Setting

Socrates runs into Phaedrus on the outskirts of Athens. Phaedrus has just come from the home
ofEpicrates of Athens, where Lysias, son of Cephalus, has given a speech on love. Socrates, stating that
he is "sick with passion for hearing speeches",[Note 1] walks into the countryside with Phaedrus hoping that
Phaedrus will repeat the speech. They sit by a stream under a plane tree and a chaste tree, and the rest
of the dialogue consists of oration and discussion.

The dialogue, somewhat unusually, does not set itself as a re-telling of the day's events. The dialogue is
given unmediated, in the direct words of Socrates and Phaedrus, without other interlocutors to introduce
the story or give it to us; it comes first hand, as if we are witnessing the events themselves. This is in
contrast to such dialogues as the Symposium, in which Plato sets up multiple layers between the day's
events and our hearing of it, explicitly giving us an incomplete, fifth-hand account.

[edit]Dramatis Personæ

 Socrates
 Phaedrus
 Lysias (in absentia)
Lysias was one of the three sons of Cephalus, the patriarch whose home is the setting for Plato's
Republic. Lysias was perhaps the most famous "logo-graphos" - lit. "argument writer" - in Athens during
the time of Plato. Lysias was a rhetorician and a sophist whose best-known extant work is a defense
speech, "On the Murder of Eratosthenes." The speech is a masterpiece in which a man who murdered 

his wife's lover claims that the laws of Athens required him to do it. The outcome of this speech is
unknown.

[edit]Summary

The dialogue consists of a series of three speeches on the topic of love that serve as a metaphor for the
discussion of the proper use of rhetoric. They encompass discussions of
the soul, madness, divineinspiration, and the practice and mastery of an art.

As they walk out into the countryside, Socrates tries to convince Phaedrus to repeat the speech of Lysias
which he has just heard. Phaedrus makes several excuses, but Socrates suspects strongly that Phaedrus
has a copy of the speech with him. Saying that while Lysias is present, he would never allow himself to be
used as a training partner for Phaedrus to practice his own speech making on, he asks Phaedrus to
expose what he is holding under his cloak. Phaedrus gives in and agrees to perform Lysias' speech. [Note 2]

[edit]Lysias' speech (230e-235e)

Phaedrus and Socrates walk through a stream and find a seat in the shade, and Phaedrus commences to
repeat Lysias' speech. Beginning with "You understand, then, my situation: I've told you how good it
would be for us in my opinion, if this worked out", [Note 3] the speech proceeds to explain all the reasons why
it is better to give your favor to a non-lover rather than a true lover. Friendship with a non-lover, he says,
demonstrates objectivity and prudence; it doesn't create gossip when you are seen together; it doesn't
involve jealousy; and it allows for a much larger pool of possible partners. You will not be giving your favor
to someone who is "more sick than sound in the head" and is not thinking straight, overcome by love. He
explains that it is best to give your favor to one who can best return it, rather than one who needs it most.
He concludes by stating that he thinks the speech is long enough, and the listener is welcome to ask any
questions if something has been left out.

Socrates, attempting to flatter Phaedrus, responds that he is in ecstasy and that it is all Phaedrus' doing.
Socrates comments that as the speech seemed to make Phaedrus radiant, he is sure that Phaedrus
understands these things better than he does himself, and that he cannot help follow Phaedrus' lead into
his Bacchic frenzy. Phaedrus picks up on Socrates' subtle sarcasm and asks Socrates not to joke. [Note 4]

Socrates retorts that he is still in awe, and claims to be able to make an even better speech than Lysias
on the same subject.[Note 5]

