CHAPTER 1

Socratic Love in Neoplatonism

Geert Roskam

Introduction: A Tricky Question

In his famous speech at the end of Plato’s Symposium, Alcibiades aptly expresses his feelings of perplexity concerning Socrates. He complains that it is far from easy to recount in detail the latter’s singularity (ἀτοπίαν)¹ and assures his listeners that Socrates in outward appearance may look like an ugly satyr but in actuality has inside himself divine images of pure gold.² This duplicitous characterization fits in very well with Alcibiades’ own character (and with his drunken condition) but also perfectly suits the figure of Socrates and his notorious ambivalence. The opposition between outward ugliness and inner beauty is only one of the many contrastive elements that Socrates reconciled in his own person, a feat that often makes him an impalpable figure. One need only think of the admirable balance of παιδιά and σπουδή, frequently combined and crystallized in his notorious irony that so troubled Thrasymachus—and many later critics.³ Moreover, despite the fact that the god at Delphi declared that nobody was wiser than Socrates,⁴ and regardless of his repeated victories in intellectual debates, Socrates, time and again, underlines his own ignorance. He was a brilliant dialectician but also a brave soldier. He was known to be a heavy drinker but also a rigorous ascetic.⁵ He consistently avoided engaging in politics yet claimed to be the only true politician in Athens.⁶

It is not difficult to go on for a while like this, combining different, seemingly opposing elements of Socrates’ life and character, but the items above already suffice to understand Alcibiades’ perplexity. In many respects, Socrates seemed a walking contradiction, and it is particularly difficult—not to say impossible—to do full justice to all aspects of his intriguing personality. It is hardly surprising that many of these oppositions reappear in later ancient thinking about Socrates, sometimes even in a more radical form. Several philosophical schools that endorsed diametrically opposed views claimed to be the heirs of Socrates (Cynics and Cyrenaics, Stoics and Skeptics), and all sects elaborated diverse images of him. He was both despised as an Attic clown (scurra Atticus—the Epicurean view)⁷ and admired as the model par excellence of virtuous conduct (in the so-called Exemplum Socratis tradition).⁸ He was regarded as a would-be tyrant⁹ and as an inspiring paradigm of resistance against tyrants.¹⁰

Each age and each author thus developed their own view of Socrates. We may here recall and apply the insights of reception studies, which have rightly stressed the importance of the receiving context.¹¹ Socrates was no monolithic, fixed figure that remained far beyond each attempt at interpretation, a kind of eternal and sublime paradigm that always had to be imitated in the same way. Each period with its divergent social, literary, and/or ideological contexts creates a different image of Socrates, on the basis of creative reinterpretation and refiguration of the data provided by the ever-growing previous tradition. Later interpretations of Socrates can only be understood correctly through a careful study of the dynamics of this process of innovative adaptation.

This also holds true for the Neoplatonic view of Socrates. The Neoplatonists often gave attention to the figure of Socrates;¹² even a quick search in the Thesaurus Linguae Graecae reveals that his name occurs very frequently in the work of most Neoplatonists. Yet the TLG is not always the best place to start, and in this case I believe it is not. In fact, hardly any conclusion can be derived from the mere frequency of the name—it may often refer to Socrates as a character in one of Plato’s dialogues—and moreover, crucial passages about typically Socratic issues risk neglect. A broader approach is needed in order to examine whether the Neoplatonists could give a place in their systematic and well-structured philosophy to the philosopher who so eagerly looked for definitions but seemed to escape such definition himself. What is their image of Socrates, and how did they interpret his philosophical thinking? Did they still take him seriously as a contributor to philosophy, or did Plato and later Platonists necessarily take precedence over him? The present volume offers a rich and nuanced answer to these questions.

In this contribution, I deal with one aspect of this large question: how did the Neoplatonists think of the topic of Socratic eros? This is no doubt a very important aspect of Socrates’ portrait: erotic matters, indeed, were the only things Socrates claimed to know,¹³ and in all likelihood his penchant for beautiful youths did not go unnoticed in Athens. At the same time, Socratic eros also raises a particularly tricky problem. Already in the fourth century BCE there arose a debate about the question of how this Socratic love should be understood precisely. It is not clear whether Socrates’ fondness for handsome young lads laid the basis for the later formal accusation of corruption of the youth.¹⁴ Nevertheless, in later ancient literature, the perfectly honorable and chaste intention of Socrates’ love was often emphasized, as a reply to explicit or implicit attacks. Maximus of Tyre, for instance, devoted no fewer than four speeches to this topic, in which he emphasized that Socratic love concerned the beautiful souls of the young men and that he tried to make them virtuous in leading them toward true Beauty.¹⁵ Favorinus dealt with the issue in his work On Socrates and His Erotic Art, which is, unfortunately, no longer extant.¹⁶ In such contexts, two important questions were raised:

1.  How honorable was Socratic love? Is all this philosophical talk not merely a façade in order to conceal the pursuit of base corporeal pleasures?

