Part 105

Phæ. Listen then. 11. “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; but the others have no time at which it is convenient for them to repent; since not from necessity, but voluntarily, they confer benefits according to their ability, so as but to consult their own interests. Besides, lovers consider what of their affairs they have managed badly by reason of their love, and what benefits they have conferred, and adding thereto what labour they have undergone, they think that they have long since conferred sufficient favours on the objects of their love. But those who do not love have no pretence to make of the neglect of their own affairs on this score, nor can they take into account the labours they have undergone, nor make differences with their friends a pretext: so that, all such evils being removed, nothing remains for them but to do cheerfully whatever they think they will gratify them by doing. 12. Besides, if for this reason it is right to make much of those who love, because they say they are most devotedly attached to those whom they love, and are always ready, both in words and deeds, to incur the enmity of others, so that they can but gratify the objects of their love, it is easy to discover whether they speak the truth, because those whom they afterwards fall in love with they will prize more highly than the former, and it is evident that if the latter require it, they will behave ill to the former. And how is it reasonable to lavish such a treasure on one afflicted with such a calamity, as no experienced person would ever attempt to avert? for they themselves confess that they are rather diseased than in their right minds, and that they know that they are out of their senses, but are unable to control themselves. How therefore, when they recover their senses, can they think that those things were right about which they were so anxious when in that state of mind? 13. Moreover, if you should choose the best from among your lovers, your choice must be made from a few; but if from among all others the one most suited to you, from many: so that there is much more hope that among the many there is one worthy of your affection. If, therefore, you respect the established usages of mankind, and are afraid lest, when men discover it, it should be a disgrace to you, it is probable that lovers, thinking that they are envied by others in the same way that they envy each other, should be so elated as to talk, and, out of ambition, publish to the world that they have not bestowed their labour in vain; but that such as are not in love, having a control over themselves, should prefer what is best to celebrity amongst men. 14. Besides, it must needs happen that many should hear of and see lovers following the objects of their affection, and doing this sedulously, so that when they are seen conversing with one another men think that they are together on account of desire already indulged or about to be so: but they do not attempt to blame those who do not love, on account of their familiarity, being aware that it is necessary to converse with some one, either on account of friendship or some other pleasure. 15. Moreover, if you have experienced uneasiness from the consideration that it is difficult for friendship to last, but that when a difference takes place under other circumstances a common calamity happens to both; but that when you have lavished what you prize most highly great injury would befal you, you would with good reason be more afraid of those who love. For there are many things that grieve them, and they think that every thing is done to their detriment. Wherefore they prohibit the objects of their love from associating with others, fearing those who possess wealth, lest they should get the better of them by means of their riches, and the well-educated, lest they should surpass them in intelligence; and they are apprehensive of the influence of every one who possesses any other advantage. By persuading you, then, to keep aloof from such as these, they cause you to be destitute of friends. If, therefore, regarding your own interest, you pursue a wiser course than they recommend, you are sure to quarrel with them. 16. But such as are not in love, but have obtained the accomplishment of their wishes through merit, will not envy your associating with others, but will rather hate those who will not associate with you, thinking that you are despised by them, and are benefited by those who associate with you. So that there is much more reason to hope that friendship will be produced between these by this means, than enmity. Moreover, most lovers conceive a desire for the person before they know their habits or are acquainted with their own qualities, so that it is uncertain whether they will still wish to be their friends when their desire has ceased; but with those who are not in love, and who have done this, having been friends with each other before, it is not probable that acts of kindness will make their friendship less, but that they will be left as monuments of future services. 17. Besides, it will tend to your improvement if you are persuaded by me rather than by a lover. For they, contrary to your best interests, praise all that you say and do, partly fearing lest they should offend you, partly being themselves depraved in their judgment, through desire, for love shews itself in such things: it makes the unsuccessful consider as distressing things which occasion no pain to others, and compels the successful to praise things which are not worthy the name of pleasures; so that it is much more proper to pity than envy those that are loved. 18. But if you will be persuaded by me, first of all I will associate with you, not attending to present pleasure, but future advantage, not overcome by love, but controlling myself, not conceiving violent enmities for trifling offences, but slowly indulging slight anger for great offences, pardoning involuntary faults, and endeavouring to divert you from such as are voluntary; for these are the marks of a friendship that will endure for along time. If, however, it has occurred to you that it is not possible for affection to be strong unless one is in love, you should consider that in that case we should not be very fond of our children or our fathers and mothers, nor acquire faithful friends, who have become such not from desire of this kind, but from other useful qualities. 19. Moreover, if it is right to gratify those most who most need it, it is right also with respect to others to benefit, not the best men, but the most needy; for, being delivered from the greatest evils, they will feel the deepest gratitude towards us. And besides this, in private entertainments it will not be proper to invite our friends, but mendicants and those who are in need of a hearty meal; for these will greet and follow us, and will come to our doors, and be highly delighted, and feel the utmost gratitude, and pray for many blessings upon us. 20. But surely it is right to gratify those not who are exceedingly needy, but who are best able to repay a kindness, nor those who love only, but those who deserve this favour; nor such as will enjoy the bloom of your youth, but who, when you are old, will share their own fortune with you; nor those who, when they have effected their object, will boast of it to others, but who, out of modesty, will be silent towards all men; nor those who are devoted to you for a short time, but who will be greatly attached to you throughout life; nor who, when their desire has ceased, will seek a pretext for quarrelling, but who, when your bloom is gone, will then exhibit their own excellence. 21. Do you, then, remember what I have said, and consider this, that friends admonish lovers that their course of life is a bad one, but no one ever yet found fault with those who are not in love, as if, on that account, they consulted ill for their own interests. Perhaps, however, you may ask me whether I advise you to gratify all who are not in love. But I think that not even a lover would exhort you to be thus affected towards all your lovers: for neither if one considers the matter reasonably is such a course deserving of equal gratitude, nor if you wished it, is it equally possible to keep it secret from others; but it is requisite that no harm should result from the business; on the contrary, advantage to both. I, for my part, think that enough has been said, but if you require any thing more, under the impression that it has been omitted, question me.”

