Don't you think madness is wonderful?

Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher
Plato's works. First part
Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher

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Socrates • Phaedrus

(227) Socrates: O dear Phaedrus, where from and where?

Phaedrus: From Lysias, O Socrates, the son of Cephalus, and I, go for a stroll outside the city; for I spent a long time sitting there from the early hours. And following your friend and my friend Akumenos, I go about outside in the streets; namely, he says, this is less tiring than that on walks.

Socrates: And he is quite right about that, dear friend. So Lysias was, it seems, in town.

Phaedrus: Yes, with Epicrates, in the house here not far from Olympion, Morychia.

Socrates: What were you doing there? Or is it understood that Lysias entertained you from his speeches?

Phaedrus: You should find out when you have the leisure to go along and listen.

Socrates: How then? Don't you think that, after the Pindaros, it should also be urgent business for me to listen to your and Lysia's conversation?

Phaedrus: So go on.

Socrates: And you speak.

Phaedrus: Certainly Socrates, it is quite fitting for you to hear this. Because the speech we were talking to was, I'm not sure how, a love speech. She wrote Lysias as if a handsome boy were to be won, but not by a lover. But this is precisely the delicacy in it, he claims that one should rather be favorable to someone who is not in love than to someone in love.

Socrates: O splendid man! if only he would have written to a poor rather than a rich, an old rather than a boy, and whatever else would have been too good for me and most of us. Truly that would be decent and charitable speeches. For my part, I have now become so eager to hear that if you also went for a stroll as far as Megara, and as Herodicos turned back hard against the wall, I would not leave you.

(228) Phaedrus: What do you mean, best Socrates? Do you believe what Lysias has worked out for a long time at leisure, the greatest master of all writing now, that I should be able to repeat from memory worthy of ignorance? Much is missing from that. Although a lot of money shouldn't be as dear to me as this.

Socrates: O Phaedrus, if I don't know Phaedrus, I must have forgotten myself. But one as little as the other. I know very well, if he heard one of Lysias' speeches, he not only listened to it once, but kept letting Lysias talk again and again, and he was also happy to obey him. But that wasn't enough for him either, in the end he took the book and looked up what he liked best. And sitting over it from early on, he is finally tired and gone for a stroll, but with the dog! as I at least think, already completely knowing the speech, if it was not too long. And he went out to town to train them properly. When he met someone who was sick of the addiction to listening to speeches, he was already pleased to see him coming, that he would have a companion in his delight, and asked him to come along. When the lover of speeches asked him to speak, he made the brittle as if he did not feel like it; in the end, however, he would say the speech by force, even if no one wanted to listen well. So you Phaedrus ask him, what he would soon be doing in any way, rather to do it right away.

Phaedrus: Truly by far the best thing to do will be to give you the talk as I can. Because you don't seem to want to let go of anything until I talk somehow.

Socrates: You quite rightly believe that of me.

Phaedrus: So that's how I want to do it. For in fact, Socrates, I have not kept the words, but I will repeat the content of everything in which he explains the difference between the loving thing and the non-loving thing, starting with the first, according to the order.

Socrates: After you have shown, dear human, what you have in your left hand under your coat. Because I suppose you have the talk yourself, and if that is so, think of me that I love you very much, but if Lysias is there to give me away so that you can learn from me, I am in no way sympathetic . So come and show.

Phaedrus: Just calm down! You thwarted the hope I had to practice on you. But where do you want us to sit down to read?

(229) Socrates: Here let us go down on the Ilissus, distracting us, and then, where we will like it, sit down lonely.

Phaedrus: At the right time, it seems, I am shoed: for of course you always are. So it is most comfortable to walk in the little water with your own feet wet, and not at all uncomfortable, especially at this time of year around an hour.

Socrates: So go ahead and see where we can sit down.

Phaedrus: Do you see that tallest plane tree there?

Socrates: How should I not?

Phaedrus: There is shade and moderate air, also lawn, to sit on, or to lie down if we want.

Socrates: So go.

Phaedrus: Tell me, Socrates, shouldn't the Oreithyia have stolen Boreas somewhere on Ilissos?

Socrates: So he should.

Phaedrus: Around here? At least the little water is pleasant, pure and transparent, just right for little girls to play with.

Socrates: No, but below about two or three stages, where you go through to the temple of Artemis. There is also an altar of Boreas somewhere there.

Phaedrus: I wasn't quite sure. But say, for Zeus's sake, Socrates, do you also believe that this story is true?

Socrates: If I didn't believe it, like the clever ones, I wouldn't be at a loss. I would then go on to argue that the wind of Boreas threw her down from the rocks nearby when she was playing with the Pharmakeia, and because of this manner of death it was said that she was stolen by the god Boreas, or by the Areopagos because it is also told that she was stolen from there. I, however, O Phaedrus, find such things quite well-behaved, only that a very skillful and laborious man belongs to it, and who is not to be envied, not because of any other cause, but because he then necessarily has to bring the Centaurs straight , and afterwards the Chimera, and then a whole people of the same gorgons, pegases, and other infinitely many and incomprehensible wonderful beings flock to him, and whoever wants to unbeliever individually on something probable will waste a lot of time with a truly indecent wisdom . But I have absolutely nothing to do with it, and the cause of this, my dear, is this, I still cannot recognize myself according to the Delphic saying. So it seems ridiculous to me, as long as I am ignorant of this, to think of other things. So, therefore, I'll let all of this be fine; and assuming what is generally believed about them, as I have just said, I do not think of these things, but of myself, whether I am a monster, more complex and more intractable than Typhon, or a milder, simpler being who has one divine and noble part naturally delighted. - Yes, friend, don't forget, wasn't this the tree you wanted to lead us to?

Phaedrus: Yes, this one.

Socrates: By the here! this is a nice stay. Because the plane tree itself is splendidly leafy and high, and the height and shade of the bushes are beautiful, and so it is in full bloom that it completely fills the place with fragrance. And the loveliest spring of the coolest water flows under the plane tree, if you can trust your feet. Also, according to the statues and figures, there seems to be a sanctuary for some nymphs and Acheloos. And if that's what you are looking for, the air here also blows welcome and sweet, and purrs summerly and lovely in the chorus of cicadas. Most wonderful of all, however, is the grass on the gentle slope in such abundance that one can stretch out and let one's head rest leisurely. In short, you have made an excellent guide, dear Phaedrus.

Phaedrus: But you, wonderful man, appear very strange. Because in fact, as you also say, you are like a stranger who lets yourself be led around, and not a local. So little do you wander out of the city over the border, you seem to me to go out even to the gate.

Socrates: Please forgive me for this, my dear fellow. I'm eager to learn, and fields and trees don't want to teach me anything, but the people in the city do. You meanwhile, I think, have found the right means to lure me out. For just as they lead hungry cattle by means of leaves or grains held in front of them, so if you showed me such roles with speeches you could certainly show me around the whole of Attica and wherever you wanted to go. But now that we are on the spot, I will probably lie down here; But you choose and read in which position you think you can read best.

Phaedrus: So listen.