2.  How fruitful was Socratic love? Even if this love was honorable, did the young really derive some benefit from it? The classic case in this context is, of course, Alcibiades, the gifted young “pupil” of Socrates who turned out to be so harmful for his native city.

In this chapter, I focus on the first question¹⁷ and in particular examine the answer of the Neoplatonists. Interesting information on this topic can be found in Proclus’s Commentary on the First Alcibiades and in Hermias’s Commentary on Plato’s Phaedrus. I especially focus on the latter and examine both Hermias’s interpretation of Socratic love in general and his position toward the specific problem of its corporeal or incorporeal nature. But first I shall begin with a brief reference to a nonphilosophical author and exponent of the late rhetorical tradition. In my view, this concise side step is interesting because it introduces a radically different perspective, situated in an entirely different context. This author in fact throws a completely different light on the problem of Socratic eros, explicitly clarifying the stakes at risk in wagering on Socrates’ avowal of only having virtuous intentions in his love affairs. As such, this different perspective may be of considerable help in illustrating, by way of contrast, the peculiarities of the Neoplatonic view.

A Humorous Challenge

The author I mean is Lucian. In his True Story, the narrator gives an extensive account of his long journey that also brought him to the Isle of the Blessed. There, he met Socrates, who was engaged in a discussion with several beautiful young men.¹⁸ A little later, he discusses the sexual customs that prevail there. Everybody has intercourse with both men and women, before the eyes of all and without any sense of shame. “Socrates, the only exception, used to protest that he was above suspicion in his relations with young persons, but everyone held him guilty of perjury. In fact, Hyacinthus and Narcissus often said that they knew better, but he persisted in his denial.”¹⁹ This is Lucian all over. He likes to expose with a smile the inconsistency and conceit of self-declared philosophers, but also to wipe the floor with the high reputation of distinguished thinkers.²⁰ The motives and background of their dignified and often admired behavior is more than once called into question. Socrates’ consistent bravery in the face of death, for instance, is elsewhere unmasked as the outward display of feigned boldness for the sake of acquiring a great reputation.²¹ The issue of high-minded Socratic love is mercilessly attacked as well. In the passage just quoted, Socrates’ claim of pure chastity obviously does not merit the slightest credibility. Even at a moment when there is no need for disguise or denial, Socrates stubbornly refuses to remove his mask, which, of course, suggests how great his concern for external appearance actually is. The fact that he apparently added oaths to his denial makes his conduct even more blameworthy, and posthumously demonstrates that Meletus was right to bring him to trial for impiety.

Moreover, this passage also contains a clever modification of the previous tradition. In Plato’s Apology, Socrates can confidently claim that his accusers are unable to provide witnesses, whereas he can provide many.²² And in the Symposium, Alcibiades of course appears as the witness à décharge par excellence. Lucian, however, does provide witnesses for the prosecution, and quite reliable ones. It is clear that their frequent and joint testimony (πολλάκις … ὡμολόγουν) even further undermines Socrates’ case.

This passage from Lucian’s True Story derives much of its poignancy and humor from the previous debates on Socratic eros.²³ If these debates only acknowledged the existence of a little smoke, Lucian’s satiric genius kindles it into a great fire. And his presentation, even if (or perhaps precisely because) it prefers a kind, seemingly innocent smile to sharp, biting criticism, may well have been more dangerous than serious discussions or puritan protests, at least for a public of nonphilosophical readers. After all, many may well have concluded that Lucian’s view in this particular passage, humorous and fictitious though it was, was not without plausibility.²⁴

Hermias’s View of Socrates

Whether or not that is true, the Neoplatonists certainly disagreed. The evidence suggests that there was little place for pederastic activities among philosophers from Plotinus on, and consequently Socrates, who had for generations been depicted as a philosophic model, needed to be depicted as strictly a lover of souls and of all else that is higher. Hermias of Alexandria would no doubt have sided with Socrates and indignantly have rejected the allegations of Hyacinthus and Narcissus as base slander. He develops his own²⁵ interpretation of Socratic love throughout his Commentary on the Phaedrus. In his view, the central subject of Plato’s Phaedrus is beauty of every kind (τοῦ παντοδαποῦ καλοῦ).²⁶ The whole dialogue deals with the gradual ascent toward true Beauty, from the lowest level (corporeal beauty) via the beauty of speech to the beauty of the soul, while finally ascending to intellectual beauty. Hermias thus clearly reads the Phaedrus through the lens of Plato’s Symposium.²⁷

