Phaedrus

The transition from the allegory of the soul to the discussion on good writing is rather abrupt. In particular, the connection between Phaedrus’s praise of Socrates’s previous speech and the following discussion seems tenuous. The transition seems slightly more fitting if we grant, as considered in the previous section, that Socrates was indeed inspired by gods or spirits to give his speech. Having fulfilled his debt to the god of Love, Socrates is now free to resume speaking in his own voice. The transition between the first and second parts of the dialogue seems to make more sense the farther we get in to the discussion on rhetoric. It is only after a preliminary discussion that Socrates and Phaedrus agree to use Lysias’s speech as a case against which to test their opinions on good writing.

The myth that Socrates employs in this section is not allegorical, as is the case with the myth of the soul, but rather a way for him to reemphasize his appreciation of a life devoted to philosophy and the Muses. Suddenly the cicadas, which he can hear all around him, are made into a sort of “audience” for the rest of the dialogue. This is not stated explicitly by Socrates or Phaedrus, but if we accept the premise of the myth, the rest of the dialogue takes on a new significance: the cicadas will be listening in, determining whether Socrates and/or Phaedrus are worthy of reward from the Muses. Combined with Socrates’s previous reverence for the god of Love and local spirits, this shows an increasing supernatural awareness as the dialogue progresses.

Interestingly, Socrates tells this myth after having declared at the outset of the dialogue that nature is uninteresting to him: “The fields and trees teach me nothing” (26). In one sense, he is contradicting himself by using figures from the natural world to illustrate his point; in another sense, he is entirely consistent because the cicadas (according to the myth) are not actually cicadas, but men.