Phaedrus and Socrates both note how anyone would consider Socrates a foreigner in the countryside,
and Socrates attributes this fault to his love of learning which "trees and open country won't teach," while
"men in the town" will. Socrates then proceeds to give Phaedrus credit for leading him out of his native
land: "Yet you seem to have discovered a drug for getting me out (dokei moi tes emes exocou to
pharmakon heurekenai). A hungry animal can be driven by dangling a carrot or a bit of greenstuff in front
of it; similarly if you proffer me speeches bound in books (en biblios) I don't doubt you can cart me all
around Attica, and anywhere else you please."[Note 3] This quote makes for Jacques Derrida an extensive
study on the untranslateable concept of what is at once a "'remedy, 'recipe,' 'drug,' 'philter,' etc.", namely,
thepharmakon.[1] During the course of this study, Derrida not only divulges the exact instances Socrates
or his interlocutors make use of this concept, but also reveals the relationship between Plato and
Socrates which scholars have kept in secret by questioning the validity of authorship in Plato's letters,
where in the second letter Socrates writes: "Consider these fact and take care lest you sometimes come
to repent of having now unwisely published your views. It is a very great safeguard to learn by heart
instead of writing. It is impossible for what is written not to be disclosed (to me graphein
all'ekmanthanein). That is the reason why I have never written anything about these things, and why there
is not and will not be any written work of Plato's own (oud'estin sungramma Platonus ouden oud'estai).
What are now called his are the work of a Socrates embellished and modernized (Sokratous estin kalou
kai neou gegonotos). Farewell and believe. Read this letter now at once many times and burn it." (341) [2]

[edit]First speech of Socrates (237a-241d)

When Phaedrus begs to hear it however, Socrates refuses to give the speech. Phaedrus warns him that
he is younger and stronger, and Socrates should "take his meaning" and "stop playing hard to get". [Note
6]
 Finally, after Phaedrus swears on the plane tree that he will never recite another speech for Socrates if
Socrates refuses, Socrates, covering his head, consents. [Note 7] Socrates, rather than simply listing reasons
as Lysias had done, begins by explaining that while all men desire beauty, some are in love and some are
not. We are all ruled, he says, by two principles: one is our inborn desire for pleasure, and the other is our
acquired judgment that pursues what is best (237d). Following your judgment is "being in your right mind",
while following desire towards pleasure without reason is "outrage" (hybris).[Note 8]

Following different desires leads to different things; one who follows his desire for food is a glutton, and so
on. The desire to take pleasure in beauty, reinforced by the kindred beauty in human bodies, is
called Eros.[Note 9]

Remarking that he is in the grip of something divine, and may soon be overtaken by the madness of
the nymphs in this place,[Note 10] he goes on.
The problem, he explains, is that one overcome with this desire will want to turn his boy into whatever is
most pleasing to himself, rather than what is best for the boy. [Note 11] The boy's intellectual progress will be
stifled,[Note 12] his physical condition will suffer,[Note 13] the lover will not wish the boy to mature and take a
family,[Note 14] all because the lover is shaping him out of desire for pleasure rather than what is best. At
some point, "right-minded reason" will take the place of "the madness of love", [Note 15] and the lover's oaths
and promises to his boy will be broken.

Phaedrus believes that one of the greatest goods given is the relationship between lover and boy. This
relationship brings guidance and love into the boy’s life. Because the boy has a lover as such a valuable
role model, he is on his best behavior to not get caught in something shameful. To get caught in
something shameful would be like letting down his lover, therefore the boy is consistently acting his best.
With the absence of shame makes room for a sense of pride to come in; pride from the wealthy feeling of
impressing one's own lover. Impressing one's own lover brings more learning and guidance into the boy's
life. The non-lover, he concludes, will do none of this, always ruled by judgment rather than desire for
pleasure. Socrates, fearing that the nymphs will take complete control of him if he continues, states that
he is going to leave before Phaedrus makes him "do something even worse". [Note 16]