This general interpretation entails a fundamental tripartition in the dramatis personae of the dialogue. Lysias is the symbol of the base lover who is only interested in corporeal pleasure, Phaedrus occupies an intermediate position (as a lover of beautiful speech), and Socrates is the paradigm of the true, pure lover. There is no need to expand upon this basic tripartition, which underlies the whole commentary, but it may be worthwhile to pause for a brief moment to take notice of an interesting complication of this scheme. The general structure of Plato’s dialogue requires a kind of “duplication” of the figures of Socrates and Phaedrus. Socrates, as is well known, delivers two speeches in the Phaedrus: first a relatively short refutation of Lysias’s speech, then a longer palinode. In Hermias’s view, the first speech deals with prudent eros in the soul, the second with intellectual beauty. In the second speech, then, Socrates expresses his own convictions, whereas he delivers the first speech only for Phaedrus’s sake, in order to purify him.²⁸ This has important implications for Phaedrus, who is indeed purified after the first speech and can listen to the next as a different person.²⁹

Against this general background, we can now turn to Hermias’s commentary on Phaedrus 236e1–237a5. After Phaedrus has threatened never to recite another speech to Socrates, the latter declares that he is willing to deliver a speech on eros because as a lover of discourses he cannot give up the feast (θοίνης) of listening to them. He will, however, speak with his head covered (ἐγκαλυψάμενος ἐρῶ), so that he does not have to look at Phaedrus and get into difficulty through shame. Here is the beginning of Hermias’ interpretation:

For how would I be able (236e7–8)

Instead of: for how can I not [a] benefit (εὐεργετεῖν) the souls and operate according to [b] my purifying power (καθαρτικὴν δύναμιν)? And “the feast” (ἡ θοίνη) signifies [c] his great providence and eagerness to [d] lift up the youth who is [e] ready for it (τὸν ἐπιτήδειον ἀνάγειν νέον). For the feast indicates the fullness of his providential power (τῆς δυνάμεως τῆς προνοητικῆς) and of his operation according to the divine kind, and his likeness with the gods. And Socrates delivers his speech with his head covered [f] because he is going to do things that are inferior to, and lower than, his own state of mind. For the operation proper to him is the enthusiastic erotic operation, which he will show in the palinode. (47.18–26)

This interesting passage contains the core of Hermias’s picture of Socrates.

[a] First of all, Socrates’ approach to Phaedrus is characterized as beneficent. The paramount importance of this theme already appears from the very first sentence of the commentary, where Hermias states that Socrates was born in order to benefit the race of men and the souls of the young.³⁰ This brief opening sentence can, to a certain extent, be regarded as programmatic, in that it immediately reveals the overall orientation of Hermias’s interpretation of Socrates. Socrates indeed belongs to the group of generous people (εὐμετάδοτοι)³¹ and wants the good for everyone.³² Furthermore, the particular emphasis on the young in this opening sentence is quite remarkable. The combination of mankind in general and youth in particular occurs elsewhere in the commentary³³ and reflects a traditional issue in the debate about Socrates. Especially interesting in this context is Hermias’s insistence on Socrates as a person who really cares for the youth.³⁴ This is a clear recollection of Plato’s Apology, where Socrates explicitly deals with the topic and refutes Meletus’s claims in this field.³⁵ This, we may add, is not the only allusion to the Apology. There is also the veiled allusion to the famous oracle about Socrates³⁶ and the story about Isocrates, who blamed Anytus and Meletus for having killed Socrates and sent those who were interested in philosophical instruction to them with the brief comment, “Educate the young!”³⁷ This is not the place to pursue this topic in detail, but the influence of Plato’s Apology on Hermias’s general view of Socrates is a topic that may well repay closer study.