You have been informed about what concerns me, and you have heard how I believe it will be good for us that this come to pass. But I do not wish to miss what I ask because (231) I do not belong to your lovers. Since they then tend to repent for what they have done as good as soon as their desires are satisfied; for others, however, there is no time in which to change their minds. Because not by necessity, but voluntarily, as everyone can best consult about his own, they do good according to their ability. Furthermore, those in love consider what they have miscarried out of their own because of love, and what has done good; and when you then add the complaint you have made, you believe you have long since paid the due thanks to your loved one. But those who are not in a passion can neither use the neglect of their affairs for the sake of that one as an excuse, nor take account of the complaints they have overcome, nor make a reproach out of the discord with their relatives, so that so many evils have overlooked them, they do not otherwise can, as willingly, do anything that they believe will please them. Furthermore, if the lovers are to deserve to be respected for the sake of this, because they claim to be most devoted to their loved ones, and because they are always ready, they should also make others hateful through word and deed, to please them: that is the case It is easy to see how far they speak truthfully, because they must also respect those for whom they will later be passionate more than the previous ones, and evidently, if the latter so wishes, they will also do harm to the former beloved. However, how should it be cheap to concede so much to someone who is subject to such an accident, which no knowledgeable person would not even undertake to remedy. Because they themselves confess that they are more sick than when they are fully conscious, and that they know how badly they are in their understanding, but are unable to overcome themselves. So how can they, when they are in their right mind again, consider what they want in such a state to have been well done? Moreover, if you chose the best of the lovers, you would only ever have a choice among a few; but if of the rest the most appropriate to yourself, then among many. So that far more hope is to be found among the many who really deserve your friendship. But if you are afraid of the prevailing opinion, and that if people find out, shame could arise from it: then it is likely that lovers (232), of course, who also believe to be envied by the rest of the world as they are under Doing one another, boasting with narration and self-satisfied boasting to everyone that they have not tried in vain, but that those who are not passionate, since they have power over themselves, will prefer the better to the glory among people. In addition, a great many must experience the lovers and see their loved ones go after them, and make a business out of this, so that wherever they are only seen in conversation with one another, one also believes they come from the satisfaction of the desire or go to meet it; But no one has to reproach those who are not in love with even the thought of their intercourse, since everyone finds it in the order that one talks to one another that it is now for the sake of affection or some other pleasure. Yes, if, for example, fear should change you, considering how difficult it is for a friendship to last, and how, if in other cases disagreement arises, both common misfortune hits, but here, if you had granted the highest, you Big disadvantage could arise: so cheaply you have far more to fear lovers. Because much is what grieves them, and they believe everything to be detrimental to them. Therefore they also prevent their loved ones from interacting with others, out of fearful people they want to exceed them in wealth, but educated people want to be superior to them in insight, and what is otherwise good to someone they guard against its effects. If they persuade you to become enemies with such people, they will expose you of friends; but if you consider your best and judge more sensibly than they do, you will get into a quarrel with them. But those who have not achieved as lovers, but have acquired what they want through their virtue, will not jealously envy your partners, but rather hate those who do not want to be disregarded in their opinion, but supported by the partners ; so that far more is to be expected, friendship will arise from this connection for them than enmity. In addition, many of those in love tend to long for physical enjoyment far sooner than they have got to know the mood and the other peculiarities, so that it is uncertain whether they will still want to be friends when their desires are satisfied is; on the other hand, from those who are not in love, who have done this only after they have been friends for a long time, it is not at all to be assumed that precisely what has happened good to them should diminish the friendship, but rather this will remain as a memorial for that, what will happen in the future. Yes, you will also gain more weight if you give me a hearing than if you give a lover a hearing. Because they also praise the better what you say and do, some things out of fear of making yourself uncomfortable, others because they themselves keep up with the worse because of their desire. Because love has to show such things, it makes the unhappy, even that which causes no unpleasantness to others, consider tormenting, but the happy it compels, even on that which is not worthy of pleasure, to waste their praise. So that one should pity one's loved ones far more than envy them. But if you give me a hearing, I will first not only take care of the momentary pleasure, but also the future benefit to be expected in my dealings, not conquered by passion, but conquering myself, also causing violent conflict over little things, but first slowly giving room to mild displeasure about important things, forgiving the unpredictable, trying to avert the deliberate. Because these are the hallmarks of a long-term friendship. But if this occurs to you, that a friendship cannot possibly be strong unless someone loves passionately: then you have to consider that we would then neither hold our children very worthy, nor our parents, nor even friends who could be loyal to it did not come from such a desire, but from some other impulse. Furthermore, if one is to please those most in need: then also others would have to do good not to the most excellent but to the most helpless; for freed from the greatest evils, they will also thank them most. Yes, everyone would not have to invite friends to his special celebrations, but rather ask for alms and those who need to be satisfied. Because they will be devoted to the giver, and wait for him at home and outside, and be most pleased, and not feel the least appreciation, and wish him much good.Rather, it is equally advisable not to show oneself pleasing to those who are very needy, but to those who can prove their appreciation most, and not to the passionate (234) alone, but to those who are worthy of the cause, nor to all those who are good to you Want to enjoy youth, but which will also tell the elderly of their own good; bragging not to those who have their wish granted against the rest, but to those who will be ashamed to keep silent about everyone; not to those who only care about you for a short time, but to those who will be your friends in the same way throughout your life; even to those who, after satisfied lust, are only looking for a pretext for discord, but who, when youth has passed, will then prove their virtue. So you think of what has been said, and also consider this, that lovers are scolded by their friends as a bad undertaking, but that no one of the relatives has ever reprimanded those who are not passionate, as if they were deliberating worse because of it. But perhaps you would like to ask me whether I seem to please everyone who is not in love; But I think that even a person in love will not call you to have this attitude towards all those in love. Because neither would it be worthy of the same thanks to the one who thought it over properly, nor would it be so easily possible for you, since you want to remain hidden from others. However, this should not cause harm at all, but rather benefit both. I now consider what has been said to be sufficient, but if you still miss something that would have been ignored, then ask.

Well, Socrates, what do you think of the speech? Isn't it that it is beautifully worked both in the rest and especially in the expression?

Socrates: Quite divine, friend, so that I am beside myself. And this you did to me, O Phaedrus, by looking at you, and you seemed to me to shine with joy over the speech while reading. Because with the thought that you understand more of these things than I do, I followed you, and so afterwards I have always been delighted with you, wonderful soul.

Phaedrus: Well! is that how you mean to be joking?

Socrates: Do you think I'm joking, and don't you mean it?

Phaedrus: Of course not, Socrates. But in truth tell me by the Zeus of Friendship, do you think that any other Hellene could say something greater than this and more about the same thing?

Socrates: How then? You and me should also praise your speech about this, that the author said the right thing, and not just because he turned all the words so smoothly and precisely with a firm hand? If it is to be, I have to admit to please you. Because I missed it because of my inability, because I only paid attention to the oratory in it, and I thought Lysias herself would not consider this to be sufficient. Indeed, if you don't mean it differently, he seemed to me to say the same thing two or three times to Phaedrus, as if it wasn't easy for him to talk a lot about the same thing, or perhaps he didn't care about it at all. And that is why he seemed to me like a young person who takes pleasure in showing that he is able to speak excellently in both cases by expressing this thing differently now.

Phaedrus: Nothing has been said, Socrates. For this is precisely what is particularly well found in the speech. For what was proper to say in the matter, it did not ignore anything, so that no one can ever say anything bigger and better than what he mentioned.

Socrates: I will no longer be able to believe you this. Because wise men and women of old, who have just spoken and written about this, will denounce me if I allow you to please.

Phaedrus: Who are they? and where have you heard better than this?

Socrates: I can't tell right now; but apparently I have heard such things from someone, either from the beautiful Sappho or from the wise Anacreon, or from writers in unrestricted speech. Where do I conclude this from? Absolutely yes, you dear, I feel that I have completely different things to say than that, and not worse than that. I know for sure that I have not devised any of this from myself, since I am aware of my lack of understanding. So all that remains is that I have been filled from strange currents by listening, like a vessel; but out of silliness I've already forgotten how and from whom I heard it.

