rapture means, because they do not all the way perceive. For there is no light of justice or temperance or any of the higher ideas which are precious to souls in the earthly copies of them they are seen through a glass dimly and there are few who, going to the images, behold in them the realities, and these only with difficulty.There was a time when with the rest of the happy band they saw beauty shining in brightness-we philosophers following in the train of Zeus, others in company with other gods and then we beheld the angelical vision and were initiated into a mystery which may be truly called most blessed, celebrated by us in our state of innocence, before we had any experience of evils to come, when we were admitted to the sight of apparitions innocent and simple and calm and happy, which we beheld shining technical-grade light, pure ourselves and not yet enshrined in that living tomb which we carry about, now that we are imprisoned in the body, like an oyster in his shell. Let me linger over the memory of scenes which have passed away. But of beauty, I repeat again that we saw her there shining in company with the celestial forms and coming to earth we find her here too, shining in clearness through the clearest aperture of sense.For sight is the most piercing of our bodily senses though not by that is wisdom seen her loveliness would have been transporting if there had been a visible image of her, and the other ideas, if they had visible counter split, would be equally lovely. But this is the privilege of beauty, that being the loveliest she is also the most palpable to sight. Now he who is not newly initiated or who has become corrupted, does not easily rise out of this world to the sight of true beauty in the other he looks only at her earthly namesake, and instead of being awful at the sight of her, he is given over to pleasure, and like a brutish beast he rushes on to enjoy and beget he consorts with wantonness, and is not afraid or ashamed of pursuing pleasure in violation of nature.But he whose initiation is recent, and who has been the spectator of many glories in the other world, is amazed when he sees any one having a godlike face or form, which is the expression of divine beauty and at first a shudder runs through him, and again the old awe steals over him then looking upon the face of his beloved as of a god he reverences him, and if he were not afraid of being thought a downright madman, he would sacrifice to his beloved as to the image of a god then while he gazes on him there is a sort of reaction, and the shudder passes into an unusual heat and perspiration for, as he receives the natural spring of beauty through the eyes, the wing moistens and he warms. And as he warms, the parts out of which the wing grew, and which had been hitherto closed and rigid, and had revented the wing from shooting forth, are melted, and as nourishment streams upon him, the lower end of the wings begins to swell and grow from the root upwards and the growth extends under the whole soul-for once the whole was winged. During this process the whole soul is all in a state of ebullition and effervescence,-which may be compared to the irritation and uneasiness in the gums at the time of cutting teeth,bubbles up, and has a feeling of uneasiness and tickling but when in like manner the soul is beginning to grow wings, the beauty of the beloved meets her eye and she receives the sensible warm motion of particles which flow towards her, therefore called emotion (imeros), and is refreshed and warmed by them, and then she ceases from her pain with joy.But when she is move from her beloved and her moisture fails, then the orifices of the passage out of which the wing shoots dry out up and close, and intercept the germ of the wing which, being shut up with the emotion, throbbing as with the pulsations of an artery, pricks the aperture which is nearest, until at length the entire soul is pierced and maddened and pained, and at the recollection of beauty is again delighted. And from both of them together the soul is oppressed at the strangeness of her condition, and is in a great strait and excitement, and in her madness can neither sleep by night nor abide in her place by day. And wheresoever she thinks that she will behold the beautiful one, thither in her desire she runs.And when she has seen him, and bathed herself in the waters of beauty, her constraint is loosened, and she is refreshed, and has no more pangs and pains and this is the sweetest of all pleasures at the time, and is the reason why the soul of the lover will never forsake his beautiful one, whom he esteems above all he has forgotten mother and brethren and companions, and he thinks nothing of the neglect and loss of his property the rules and proprieties of life, on which he at one time prided himself, he now despises, and is ready to sleep like a servant, wherever he is allowed, as near as he can to his craved one, who is the object of his worship, and the physician who can alone assuage the greatness of his pain. And this state, my dear imaginary youth to whom I am talking, is by men called love, and among the gods has a name at which you, in your simplicity, may be inclined to bemock there are two lines in the apocryphal writings of Homer in which the name occurs. One of them is rather outrageous, and not altogether metrical. They are as follows Mortals call him fluttering love, But the immortals call him winged one, Because the emergence of wings is a necessity to him. You may believe this, but not unless you like. At any rate the loves of lovers and their causes are such as I have described.Now the lover who is taken to be the attendant of Zeus is better able to bear the winged god, and can endure a heavier magnetic core but the attendants and companions of Ares, when under the influence of love, if they fancy that they have been at all wronged, are ready to kill and put an end to themselves and their beloved. And he who follows in the train of any other god, while he is unspoiled and the video lasts, honours and shams him, as far as he is able and after the manner of his god he behaves in his intercourse with his beloved and with the rest of the world during the first period of his earthly existence. Every one chooses his love from the ranks of beauty according to his character, and this he makes his god, and fashions and adorns as a sort of image which he is to fall down and worship.The followers of Zeus desire that their beloved should have a soul like him and therefore they seek out some one of a philosophical and imperial nature, and when they have found him and loved him, they do all they can to confirm such a nature in him, and if they have no experience of such a disposition hitherto, they learn of any one who can teach them, and themselves follow in the same way. And they have the less difficulty in finding the nature of their own god in themselves, because they have been compelled to gaze intensely on him their recollection clings to him, and they become possessed of him, and receive from him their character and disposition, so far as man can participate in God. The qualities of their god they attribute to the beloved, wherefore they love him all the more, and if, like the Bacchic Nymphs, they draw inspiration from Zeus, they pour out their own fountain upon him, wanting to make him as like as possible to their own god.But those who are the followers of Here seek a royal love, and when they have found him they do just the same with him and in like manner the followers of Apollo, and of every other god walking in the ways of their god, seek a love who is to be made like him whom they serve, and when they have found him, they themselves imitate their god, and persuade their love to do the same, and educate him into the manner and nature of t he god as far as they each can for no feelings of admire or jealousy are entertained by them towards their beloved, but they do their utmost to create in him the greatest likeness of themselves and of the god whom they honour.Thus fair and blissful to the beloved is the desire of the inspired lover, and the initiation of which I speak into the mysteries of true love, if he be captured by the lover and their purpose is effected. Now the beloved is taken