However, just before Socrates is about to leave, he is stopped by the "familiar divine sign", his daemon,
which occurs always and only just before Socrates is about to do something he should not. A voice "from
this very spot" forbids Socrates to leave before he makes atonement for some offense to the gods.
Socrates then admits that he thought both of the preceding speeches were terrible, saying Lysias'
repeated itself numerous times, seemed uninterested in its subject, and seemed to be showing off.
Socrates states that he is a "seer". While he is not very good at it, he is good enough for his purposes,
and he recognizes what his offense has been: if love is a god or something divine, as he and Phaedrus
both agree he is, he cannot be bad, as the previous speeches have portrayed him. [Note 17] Socrates, baring
his head, vows to undergo a rite of purification as a follower of the Muses, and proceeds to give a speech
praising the lover.[Note 18]

The beginning of Phaedrus in one of the most important medieval manuscripts of Plato, Codex Clarkianus 39 in the Bodleian
Library, written in AD 895.

[edit]Second speech of Socrates (244a-257b)

Madness (244a-245c)
Socrates begins by discussing madness. If madness is all bad, then the preceding speeches would have
been correct, but in actuality, madness given as a gift of the gods provides us with some of the best
things we have.[Note 19]There are, in fact, several kinds of divine madness, of which he cites four examples:

1. From Apollo, the gift of prophecy;

2. From Dionysus, the mystic rites and relief from present hardship;
3. From the Muses, poetry;
4. From Aphrodite, love.
As they must show that the madness of love is, indeed, sent by a god to benefit the lover and beloved in
order to disprove the preceding speeches, Socrates embarks on a proof of the divine origin of this fourth
sort of madness. It is a proof, he says, that will convince "the wise if not the clever". [Note 20]
[edit]The soul (245c-249d)
He begins by briefly proving the immortality of the soul. A soul is always in motion and as a self-
mover has no beginning. A self-mover is itself the source of everything else that moves. So, by the same
token, it cannot be destroyed. Bodily objects moved from the outside have no soul, while those that move
from within have a soul. Moving from within, all souls are self-movers, and hence their immortality is
necessary.[Note 21]

Then begins the famous Chariot allegory, called by R. Hackworth the centrepiece of Phaedrus, and the

famous and moving account of the vision, fall and incarnation of the soul. A soul, says Socrates, is like
the "natural union of a team of winged horses and their charioteer". While the gods have two good
horses, everyone else has a mixture: one is beautiful and good, while the other is neither. [Note 22]

As souls are immortal, those lacking bodies patrol all of heaven so long as their wings are in perfect
condition. When a soul sheds its wings, it comes to earth and takes on an earthly body which then seems
to move itself.[Note 23]These wings lift up heavy things to where the gods dwell, and are nourished and grow
in the presence of the wisdom, goodness, and beauty of the divine. However, foulness and ugliness make
the wings shrink and disappear.[Note 24]

In heaven, he explains, there is a procession led by Zeus, who looks after everything and puts things in
order. All of the gods, with the exception of Hestia, follow Zeus in this procession. While the chariots of
the gods are balanced and easier to control, other charioteers must struggle with their bad horse, which
will drag them down to earth if it has not been properly trained. [Note 25] As the procession works its way
upward, it eventually makes it up to the high ridge of heaven, where the gods take their stands, are taken
in a circular motion and gaze at all that is beyond heaven. [Note 26]

What is outside of heaven, says Socrates, is quite difficult to describe, lacking color, shape, or solidity, as
it is the subject of all true knowledge, visible only to intelligence. [Note 27] The gods delight in these things
and are nourished. Feeling wonderful, they are taken around until they make a complete circle. On the
way they are able to see Justice, Self-Control, Knowledge, and other things as they are in themselves,
unchanging. When they have seen all things and feasted on them, coming all the way around, they sink
back down inside heaven.[Note 28]

