These so great and divine things, my boy, will the affection of a lover confer on you. But the familiarity of one who is not in love, being mingled with mortal prudence, and dispensing mortal and niggardly gifts, generating in the beloved soul an illiberality which is praised by the multitude as virtue, will cause it to be tossed about the earth and beneath the earth for nine thousand years, devoid of intelligence. 84.
To thee, beloved Love, this recantation, the most beautiful and the best, according to my ability, is presented and duly paid, both in other respects and by certain poetical phrases, of necessity, adorned for the sake of Phædrus. But do thou, pardoning my former speech, and graciously accepting this, propitiously and benignly, neither take from me the art of love which thou hast given me, nor maim it in thy wrath, but grant that even more than now I may be honoured by the beautiful. And if, in our former speech, Phædrus and I have said any thing offensive to thee, blaming Lysias as the author of the speech, make him desist from such speeches in future, and convert him to philosophy, as his brother Polemarchus has been converted, so that this lover of his may no longer remain neutral as now, but may wholly devote his life to love, in conjunction with philosophic discourses.
_Phæ._ I join with you in praying, Socrates, that if this is better for us, so it may be. 85. But I have been long wondering at your speech, how much more beautiful you have made it than the former one; so that I am afraid that Lysias will appear to me but poor, even if he should be willing to produce another in opposition to it. For only the other day, my admirable friend, one of our public men, as he was attacking him, upbraided him with this very thing, and throughout the whole of his attack called him a writer of speeches. Perhaps, therefore, for ambition’s sake he will refrain from writing any more.
_Socr._ The opinion you express, my youth, is ridiculous; and you very much mistake your friend, if you imagine him to be so easily frightened.
Perhaps, too, you think that his assailant really meant what he said.
86. _Phæ._ He seemed to do so, Socrates; and you are doubtless yourself aware, that the most powerful and considerable men in a city are ashamed to write speeches, and to leave their own compositions behind them, through fear of the opinion of posterity, lest they should be called sophists.
_Socr._ It has escaped your notice, Phædrus, that the proverb “a sweet bend” is derived from that long bend in the Nile: and as well as the bend, it escapes your notice, that these public men who think most highly of themselves are most fond of writing speeches, and of leaving their compositions behind them; and moreover, whenever they write a speech, they so love its supporters, that they prefix their names who on each occasion commend them.
87. _Phæ._ How do you mean? for I don’t understand you.
_Socr._ Don’t you understand, that at the beginning of a statesman’s writing, the name of its supporter is written first.
_Phæ._ How?
_Socr._ “Approved,” I think the writing itself says, “by the council, or the people, or both,” and he who proposed it, speaking very pompously of and extolling himself, namely the composer, after this makes a speech so as to display his own wisdom to his supporters, sometimes making a very long composition. Does this appear to you to be any thing else than a written speech?
_Phæ._ It does not to me.
88. _Socr._ If, then, it happens to be approved, the composer goes home from the theatre delighted. But if it should be rubbed out, and he debarred from writing speeches, and from the dignity of an author, both he and his friends take it greatly to heart.
_Phæ._ Just so.
_Socr._ It is clear, then, that they do not despise this practice, but admire it exceedingly.
_Phæ._ Certainly.
_Socr._ What then, when an orator or a king has proved himself competent to assume the power of a Lycurgus, or a Solon, or a Darius, and to become immortal as a speech-writer in a state, does he not deem himself godlike, while he is yet alive, and do not posterity think the very same of his writings?
_Phæ._ Just so.
89. _Socr._ Do you think then that any person of this sort, however ill-disposed he may be towards Lysias, would upbraid him merely because he is a writer?
_Phæ._ It does not seem probable from what you say; for in that case, as it appears, he would upbraid his own passion.
_Socr._ This, then, must be clear to every one, that the mere writing of speeches is not disgraceful.
_Phæ._ Why should it be?
_Socr._ But this I think now is disgraceful, not to express and write them well, but shamefully and ill.
_Phæ._ Clearly so.
_Socr._ What then is the method of writing well or ill? Have we not occasion, Phædrus, to enquire about this from Lysias or some one else, who has at some time or other written or means to write, either a political or private composition, in metre as a poet, or without metre as a prose-writer?
