ΣΩ. τί δʼ; ἄλλον ὁρῶμεν λόγον τούτου ἀδελφὸν γνήσιον, τῷ τρόπῳ τε γίγνεται, καὶ ὅσῳ ἀμείνων καὶ δυνατώτερος τούτου φύεται;
ΦΑΙ. τίνα τοῦτον καὶ πῶς λέγεις γιγνόμενον;
ΣΩ. ὃς μετʼ ἐπιστήμης γράφεται ἐν τῇ τοῦ μανθάνοντος ψυχῇ, δυνατὸς μὲν ἀμῦναι ἑαυτῷ, ἐπιστήμων δὲ λέγειν τε καὶ σιγᾶν πρὸς οὓς δεῖ.
ΦΑΙ. τὸν τοῦ εἰδότος λόγον λέγεις ζῶντα καὶ ἔμψυχον, οὗ ὁ γεγραμμένος εἴδωλον ἄν τι λέγοιτο δικαίως.
ΣΩ. παντάπασι μὲν οὖν. τόδε δή μοι εἰπέ· ὁ νοῦν ἔχων γεωργός, ὧν σπερμάτων κήδοιτο καὶ ἔγκαρπα βούλοιτο γενέσθαι, πότερα σπουδῇ ἂν θέρους εἰς Ἀδώνιδος κήπους ἀρῶν χαίροι θεωρῶν καλοὺς ἐν ἡμέραισιν ὀκτὼ γιγνομένους, ἢ ταῦτα μὲν δὴ παιδιᾶς τε καὶ ἑορτῆς χάριν δρῴη ἄν, ὅτε καὶ ποιοῖ· ἐφʼ οἷς δὲ ἐσπούδακεν, τῇ γεωργικῇ χρώμενος ἂν τέχνῃ, σπείρας εἰς τὸ προσῆκον, ἀγαπῴη ἂν ἐν ὀγδόῳ μηνὶ ὅσα ἔσπειρεν τέλος λαβόντα;
ΦΑΙ. οὕτω που, ὦ Σώκρατες, τὰ μὲν σπουδῇ, τὰ δὲ ὡς ἑτέρως ἂν ᾗ λέγεις ποιοῖ.
ΣΩ. τὸν δὲ δικαίων τε καὶ καλῶν καὶ ἀγαθῶν ἐπιστήμας ἔχοντα τοῦ γεωργοῦ φῶμεν ἧττον νοῦν ἔχειν εἰς τὰ ἑαυτοῦ σπέρματα;
ΦΑΙ. ἥκιστά γε.
ΣΩ. οὐκ ἄρα σπουδῇ αὐτὰ ἐν ὕδατι γράψει μέλανι σπείρων διὰ καλάμου μετὰ λόγων ἀδυνάτων μὲν αὑτοῖς λόγῳ βοηθεῖν, ἀδυνάτων δὲ ἱκανῶς τἀληθῆ διδάξαι.
ΦΑΙ. οὔκουν δὴ τό γʼ εἰκός.
ΣΩ. οὐ γάρ· ἀλλὰ τοὺς μὲν ἐν γράμμασι κήπους, ὡς ἔοικε, παιδιᾶς χάριν σπερεῖ τε καὶ γράψει, ὅταν [δὲ] γράφῃ, ἑαυτῷ τε ὑπομνήματα θησαυριζόμενος, εἰς τὸ λήθης γῆρας ἐὰν ἵκηται, καὶ παντὶ τῷ ταὐτὸν ἴχνος μετιόντι, ἡσθήσεταί τε αὐτοὺς θεωρῶν φυομένους ἁπαλούς· ὅταν δὲ ἄλλοι παιδιαῖς ἄλλαις χρῶνται, συμποσίοις τε ἄρδοντες αὑτοὺς ἑτέροις τε ὅσα τούτων ἀδελφά, τότʼ ἐκεῖνος, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἀντὶ τούτων οἷς λέγω παίζων διάξει.
ΦΑΙ. παγκάλην λέγεις παρὰ φαύλην παιδιάν, ὦ Σώκρατες, τοῦ ἐν λόγοις δυναμένου παίζειν, δικαιοσύνης τε καὶ ἄλλων ὧν λέγεις πέρι μυθολογοῦντα.