[b] Second, Hermias ascribes a purifying power to Socrates. Very often throughout the whole commentary, Socrates’ approach is indeed characterized as purifying,³⁸ and this purification is regarded as a kind of salvation. By deterring the young Phaedrus from the lower, sensible realm and guiding him toward the higher, intellectual level, Socrates indeed rescues him. This rescue has a clear moral component: the young man is brought into harmony with himself,³⁹ and his shortcomings are corrected.⁴⁰ In this respect, Hermias’s view does not merely combine Platonic and Neoplatonic elements but also interestingly recalls the position of Aeschines of Sphettus, who closely connected Socratic eros with moral improvement.⁴¹

[c] Moreover, Socrates’ beneficent and purifying approach is often described in terms of providential concern.⁴² In the opening sentence of his commentary quoted above, Hermias remains rather vague about who sent Socrates down to be born, but elsewhere in his work, he suggests that Socrates is a kind of instrument of divine providence and as such juxtaposes him to demons.⁴³ In that respect at least, Hermias’s view of Socrates almost recalls Epicurus’s famous characterization of the sage who lives as a god among men.⁴⁴ Socrates has divine thoughts, is loved by the gods,⁴⁵ and as such qualifies as the reliable guide par excellence who shows the way to the most sublime Neoplatonic heights.

[d] Socrates indeed “lifts up” the young Phaedrus and introduces him to the intellectual level. The verb ἀνάγω and related words (ἀναγωγή, ἀναγωγικός) very often return throughout the whole commentary. The use of this vocabulary of ascent not only fits in very well with Hermias’s general interpretation of the Phaedrus (viz., its σκοπός and overall structure) but also opens up a very interesting perspective into which the above-mentioned aspects of the Socrates figure can easily be integrated. Lifting up the soul is Socrates’ main purpose. His love for Phaedrus is ἀναγωγὸν καὶ σωστικόν,⁴⁶ his present life καθαρτικὴ καὶ ἀναγωγός,⁴⁷ and the principal cause of this ἀναγωγή is the gods.⁴⁸ Hermias thus alternately combines different elements into a whole cluster of ideas that mutually complete each other and together yield a rich and consistent picture of Socrates.

[e] Socrates thus lifts up the young man, who is himself ready for it. The term ἐπιτήδειον is of course primarily relevant for Hermias’s interpretation of the figure of Phaedrus, the ἀνάγεσθαι μέλλοντα,⁴⁹ yet it is not without importance for the figure of Socrates either. The presence of this term may perhaps suggest the feasibility of Socrates’ project and the success of its final outcome, and in any case, it recalls that Socrates did not operate carelessly. He indeed took care to focus on those who were really ready to listen to his purifying and anagogic voice. For the moment, this brief observation will suffice, but I shall soon come back to this.

[f] There remains, however, one problem with the above picture of Socrates: it seems to be at odds with the first speech of Socrates in the Phaedrus. This speech, with its emphasis on prudence, has a beneficent and purifying character, to be sure, but it lacks any obvious anagogic divine inspiration that lifts up the young Phaedrus to the higher, intellectual realm. If that is true, the text of Plato’s Phaedrus may already overturn Hermias’s general view of Socrates. Hermias solves this problem in a particularly ingenious way: he interprets the fact that Socrates speaks with his head covered as an indication that he descends to a level that is inferior to his own. Socrates is not really interested in the prudent eros of the soul (or at least not exclusively), but he elaborates this perspective for Phaedrus’ sake. It is only because he wishes to benefit Phaedrus that he temporarily leaves his own higher level. Elsewhere in the commentary, this idea is further illustrated by two well-chosen comparisons. Socrates operates just like the contemplative philosopher who, for a while, engages in politics in order to serve the public interest.⁵⁰ He also resembles the demiurge of the Timaeus, who addresses the younger gods and then withdraws to his own level.⁵¹ This is cleverly done. Hermias succeeds in maintaining his view of Socrates in a thoroughly Platonic way. Not only is he able to show that the text of the Phaedrus contains an element that supports his view, he also manages to draw striking parallels with well-known ideas from two of the most important dialogues in the Corpus Platonicum. Moreover, this interpretation also allows him to do justice to a typically Socratic element in this corpus. He regards Socrates’ discussion of Lysias’s speech (which precedes his own first speech) as a mixture of play (παίζειν) and earnestness (σπουδάζειν). Socrates is merely playing, in that he descends from his own intellectual level but is at the same time earnest because he saves the young man.⁵² The concept of παιδιά had long been associated with Socrates,⁵³ and the combination of σπουδαῖα and γελοῖα is no less traditional.⁵⁴ Hermias’s interpretation of this specific passage from the Phaedrus may seem strange and unconvincing to the contemporary interpreter, but it should not be regarded as an easy ad hoc argument. His exegesis is perfectly consistent, thoroughly Platonic, and even contains a distant echo of a genuine Socratic element.