_Phæ._ Do you ask, if we have occasion? For what purpose in the world should any one live, but for the sake of pleasures of this kind? Not, surely, for those which cannot even be enjoyed unless they are preceded by pain, which is the case with nearly all the pleasures connected with the body; on which account they are justly called servile.
90. _Socr._ We have leisure, however, as it seems: and moreover the grasshoppers, while, as is their wont in the heat of the day, they are singing over our heads and talking with one another, appear to me to be looking down upon us. If, then, they should see us too, like most men, not conversing at mid-day, but falling asleep and lulled by them, through indolence of mind, they would justly laugh us to scorn, thinking that some slaves or other had come to them in this retreat, in order like sheep to take a mid-day sleep by the side of the fountain. But if they see us conversing, and sailing by them, as if they were Syrens unenchanted, the boon which they have from the gods to confer upon men, they will perhaps out of admiration bestow upon us.
_Phæ._ But what is this that they have? For I happen not to have heard of it, as it seems.
_Socr._ Yet it is not proper that a lover of the Muses should not have heard of things of this kind. It is said, then, that these grasshoppers were men before the Muses were born; but that when the Muses were born, and song appeared, some of the men of that time were so overcome by pleasure, that through singing they neglected to eat and drink, until they died unawares. 91. From these the race of grasshoppers afterwards sprung, having received this boon from the Muses, that they should need no nourishment from the time of their birth, but should continue singing without food and without drink till they died, and that after that they should go to the Muses and inform them who of those here honoured each of them. Therefore by informing Terpsichore of those who honour her in the dance they make them dearer to her; and Erato they inform of her votaries in love; and so all the rest in a similar manner, according to the kind of honour belonging to each. But the eldest, Calliope, and next to her Urania, they tell of those who pass their lives in philosophy, and honour their music; and these most of all the Muses, being conversant with heaven, and discourse both divine and human, pour forth the most beautiful strains. For many reasons, therefore, we should converse and not sleep at mid-day.
_Phæ._ We should converse, indeed.
_Socr._ Therefore, as we lately proposed to consider, we should enquire in what consists a correct method of speaking and writing, and in what not.
_Phæ._ Evidently.
92. _Socr._ Is it not, then, essential, in order to a good and beautiful speech being made, that the mind of the speaker should know the truth of the subject on which he is about to speak?
_Phæ._ I have heard say on this subject, my dear Socrates, that it is not necessary for one who purposes to be an orator to learn what is really just, but what would appear so to the multitude, who will have to judge; nor what is really good or beautiful, but what will appear so: for that persuasion proceeds from these, and not from truth.
_Socr._ We ought not to reject a saying[128], which wise men utter, but should consider whether they say any thing worth attending to. Wherefore we must not pass by what you have now said.
----- Footnote 128: An expression taken from Homer, Iliad, iii. 65.
----- 93. _Phæ._ You are right.
_Socr._ Let us then consider it as follows.
_Phæ._ How?
_Socr._ Suppose I should persuade you to purchase a horse for the purpose of repelling enemies, but both of us should be ignorant what a horse is, suppose, however, I did happen to know this much, that Phædrus believes a horse to be that tame animal which has the longest ears.
_Phæ._ That would be ridiculous indeed, Socrates.
_Socr._ Wait a moment: if I should earnestly persuade you, by composing a speech in praise of the ass, calling him a horse, and asserting that it is well worth while to purchase this beast both for domestic purposes and for military service, that he is useful to fight from, and able to carry baggage, and serviceable in many other respects.
_Phæ._ This, now, would be perfectly ridiculous.
_Socr._ But is it not better that a friend should be ridiculous, than dangerous and mischievous?
_Phæ._ Clearly so.
94. _Socr._ When an orator, therefore, who is ignorant of good and evil, having found a city that is likewise so, endeavours to persuade it, not by celebrating the praises of an ass’s shadow[129], as if it were a horse, but of evil, as if it were good, and having studied the opinions of the multitude should persuade them to do evil instead of good, what kind of fruit do you suppose rhetoric will afterwards reap from such a sowing?
----- Footnote 129: A proverb meaning “a thing of no value.” See Suidas ὄνου σκιά.
----- _Phæ._ By no means a good one.