Socrates. Now tell me; is there not another kind of speech, or word, which shows itself to be the legitimate brother of this bastard one, both in the manner of its begetting and in its better and more powerful nature?
Phaedrus. What is this word and how is it begotten, as you say?
Socrates. The word which is written with intelligence in the mind of the learner, which is able to defend itself and knows to whom it should speak, and before whom to be silent.
Phaedrus. You mean the living and breathing word of him who knows, of which the written word may justly be called the image.
Socrates. Exactly. Now tell me this. Would a sensible husbandman, who has seeds which he cares for and which he wishes to bear fruit, plant them with serious purpose in the heat of summer in some garden of Adonis, and delight in seeing them appear in beauty in eight days, or would he do that sort of thing, when he did it at all, only in play and for amusement? Would he not, when he was in earnest, follow the rules of husbandry, plant his seeds in fitting ground, and be pleased when those which he had sowed reached their perfection in the eighth month?
Phaedrus. Yes, Socrates, he would, as you say, act in that way when in earnest and in the other way only for amusement.
Socrates. And shall we suppose that he who has knowledge of the just and the good and beautiful has less sense about his seeds than the husbandman?
Phaedrus. By no means.
Socrates. Then he will not, when in earnest, write them in ink, sowing them through a pen with words which cannot defend themselves by argument and cannot teach the truth effectually.
Phaedrus. No, at least, probably not.
Socrates. No. The gardens of letters he will, it seems, plant for amusement, and will write, when he writes, to treasure up reminders for himself, when he comes to the forgetfulness of old age, and for others who follow the same path, and he will be pleased when he sees them putting forth tender leaves. When others engage in other amusements, refreshing themselves with banquets and kindred entertainments, he will pass the time in such pleasures as I have suggested.
Phaedrus. A noble pastime, Socrates, and a contrast to those base pleasures, the pastime of the man who can find amusement in discourse, telling stories about justice, and the other subjects of which you speak.
ΣΩ. ἔστι γάρ, ὦ φίλε Φαῖδρε, οὕτω· πολὺ δʼ οἶμαι καλλίων σπουδὴ περὶ αὐτὰ γίγνεται, ὅταν τις τῇ διαλεκτικῇ τέχνῃ χρώμενος, λαβὼν ψυχὴν προσήκουσαν, φυτεύῃ τε καὶ σπείρῃ μετʼ ἐπιστήμης λόγους, οἳ ἑαυτοῖς τῷ τε φυτεύσαντι βοηθεῖν ἱκανοὶ καὶ οὐχὶ ἄκαρποι ἀλλὰ ἔχοντες σπέρμα, ὅθεν ἄλλοι ἐν ἄλλοις ἤθεσι φυόμενοι τοῦτʼ ἀεὶ ἀθάνατον παρέχειν ἱκανοί, καὶ τὸν ἔχοντα εὐδαιμονεῖν ποιοῦντες εἰς ὅσον ἀνθρώπῳ δυνατὸν μάλιστα.
ΦΑΙ. πολὺ γὰρ τοῦτʼ ἔτι κάλλιον λέγεις.
ΣΩ. νῦν δὴ ἐκεῖνα ἤδη, ὦ Φαῖδρε, δυνάμεθα κρίνειν, τούτων ὡμολογημένων.
ΦΑΙ. τὰ ποῖα;
ΣΩ. ὧν δὴ πέρι βουληθέντες ἰδεῖν ἀφικόμεθα εἰς τόδε, ὅπως τὸ Λυσίου τε ὄνειδος ἐξετάσαιμεν τῆς τῶν λόγων γραφῆς πέρι, καὶ αὐτοὺς τοὺς λόγους οἳ τέχνῃ καὶ ἄνευ τέχνης γράφοιντο. τὸ μὲν οὖν ἔντεχνον καὶ μὴ δοκεῖ μοι δεδηλῶσθαι μετρίως.
ΦΑΙ. ἔδοξέ γε δή· πάλιν δὲ ὑπόμνησόν με πῶς.