Phaedrus: Well, you splendid man, this was excellently spoken. So you should tell me from whom and how you own it, even if I don't ask you to. Just do what you say to me. You promise me that what is in my book, including other things, will say better and not less. On the other hand, I promise you, like the Nine Archons, to worship a golden statue the size of life after Delphi, and not only mine, but yours as well.

Socrates: You are a very dear and really golden person to me, Phaedrus, if you think I claim that Lysias has completely missed the point and that it is possible to say nothing but other things than he. But I do not think that even the worst writer can encounter this. Right here, what you are talking about, who do you mean when he wanted to prove that one ought to be more willing to the person who is not in love than to the person who is in love, but neglect to praise the understanding of the one and to blame the incomprehensibility of the other, which is absolutely necessary then would anything else be able to say? Rather, I believe that something like that must be left behind and given to the speaker; and in the like, not the invention, but only the arrangement is to be praised, in what is unnecessary and harder to find but apart from the arrangement also the invention.

Phaedrus: I admit what you say; because you think you have spoken to me quite cheaply. So that's how I want to do it. I will allow you to assume that the person who is in love is more sick than the person who is not in love, and if you only say something else, more and better than Lysias, you should still stand next to the Cypselid consecration gift from hammered work in Olympia.

Socrates: You are serious about it, Phaedrus, that I attacked your darling in order to tease you, and you think I will really try to say something else that is nicer beyond his art.

Phaedrus: As for this now, friend, you are now giving me the same nakedness. Because you definitely have to talk now, just as you can. But so that we don't have to go through all the annoying fun of the comedy, giving the same thing back to one another: so be careful and don't force me to tell you that first: If I, O Socrates, don't know Socrates, I have to myself too have forgotten himself, and he felt like talking, but made the brittle; but remember that we will not leave until you have spoken what you claim to be carrying in your chest. We're all lonely here alone, and I'm the stronger and younger. Now hear what I mean from all of this, and don't want to be forced to speak rather than voluntarily.

Socrates: But you heavenly Phaedrus, I will make a fool of myself if, after an excellent artist, I talk to ignoramuses unprepared about the same thing.

Phaedrus: Do you know how it is? Cease to grace yourself against me; otherwise I know something to say, with which I can force you to speak right away.

Socrates: So don't say it that way.

Phaedrus: Not at all, I will say it straight away, and the speech should be an oath to me. So I swear to you, yes by which god? or do you want to go to this plane tree? that verily, if you do not speak to me here in the face of yourself, I will never neither repeat nor denounce to you any other speech by nobody.

Socrates: Alas! You bad guy! How well have you found the compulsion for a conversational man to do what you only desire.

Phaedrus: So what have you got that you are still reluctant?

Socrates: Oh, nothing since you swore this. Because how could I resist such a lure?

(237) Phaedrus: So speak.

Socrates: Do you know how to do it?

Phaedrus: With what?

Socrates: I want to speak veiled so that I can chase through the speech as quickly as possible and not get confused out of shame when I look at you.

Phaedrus: Just speak, and by the way, do it what you want.

Socrates: Well then, O muses! You may now be called the high-throated ones because of a kind of singing, or you may use this name after the long-necked sex of the clay-rich swans, engage with me in the work of speech which this excellent man compelled me to speak, with only his friend, who has always been to him seemed to be artful, now seemed even more so to him.

So it was a boy, or rather a half-grown youth, he was very beautiful, and the lover had a great many. One of these was very cunning, who nevertheless persuaded the boy, with whom he was no less in love than one, that it was not him; and once, when he penetrated him too, he persuaded him to do just that, that he must favor the non-in-love over the in-love. So he was talking.

In all things, my child, there is only one beginning for those who want to advise properly: they must know what they are counseling about, or they will necessarily fail to do so. Most now do not notice that they do not know the essence of things. As if they knew it, do not agree on it at the beginning of the investigation, and then pay the fee as it progresses, for you are neither in agreement with yourself nor with each other. So don't hit me and you, what we reproach others for, but since you and I have the question of whether it is better to establish friendship with someone who is in love or not: so let us talk about love, what it is and what power it has, unanimously stipulating a declaration, and then investigating with respect to and relating to it, whether it produces benefits or harm. Everyone confesses that love is a desire; but again we know that lovers also do not desire the beautiful either. So how do we want to distinguish between the lover and the other? We must therefore notice that in each of us there are two ruling and leading instincts, which we follow as they lead, an innate desire for pleasure and an acquired disposition which strives for the best. These two soon agree in us, sometimes also disagree, because now this one, then the other again, wins. (238) If now the disposition guides and rules us for the better through reason, then this government is called prudence; but if desire draws unreasonably to lust and rules in us, this rule is called sacrilege. But sacrilege has many names: for it is many-part and many-sided. And the preference gained by chance from these species bears its own name to name the one who owns it, one that is neither beautiful nor desirable. For a desire directed towards the good taste of the food, which conquers reason and other desires, is called feasting, and will also give the person who cherishes it the same name. But those on the drink, when they dominate the one who cherishes them and leads him there, it is clear what nickname they will receive; and so are the other names belonging to these related desires, as everyone is entitled to be called when they rule, are known. And for what sake what has been said so far is probably already evident, but this too, expressly said, will become clearer than if it were not said. Namely, the unreasonable desire that dominates that attitude striving for the better, led to the lust for beauty, and in turn led by the related desires for the beauty of the bodies, when it has strengthened itself vigorously and won the victory in the line, receives from hers Objects, the body, the name, and is called love. - However, dear Phaedrus, does it seem to you, as well as to myself, that something divine has transformed me?

Phaedrus: Indeed, O Socrates, you have been seized by a very unusual flow of speech.

Socrates: Quiet then, keep listening to me. Because in truth this place seems to be divine, so that if I am caught by the nymphs in the pursuit of the talk, you just shouldn't be surprised. Because even now I'm not far from dithyrambs.

Phaedrus: That's right.

Socrates: You are the cause of this. But listen to the rest, otherwise what has come upon me might want to be scared away. God may take care of that, but we have to turn to the boy again with our speech.