_Socr._ But have we not, my good friend, reviled the art of speaking more roughly than is proper? for she may, perhaps, say: “Why, sirs, do you talk so foolishly? For I compel no one who is ignorant of the truth to learn how to speak: but if my advice is worth any thing, when he has acquired that, he then has recourse to me. This, then, I insist on, that without me one who knows the truth will not for all that be able to persuade by art.”
_Phæ._ Will she not speak justly, in asserting this?
95. _Socr._ I admit it, at least if the arguments that assail her testify that she is an art. For I think I have heard some arguments coming up and insisting that she lies and is not an art, but an inartistic trick. But a genuine art of speaking, says the Spartan, without laying hold of truth, neither exists, nor ever can exist hereafter.
_Phæ._ We must have these arguments, Socrates; so bring them forward and examine what they say, and in what manner.
_Socr._ Come hither then, ye noble creatures, and persuade Phædrus with the beautiful children, that, unless he has sufficiently studied philosophy, he will never be competent to speak on any subject whatever.
Let Phædrus answer then.
_Phæ._ Put your questions.
_Socr._ Must not then rhetoric in general be an art that leads the soul by means of argument, not only in courts of justice, and other public assemblies, but also in private, equally with respect to trivial and important matters? and is its right use at all more valued when employed about grave than about trifling things? What have you heard said about this?
96. _Phæ._ By Jupiter, nothing at all of this kind; but it is for the most part spoken and written according to art in judicial trials, and it is spoken also in popular assemblies; but I have never heard any thing further.
_Socr._ What, have you heard only of the rhetorical arts of Nestor and Ulysses, which they composed during their leisure in Ilium, and have you never heard of those by Palamedes?
_Phæ._ And, by Jupiter, I have not even heard of those by Nestor, unless you make Gorgias a Nestor, or Thrasymachus and Theodorus a Ulysses.
_Socr._ Perhaps I do. But let us pass over these; do you say however; in courts of justice what do adversaries do? do they not contradict each other? or what shall we say?
_Phæ._ That very thing.
_Socr._ And respecting the just and unjust?
_Phæ._ Yes.
_Socr._ Will not he, then, who accomplishes this by art, make the same thing appear to the same persons, at one time just, and, when he pleases, unjust?
_Phæ._ How not?
_Socr._ And in a popular assembly the same things seem to the state at one time good, and at another the contrary?
_Phæ._ Just so.
97. _Socr._ And do we not know that the Eleatic Palamedes[130] spoke by art in such a manner that the same things appeared to his hearers similar and dissimilar, one and many, at rest and in motion?
----- Footnote 130: By Palamedes, as the Scholiast observes, he means Zeno of Elea, the friend of Parmenides.
_Socr._ The art, then, of arguing on both sides has not only to do with courts of justice and popular assemblies, but as it seems, it must be one and the same art, if it is an art, with respect to all subjects of discourse, by which a man is able to make all things appear similar to each other so far as they are capable of being made appear so, and to drag them to light, when another attempts to make them appear similar and conceals his attempt.
_Phæ._ What mean you by this?
_Socr._ I think it will be evident if we enquire as follows: Does deception more frequently occur in things that differ much or little?
_Phæ._ In things that differ little.
_Socr._ But by changing your position gradually, you will more easily escape detection in going to the opposite side, than by doing so rapidly.
98. _Phæ._ How not?
_Socr._ It is necessary, then, that he who means to deceive another, but not be deceived himself, should be able to distinguish with accuracy the similarity and dissimilarity of things.
_Phæ._ It is indeed necessary.
_Socr._ Will he be able, then, if ignorant of the truth of each particular thing, to discern the smaller or greater similarity of the thing of which he is ignorant, in other things?
_Phæ._ Impossible.
_Socr._ It is clear, therefore, that in the case of those who have formed opinions contrary to the truth and are deceived, this error has found its way in by means of certain resemblances.
99. _Phæ._ It doubtlessly does happen so.
_Socr._ Is it possible, then, that one, who is ignorant of what is the nature of each particular thing, should have sufficient art to bring over any one by degrees by leading him through means of resemblances, from each several truth to its opposite, or himself to escape from being so led?
_Phæ._ Never.
_Socr._ He therefore, my friend, who does not know the truth, but hunts after opinions, will, as it appears, produce but a ridiculous and inartistic art of speaking.
_Phæ._ It seems so.