ΣΩ. πρὶν ἄν τις τό τε ἀληθὲς ἑκάστων εἰδῇ πέρι ὧν λέγει ἢ γράφει, κατʼ αὐτό τε πᾶν ὁρίζεσθαι δυνατὸς γένηται, ὁρισάμενός τε πάλιν κατʼ εἴδη μέχρι τοῦ ἀτμήτου τέμνειν ἐπιστηθῇ, περί τε ψυχῆς φύσεως διιδὼν κατὰ ταὐτά, τὸ προσαρμόττον ἑκάστῃ φύσει εἶδος ἀνευρίσκων, οὕτω τιθῇ καὶ διακοσμῇ τὸν λόγον, ποικίλῃ μὲν ποικίλους ψυχῇ καὶ παναρμονίους διδοὺς λόγους, ἁπλοῦς δὲ ἁπλῇ, οὐ πρότερον δυνατὸν τέχνῃ ἔσεσθαι καθʼ ὅσον πέφυκε μεταχειρισθῆναι τὸ λόγων γένος, οὔτε τι πρὸς τὸ διδάξαι οὔτε τι πρὸς τὸ πεῖσαι, ὡς ὁ ἔμπροσθεν πᾶς μεμήνυκεν ἡμῖν λόγος.
ΦΑΙ. παντάπασι μὲν οὖν τοῦτό γε οὕτω πως ἐφάνη.
ΣΩ. τί δʼ αὖ περὶ τοῦ καλὸν ἢ αἰσχρὸν εἶναι τὸ λόγους λέγειν τε καὶ γράφειν, καὶ ὅπῃ γιγνόμενον ἐν δίκῃ λέγοιτʼ ἂν ὄνειδος ἢ μή, ἆρα οὐ δεδήλωκεν τὰ λεχθέντα ὀλίγον ἔμπροσθεν—
ΦΑΙ. τὰ ποῖα;
ΣΩ. ὡς εἴτε Λυσίας ἤ τις ἄλλος πώποτε ἔγραψεν ἢ γράψει ἰδίᾳ ἢ δημοσίᾳ νόμους τιθείς, σύγγραμμα πολιτικὸν γράφων καὶ μεγάλην τινὰ ἐν αὐτῷ βεβαιότητα ἡγούμενος καὶ σαφήνειαν, οὕτω μὲν ὄνειδος τῷ γράφοντι, εἴτε τίς φησιν εἴτε μή· τὸ γὰρ ἀγνοεῖν ὕπαρ τε καὶ ὄναρ δικαίων καὶ ἀδίκων πέρι καὶ κακῶν καὶ ἀγαθῶν οὐκ ἐκφεύγει τῇ ἀληθείᾳ μὴ οὐκ ἐπονείδιστον εἶναι, οὐδὲ ἂν ὁ πᾶς ὄχλος αὐτὸ ἐπαινέσῃ.
ΦΑΙ. οὐ γὰρ οὖν.
Socrates. Yes, Phaedrus, so it is; but, in my opinion, serious discourse about them is far nobler, when one employs the dialectic method and plants and sows in a fitting soul intelligent words which are able to help themselves and him who planted them, which are not fruitless, but yield seed from which there spring up in other minds other words capable of continuing the process for ever, and which make their possessor happy, to the farthest possible limit of human happiness.
Phaedrus. Yes, that is far nobler.
Socrates. And now, Phaedrus, since we have agreed about these matters, we can decide the others.
Phaedrus. What others?
Socrates. Those which brought us to this point through our desire to investigate them, for we wished to examine into the reproach against Lysias as a speechwriter, and also to discuss the speeches themselves and see which were the products of art and which were not. I think we have shown pretty clearly what is and what is not a work of art.
Phaedrus. Yes, I thought so, too; but please recall to my mind what was said.
Socrates. A man must know the truth about all the particular things of which he speaks or writes, and must be able to define everything separately; then when he has defined them, he must know how to divide them by classes until further division is impossible; and in the same way he must understand the nature of the soul, must find out the class of speech adapted to each nature, and must arrange and adorn his discourse accordingly, offering to the complex soul elaborate and harmonious discourses, and simple talks to the simple soul. Until he has attained to all this, he will not be able to speak by the method of art, so far as speech can be controlled by method, either for purposes of instruction or of persuasion. This has been taught by our whole preceding discussion.