Socratic Love Systematized

The whole passage quoted above thus illustrates the core of Hermias’s picture of Socrates: through his purifying power and providential care, Socrates saves the young Phaedrus by lifting him up to the intellectual realm of true Beauty. It is this view of Socrates that permeates the whole commentary. Through a systematic and careful exegesis of Plato’s arguments, Hermias tries to show how systematically Socrates actually proceeds.⁵⁵

First of all, he fully takes into account the specific nature of his interlocutor. This implies that he adopts a fundamentally differentiating approach. The importance of this element should not be underestimated, as it is introduced by Hermias at the very outset of his commentary. After providing a broad characterization of Socrates in the first part of the opening sentence (discussed above), Hermias goes on to argue that Socrates benefits each soul in a different way, in accordance with the differences in character and pursuits.⁵⁶ The strong emphasis on this differentiating approach, and its programmatic prominence at the beginning of the work, is not really surprising, because it is in fact a very interesting exegetical parameter. It allows Hermias to interpret different dialogues, and different sections from one dialogue, against the same general background. More precisely, it enables the Neoplatonic commentator to maintain his general view of Socrates and trace back the differences between the dialogues to the different natures of Socrates’ interlocutors. In this particular case, Phaedrus is interested in rhetoric, and Socrates will lead him toward true rhetoric, that is, philosophy.⁵⁷

This differentiating approach presupposes that Socrates takes the condition of his interlocutor as his point of departure. We already saw that this is the reason he descended from his own intellectual level in order to deliver his first speech for Phaedrus’s sake. Furthermore, he appeals to Phaedrus by imitating his daintiness,⁵⁸ makes use of a sublime style,⁵⁹ and avoids eristics in his refutation of Lysias.⁶⁰

Finally, Socrates follows a step-by-step method in dealing with the young man. His purifying therapy is preceded by a careful diagnosis of the latter’s condition, which appears already in Socrates’ first question to Phaedrus, “Where do you come from?”⁶¹ This diagnosis will help Socrates in adapting his treatment to the specific needs of the young man. Furthermore, Socrates also stimulates his young friend to play an active role in his own cure, confining himself to the removal of (unspecified) impediments (τὰ ἐμπόδια), so that Phaedrus himself can find the truth.⁶² With this reference to Socratic maieutics, Hermias incorporates yet another important aspect from the previous tradition into his picture of Socrates.

The above discussion of Socrates’ differentiating and systematic approach is only a brief and broad outline of Hermias’s interpretation. Extensive sections of the commentary contain a great wealth of relevant information requiring close analysis. Such a detailed study, however, would far exceed the more limited scope of this chapter. Yet there is one important point that should not go unnoticed here. Hermias’s view of Socrates’ method bears a striking resemblance to the view that Proclus elaborates in his Commentary on the First Alcibiades. As a matter of fact, the influence of the Alcibiades I on Hermias’s interpretation of the Phaedrus can often be felt throughout this commentary. Poignantly, the Alcibiades I is mentioned several times,⁶³ and the topic of Socrates’ self-knowledge occasionally turns up⁶⁴ and provides a thematic link between both dialogues. Especially important is Hermias’s exegesis of Phaedrus 257a7–8, where Socrates talks about the art of love (τὴν ἐρωτικὴν τέχνην). Hermias here makes use of the Alcibiades I in order to distinguish between three successive steps: we should first examine the man worthy of our love (τὸν ἀξιέραστον), then silently wait until he is ready to understand philosophical discourse, and finally, when this moment has come, teach him erotic matters and arouse his love in return.⁶⁵ This general, schematic survey can easily be applied to Socrates’ approach as it is analyzed throughout Hermias’s commentary, and the many striking parallels with Proclus’s view⁶⁶ further support the hypothesis that Hermias interprets Socrates’ erotic treatment of Phaedrus against the background of the Alcibiades I. If that is true, this observation has important consequences for understanding Hermias’s exegetical method as a whole. We may well conclude that the Alcibiades I was no less important than the Symposium for Hermias’s interpretation of the Phaedrus. Whereas the Symposium provides the overall perspective from which the dialogue as a whole should be understood, the Alcibiades I throws light on the specific argumentative and purifying strategies used by Socrates. In Hermias’s view, the three Platonic dialogues apparently complete one another and together illustrate what should be understood by the art of Socratic eros.⁶⁷

Honi soit qui mal y pense …

It will be perfectly clear by now that corporeal love has no place at all in Hermias’s understanding of Socratic eros. Such love can only be found at the level of the wicked Lysias: it is unbridled, harmful, and only interested in material and perceptible beauty. Even Phaedrus surpasses this level, being interested in the beauty of speech. A fortiori, Socrates has nothing to do with it, as appears, for instance, from the fact that he never leaves the city. This in fact means, according to Hermias, that he always stays at his intellectual level.⁶⁸ In short, corporeal passion is entirely alien to him.