_Socr._ Are you willing, then, in the speech of Lysias, which you have with you, and in those which I delivered, to look for instances of what I assert is inartistic and artistic?
_Phæ._ I should like it of all things; for now we are speaking in a bald sort of way, for want of sufficient examples.
100. _Socr._ And, indeed, by some lucky chance, as it seems, two speeches have been made which furnish examples, of how one who is acquainted with the truth, while he is jesting in his arguments, can lead his hearers astray. And for my part, Phædrus, I attribute that to the deities of the spot. Perhaps, also, the interpreters of the Muses, the songsters over head, have inspired us with this gift; for I at least have no part in any art of speaking.
_Phæ._ Be it as you say, only make your meaning clear.
_Socr._ Come then, read out to me the beginning of Lysias’s speech.
100. _Phæ._ “You are well acquainted with the state of my affairs, and I think you have heard that it would be for our advantage if this took place. And I claim, not for this reason to fail in my request, because I do not happen to be one of your lovers: for they repent”— _Socr._ Stop. We are to say, then, in what he errs, and acts inartistically: are we not?
_Phæ._ Yes.
_Socr._ Now is it not plain to every one, that in some things of this kind we are agreed, on others at variance?
_Phæ._ I think I understand what you mean; but explain yourself still more clearly.
_Socr._ When any one pronounces the word iron or silver, do we not all understand the same thing?
_Phæ._ Assuredly.
_Socr._ But what when any one pronounces the word just, or good? are we not carried different ways, and do we not differ both with one another and with ourselves?
_Phæ._ Certainly.
_Socr._ In some things, therefore, we agree, in others not.
_Phæ._ Just so.
_Socr._ In which class of things, then, are we more easily deceived? and in which of the two has rhetoric greater power?
_Phæ._ Clearly in that in which we are easily led astray.
102. _Socr._ He, therefore, who means to pursue the art of rhetoric, ought first of all to have distinguished these methodically, and to have discovered a certain character of each species, both of that in which the generality of men must necessarily be led astray, and of that in which that is not the case.
_Phæ._ He who has attained to this, Socrates, will have devised a noble classification of species.
_Socr._ Then, I think, when he comes to each particular case, he ought not to be at a loss, but should perceive quickly to which of the two classes the subject, on which he is going to speak, belongs.
_Phæ._ How not?
_Socr._ What then with respect to Love? shall we say that he belongs to things doubtful, or to such as are not so?
_Phæ._ To things doubtful, surely; otherwise do you think he would have allowed you to say what you just now said about him, that he is both a mischief to the beloved and the lover, and again, that he is the greatest of blessings?
_Socr._ You speak admirably. But tell me this too, for from being carried away by enthusiasm, I do not quite remember whether I defined love at the beginning of my speech.
_Phæ._ By Jupiter you did, and with wonderful accuracy.
103. _Socr._ Alas; how much more artistic in speech-making do you say the nymphs of Acheloüs and Pan son of Mercury are than Lysias son of Cephalus! Or am I wrong, and did Lysias too, in the beginning of his love-speech, compel us to conceive of Love, as some one particular thing, which he wished it to be, and then complete all the rest of his speech in accordance with this? Are you willing that we should read over again the beginning of his speech?
_Phæ._ If you wish it; though what you seek is not there.
_Socr._ Read, however, that I may hear him in person.
104. _Phæ._ “You are well acquainted with the state of my affairs, and I think you have heard, that it would be for our advantage if this took place. And I claim, not for this reason to fail in my request, because I do not happen to be one of your lovers: for they repent of the benefits they have conferred, as soon as their desires cease.”
_Socr._ He seems to be far indeed from doing what we are seeking for, since in making his speech he attempts to swim backwards, with his face uppermost, not setting out from the beginning, but from the end, and he begins with what the lover would say to his favourite at the close of his speech. Have I said nothing to the purpose, Phædrus, my dear friend?
_Phæ._ It is indeed, Socrates, the end of the subject about which he is speaking.
105. _Socr._ But what as to the rest? do not the other parts of the speech appear to have been put together at random? or does it appear that what is said in the second place ought from any necessity to have been placed second, or any thing else that he said? For it seems to me, who however know nothing about the matter, that the writer has without any scruple said whatever came uppermost, But do you know of any rule in speech-writing, in conformity to which he disposed his sentences in the order he has done one after another?