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Footnote 117:

Youth.

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22. What do you think of the speech, Socrates? Does it not appear to you to be wonderfully composed in other respects, and especially as to the language?

Socr. Divinely indeed, my friend, so much so that I am amazed. And I had this feeling through you, Phædrus, by looking at you, for you appeared to me to be enraptured with the speech while you were reading it. For supposing you to understand such matters better than I do, I followed you, and, in following you, I felt the same enthusiasm with you, my inspired friend.

Phæ. Well; do you think proper to jest in this manner?

Socr. Do I appear to you to jest, and not to be in earnest?

Phæ. Don’t, Socrates! But tell me truly, by Jupiter the god of friendship, do you think that any other man in Greece could speak more ably and fully than this on the same subject?

23. Socr. But what? ought the speech to be praised by you and me for this reason, that its composer has said what he ought, and not only because every word is clear, and rounded, and accurately polished off? For, if it ought, it may be granted for your sake, since it escaped me by reason of my nothingness: for I attended only to its rhetoric, but this I did not think that even Lysias himself would think sufficient. And to me, indeed, it seemed, Phædrus, unless you say otherwise, that he has repeated the same things twice and thrice, as if he had not the faculty of saying much on the same subject, or perhaps he did not care about this. Moreover he appeared to me to make a wanton display of his ability to express these things in different ways, and both ways most elegantly.

24. Phæ. You say nothing to the purpose, Socrates: for the speech has this very merit in the highest degree. For he has omitted nothing belonging to his subject, which was worthy to be mentioned: so that, beyond what has been said by him, no one could ever say more things or of greater weight.

Socr. On this point I am no longer able to agree with you; for the ancient and wise, both men and women, who have spoken and written on this subject, would confute me, if I were to admit this out of compliment to you.

Phæ. Who are they? and where have you heard better things than these?

Socr. I am unable to say on the moment; but I am sure that I have heard them from some one or other, either from the beautiful Sappho, or the wise Anacreon, or some other writer. Whence do I form this conjecture? some how or other, my divine friend, my breast is full, and I feel that I could say other things in addition to those and not inferior to them. That I understand none of them of myself, I am well aware, being conscious of my ignorance. It remains then, I think, that I must have filled myself, like a vessel, by means of hearing, from some foreign source; but owing to my stupidity I have forgotten even this, both how and from whom I heard it.

25. Phæ. You have told me excellent news, my noble friend. For though you cannot tell me from whom and how you heard it, even if I bid you, yet do the very thing that you say; promise that you will say other things better and not less in quality than those contained in the book, without making use of any thing in it. And I promise you, after the manner of the nine Archons, that I will dedicate at Delphi, a golden statue as large as life, not only of myself, but also of you.

Socr. You are very kind, Phædrus, and really worth your weight in gold, if you suppose I mean that Lysias was entirely wrong, and that it is possible to say something altogether different from what he has said; for I do not think that this could happen even to the poorest writer. 26. For instance with respect to the subject in hand; do you think that any one who was maintaining that favours ought to be shewn to one who is not in love rather than to one who is, if he neglected to extol the prudence of the former and to blame the folly of the latter, these being obvious points, could have any thing else to say? But I think that such points are to be allowed and granted to a speaker, and that of such things not the invention but the method of handling is to be praised, but of things which are obvious, and which are not difficult to discover, the invention as well as the method of handling.

Phæ. I grant what you say; for you appear to me to have spoken fairly. I will therefore do thus; I will allow you to suppose that one who is in love is more diseased than one who is not, but for the rest if you say other things more fully and of greater weight than Lysias, you shall stand in Olympia, of solid gold, near the offering of the Cypselidæ.

27. Socr. You are quite serious, Phædrus, because in teasing you I have attacked your favourite, and you think that I shall really attempt to say something more skilfully wrought than his wisdom has produced.

Phæ. For that matter, my friend, you have given me as good a hold on you; for you must speak, at all events, as well as you are able. And take care that we are not compelled to have recourse to that troublesome method of comedians, of retorting upon one another, and do not compel me to say, “If I, Socrates! know not Socrates, I have also forgotten myself,” and, “he longed to speak, but affected shyness.” But make up your mind that we shall not leave this spot before you have given utterance to what you said you have in your breast. For we two are by ourselves, in a lonely place, and I am both stronger and younger; from all this understand what I mean, and on no account prefer speaking by compulsion rather than willingly.

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Footnote 118:

See before, § 3 and 4.

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28. Socr. But, my excellent Phædrus, it would be ridiculous in me, who am but a novice in comparison with an experienced author, to attempt to speak extempore on the same subject.

Phæ. Do you know how the case stands? Let me have no more of your airs; for I have that to say which will force you to speak.

Socr. On no account say it then.

Phæ. Nay, but I will say it. And what I have to say is an oath. For I swear to you, by whom, by what god? shall it be by this plane-tree? that unless you make a speech to me before this very tree, I will never again either shew or repeat to you another speech by any one whomsoever.