Before analyzing Hermias’s position in more detail, it will be useful to briefly look at Proclus’s view as it throws additional light on several of Hermias’s interpretations. Like Hermias, Proclus emphasizes in his Commentary on the First Alcibiades that the true lover only loves the soul of his beloved, not his body, and thus approaches his beloved only when the latter’s beauty has withered away.⁶⁹ Furthermore, the lover continues to keep a certain distance from him, and does not touch him (μήτε ἁπτόμενος αὐτοῦ) or associate (προσομιλῶν) or even talk with him if it is not the right opportunity to benefit his soul.⁷⁰ This picture of the perfect lover even makes its influence felt on Proclus’s interpretation of Alcibiades. Proclus indeed points out that the young man did not completely reject the company of all his wicked lovers but only talked to them and utterly refused to be touched or to participate in symposia and wickedness.⁷¹ It is important to note that Proclus puts forward this view in the context of his exegesis of the very first sentence of the Alcibiades I. This sentence, however, contains no information at all about Alcibiades’ conduct, nor does it explicitly introduce the topic of Socrates’ attitude to Alcibiades’ beauty. In that sense, Proclus’s insistence on the absence of all bodily contact is quite remarkable. This seems to be an obvious and typical case of overinterpretation or Hineininterpretierung, which helps Proclus in establishing his general interpretative framework. He is keen to be absolutely clear on this point and thus develops a fairly radical position. All bodily contact is denied: the perfect lovers do not even touch one another.⁷²

It is not really surprising that Hermias basically adopts the same view, since this, in fact, is the inevitable and obvious conclusion of his whole picture of Socrates. Indeed, it is hard to see how a Socrates who uninterruptedly dwells in the intellectual realm can still be involved in bodily contacts. Yet Hermias has a problem. He is confronted with an embarrassing passage in the Phaedrus that at least suggests the existence of such bodily contacts between lovers. He does not really discuss the whole problem in detail but cannot simply ignore it either. He prefers to clear the potentially explosive passage of its mines by inserting here and there a few strategic remarks and specifications.

The Phaedrus passage is to be found near the end of Socrates’ palinode. Socrates there describes how the lover and beloved overcome their initial inhibitions and begin to meet. The beloved then receives various services and gifts from his lover, as if the beloved were a god.⁷³ This still looks innocent enough, yet Hermias deems it necessary to underline at this point already that this service does not concern generation and should not be understood as lowering (καταγωγόν) and corporeal (σωματικήν). The beloved is worshipped⁷⁴ as a statue of a god—just as Alcibiades was worshipped by Socrates.⁷⁵ This amounts to a flat denial of the lover’s possible interest in the body of his beloved. Yet this flat denial is supported to a certain extent by two well-chosen comparisons that have a certain argumentative value. The comparison with the worship of a statue of a god is particularly successful here, in that it indeed evokes the respectful distance between both poles that also characterizes the love relation that Hermias has in mind. The comparison with the relation between Alcibiades and Socrates is a different story. Hermias refers to it without further explanation, as if it were evident. And evident it no doubt was, if not to Lucian, then at least to the Neoplatonist circles that Hermias addressed. Here our brief discussion of Proclus’s view proves relevant for the first time. It is important to recall that Proclus proposed this interpretation in the context of his reading of the Alcibiades I. We know that a reading of precisely this dialogue usually opened the whole Platonic curriculum.⁷⁶ This implies that students were long familiar with this view when they turned to the Phaedrus. They had long learned to regard Socrates as an ideal lover and to interpret the relation between Socrates and Alcibiades against that background. This explains why Hermias can confine himself here to a mere allusion. His comparison presupposes the knowledge acquired in an earlier phase of the Platonic curriculum.