Phaedrus. Yes, certainly, that is just about our result.
Socrates. How about the question whether it is a fine or a disgraceful thing to be a speaker or writer and under what circumstances the profession might properly be called a disgrace or not? Was that made clear a little while ago when we said—
Phaedrus. What?
Socrates. That if Lysias or anyone else ever wrote or ever shall write, in private, or in public as lawgiver, a political document, and in writing it believes that it possesses great certainty and clearness, then it is a disgrace to the writer, whether anyone says so, or not. For whether one be awake or asleep, ignorance of right and wrong and good and bad is in truth inevitably a disgrace, even if the whole mob applaud it.
Phaedrus. That is true.
ΣΩ. ὁ δέ γε ἐν μὲν τῷ γεγραμμένῳ λόγῳ περὶ ἑκάστου παιδιάν τε ἡγούμενος πολλὴν ἀναγκαῖον εἶναι, καὶ οὐδένα πώποτε λόγον ἐν μέτρῳ οὐδʼ ἄνευ μέτρου μεγάλης ἄξιον σπουδῆς γραφῆναι, οὐδὲ λεχθῆναι ὡς οἱ ῥαψῳδούμενοι ἄνευ ἀνακρίσεως καὶ διδαχῆς πειθοῦς ἕνεκα ἐλέχθησαν, ἀλλὰ τῷ ὄντι αὐτῶν τοὺς βελτίστους εἰδότων ὑπόμνησιν γεγονέναι, ἐν δὲ τοῖς διδασκομένοις καὶ μαθήσεως χάριν λεγομένοις καὶ τῷ ὄντι γραφομένοις ἐν ψυχῇ περὶ δικαίων τε καὶ καλῶν καὶ ἀγαθῶν [ἐν] μόνοις ἡγούμενος τό τε ἐναργὲς εἶναι καὶ τέλεον καὶ ἄξιον σπουδῆς· δεῖν δὲ τοὺς τοιούτους λόγους αὑτοῦ λέγεσθαι οἷον ὑεῖς γνησίους εἶναι, πρῶτον μὲν τὸν ἐν αὑτῷ, ἐὰν εὑρεθεὶς ἐνῇ, ἔπειτα εἴ τινες τούτου ἔκγονοί τε καὶ ἀδελφοὶ ἅμα ἐν ἄλλαισιν ἄλλων ψυχαῖς κατʼ ἀξίαν ἐνέφυσαν· τοὺς δὲ ἄλλους χαίρειν ἐῶν—οὗτος δὲ ὁ τοιοῦτος ἀνὴρ κινδυνεύει, ὦ Φαῖδρε, εἶναι οἷον ἐγώ τε καὶ σὺ εὐξαίμεθʼ ἂν σέ τε καὶ ἐμὲ γενέσθαι.
ΦΑΙ. παντάπασι μὲν οὖν ἔγωγε βούλομαί τε καὶ εὔχομαι ἃ λέγεις.
ΣΩ. οὐκοῦν ἤδη πεπαίσθω μετρίως ἡμῖν τὰ περὶ λόγων· καὶ σύ τε ἐλθὼν φράζε Λυσίᾳ ὅτι νὼ καταβάντε ἐς τὸ Νυμφῶν νᾶμά τε καὶ μουσεῖον ἠκούσαμεν λόγων, οἳ ἐπέστελλον λέγειν Λυσίᾳ τε καὶ εἴ τις ἄλλος συντίθησι λόγους, καὶ Ὁμήρῳ καὶ εἴ τις ἄλλος αὖ ποίησιν ψιλὴν ἢ ἐν ᾠδῇ συντέθηκε, τρίτον δὲ Σόλωνι καὶ ὅστις ἐν πολιτικοῖς λόγοις νόμους ὀνομάζων συγγράμματα ἔγραψεν· εἰ μὲν εἰδὼς ᾗ τὸ ἀληθὲς ἔχει συνέθηκε ταῦτα, καὶ ἔχων βοηθεῖν, εἰς ἔλεγχον ἰὼν περὶ ὧν ἔγραψε, καὶ λέγων αὐτὸς δυνατὸς τὰ γεγραμμένα φαῦλα ἀποδεῖξαι, οὔ τι τῶνδε ἐπωνυμίαν ἔχοντα δεῖ λέγεσθαι τὸν τοιοῦτον, ἀλλʼ ἐφʼ οἷς ἐσπούδακεν ἐκείνων.