The immortal souls that follow the gods most closely are able to just barely raise their chariots up to the
rim and look out on Reality. They see some things and miss others, having to deal with their horses; they
rise and fall at varying times. Other souls, while straining to keep up, are unable to rise, and in noisy,
sweaty discord they leave uninitiated, not having seen reality. Where they go after is then dependent on
their own opinions, rather than the truth. Any soul that catches sight of any one true thing is granted
another circuit where it can see more; eventually, all souls fall back to earth. Those that have been
initiated are put into varying human incarnations, depending on how much they have seen; those made
into philosophers have seen the most, while kings, statesmen, doctors, prophets, poets, manual
laborers, sophists, and tyrants follow respectively.[Note 29]

Souls then begin cycles of reincarnation. It generally takes 10,000 years for a soul to grow its wings and
return to where it came, but philosophers, after having chosen such a life three times in a row, grow their
wings and return after only 3,000 years. This is because they have seen the most and always keep its
memory as close as possible, and philosophers maintain the highest level of initiation. They ignore human
concerns and are drawn towards the divine. While ordinary people rebuke them for this, they are unaware
that the lover of wisdom is possessed by a god. This is the fourth sort of madness, that of love. [Note 30]
[edit]The madness of love (249d-257b)
One comes to manifest this sort of love after seeing beauty here on earth and being reminded of true
beauty as it was seen beyond heaven. When reminded, the wings begin to grow back, but as they are not
yet able to rise, the afflicted gaze aloft and pay no attention to what goes on below, bringing on the
charge of madness. This is the best form that possession by a god can take, for all those connected to it.
[Note 31]

When one is reminded of true beauty by the sight of a beautiful boy, he is called a lover. While all have
seen reality, as they must have to be human, not all are so easily reminded of it. Those that can
remember are startled when they see a reminder, and are overcome with the memory of beauty. [Note 32]

Beauty, he states, was among the most radiant things to see beyond heaven, and on earth it sparkles
through vision, the clearest of our senses. Some have not been recently initiated, and mistake this
reminder for beauty itself and pursue pleasure and procreating. This pursuit of pleasure, then, even when
manifested in the love of beautiful bodies, is not "divine" madness, but rather just having lost one's head.
The recent initiates, on the other hand, are overcome when they see a bodily form that has captured true
Beauty well, and their wings begin to grow. When this soul looks upon the beautiful boy it experiences the
utmost joy; when separated from the boy, intense pain and longing occur, and the wings begin to harden.
Caught between these two feelings, the lover is in utmost anguish, with the boy the only doctor for the
pain.[Note 33]

Socrates then returns to the myth of the chariot. The charioteer is filled with warmth and desire as he
gazes into the eyes of the one he loves. The good horse is controlled by its sense of shame, but the bad
horse, overcome with desire, does everything it can to go up to the boy and suggest to it the pleasures
of sex. The bad horse eventually wears out its charioteer and partner, and drags them towards the boy;
yet when the charioteer looks into the boy's face, his memory is carried back to the sight of the forms of
Beauty and Self-control he had with the gods, and pulls back violently on the reins. As this occurs over
and over, the bad horse eventually becomes obedient and finally dies of fright when seeing the boy's
face, allowing the lover's soul to follow the boy in reverence and awe. [Note 34]

The lover now pursues the boy. As he gets closer to his quarry, and the love is reciprocated, the
opportunity for sexual contact again presents itself. If the lover and beloved surpass this desire they have
won the "true Olympic Contests"; it is the perfect combination of human self control and divine madness,
and after death, their souls return to heaven.[Note 35]Those who give in do not become weightless, but they
are spared any punishment after their death, and will eventually grow wings together when the time
comes.[Note 36]

A lover's friendship is divine, Socrates concludes, while that of a non-lover offers only cheap, human
dividends, and tosses the soul about on earth for 9,000 years. He apologizes to the gods for the previous
speeches, and Phaedrus joins him in the prayer.[Note 37]

[edit]Discussion of rhetoric and writing (257c-279c)

After Phaedrus concedes that this speech was certainly better than any Lysias could compose, they begin
a discussion of the nature and uses of rhetoric itself. After showing that speech making itself isn't
something reproachful, and that what is truly shameful is to engage in speaking or writing shamefully or
badly, Socrates asks what distinguishes good from bad writing, and they take this up. [Note 38]