Well then, my dear fellow, what is what we are discussing has now been said and determined. In relation to this, let us discuss the rest of what advantage or harm is likely to lie ahead of the loving or non-loving of the compliant. Now the one ruled by desire and serving pleasure will necessarily seek to prepare the beloved for himself in the most pleasant way. But to the patient everything not resisting is agreeable, (239) the same and stronger things are hated. So neither better nor like himself will a lover like to suffer his darling, but will always make him weaker and more imperfect. But the foolish is weaker than the wise, the cowardly as the brave, the impertinent as the oratorical, the slow as the quick-thinker. Such and still other evils, if they arise in the mind of the beloved or inhabit naturally, must please the lover, sometimes he must also promote them himself or see himself deprived of what is currently pleasant. So he must be jealous, and if he keeps him from other useful connections, through which most of all a man could become of him, cause him great harm, but the greatest harm to that which would make him wise in the real sense. Now this is the divine love of wisdom, from which the lover is certain to keep the darling far away for fear of becoming contemptible to him, and will also use everything so that he is forced to look at the lover ignorantly in all things and in everything, such a thing is as it is most pleasurable for him, but just as bad for himself. For the soul, then, a wholesome overseer or companion is in no way the man who cherishes love. But how the body, of which he has become master, education and care and what kind of person he will take care of who is forced to strive for the pleasant instead of the good, that we must see next. It will be shown, however, that he looks for a soft and not a hard one, not one who grew up in the pure sunshine, but rather unfamiliar in the dull shade, male work and strenuous physical exercise, but used to a tender and unmanly way of life, with strange colors and decorations graceful for lack of one's own, and whatever else has to do with it, everything is diligent. We will turn to something else that is known and does not need to go any further, but that we have set up one thing in general. With such a body, in war as in other urgent needs, one will certainly instill courage in enemies, but anxiety in friends and lovers themselves. So this we want to pass by as known, and the following show what advantage or damage to the possession of the lover's company and guardianship will cause us. Now it is obvious to everyone, and most of all to the lover, that he wishes to see the beloved orphaned in front of all of the dearest, most beneficial and most divine of all possessions. For he would like to see his father and mother, relatives and friends torn away from him, since he regards them as disruptors and blasphemers in the most pleasant way to deal with him. But neither can he regard the wealthy in gold or other property to be just as easy to conquer, nor, if this is done, to be easy to handle. Why then necessarily the lover grudges the darling when he has wealth, but it gets lost enjoying himself. Furthermore, celibate, childless, hearthless must wish to see the lover's darling for as long as possible, yearning to enjoy the sweet fruit for the longest possible time. There are, of course, other perishable things, but a demon has mixed with most of them an immediate pleasure; like the flatterer, a terrible animal and great evil, nature has mixed a not uneducated pleasure. One could also criticize a hetaera as perishable, and whatever else one cherishes and cares for, although it is always found that it is very pleasant for the moment; but to the darling, the lover, next to the perishable, is also extremely unpleasant in daily dealings. Because equal and equal to years, says the old saying, delight one another, because, I believe, the equality of age leads to equal amusements through this resemblance to friendship.And yet there is weariness even in the company of such. But what is forced, it is said, is certainly a nuisance to everyone, in all things, and this, apart from the dissimilarity, is particularly found in the lover's dealings with the darling. Thus, in loving, it is both pernicious and repulsive to him; but if love has ceased, he is faithless to him for the future, for which he previously barely held so many promises with many oaths and pleadings that he endured the unpleasant intercourse in the hope of gain. Then, when he is supposed to fulfill, he has already taken in another master and leader, understanding and prudence instead of love and madness, and has become another unnoticed by his darling. So he asks for thanks for what happened at that time by reminding him of word and deed as if he were still talking to the same person. The former, however, does not want to dare to confess out of shame that he has become someone else, nor does he also know how to fulfill the oaths and promises from the then incomprehensible time, now that he has come to his understanding and has come to terms, without, if he just acts like the former, also becoming like him and becoming the same again. So now he becomes an outlier, and inevitably renouncing the former lover, now that the shard has fallen differently, on his part goes on the run. The other, however, has to pursue him, unwilling and cursing, because he did not understand the whole thing from the beginning, namely that he should never have consented to those in love and therefore necessarily incomprehensible, but rather to those who were not in love and who understood; but if not, he would then always give himself up to someone who is faithless, an envious, arduous, disgusting, perishable one for his property, also perishable for the efficiency of his body, but most perniciously for the development of his soul, which is neither for men nor for gods in truth, something more precious neither gives nor can ever give. So you have to consider this, oh boy, and get to know the friendship of the lover, that it is not of a benevolent nature, but that only according to the type of food for the sake of satisfaction, just as wolves love the lamb so much the boy who is in love.

There you have it, Phaedrus! You shouldn't hear me speak any further, but the speech should end here.

Phaedrus: But I thought it was only halfway through, and would now say the same thing about the man who was not in love, that one had to go along with him by showing what is good about him. So why, O Socrates, do you stop now?

Socrates: Have you not noticed, you blessed one, that I am already speaking verses, no longer just dithyrambs, and that still while I am rebuking? If I only start to praise the other, what do you think it will be? Do you know well that I will be completely delighted by the nymphs to whom you deliberately accused me? So I can only say in one word that why we vilified one, the other was accompanied by the opposing good. What does a long speech take? Because enough has been said about both, and so what may happen to the fairy tale, but I'll go back over this river before you force me to do something even worse.

(242) Phaedrus: Not just now, Socrates, until the heat passes. Or don't you see that the sun is right at noon? But let's stay here and talk about what we have said until we can leave as soon as it has cooled down.

Socrates: You are divine as far as speech is concerned, Phaedrus, and you are right to be admired. For I believe that of all the speeches you have spoken during your life, no one has brought to light more than you, some speaking yourself, others in some way necessitating others. I will exclude Simmias the Theban, you surpass the rest by far. Now again you seem to me to have caused a speech to be made.

Phaedrus: You are not announcing a war to me. But how and what kind of speech?

Socrates: When I was about to go through the river, dear fellow, the divine and the usual sign reported to me, which always keeps me away when I want to do something and I thought I heard a voice from there that defended me to go away before purifying myself, as if I have sinned against the Godhead. Now I am also a fortune teller, not a great one, but just like those who write badly as much as I need for myself. So I already know exactly what sin is. Like a prophetic being, friend, the soul is also. Because something had worried me long after I was still speaking, and I was afraid after Ibykos, whether I might not trade vain glory from men for gods. But now I know the sin.

Phaedrus: Which do you mean?

Socrates: You brought a bad speech, Phaedrus, a very bad one yourself, and you made me speak too.

Phaedrus: Why is that?

Socrates: A simple-minded and also somewhat nefarious; and what worse could there be?

Phaedrus: Definitely not, if you are right.

Socrates: How then? Do you not consider Eros to be the son of Aphrodite and a god?

Phaedrus: That is what they say about him.

Socrates: But Lysias does not say it, nor your speech, which was spoken through my mouth, which was enchanted by you. So if, as it is, Eros is a god and love is something divine, then it cannot be something bad. But the previous speeches both spoke of her as if she were this. Thus by this they sinned against Eros; but next to that, their simplicity is also very good, that without having said anything healthy or true, they look to themselves as if they were something, if they might deceive some people to assert themselves with them. So I, friend, must purify myself. But there is an old purification for those who sin in poetry about the gods, about which Homeros knew nothing, but Stesichoros did. Because when he was robbed of his eyes for insulting Helena, the cause was not unknown to him, as was the case with Homeros, but as a confidante of the muses he recognized it, and immediately wrote his "This speech is untrue, because you never boarded the graceful ships, nor did you ever come to the feast of Troy ', and after he wrote the whole so-called revocation, he became as
ld seeing again. I now want to be wiser than him in this. Because before something bad happens to me because of insulting eros, I will try to pay him the revocation with a bare head and not, as before, with a veiled head out of shame.

Phaedrus: You couldn't say anything more pleasant than this, Socrates.

Socrates: And do you see it, my good Phaedrus, how shamelessly the two speeches spoke, the last as well as the one read from the book? For if a noble man of gentle disposition and who loves one of those people, or has ever loved one before, had listened to us when we said that lovers provoke great disputes over trifles and that they are unfavorable and pernicious to loved ones: don't you think he would believe to hear those who grew up among boatmen never seen a decent love? and that much would be missing, that he should agree with us in what we criticized love?

Phaedrus: Perhaps with Zeus, Socrates.

Socrates: Out of shame before this, and out of fear of Eros itself, I want to wash down the taste of the sea with a drinkable speech, as it were. But I also advise Lysias to write as soon as possible to the effect that one must agree to the lover rather than the non-loving, if everything else is the same.