_Phæ._ You are pleasant, in supposing that I am able to see through his compositions so accurately.
_Socr._ But this at least I think you will allow, that every speech ought to be put together like a living creature, with a body of its own, so as to be neither without head, nor without feet, but to have both a middle and extremities, described proportionately to each other and to the whole.
106. _Phæ._ How not?
_Socr._ Consider, then, your friend’s speech, whether it is so or otherwise; and you will find that it is in no respect different from the epigram which some say is inscribed on the tomb of Midas the Phrygian.
_Phæ._ What is it, and what is there remarkable in it?
_Socr._ It is as follows; “I am a maiden of brass and I lie on Midas’s sepulchre, So long as water flows and tall trees flourish, Remaining here on the tomb of Midas, I will tell all passers by, that Midas is buried here.”
That it makes no difference which line is put first or last, you must perceive, I think.
_Phæ._ You are jesting at our speech, Socrates.
107. _Socr._ That you may not be angry, then, we will have done with this; (though it appears to me to contain very many examples, which any one might examine with advantage, so long as he does not at all attempt to imitate them;) and let us proceed to the two other speeches; for there was something in them, I think, fit to be looked into by those who wish to examine into the subject of speeches.
_Phæ._ What do you mean?
_Socr._ They were in a manner opposed to each other. For one said that favour ought to be shewn to a person that is in love, the other to a person that is not in love.
_Phæ._ And this, most strenuously.
_Socr._ I thought you were going to say, with truth, madly. However, this is the very thing I was seeking for. For we said that love was a kind of madness, did we not?
_Phæ._ Yes.
_Socr._ But there are two kinds of madness, one arising from human diseases, the other from an inspired deviation from established customs.
_Phæ._ Certainly.
108. _Socr._ But dividing the divine mania of the four deities into four parts, and assigning prophetic inspiration to Apollo, mystic to Bacchus, poetic to the Muses, and the fourth to Venus and Love, we said that the madness of Love is the best, and I know not how representing the passion of love, probably lighting on some truth and perhaps carried off elsewhere, we compounded a speech not altogether improbable, and sang a kind of mythical hymn, in a seemly and devotional manner, in honour of my lord and thine, Phædrus, Love, the guardian of beautiful boys.
_Phæ._ And one by no means unpleasant to me to hear.
_Socr._ Let us endeavour to find out, then, from the speech itself, how it was able to pass from censure to praise.
_Phæ._ What mean you by this?
109. _Socr._ To me it appears that in all other respects we have really been jesting; but as regards the two methods[131] that are seen in these casually uttered speeches, if any one could apprehend their power by art, it would be by no means an unwelcome circumstance.
----- Footnote 131: The two methods are “definition” and “division,” afterwards explained.
----- _Phæ._ What methods are these?
_Socr._ The one is to see under one aspect and to bring together under one general idea, many things scattered in various places, that, by defining each, a person may make it clear what the subject is that he wishes to discuss, as just now with respect to love, its nature being defined, whether it was well or ill described; at all events for that reason my speech was able to attain perspicuity and consistency.
_Phæ._ And what is the other method you speak of, Socrates?
110. _Socr._ The being able, on the other hand, to separate that general idea into species, by joints, as nature points out, and not to attempt to break any part, after the manner of an unskilful cook; but as, just now, my two speeches comprehended mental derangement under one common class. But as from one body there spring two sets of members bearing the same name, one called the left the other the right, so my speeches having considered mental derangement as naturally one class in us, then the speech that had to divide the left part, did not leave off dividing this again until having found in its members a kind of left-handed love, it reviled it deservedly: but the other taking us to the right hand side of madness, and having found a kind of love bearing the same name as the former, but divine, brought it to light and commended it as the cause of the greatest blessings to us.
111. _Phæ._ You speak most truly.
_Socr._ For my part, Phædrus, I am not only myself a lover of these divisions and generalisations, in order that I may be able both to speak and think; but if I perceive any one else able to comprehend the one and the many, as they are in nature, him “I follow behind as in the footsteps of a god[132].” But whether I designate those who are able to do this, rightly or not, God knows, however I have hitherto called them dialecticians. But now, tell me by what name ought we to call those who take lessons from you and Lysias? is this that art of speaking, by the use of which Thrasymachus and others have become able speakers themselves, and make others so who are willing to bring presents to them, as to kings?