Phaedrus claims that to be a good speechmaker, one does not need to know the truth of what he is
speaking on, but rather how to properly persuade,[Note 39] persuasion being the purpose of speechmaking
and oration. Socrates first objects that an orator who does not know bad from good will, in Phaedrus's
words, harvest "a crop of really poor quality".[Note 40]Yet Socrates does not dismiss the art of speechmaking.
Rather, he says, it may be that even one who knew the truth could not produce conviction without
knowing the art of persuasion;[Note 41]on the other hand, "As the Spartan said, there is no genuine art of
speaking without a grasp of the truth, and there never will be". [Note 42]

To acquire the art of rhetoric, then, one must make systematic divisions between two different kinds of
things: one sort, like "iron" and "silver", suggests the same to all listeners; the other sort, such as "good"
or "justice", lead people in different directions.[Note 43] Lysias failed to make this distinction, and accordingly,
failed to even define what "love" itself is in the beginning; the rest of his speech appears thrown together
at random, and is, on the whole, very poorly constructed. [Note 44]Socrates then goes on to say,

Every speech must be put together like a living creature, with a body of its own; it must be neither
without head nor without legs; and it must have a middle and extremities that are fitting both to
one another and to the whole work.[Note 45]
Socrates's speech, on the other hand, starts with a thesis and proceeds to make divisions
accordingly, finding divine love, and setting it out as the greatest of goods. And yet, they agree, the
art of making these divisions is dialectic, not rhetoric, and it must be seen what part of rhetoric may
have been left out.[Note 46]

When Socrates and Phaedrus proceed to recount the various tools of speechmaking as written down
by the great orators of the past, starting with the "Preamble" and the "Statement Facts" and
concluding with the "Recapitulation", Socrates states that the fabric seems a little threadbare. [Note 47]He
goes on to compare one with only knowledge of these tools to a doctor who knows how to raise and
lower a body's temperature but does not know when it is good or bad to do so, stating that one who
has simply read a book or came across some potions knows nothing of the art. [Note 48]One who knows
how to compose the longest passages on trivial topics or the briefest passages on topics of great
importance is similar, when he claims that to teach this is to impart the knowledge of
composing tragedies; if one were to claim to have mastered harmony after learning the lowest and
highest notes on the lyre, a musician would say that this knowledge is what one must learn before
one masters harmony, but it is not the knowledge of harmony itself. [Note 49]This, then, is what must be
said to those who attempt to teach the art of rhetoric through "Preambles" and "Recapitulations"; they
are ignorant of dialectic, and teach only what is necessary to learn as preliminaries. [Note 50]

They go on to discuss what is good or bad in writing. Socrates tells a brief legend, critically
commenting on the gift of writing from theEgyptian god Theuth to King Thamus, who was to disperse
Theuth's gifts to the people of Egypt. After Theuth remarks on his discovery of writing as a remedy for
the memory, Thamus responds that its true effects are likely to be the opposite; it is a remedy for
reminding, not remembering, he says, with the appearance but not the reality of wisdom. Future
generations will hear much without being properly taught, and will appear wise but not be so, making
them difficult to get along with.[Note 51]
 No written instructions for an art can yield results clear or certain, Socrates states, but rather can only
remind those that already know what writing is about. [Note 52] Furthermore, writings are silent; they
cannot speak, answer questions, or come to their own defense. [Note 53]

Accordingly, the legitimate sister of this is, in fact, dialectic; it is the living, breathing discourse of one who
knows, of which the written word can only be called an image.[Note 54]The one who knows uses the art of
dialectic rather than writing:

The dialectician chooses a proper soul and plants and sows within it discourse accompanied by
knowledge- discourse capable of helping itself as well as the man who planted it, which is not
barren but produces a seed from which more discourse grows in the character of others. Such
discourse makes the seed forever immortal and renders the man who has it happy as any human
being can be.[Note 55]
[edit]Interpretations and themes
[edit]Madness and divine inspiration
McDaniel (1989: p. 7) in her work on the bhakti saints of Bengal holds that Plato defined four types
of divine madness: the mantic divinationof Apollo; the telestic possession-trance of Dionysus which
reaches its apogee in the maenads; the poetic from the Muses; and the eroticfrenzied love
of Eros and Aphrodite:

"Plato distinguished two types of mania in the Phaedrus: one arising from human disease, and the
other from a divine state, "which releases us from our customary habits." He notes four sorts of divine
madness sent by the gods: the mantic, from Apollo, which brings divination; the telestic, from
Dionysus, which brings possession trance (as a result of ritual); the poetic, from the Muses, which
brings enthusiasm and poetic furor; and the erotic, from Eros and Aphrodite, which brings frenzied
love. He states, "In reality, our greatest blessings come to us by way of madness, which indeed is a
divine gift."[3]

In the Phaedrus, Socrates makes the rather bold claim that some of life's greatest blessings flow from
madness; and he clarifies this later by noting that he is referring specifically to madness inspired by the
gods. It should be noted that Phaedrus is Plato's only dialogue that shows Socrates outside the city of
Athens, out in the country. It was believed that spirits and nymphs inhabited the country, and Socrates
specifically points this out after the long palinode with his comment about listening to the cicadas. After
originally remarking that "landscapes and trees have nothing to teach me, only people do", [Note 56] Socrates
goes on to make constant remarks concerning the presence and action of the gods in general, nature
gods such as Pan and the nymphs, and the Muses, in addition to the unusually explicit characterization of
his own daemon. The importance of divine inspiration is demonstrated in its connection with and the
importance of religion, poetry and art, and above all else, love. Eros, much like in the Symposium, is
contrasted from mere desire of the pleasurable and given a higher, heavenly function. Unlike in the Ion, a
dialogue dealing with madness and divine inspiration in poetry and literary criticism, madness here must
go firmly hand in hand with reason, learning, and self-control in both love and art. This rather bold claim
has puzzled readers and scholars of Plato's work for centuries because it clearly shows that Socrates
saw genuine value in the irrational elements of human life, despite many other dialogues that show him
arguing that one should pursue beauty and that wisdom is the most beautiful thing of all.

[edit]Rhetoric, philosophy, and art

The Phaedrus also gives us much in the way of explaining how art should be practiced. The discussion of
rhetoric, the proper practice of which is found to actually be philosophy, has many similarities with
Socrates's role as a "midwife of the soul" in the Theaetetus; the dialectician, as described, is particularly
resonant. To practice the art, one must have a grasp of the truth and a detailed understanding of the soul
in order to properly persuade. Moreover, one must have an idea of what is good or bad for the soul and,
as a result, know what the soul should be persuaded towards. To have mastered the tools of an art is not
to have mastered the art itself, but only its preliminaries. This is much like the person who claims to have
mastered harmony after learning the highest and lowest notes of the lyre. To practice an art, one must
know what that art is for and what it can help one achieve.

The role of divine inspiration in philosophy must also be considered; the philosopher is struck with the
fourth kind of madness, that of love, and it is this divine inspiration that leads him and his beloved towards
the good—but only when tempered with self-control.

Writing, examined separately but ultimately equated with philosophy and rhetoric, is somewhat
deprecated; it is stated that writing can do little but remind those who already know, somewhat
reminiscent of the archetypical Zen master's admonishment that "those who know, know". Unlike dialectic
and rhetoric, writing cannot be tailored to specific situations or students; the writer does not have the
luxury of examining his reader's soul in order to determine the proper way to persuade. When attacked it
cannot defend itself, and is unable to answer questions or refute criticism. As such, the philosopher uses
writing "for the sake of amusing himself" and other similar things rather than for teaching others. A writer,
then, is only a philosopher when he can himself argue that his writing is of little worth, among other
requirements.