Phaedrus: Just be assured that it is sure to happen that way. For if you have given the lover's praise, then I must necessarily compel Lysias to write a speech about this too.

Socrates: I like to think so, as long as you stay who you are.

Phaedrus: So take courage and talk.

Socrates: But where is the boy to whom I spoke? so that he hears this too, and does not, for example, rashly indulge in the unloving.

Phaedrus: He is always very close to you, as often as you want.

Socrates: Know then, beautiful boy, that the previous speech came from the Myrrhinusian Phaedrus, the son of Pythocles; but the one I want to speak now is from the Stesichoros from Himera, the son of Euphemos. But this is how it must be spoken: That speech is untrue which asserts that if a lover is there, one must rather agree to the non-loving, because that one is insane, but the other is senseless. For if, of course, it was accepted without reservation that madness is an evil, then this would have been spoken: now, however, the greatest goods arise for us from madness, which, however, is bestowed by divine favor. Because the prophetess at Delphi and the priestesses at Dodone madly devoted a lot of good things to special and public affairs of our Hellas, but if they were reasonably poor or nothing at all. If we also wanted to cite Sibylla, and what else helped many others predictively for the future through enthusiastic fortune-telling, we would get bored with telling well-known things. But it is worth mentioning that even among the ancients who established the names, insanity did not consider insanity to be something shameful or an insult, because otherwise they would not weave this very name into the noblest art by which the future is judged would have named the delusional art; but believing that it is something beautiful when it arises through divine fate, in this opinion they introduced the name. And because the newer ones have awkwardly put the R into it instead of the N, and they are called fortune-telling. In the same way they called that other research of the future carried out by prudent people through birds and other signs, since these consciously provide insight and science to human opinion, called knowledge-telling, which the newer have now magnificently transformed into prophecies with the broad double sound. As much holier and honorable as that fortune-telling is than this prophecy, in terms of name and matter, so much more excellent is a divine madness than a mere human understanding, even according to the testimony of the ancients. In the same way, from illnesses and the most serious plagues, as they were inflicted on some generations out of old anger, madness has entered and expressed for whom it was need, found salvation, which flees to prayers and worship of the gods and thereby obtains cleansing customs and secrets, secured each of its partners for the present and future times, inventing the solution of the prevailing tribulations for the properly mad and obsessed. The third (245) enthusiasm and madness of the muses seizes a tender and sacred soul, exciting and firing, and embellishing a thousand deeds of the forefathers in festive chants and other works of poetry, it forms the offspring. But whoever finds himself in the vestibules of poetry without this madness of the muses, believing that he can become a poet through art alone, is himself unconsecrated, and his, the understanding poetry, is also obscured by that of the madman. So much and much more I can boast of the madness that comes from the gods, glorious deeds. So that we do not want to shy away from this, nor let ourselves go astray in any speech that frightens us, that we should prefer the prudent as friends over the ecstatic; but only when it has demonstrated this in addition to that should it bear the price, namely that love is not sent by the gods to both the lover and the beloved for salvation. But we have to prove the opposite, that the gods bestow this madness to the greatest happiness. And this evidence will be incredible to the rationalists, but believable to the wise. First of all, nature, divine as well as human, must precede the soul by considering its actions and sufferings. The beginning of the proof is this. Every soul is immortal. Because that which is always in motion is immortal, but what moves something else, and is itself moved by something else, and therefore has a section of movement, also has a section of life. Only that which moves itself, because it never leaves itself, will never cease to be moved, but everything that is moved is also the source and the beginning of movement. But the beginning has not come about. For everything that arises must arise from the beginning, but he himself must arise from nothing. Because if the beginning emerged from something, nothing would emerge from the beginning. But since it did not arise, it must necessarily also be immortal. Because if the beginning went under, neither it could ever arise from something else, nor anything else from it, since everything should arise from the beginning. Accordingly, the beginning of the movement is that which moves itself; But this can neither set nor arise, or the whole heaven and the whole production would have to stand still coincidentally and have nothing moved from where they could arise in turn. Now that that which moves by itself has shown itself to be immortal, one should not be ashamed to explain this as the essence and concept of the soul. Because every body that can only be moved from outside is called inanimate, but which has it in itself, animated, as if this were the nature of the soul. But if this behaves in such a way that that which is itself moving is nothing other than the soul, then the soul is necessarily also undeveloped and immortal. Let this be enough of her immortality; But we must say of its essence that, as it is in itself, there is a divine and extensive investigation everywhere in every way, but with what it can be compared, this is a human and easier one. So that's the way we have to talk about it. It therefore resembles the coalesced strength of a feathered team and its leader. The gods' horses and leaders are all good and of good descent themselves, but the others are mixed up. At first the leader reins in the team, soon one of the horses is good and noble and of such origin, the other one of opposite descent and quality. Steering is therefore of course difficult and tedious for us. We must also try to explain where the names of mortal and immortal animals come from. Everything that is soul rules over everything that is inanimate, and runs through the whole sky showing itself differently in different forms. The now perfect and feathered floats in the higher regions, and rules through the whole world; but the deflowered floats around until it meets a rigid one, where it now resides, assumes an earthy body, which now seems to move itself through its strength, and this whole, soul and body joined together, is then called an animal, and gets the nickname mortal; immortal but not for any proven reason, but we form ourselves without having seen God nor sufficiently recognizing an immortal animal, as well as having a soul and a body, but united both together for eternity. But this behaves as it pleases God, and let us only speak of it that way. Now let us consider the cause of the loss of plumage, why it falls out of the soul. But it is this: The power of the plumage consists in lifting the heavy up to where the race of the gods dwell. It also primarily communicates to the soul what the divine body is. For the divine is the beautiful, the wise, the good and what is like it. From this the plumage of the soul is nourished and grows, but through the misshapen, the evil and what is otherwise opposite to that, it wears away and perishes. The great ruler in heaven, Zeus, now steering his winged chariot, pulls out the first, arranging and supplying everything, and the band of gods and spirits follows him in eleven trains. For Hestia remains alone in the house of the gods. (247) But all others, who are ordered to the number of twelve as ruling gods, lead in the order that is assigned to each. There is now a lot of wonderful things to look at and to commit within heaven, to which the blessed gods turn each one doing his own thing. But it follows whoever wants and can every time: because envy is banished from the divine chorus. But when they go to the feast and the meal, and rise quite steeply towards the outermost sub-heavenly arch: then the gods' chariots with the same well-restrained team always go easily, but the others only with difficulty. Because the horse, which has something bad about itself, if it is not very well trained by its guide, bends down to the ground and presses with all its weight, from which a lot of complaint and the extreme struggle of the soul arise.For those named immortal, when they have come to the outermost edge, turn outwards, and thus stand on the back of heaven, and standing here the change sweeps them away, and they see what is outside of heaven. But none of the poets here has ever sung about the heavenly place, nor will anyone ever sing about it to their dignity. But it is made like that, because I have to dare to describe it according to the truth, especially since I have to speak of the truth. The colorless, formless, materialless, truthful being has only the soul's guide, reason, for the beholder, around which the genus of true science occupies that place. Since God's understanding is now nourished by unmixed reason and science, like every soul, which should receive what it is due: they are happy to see what is true once again, and nourish themselves on contemplation of truth, and let themselves be well until the Reversal brought it back to the previous place. In this circulation they now see justice itself, prudence and science, not that which has an origin, nor which is yet another, for each other of the things that we call real, but that in what is true The true science that is in existence, and so also of the other the true being, the soul sees, and when it has refreshed itself in it, it dives again into the interior of heaven and returns home. When she has arrived there: the guide puts the horses in the manger, throws them ambrosia and soaks them with nectar. Now this is the