----- Footnote 132: ----- _Phæ._ They are indeed royal men, yet not skilled in the particulars about which you enquire. However you appear to me to call this method rightly, in calling it dialectical; but the rhetorical appears to me still to escape us.
112. _Socr._ How say you? A fine thing indeed that must be, which is destitute of this and yet can be apprehended by art. It must on no account be neglected by you and me; but we must consider what is the remaining part of rhetoric.
_Phæ._ There are indeed very many things, Socrates, which you will find in the books written on the art of speaking.
_Socr._ You have reminded me very opportunely. The exordium, I think, must first be spoken at the beginning of the speech. You mean these, do you not? the refinements of the art?
_Phæ._ Yes.
_Socr._ And secondly a kind of narration, and evidence to support it; thirdly, proofs; fourthly, probabilities; and I think that a famous Byzantian tricker-out of speeches mentions confirmation and after-confirmation.
_Phæ._ Do you mean the excellent Theodorus?
_Socr._ I do. He says, too, that refutation and after-refutation must be employed both in accusation and defence. And must we not adduce the most illustrious Parian, Evenus, who first discovered subordinate intimations and bye-praises? and some say that he put into metre bye-censures, to assist the memory: for he is a wise man. 113. But shall we suffer Tisias and Gorgias to sleep, who found out that probabilities were more to be valued than truths, and who by force of words make small things appear great, and great things small, and new things old, and the contrary new, and who discovered a concise method of speaking and an infinite prolixity on all subjects? When Prodicus once heard me tell this, he laughed, and said that he alone had discovered what speeches are required by art; that we require them neither long nor short, but of a moderate length.
_Phæ._ Most wisely, Prodicus.
_Socr._ But do we not mention Hippias? for I think our Elean friend was of the same opinion with him.
_Phæ._ Why not?
114. _Socr._ But how shall we describe Polus’s new-fangled method of speaking, as his reduplication of words, his sentences, his similitudes, and the words which Licymnius made him a present of, in order to produce a graceful diction.
_Phæ._ But was not the system of Protagoras, Socrates, something of this kind?
_Socr._ His was a correctness of diction, my boy, and many other fine things besides, but in the art of dragging in speeches to excite commiseration for old age and poverty, the Chalcedonian hero appears to me to have carried off the palm. He was moreover a powerful man to rouse the anger of the multitude, and again, when enraged, to soothe them by enchantment, as he used to say; he was most skilful in raising and removing calumnies, on any ground whatever. But all seem to agree in the same opinion with respect to the conclusion of speeches, to which some have given the name of recapitulation, others a different name.
_Phæ._ You mean the summarily reminding the hearers, at the conclusion, of the several things that have been said.
115. _Socr._ I mean that, and now consider if you have any thing else to say about the art of speaking.
_Phæ._ Only some trifling things, and not worth mentioning.
_Socr._ Let us pass over trifles; and rather examine these things in the clear light, and see what influence they have in art, and on what occasion.
_Phæ._ A very powerful influence, Socrates, at least in assemblies of the people.
_Socr._ They have indeed. But, my admirable friend, do you also observe whether their web does not appear to you to be very wide as it does to me.
_Phæ._ Explain what you mean.
_Socr._ Tell me then: If any one should go to your friend Eryximachus, or his father Acumenus, and should say, “I know how to apply such things to the body, as will make it warm or cold, as I please, and if I think proper, I can produce vomitings, and again purgings, and many other things of the kind, and as I know these things I consider myself a physician, and that I can make any one else so, to whom I impart the knowledge of these particulars:” what do you think they would say on hearing this?
_Phæ._ What else, but ask him if he knew besides to what persons, and when, and how far, he ought to do each of these things?
116. _Socr._ If then, he should say, “Not in the least; but I expect that he who should learn these things from me, would be able to do what you ask?”
_Phæ._ He would say, I think, that the man is mad; and that, having heard from some book or other, or having met with certain drugs, he fancies that he has become a physician, though he knows nothing at all about the art.
_Socr._ But what if any one were to go to Sophocles and Euripides, and tell them, that he knew how to make very long speeches on a trifling subject, and very short ones on a great subject, and whenever he pleased, piteous and contrariwise, terrible and threatening speeches, and other things of the kind, and that by teaching these he thought he could impart the power of writing tragedy?