This final critique of writing with which the dialogue concludes seems to be one of the more interesting
facets of the conversation for those who seek to interpret Plato in general; Plato, of course, comes down
to us through his numerous written works, and philosophy today is concerned almost purely with the
reading and writing of written texts. It seems proper to recall that Plato's ever-present protagonist and
ideal man, Socrates, fits Plato's description of the dialectician perfectly, and never wrote a thing.

There is an echo of this point of view in Plato's Seventh Epistle (Letter), wherein Plato says not to write
down things of importance. [Note 57]

Phaedrus
Socrates and Phaedrus walk in the country and discuss love. 

Socrates dismisses scientific inquiry and modern skepticism about the gods, preferring
self-exploration and dialectic: "I can't as yet `know thyself' ... and so long as that
ignorance remains it seems to me ridiculous to inquire into extraneous matters.... I am a
lover of learning, and trees and open country won't teach me anything, whereas men in
the town do." 

Phaedrus reads Lysias' speech, which describes how a handsome young man is
tempted, not by the entreaty of a lover but by one who professes not to be in love,
arguing that "a lover more often than not wants to possess you...." Socrates discusses
the conflict of the pursuit of pleasure versus the good: "Within each one of us there are
two sorts of ruling or guiding principle that we follow. One is the innate desire for
pleasure, the other an acquired judgment that aims us at what is best. Sometimes these
internal guides are in accord, sometimes at variance.... When judgment guides us
rationally toward what is best, and has the mastery, that mastery is called
temperance.... A man dominated by desire and enslaved to pleasure is of course bound
to aim at getting the greatest possible pleasure out of his beloved.... He must aim at
making the boy totally ignorant and totally dependent on his lover, by way of securing
the maximum pleasure for himself, and the maximum of damage to the other."

But Socrates then maintains that love (eros) is a god or divine being and cannot
therefore be evil. He cites Stesichorus' belief that love "is a gift of the gods," a heaven-
sent form of madness or possession. 

He argues that the soul is immortal and is like a chariot drawn by two differing steeds:
"one of them is noble and good, ... while the other has the opposite character.... When it
is perfect and winged it journeys on high and controls the whole world, but one that has
shed its wings sinks down until it can fasten on something solid, and settling there it
takes itself an earthly body...." The successful souls ascend to the "summit of the arch
that supports the heavens.... It is there that true being dwells, without color or shape,
that cannot be touched; reason alone, the soul's pilot, can behold it, and all true
knowledge is knowledgee thereof.... Contemplating truth she is nourished and
prospers... And while she is borne round she discerns justice ... and likewise
temperance ... and knowledge, not the knowledge that is neighbor to becoming and
varies with the various objects to which we commonly ascribe being, but the veritable
knowledge of being that veritably is." A soul which falls away from truth becomes
forgetful, sheds its wings, and falls back to earth. "The soul that hath seen the most of
being shall enter into the human babe that shall grow into a seeker after wisdom and
beauty, a follower of the Muses and a lover." A progressively lower cycle of
reincarnations, each lasting 1000 years (up to 10,000 years total), may follow unless the
soul seeks wisdom through philosophy, in which case the wings can be regained and
the soul again ascends to the eternal realm. "Therefore it is meet and right that the soul
of the philosopher alone should recover her wings, for she, as far as may be, is ever
near in memory to those things a god's nearness whereunto makes him truly god.... He
and he alone becomes truly perfect. Standing aside from the busy doings of mankind,
and drawing nigh to the divine, he is rebuked by the multitude as being out of his wits....
When he that loves beauty is touched by such madness he is called a lover.... Beauty it
was ours to see in all its brightness in those days....and in this world below we
apprehend it through the clearest of our senses...." Souls of sullied purity see little of
true beauty and seek only physical pleasure. When a beloved causes desire in a lover,
the driver of the chariot reins in the base horse "until the evil steed casts off his
wantonness.... And so, if the victory be won by the higher elements of mind ... the power
of evil in the soul has been subjected, and the power of goodness liberated.... These
then, my boy, are the blessings great and glorious which will come too from the
friendship of a lover." 