ΦΑΙ. τίνας οὖν τὰς ἐπωνυμίας αὐτῷ νέμεις;
ΣΩ. τὸ μὲν σοφόν, ὦ Φαῖδρε, καλεῖν ἔμοιγε μέγα εἶναι δοκεῖ καὶ θεῷ μόνῳ πρέπειν· τὸ δὲ ἢ φιλόσοφον ἢ τοιοῦτόν τι μᾶλλόν τε ἂν αὐτῷ καὶ ἁρμόττοι καὶ ἐμμελεστέρως ἔχοι.
ΦΑΙ. καὶ οὐδέν γε ἀπὸ τρόπου.
ΣΩ. οὐκοῦν αὖ τὸν μὴ ἔχοντα τιμιώτερα ὧν συνέθηκεν ἢ ἔγραψεν ἄνω κάτω στρέφων ἐν χρόνῳ, πρὸς ἄλληλα κολλῶν τε καὶ ἀφαιρῶν, ἐν δίκῃ που ποιητὴν ἢ λόγων συγγραφέα ἢ νομογράφον προσερεῖς;
ΦΑΙ. τί μήν;
ΣΩ. ταῦτα τοίνυν τῷ ἑταίρῳ φράζε.
ΦΑΙ. τί δὲ σύ; πῶς ποιήσεις; οὐδὲ γὰρ οὐδὲ τὸν σὸν ἑταῖρον δεῖ παρελθεῖν.
ΣΩ. τίνα τοῦτον;
ΦΑΙ. Ἰσοκράτη τὸν καλόν· ᾧ τί ἀπαγγελεῖς, ὦ Σώκρατες; τίνα αὐτὸν φήσομεν εἶναι;
Socrates. But the man who thinks that in the written word there is necessarily much that is playful, and that no written discourse, whether in meter or in prose, deserves to be treated very seriously (and this applies also to the recitations of the rhapsodes, delivered to sway people’s minds, without opportunity for questioning and teaching), but that the best of them really serve only to remind us of what we know; and who thinks that only in words about justice and beauty and goodness spoken by teachers for the sake of instruction and really written in a soul is clearness and perfection and serious value, that such words should be considered the speaker’s own legitimate offspring, first the word within himself, if it be found there, and secondly its descendants or brothers which may have sprung up in worthy manner in the souls of others, and who pays no attention to the other words,—that man, Phaedrus, is likely to be such as you and I might pray that we ourselves may become.
Phaedrus. By all means that is what I wish and pray for.
Socrates. We have amused ourselves with talk about words long enough. Go and tell Lysias that you and I came down to the fountain and sacred place of the nymphs, and heard words which they told us to repeat to Lysias and anyone else who composed speeches, and to Homer or any other who has composed poetry with or without musical accompaniment, and third to Solon and whoever has written political compositions which he calls laws: If he has composed his writings with knowledge of the truth, and is able to support them by discussion of that which he has written, and has the power to show by his own speech that the written words are of little worth, such a man ought not to derive his title from such writings, but from the serious pursuit which underlies them.
Phaedrus. What titles do you grant them then?
Socrates. I think, Phaedrus, that the epithet “wise” is too great and befits God alone; but the name “philosopher,” that is, “lover of wisdom,” or something of the sort would be more fitting and modest for such a man.
Phaedrus. And quite appropriate.
Socrates. On the other hand, he who has nothing more valuable than the things he has composed or written, turning his words up and down at his leisure, adding this phrase and taking that away, will you not properly address him as poet or writer of speeches or of laws?
Phaedrus. Certainly.
Socrates. Tell this then to your friend.
Phaedrus. But what will you do? For your friend ought not to be passed by.