Back to the Phaedrus. Socrates tells how the beloved is astonished by the goodwill that he receives at close quarters (ἐγγύθεν) from his lover. They continue to meet and even touch each other (πλησιάζῃ μετὰ τοῦ ἅπτεσθαι) in the gymnasium and elsewhere.⁷⁷ Again, Hermias takes the sting out of the passage by means of a few well-oriented comments. The term ἐγγύθεν derives its raison d’être from the beloved’s interest in hearing the words of his lover and as such shows that the good is close at hand for those who are willing to share in it.⁷⁸ The enthusiasm of the beloved can be traced back to his observation that he is loved not for his corporeal beauty (οὐ σωματικῆς χάριτος ἕνεκα) but in view of a useful result (ὠφελείας ἕνεκα).⁷⁹ Nevertheless, for all his insistence on the lover’s lack of interest in the body, Hermias cannot but admit that the lovers at least touch each other: the true lover, though touching, touches with self-control (ὁ γὰρ γνήσιος ἐραστὴς καὶ ἁπτόμενος σωφρόνως ἅπτεται).⁸⁰ The participle ἁπτόμενος suggests a reluctant concession inspired by Plato’s text.⁸¹ Hermias’s reserve can easily be explained by his general view of Socrates and can also be understood against the background of Proclus’s radical denial of bodily contact discussed above. Hermias is forced to be somewhat less radical than Proclus here, and he once again finds support for his view in the relation of Socrates and Alcibiades. He now alludes to the famous passage from Plato’s Symposium where Alcibiades relates how he exercised with Socrates and somewhat later even ended up in bed with him.⁸² For more than one reason, this is an interesting parallel. First of all, the outcome of the whole story is widely known, and Socrates’ conduct fully emphasizes the meaning and relevance of the word σωφρόνως (and also makes it more concrete). Second, both in this Phaedrus passage and in the corresponding section from the Symposium, the initiative to pursue physical contact is taken by the beloved.⁸³ That surely facilitates the concession that some bodily contact may after all be involved, and it may even be regarded as an implicit confirmation of Hermias’s general picture of Socrates.

Yet this is not the final word. Hermias now comes to the most embarrassing passage in the Phaedrus. Socrates is describing how the beloved gradually begins to love in return: “Like the lover, though less strongly, he desires to see his friend, to touch him, kiss him, and lie down by him; and naturally these things are soon brought about.”⁸⁴ In the end, then, lover and beloved are lying together (cf. also ἐν συγκοιμήσει in the following sentence). Exit the chaste Neoplatonic Socrates? Hermias begins by frankly acknowledging the problem. The term συγκοιμήσει apparently refers to both the self-controlled lover and the lover who lacks this self-control, and thus the passage risks containing a sense that is rather shameful (οὐ γὰρ ἄνευ ὑπονοίας αἰσχρᾶς ἐστι τὰ λεγόμενα).⁸⁵ Modern commentators may wonder whether Hermias is not unduly or unnecessarily embarrassed here. After all, Socrates in his palinode goes on to distinguish between two alternatives: a philosophical one, where reason prevails, and a less honorable, nonphilosophical one, where the two lovers give in to their unruly horses and “accomplish that which the many call blessed.”⁸⁶ In that sense, this passage does not really question Hermias’s picture of the true lover. Yet Hermias seeks to avoid any interpretation that involves a sexual meaning, even with regard to the nonphilosophical alternative. His interpretation of Socrates’ vague phrase τὴν ὑπὸ τῶν πολλῶν μακαριστὴν αἵρεσιν is typical in that respect: it seems to point to shameful pleasure, but it can also be understood allegorically as a lifting up of the soul out of sensible things.⁸⁷ The reference to the lovers’ lying together should likewise be understood allegorically. The philosophical horse reaches beauty through the Ideas and despises sensible beauty as implicated in matter. The nonphilosophical horse, on the other hand, thinks it is possible to reach the intellectual through the sensible. This direct contact with the sensible, however, does not necessarily involve “shameful” conduct and can rather be compared to the embraces of fathers, children, and brothers.⁸⁸ The fact that Socrates himself calls even these nonphilosophical lovers “winged” fully supports this allegorical interpretation.⁸⁹

This is Hermias’s last word on this topic. In the Phaedrus, Plato allowed his Socrates to consider the experience of bodily love as at least a possibility, if only for the less noble, nonphilosophical lovers. Hermias could not go that far. It is interesting to see how he is prepared to explore in his commentary the boundaries of Socratic eros and even to grant a few concessions: the lovers may touch each other (though σωφρόνως) and may even lie together, perhaps. But he is not prepared to admit the spark of corporeal, sexual pleasure. That was a flame that should not be fanned.