Socrates notes that ideas reduced to writing are imperfectly represented: "[Writing] is no
true wisdom ... but only its semblance.... Written words seem to talk to you as though
they were intelligent, but if you ask them anything about what they say ... they go on
telling you just the same forever." 

His closing prayer to Pan and other divinities: "...Grant that I may become fair within,
and that such outward things as I have may not war against the spirit within me. May I
count him rich who is wise, and as for gold, may I possess so much of it as only a
temperate man might bear and carry with him."

Transition to Discussion of Rhetoric: 257b-259d

Phaedrus is deeply impressed by Socrates’ speech and believes that Lysias will be unable to
match it with a speech of his own. Besides, Phaedrus notes, a politician has recently
criticized Lysias as a “speech writer,” so Lysias may be reluctant to compose a speech to
begin with. Socrates defends Lysias, however, stating that the man would not be so easily
intimidated—and that the politician did not mean his comment as a reproach. Phaedrus
retorts that “the most powerful and renowned politicians are ashamed to compose speeches
or leave any writings behind” for fear of being called “sophists” (257d). But Socrates makes
Phaedrus understand the contrary: “the most ambitious politicians love speechwriting and
long for their writings to survive” (257e). Politicians are actually in awe of speechwriting, for
their legislative resolutions are much like speeches. Legislative writing begins by
acknowledging the writer and “remains on the books” when it is politically successful
(258a). Such was the case of writing practiced by Lycurgus, Solon, and Darius, all famous
lawgivers in history. Socrates posits that none of these men would reproach Lysias for being
a writer. He concludes: “It’s not speaking or writing well that’s shameful; what’s really
shameful is to engage in either of them shamefully or badly” (258d). The question, then,
becomes how to distinguish good writing from bad writing.
At this point, Socrates notes that they have plenty of time to discuss the question. Besides,
the cicadas are watching them. They will laugh at Socrates and Phaedrus if they see the two
succumb to the midday heat and break off conversation. On the other hand, if they see the
two engaged in conversation, “they will be very pleased and immediately give [the two] the
gift from the gods they were able to give to mortals” (259b).
Socrates explains this gift, which Phaedrus has not heard of. Before the birth of the Muses,
cicadas used to be human beings. When the Muses came into existence, some people
became so obsessed with singing that they died from forgetting to eat and drink. These
people became cicadas, to whom the Muses gave a gift: they begin singing at birth and
need neither food nor drink until death. And when they die, they report to the Muses “which
morals have honored her.” To Calliope and Urania, they report humans “who honor their
special kind of music by leading a philosophical life” (259d). Thus, there are many reasons
for Socrates and Phaedrus to discuss rhetoric.
Analysis
After Socrates concludes his Great Speech, the dialogue transitions to a discussion of
rhetoric and writing. This marks the thematic midpoint of the dialogue, coinciding with
midday. The following points have been introduced in order to be discussed: (1) the social
standing or reputation of the speechmaker; (2) the permanence of writing; and (3) the
difference between good and bad speeches, spoken or written.
Socrates offers further justification for continuing the discussion by commenting on the
singing cicadas. As Nehamas and Woodruff note: “Consonant with the respect for myth and
traditional theology which his visit to the countryside has produced in him, [Socrates]
describes the cicadas as the Muses’ messengers” (xxx). The cicadas serve as reminders that
the two friends should discuss philosophy instead of languishing under the noon heat. Alfred
Geier also suggests that Socrates tells the tale to “war[n]Phaedrus that he is in great
danger of becoming like one of those men who loved poetry without nourishment and so
died and became a cicada” (184). Rhetoric, in other words, needs some sort of philosophic
backing.