Phaedrus

Produced by Sue Asscher





PHAEDRUS

By Plato


Translated by Benjamin Jowett




INTRODUCTION.

The Phaedrus is closely connected with the Symposium, and may be
regarded either as introducing or following it. The two Dialogues
together contain the whole philosophy of Plato on the nature of love,
which in the Republic and in the later writings of Plato is only
introduced playfully or as a figure of speech. But in the Phaedrus and
Symposium love and philosophy join hands, and one is an aspect of the
other. The spiritual and emotional part is elevated into the ideal, to
which in the Symposium mankind are described as looking forward, and
which in the Phaedrus, as well as in the Phaedo, they are seeking to
recover from a former state of existence. Whether the subject of the
Dialogue is love or rhetoric, or the union of the two, or the relation
of philosophy to love and to art in general, and to the human soul, will
be hereafter considered. And perhaps we may arrive at some conclusion
such as the following--that the dialogue is not strictly confined to a
single subject, but passes from one to another with the natural freedom
of conversation.

Phaedrus has been spending the morning with Lysias, the celebrated
rhetorician, and is going to refresh himself by taking a walk outside
the wall, when he is met by Socrates, who professes that he will not
leave him until he has delivered up the speech with which Lysias
has regaled him, and which he is carrying about in his mind, or more
probably in a book hidden under his cloak, and is intending to study
as he walks. The imputation is not denied, and the two agree to direct
their steps out of the public way along the stream of the Ilissus
towards a plane-tree which is seen in the distance. There, lying down
amidst pleasant sounds and scents, they will read the speech of Lysias.
The country is a novelty to Socrates, who never goes out of the town;
and hence he is full of admiration for the beauties of nature, which he
seems to be drinking in for the first time.

As they are on their way, Phaedrus asks the opinion of Socrates
respecting the local tradition of Boreas and Oreithyia. Socrates, after
a satirical allusion to the 'rationalizers' of his day, replies that he
has no time for these 'nice' interpretations of mythology, and he pities
anyone who has. When you once begin there is no end of them, and they
spring from an uncritical philosophy after all. 'The proper study of
mankind is man;' and he is a far more complex and wonderful being than
the serpent Typho. Socrates as yet does not know himself; and why should
he care to know about unearthly monsters? Engaged in such conversation,
they arrive at the plane-tree; when they have found a convenient
resting-place, Phaedrus pulls out the speech and reads:--

The speech consists of a foolish paradox which is to the effect that the
non-lover ought to be accepted rather than the lover--because he is more
rational, more agreeable, more enduring, less suspicious, less hurtful,
less boastful, less engrossing, and because there are more of them, and
for a great many other reasons which are equally unmeaning. Phaedrus is
captivated with the beauty of the periods, and wants to make Socrates
say that nothing was or ever could be written better. Socrates does not
think much of the matter, but then he has only attended to the form, and
in that he has detected several repetitions and other marks of haste. He
cannot agree with Phaedrus in the extreme value which he sets upon this
performance, because he is afraid of doing injustice to Anacreon and
Sappho and other great writers, and is almost inclined to think that he
himself, or rather some power residing within him, could make a speech
better than that of Lysias on the same theme, and also different from
his, if he may be allowed the use of a few commonplaces which all
speakers must equally employ.

Phaedrus is delighted at the prospect of having another speech, and
promises that he will set up a golden statue of Socrates at Delphi,
if he keeps his word. Some raillery ensues, and at length Socrates,
conquered by the threat that he shall never again hear a speech of
Lysias unless he fulfils his promise, veils his face and begins.

First, invoking the Muses and assuming ironically the person of the
non-lover (who is a lover all the same), he will enquire into the nature
and power of love. For this is a necessary preliminary to the other
question--How is the non-lover to be distinguished from the lover? In
all of us there are two principles--a better and a worse--reason and
desire, which are generally at war with one another; and the victory
of the rational is called temperance, and the victory of the irrational
intemperance or excess. The latter takes many forms and has many bad
names--gluttony, drunkenness, and the like. But of all the irrational
desires or excesses the greatest is that which is led away by desires
of a kindred nature to the enjoyment of personal beauty.