117. _Phæ._ They too, I think, Socrates, would laugh, if any one should suppose that tragedy was any thing else than the composition of all these, so disposed as to be consistent with each other and the whole.
_Socr._ But, I think, they would not upbraid him rudely, but as a musician, who happened to meet with a man who believes himself to be skilled in harmony, because he knows how to make the highest and lowest note, would not harshly say to him, “Miserable fellow, you are stark mad;” but, being a musician, he would speak more mildly; “My excellent man, it is indeed necessary for one who means to be skilled in harmony, to know these things, but at the same time there is nothing to hinder a person from possessing the knowledge you have without his understanding harmony in the least; for you know what is necessary to be learnt before harmony, but not harmony itself.”
_Phæ._ Most correctly.
118. _Socr._ In like manner, Sophocles might reply to the person who displayed his learning to them, that he knew the things before tragedy, but not tragedy itself; and Acumenus, that the medical pretender knew things before medicine, but not medicine itself.
_Phæ._ Most assuredly.
_Socr._ But what must we think the sweet-voiced Adrastus, or even Pericles would do, if they were to hear of the beautiful contrivances which we have just now enumerated, the short sentences and similitudes, and all the rest, which when we went through them, we said must be examined by the clear light, whether they, as you and I did, would rudely make some ill-mannered remark against those who had written and who teach such things as if they constituted the art of rhetoric, or, as being wiser than we are, would they not reprove us, saying, 119.
“Phædrus and Socrates, you ought not to be angry with, but rather to excuse those who, through being ignorant of dialectics, are unable to define what rhetoric is, and who, in consequence of this ignorance, possessing the things necessary to be learnt preparatory to the art, think that they have discovered rhetoric itself, and, suppose that by teaching these things to others, they can teach them rhetoric in perfection; but how each of them is to be used persuasively, and the whole combined together, this, as being of no consequence in the world, they think their pupils ought to acquire for themselves in composing their speeches.”
_Phæ._ Such indeed, Socrates, appears to be the case with the art which these men teach and write about as rhetoric; and you seem to me to have spoken the truth: but how and from whence can one acquire the art of true rhetoric and persuasion?
120. _Socr._ The ability, Phædrus, to become a perfect proficient, probably, or rather necessarily, depends on the same things as in other cases: for, if you naturally possess rhetorical abilities, you will be a distinguished orator by adding science and practice; but in whichever of these you are deficient, in that respect you will be imperfect. But so far as it is an art, its method, I think, will not be found in the way that Lysias and Thrasymachus are proceeding.
_Phæ._ In what way then?
_Socr._ Pericles, my excellent friend, appears, with good reason, to have been the most perfect of all men in rhetoric.
_Phæ._ How so?
_Socr._ All the great arts require a subtle and speculative research into the law of nature: for that loftiness of thought and perfect mastery over every subject seems to be derived from some such source as this; which Pericles possessed in addition to a great natural genius.
For meeting, I think, with Anaxagoras, who was a person of this kind, and being filled with speculative research, and having arrived at the nature of intelligence and want of intelligence, about which Anaxagoras made that long discourse, he drew from thence to the art of speaking whatever could contribute to its advantage.
121. _Phæ._ What mean you by this?
_Socr._ The method of the art of rhetoric is, in a manner, the same as that of medicine.
_Phæ._ How so?
_Socr._ In both it is requisite that nature should be thoroughly investigated, the nature of the body in the one, and the soul in the other, if you mean not only by practice and experience, but by art, to give health and strength to the former by applying medicine and diet, and to impart such persuasion as you please and virtue to the latter, by means of speeches and legitimate employments.
_Phæ._ This indeed seems probable, Socrates.
_Socr._ But do you think it possible rightly to understand the nature of the soul, without understanding the nature of the universe?
_Phæ._ If we are to believe Hippocrates, of the family of Æsculapius, we cannot understand even the nature of body without this method.
_Socr._ For he says well, my friend. But it is necessary, in addition to the authority of Hippocrates, to examine our argument, and consider whether it is consistent.
_Phæ._ I agree.
122. _Socr._ Consider, then, with respect to nature, what Hippocrates