gods' way of life. (248) Of the other souls, however, some who best followed and imitated God were able to stretch the head of the guide out into the outer place, and thus complete the turnaround, but fearful of the horses and scarcely seeing what was; others sometimes got up and then went back into hiding, so that they saw some things in the enormous resistance of the horses, but nothing else. The rest of them all follow the above, striving towards the top, but impossibly they are driven around in the lower room, only kicking and pushing each other, each trying to get ahead of the other. Turmoil now arises, quarrels and a sweat of fear, whereby through the guilt of bad leaders many are mutilated, many plumage is damaged; but all of them leave after much complaints they have suffered, irrespective of the view of beings, and so gone they stick to what appears to be nourishment. But why so great zeal to see the truth field where it is; Namely, the willow that is appropriate to the noblest of the soul comes from those meadows, and the plumage power by which the soul is lifted nourishes from it, and this is the law of Adrasteia, that which soul has seen something of as God's companion the truthful that it will not suffer any damage until the next move, and if it can always do this, it will always remain unharmed. Among all these, whoever lives justly receives a better part, whoever unfairly receives a worse part. For it does not return to where every soul comes from for less than ten thousand years, for it is not feathered earlier than (249) during such a time, except for the soul of him who philosophized without falsehood or who did not love boys unphilosophically. In the third thousand-year period, if they have chosen the same life three times in a row, that is, after three thousand years, they can return home feathered. But the rest of them, when they have completed their first life, will go to court. And after this judgment some go to the underground breeding places, where they pay for their rights; Others, however, relieved by law in a place in heaven, live there according to the life which they led in human form. In the millennium, however, both kinds of souls get to the raffle and choice of the second life, which each chooses as she wants. Then a human soul can also pass over into an animal life, and an animal that was previously human can again become human. Because someone who has never seen the truth can never assume this form, because man has to understand what is expressed according to species, which emerges as one from many perceptions summarized by the intellect. And this is a reminder of what our soul once saw, walking after God and overlooking what we now consider to be real, and our head lifted up to what is true. Therefore, only the philosopher's soul is rightly feathered: for it is always as much possible with the memory of those things in which God is therefore divine. So making good use of such memories, always consecrated with perfect consecration, a man alone can become truly perfect. As he abstains from human endeavors and deals with the divine, he is probably scolded by people as confused, but people do not notice that he is enthusiastic. And here we have come to the whole talk of that fourth kind of madness, in which the one who, at the sight of the local beauty of that true, reminiscent of the feathered, tries to fly up with the growing plumage, but ineffectually and only upwards like a bird looking, and what is below neglecting, is accused of being mentally ill, namely that this proves to be the noblest of all enthusiasm and the noblest origin, both of whom it has and to whom it communicates, and that who this Madly partaking of the beautiful who is called a lover. Namely, as already said, every soul of a person must indeed have seen beings according to their nature, or it would not have come into this structure (250); But remembering that with the one here is not easy for everyone, neither for those who only saw it poorly, nor for those who, after having fallen here, suffered a misfortune that somehow led them to injustice through intercourse, the previously seen sacred forgotten; yes, there are few left who are strongly enough remembered. Now, when they see an image of the one there, they are delighted and are no longer in control of themselves, but what actually happens to them they do not know because they do not see through it enough. For justice, prudence, and whatever else is dear to the soul, local images have no shine, but with cloudy tools only a few of them can with difficulty recognize those images approaching the gender shown. The beauty, however, was splendid to behold at that time, when with the blessed chorus we enjoyed the most glorious sight and spectacle following Jupiter, others followed another god and were consecrated in a secret, which one can probably call the most blessed, and which we celebrated, blameless even and unaffected by the evils that awaited us for the future time, and thus also prepared for blameless, unadulterated, unchangeable, blessed visions and consecrated in pure splendor, pure and unencumbered by this body of ours, as we call it, which we now carry around with us imprisoned like a shellfish. This may be given to memory, for the sake of which it has now been discussed in more detail out of longing for the former. As for beauty, as I said, it already shone walking among them, and now that we have come here too, we have apprehended it through the brightest of our senses, shimmering brightly towards us. For the face is the keenest of all bodily senses, through which, however, wisdom is not seen, for too violent love would arise if such a bright likeness were presented to us through the face, nor the other amiable one; but this has only become part of beauty, that it is the most illuminating and the most lovable to us. Who is not still fresh in memory, or is already spoiled, is not drawn violently from here to the beauty itself, by seeing what here bears its name; so that he does not adore it by looking at it, but devoted to lust he intends to mingle in an animal way and approaching it roughly he is not afraid nor is he unnaturally afraid to pursue lust. (251) But whoever still has fresh consecration in himself, and has seen the former in many ways, when he sees a god-like face or a figure of the body that perfectly depicts beauty: so he shudders at first, and something changes him from the former Fears, but afterwards he worships her looking at her like a god and if he did not fear the call of exaggerated madness, then he also sacrificed his darling, like a holy image or a god. And when he has seen him, as after the shudder of the fever, he is overwhelmed by transformation and sweat and unusual heat. For he is warmed through by taking in the outflow of beauty through his eyes, through which his plumage is, as it were, watered. If it is warmed through, then around the germs of the plumage melts away what has long hardened them and prevented them from sprouting out. But if food flows in, the keel of the plumage swells and drives to emerge from the root all over the soul, because it was previously completely feathered. So everything about her is fermenting and bubbling up, and what the ends of the teeth feel on their teeth when they break out, itching and irritation in the gums, that is what the soul of the person whose plumage is beginning to break out also feels, it heats in her, and she itches and tickles her when she drives out the plumage. So when she also sees the boy's beauty and the parts flowing out and tearing away from it, which are therefore called stimuli, are fertilized and warmed up by absorbing the stimulus: then she has relief from the pain and is happy. But if it is separated from it and becomes dry: then again the mouths of those ways out, where the plumage breaks through, by shrinking close, inhibit the instinct of the plumage. This, therefore, enclosed with the stimulus, jumps like the beating veins, and stings everywhere against the openings intended for it, so that the whole soul rages around, spiked from all sides and is frightened; but if she has memories of the beautiful again, she rejoices. Since the two are now so mixed with each other, she is worried about such a nonsensical state, and this restlessness causes her mental confusion, and with this madness she can neither sleep at night nor endure anywhere during the day, but rather she hurries longingly where she hopes to see the one who possesses beauty. If she has now seen him and has taken on a new stimulus: then what was previously clogged dissolves again; it recovers by stopping the stitches and pains, and for the moment again tastes that sweetest pleasure. (252) Hence she does not leave the beautiful person willingly, nor respect anyone more than him, but forget all of her mother, brothers and friends, regard negligently ruined prosperity for nothing, and even the decent and moral, with which she otherwise cares took the most exact, putting it aside completely, she is ready how close it can be to serve the object of her desire and to rest with it. For next to her admiration she found in the owner of beauty the only doctor for the most unbearable pain. Now, oh beautiful boy to whom I am speaking, people call this state of affairs love, but as it is called by the gods, hearing this you will perhaps smile because of the novelty. For some Homerides have, I believe, among their unknown poems, two verses on love, one of which is very frivolous and not at all pleasant. They sing like this: "Mortals are now called the god of winged love: gods of wings, because he drives out the plumage with power." You are free to believe or not; nevertheless, this is in truth the condition of the lovers and its cause. Those who are taken with it from among the companions of Zeus can bear the pain of the one who is called the wing stronger. But if those of Ares were servants and walked with him, are caught by love, and believe in something to be offended by the beloved, these are bloodthirsty and ready to sacrifice themselves and the darling. And just like every other god, to whose line someone belonged, namely, everyone lives honoring and imitating him as long as he is still unspoiled, and lives through the local first existence, and in this sense he