Socrates. What friend?
Phaedrus. The fair Isocrates. What message will you give him? What shall we say that he is?
ΣΩ. νέος ἔτι, ὦ Φαῖδρε, Ἰσοκράτης· ὃ μέντοι μαντεύομαι κατʼ αὐτοῦ, λέγειν ἐθέλω.
ΦΑΙ. τὸ ποῖον δή;
ΣΩ. δοκεῖ μοι ἀμείνων ἢ κατὰ τοὺς περὶ Λυσίαν εἶναι λόγους τὰ τῆς φύσεως, ἔτι τε ἤθει γεννικωτέρῳ κεκρᾶσθαι· ὥστε οὐδὲν ἂν γένοιτο θαυμαστὸν προϊούσης τῆς ἡλικίας εἰ περὶ αὐτούς τε τοὺς λόγους, οἷς νῦν ἐπιχειρεῖ, πλέον ἢ παίδων διενέγκοι τῶν πώποτε ἁψαμένων λόγων, ἔτι τε εἰ αὐτῷ μὴ ἀποχρήσαι ταῦτα, ἐπὶ μείζω δέ τις αὐτὸν ἄγοι ὁρμὴ θειοτέρα· φύσει γάρ, ὦ φίλε, ἔνεστί τις φιλοσοφία τῇ τοῦ ἀνδρὸς διανοίᾳ. ταῦτα δὴ οὖν ἐγὼ μὲν παρὰ τῶνδε τῶν θεῶν ὡς ἐμοῖς παιδικοῖς Ἰσοκράτει ἐξαγγέλλω, σὺ δʼ ἐκεῖνα ὡς σοῖς Λυσίᾳ.
ΦΑΙ. ταῦτʼ ἔσται· ἀλλὰ ἴωμεν, ἐπειδὴ καὶ τὸ πνῖγος ἠπιώτερον γέγονεν.
ΣΩ. οὐκοῦν εὐξαμένῳ πρέπει τοῖσδε πορεύεσθαι;
ΦΑΙ. τί μήν;
ΣΩ. ὦ φίλε Πάν τε καὶ ἄλλοι ὅσοι τῇδε θεοί, δοίητέ μοι καλῷ γενέσθαι τἄνδοθεν· ἔξωθεν δὲ ὅσα ἔχω, τοῖς ἐντὸς εἶναί μοι φίλια. πλούσιον δὲ νομίζοιμι τὸν σοφόν· τὸ δὲ χρυσοῦ πλῆθος εἴη μοι ὅσον μήτε φέρειν μήτε ἄγειν δύναιτο ἄλλος ἢ ὁ σώφρων.ἔτʼ ἄλλου του δεόμεθα, ὦ Φαῖδρε; ἐμοὶ μὲν γὰρ μετρίως ηὖκται.
ΦΑΙ. καὶ ἐμοὶ ταῦτα συνεύχου· κοινὰ γὰρ τὰ τῶν φίλων.
ΣΩ. ἴωμεν.
Socrates. Isocrates is young yet, Phaedrus; however, I am willing to say what I prophesy for him.
Phaedrus. What is it?
Socrates. I think he has a nature above the speeches of Lysias and possesses a nobler character; so that I should not be surprised if, as he grows older, he should so excel in his present studies that all who have ever treated of rhetoric shall seem less than children; and I suspect that these studies will not satisfy him, but a more divine impulse will lead him to greater things; for my friend, something of philosophy is inborn in his mind. This is the message that I carry from these deities to my favorite Isocrates, and do you carry the other to Lysias, your favorite.
Phaedrus. It shall be done; but now let us go, since the heat has grown gentler.
Socrates. Is it not well to pray to the deities here before we go?
Phaedrus. Of course.
Socrates. O beloved Pan and all ye other gods of this place, grant to me that I be made beautiful in my soul within, and that all external possessions be in harmony with my inner man. May I consider the wise man rich; and may I have such wealth as only the self-restrained man can bear or endure.—Do we need anything more, Phaedrus? For me that prayer is enough.
Phaedrus. Let me also share in this prayer; for friends have all things in common.
Socrates. Let us go.
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