Conclusion

In his Commentary on the Phaedrus Hermias provides a consistent and high-minded picture of Socrates and Socratic eros, based on a careful reading of the Platonic dialogues (especially the Phaedrus, the Symposium, and the Alcibiades I). Socrates appears as a kind of instrument of divine providence who benefits his young interlocutor and the community at large through his purifying, anagogic, and remarkably systematic and well-considered approach. His well-known love for young, beautiful lads has nothing corporeal about it, but lifts up the soul of the beloved toward the divine realm of true, intellectual Beauty.

Is this a reliable exegesis of Plato’s dialogues and a credible interpretation of the figure of Socrates? It is obviously at odds with many aspects of our own contemporary understandings of Socrates and his thinking, but is it necessarily less convincing?

To a certain extent it is indeed. There can be little doubt that Hermias neglects several aspects that were probably part and parcel of Socrates’ self-understanding as a philosopher. To give but one example: the theme of Socratic ignorance. This topic receives much attention in Proclus’s Commentary on the First Alcibiades,⁹⁰ but is hardly touched upon by Hermias, who usually presents Socrates as knowing.⁹¹ This difference between Proclus and Hermias cannot be explained merely by the different intellectual and/or moral level of the dramatis personae of the dialogues they are commenting upon—Hermias’s Phaedrus is not significantly better than Proclus’s Alcibiades. It may at least partly be traced back to their understanding of the general σκοπός of the respective dialogues: in Proclus’s view, the Alcibiades I is about self-knowledge, where the topic of ignorance is particularly relevant. Yet Hermias could have introduced and discussed the issue of Socratic ignorance in the Phaedrus,⁹² as the dialogue opens with one of his most infamous denials of self-knowledge, but apparently Hermias is preoccupied with other subjects. Another element that is neglected in Hermias’s Commentary on the Phaedrus is Socrates’ emphatic denial of being a teacher. Hermias does not ignore this famous aspect of Socrates’ thinking,⁹³ yet throughout his commentary he considers him as a kind of ideal teacher and occasionally even calls him so.⁹⁴ Such a characterization is, of course, very well in line with his general interpretation of Socrates but can hardly be reconciled with Socrates’ straightforward position in Plato’s Apology.⁹⁵ Finally, Hermias’s view of Socrates as the contemplative philosopher who only temporarily leaves his own intellectual level in order to benefit other people may recall the philosopher from Plato’s Republic who returns into the cave. But it emphasizes a very different aspect of this descent from another famous ancient view of Socrates, that is, Socrates as the man who brought philosophy down from heaven to the cities.⁹⁶

These are only a few among today’s central Socratic themes that are neglected in Hermias’s view of Socrates. Other themes are emphasized at their expense. Typical in this respect is Hermias’s insistence on Socrates’ systematic approach. Contemporary readers of Plato may find it quite implausible that all the details of Socrates’ discussion with Phaedrus, including even his way of addressing the young man, have a deep philosophical meaning and purpose. The image of Socrates as a sublime thinker who never loses contact with the intellectual realm seems miles away from the socializing, convivial Socrates of Plato’s Symposium or from the Socrates we find in Xenophon’s writings.

In many respects, then, Hermias’s view of Socrates is quite problematic for the contemporary reader. That is not to say, however, that it deserves no credit at all. In fact, Hermias succeeds in doing justice to several important aspects of the traditional picture of Socrates. Some of them are only mentioned in passing, others figure much more prominently in his commentary. They are all broken up by the prism of Neoplatonic exegesis and then reassembled again in order to reconstruct a Socrates sui generis. The fundamental question, however, remains whether we are actually acting differently. It is useful to return, at the end of this chapter, to the insights of reception studies with which we began. These enable us to understand the Neoplatonist view of Socrates as only one possible interpretation, strongly conditioned by its own time and context, but they also force us to acknowledge the relative character and limits of our own view. If our claim to do more justice to both Plato’s and Xenophon’s picture of Socrates (and to that of Aristotle and Aristophanes) is not entirely unjustified, we may do well in any case to avoid the arrogance of cultural or intellectual superiority and recognize that our own view is not free from bias either. Hermias’s typically Neoplatonic oversensitivity to the religious dimension of the Socrates figure and his no less typical characterization of Socrates’ discussions as a kind of rigorous moral therapy are not necessarily more biased than some more recent interpretations of Socrates that tend to bracket the religious dimension altogether. Occasionally, the Neoplatonic interpretation can, for all its bias, even reveal relevant details that we overlooked ourselves. In that sense, a careful study of the Neoplatonists’ views of Socrates does not merely show the lacunas in their interpretation but may ideally help us to detect some in our own as well.