also treats his Beloved and the rest, and behaves against them. So everyone chooses a love for a beautiful person according to his temperament, and as if he were his God himself, he trains him and adorns him like a holy image in order to venerate him and to celebrate enthusiastic festivals. So those who belong to Zeus seek that their lover is a soul more like Zeus. Hence they watch where one is philosophical and leading by nature; and when they have found and loved one, they do everything to make him really one. So if you never preoccupied yourself with this matter, you will now learn by working hard in it, wherever you can from, and also investigate yourself. And by tracing within themselves, they succeed in discovering the nature of their God, (253) because they are forced to look hard at the God, and by apprehending him in memory, they enthusiastically accept customs and aspirations from him, as far as it is possible for a person to be overcome by a god, and ascribing this to the beloved, they cling to him even more; and when they draw from Zeus like the Bacchantes, they pour it on the beloved's soul and make him, as much as possible, like their God. But those who followed the here look for a royal one, and when they find him, they do the same with him in every respect. So also the worshipers of Apollo and every god look for their boys similar to God, and when they have found him, then they guide him to the same God's way of life and temperament by imitating him themselves and also persuading the darling and in proportion add how much each one can, without giving room to envy or ignoble disapproval towards the beloved, but trying to the best and in every way to every resemblance to themselves and to God, they do it. So the zeal of the truly lovers, and consecration when they have achieved what they are zealous for, is how I describe them, so beautiful and happy, through the friend who is mad out of love to share with the beloved when he has conquered him. But it will be conquered in this way when it is found. As I divided each soul threefold at the beginning of this story, into two horseshoe-shaped parts and thirdly into those similar to the leader, so it remains accepted to us even now. Of the two horses, we said, one is good, but one is not. We did not explain what the excellence of good and bad badness is, but now we have to say it. That of the two, who occupies the better place, of straight stature, slightly articulated, high-necked, with a curved nose, white with hair, black-eyed, respectful with prudence and shame, true opinion friend, is directed without blows only by commands and words; the other, however, is hunchback, clumsy, badly built, hard-mouthed, short-necked, with an upturned nose, black of skin, glass-eyed and red underlaid, friendly to all wildness and stubbornness, rough around the ears, deaf, hardly obeying the whip and the sting. If now the leader, at the sight of the lovely figure, glows through his whole soul with sensation, (254) soon feels the sting of tickling and desire everywhere: then the horse, which easily obeys the leader, also gives in to shame as always, holds itself back to not jumping at the beloved; the other, however, is no longer afraid of the sting and whip of the leader, but leaps forward with force, and in every way aggravating the companion and the leader it compels them to go to the darling and to commemorate the gifts of lust against him. Those two reluctantly resist at first as a nefarious and nefarious coercion, but in the end, when the hardship is not over, they then walk away from the other, yielding and promising to do what is required, and so they come and look at the shining figure of their favorite. When the Führer sees her now, his memory is carried to the essence of beauty, and again he sees her with prudence standing on holy ground. Seeing this he is afraid, and imbued with awe he bends back, and at once cannot help but pull the reins so forcefully backwards that both horses sit on their hips, one of them willingly because it never resisted, the wild one extremely reluctantly.As they now go back further, one of them wets the whole soul with sweat with shame and admiration, but the other, when only the pain from the dentition and the trap is over, has hardly recovered, so it breaks out angrily in abuse, often both Insulting the Fiihrer and his peers for having abandoned duty and promises out of cowardice and unmanliness; and again forcing them to go forward against their will, hardly gives in when they ask to postpone it until further. Now when the appointed time comes, it reminds those who do not think about it, need violence, neighs, pulls them away with it, and forces them to approach their beloved again with the same intention. And when they are no longer far away, it bends over, stretches its tail upwards, bites the reins, and shamelessly pulls them on. But the guide only encounters the same thing as before, and as they usually do at the barriers, he leans backwards, pulling the bit out of the wild horse's teeth even more forcefully so that his disgraceful tongue and cheeks bleed, and thighs and holding hips to the ground, he atone for it. If the angry horse has suffered the same thing several times and has lost its savagery, it follows the guide's deliberation, humiliated, and is overwhelmed by fear at the sight of the beautiful. Hence it finally comes to the point that (255) the lover's soul, ashamed and shy, goes after the darling. Since this one god is honored with every kind of veneration, not only by a lover who behaves like that, but who is truly in this state, and he himself is naturally inclined to friendship, he guides his affection together that of his admirer, even if he had previously been falsely persuaded by some playmates or others who said it was shameful to approach a lover, and he therefore rejected the lover, but now in the course of time the youth and the inevitable caused him to admit to his intercourse. For it is never determined that an evil friend should become an evil one, or that a good person should not befriend a good person. But if he allows him and allows him to talk and socialize, the lover's near appearing benevolence will delight the beloved, who will soon realize that his other friends and relatives also prove to him as nothing of friendship in comparison to the enthusiastic one Friend. If he now lets him go for a while, and is close to him, then when he touches them in the practice areas and wherever they come together, the source of that stream that Zeus, when he loved Ganymedes, called charm, pours abundantly towards him Lover, and partly it flows into him, partly from him the filled up again: and like a wind or a sound bouncing off smooth and rigid bodies is driven back to where it came from, so does the outflow of beauty again the beautiful through the eyes, where the way into the soul goes back, and when they arrive there, it richly moisturizes the exits intended for the plumage, thus drives its growth, and also fills the beloved's soul with love. So he loves, but whom he does not know, not at all what he will encounter, he knows or can say it, but like someone who has had eye pain from someone else, he has no cause to indicate; for he does not know that he looks at himself as in a mirror in the lover. And if now that one is present, then like that one, too, he has liberation from the pain, but if he is absent, he also languishes as is yearned for him, afflicted with love shadows, love in return. He calls it, however, and does not believe it either love but friendship, but just as the latter wishes only less intensely to see him, to touch, to embrace him, to lie next to him, and so, as expected, he then does all of this soon . With this lying together, the lover's irrepressible horse has a lot to say to the guide, and demands a little enjoyment for the many troubles; the favorite has nothing to say, but full of fervent unknown desire it embraces the lover, kisses him, and caresses him as the best friend, and when they are together it would be inclined not to refuse, to please him in his part if he wished to obtain it. The spouse, on the other hand, with the Fiihrer resist this with shame and common sense. When the better parts of the soul, which lead to a well-ordered life and to the love of wisdom, achieve victory: they already lead a blissful and harmonious life here, self-ruling and decently having conquered that in their soul, the bad, and liberates that which is inhabited by the excellent; but if they die, they have almost become feathered and light, and of the three true Olympic fights they have already triumphed in one over which a good, even greater, can neither bring human prudence nor divine madness. If, however, they lead a less noble, not philosophical but honor-loving life, the two irrepressible steeds can easily find their souls unguarded during a drink or at another carefree moment and bring them together; that they choose and accomplish what the multitude considers the most blessed, and once they have accomplished it, they will now also enjoy it subsequently, but seldom, because what they do does not have the approval of the whole mind. As friends, therefore, even these, although not quite like them, will live with one another during their love and even if they are beyond it, convinced that they have given and accepted the greatest pledges to one another, which would be outrageous to ever invalidate again , and to get into enmity. In the end, however, they go out of the body without feathering, but already with the urge to feather themselves, so that they too bear no small reward for the madness of love. Because those who have already stepped into the heavenly path are not destined to get into darkness and the subterranean path, but to be happy walking with one another, leading a bright life, and when they are feathered again, it is because of love at the same time to become. These so great and so divine virtues, oh boy, will earn you the lover's friendship. But the intimacy with the non-loving, which diluted by mortal prudence and only distributes mortal and economical things, produces in the beloved soul that vulgarity praised by the multitude as a virtue, and becomes its cause for nine thousand years to hang around on earth, and senseless underground.

Let this be offered to you, beloved Eros, to the best of our abilities and paid for as a revocation, which, by the way, both as well as in the expression of Phaedrus, had to be grasped poetically. And would you, while applauding the previous forgiveness, favorably and graciously neither accept nor diminish the art of love that you have given me in anger. Rather grant me even more than to be honored by the beautiful now. But if we said something repulsive to you in the previous speech, Phaedrus and I: attribute it to Lysias as the father of this speech, and let him turn to the philosophy, to which his brother Polemarchus has already turned, abstaining from such speeches, so that he, too, no longer carries his admirer on both shoulders, as he does now, but merely dedicates his life to love with philosophical speeches.

Phaedrus: I pray with you, Socrates, that if this is better for us, it may happen that way. But I have long admired your speech, how much nicer than the first you worked it out. So that I doubt whether Lysias would not always seem insignificant to me if he wanted to undertake to contrast this with someone else. Also, one of our statesmen recently accused him of this as an insult and called him the speechwriter throughout the diatribe. So perhaps that he will abstain from writing because of his sensitivity.

Socrates: You utter ridiculous opinions, young man, and you will miss your friend very far if you think he is so timid. But maybe you even believe that whoever accused him of this as an insult meant what he said as he said it?

Phaedrus: That was obviously enough, Socrates. You yourself know as well as I do that everywhere in the state the wealthiest and most respected are ashamed to write speeches and to leave pamphlets of themselves for fear of being named as if they had been sophists in the future.

Socrates: You just don't know how this is connected, Phaedrus, and besides, you don't know that it is precisely the statesmen who seem to be the most likely to be most in love with writing speeches and leaving papers, because when they write a speech they are so much They are fond of their praise that they write right at the front by name who praises them each time.

Phaedrus: How do you mean this? because i don't understand

Socrates: You do not understand that at the beginning of a statesman's writing his praise is listed first?

Phaedrus: How so?

Socrates: It was liked, he says, the councilor or the people, or both, and so and so have suggested, with which the writer then very honorably mentions and praises his self. Only then does he continue to speak his wisdom to the praise, and sometimes write a very long script. Or does something like that seem quite different to you than a speech written in writing?

Phaedrus: Not to me.

Socrates: Isn't it true, if one of these stops, the poet goes happily out of the play, but if it is wiped out, and so he goes empty-handed when writing a speech and is not considered worthy of leaving a piece of writing, then he mourns with his own Friends?

Phaedrus: And very much.

Socrates: Obviously not as a despiser of business, but as a great admirer.

Phaedrus: Certainly.

Socrates: But how, if an orator or king succeeds in becoming an immortal speechwriter in his state with the prestige of Lycurgus, or Solon, or Darius, he does not consider himself alive as godlike, and do not think of them come from him after him when you look at his writings?

Phaedrus: Very much.

Socrates: So do you think that one of them, however much he dislikes Lysias, counts this as an insult to him for writing speeches?

Phaedrus: You cannot believe what you say, because he would have to abuse his own inclination.

Socrates: So it is probably clear to everyone that speaking writing is in itself nothing ugly.

Phaedrus: How should it?

Socrates: But I think that will be bad if someone doesn't speak and write nicely, but ugly and badly.

Phaedrus: Apparently.

Socrates: Now what is the way to write well or not? Shall we then examine Lysias, O Phaedrus, and who else has ever written or will write something, be it a state script or another, and in verse, like a poet, or without syllable measure, as a leaker.

Phaedrus: You ask if we want to? Why, so to speak, did anyone live, if not for such pleasure? But probably not for the sake of those before whom one must first feel displeasure, or even afterwards feel no pleasure, which almost all physical pleasures have in them, and are therefore rightly called low.

Socrates: We have leisure, it seems. The cicadas, too, as they tend to be in the heat, singing over our heads and talking to one another, seem to look down. (259) Even if they saw nothing better for us than others in the noon hour, not talking to us, but slumbering to them out of indolence, they would rightly mock us and think that a few servants had come to their stay, to sleep like sheep at noon by the spring. But if they saw us in a conversation, they would sail past them as sirens unintentionally; then they are allowed to tell us the gift which the gods have given them for human beings, as proof of their satisfaction.

Phaedrus: What kind of one do you have? Because I must never have heard of it.

Socrates: It does not look good for a friend of the Muses not to have heard such a thing. It is said that these were human beings from those before the time of the Muses. But when this was produced and the song appeared, some of the people of that time would have been so delighted with this pleasure that they would have forgotten food and drink while singing and would have died without being noticed. From which the race of the cicadas has arisen since then, endowed with this gift by the muses that they need no food from birth, but sing immediately without food or drink until they die, but then come to the muses and announce to them who each of them adored here. They report to the Terpsichore and recommend those whom they venerate in choirs, the Erato, whom they celebrate with love songs, and so to the rest, each according to their peculiar veneration. But to the eldest, Calliope, and her next sister, Urania, who, chiefly among the Muses above heaven and above divine and human speeches, utter the most beautiful tones, they proclaim those who live philosophically and honor their kind of music . So for many reasons we have to talk something and not sleep at noon.

Phaedrus: So let's talk.

Socrates: Do we now want to discuss what we have just set out to investigate, namely how to write well and correctly and how not to discuss it?

Phaedrus: Certainly.

Socrates: Now, where good and beautiful should be spoken, must the speaking understanding not recognize the true nature of what it wants to talk about?

Phaedrus: I have always heard that much more, dear Socrates, (260) whoever wants to become a speaker does not need to learn what is truly fair, but only what appears to the crowd that has to decide, and not so either, what is really good or beautiful, but only what will appear so; for persuasion is based on this, not on the real nature of the thing.

Socrates: A word should not be rejected, Phaedrus, what the wise men have spoken, but rather to investigate whether something true is not said by it. So we do not want to let go of what has now been said.

Phaedrus: Quite right.

Socrates: So let's look at it that way.

Phaedrus: How then?

Socrates: If I persuaded you that you should buy a horse to go against the enemy, but neither of us knew a horse, I only know this much about you that Phaedrus believes that the horse is the one among the tame animals, which has the longest ears.

Phaedrus: That would be ridiculous, Socrates.

Socrates: Not that yet, but if I were diligent in drafting a speech, praising the donkey, which I called a horse, and explaining how much the animal would be at home and in the field, useful to get down from it fencing, skilfully carrying luggage, and useful for many other things?

Phaedrus: Then this would be ridiculous beyond all measure.

Socrates: But isn't it better to be a ridiculous friend than a mighty and hostile friend?

Phaedrus: Apparently.

Socrates: So when the speech artist, ignorant of good and bad, takes on a state of the same nature and tries to persuade it, not praising a donkey as a horse, but an evil as a good, and after he has got to know the opinions of the people, persuaded him to do evil instead of good, what kind of fruit do you think the oratory would then be annoyed by what it sown?

Phaedrus: Not a special one.