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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by Sue Asscher <asschers@aia.net.au> + + + + + +PHAEDO + +by Plato + + + + +Translated by Benjamin Jowett + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + +After an interval of some months or years, and at Phlius, a town of +Peloponnesus, the tale of the last hours of Socrates is narrated to +Echecrates and other Phliasians by Phaedo the 'beloved disciple.' The +Dialogue necessarily takes the form of a narrative, because Socrates has to +be described acting as well as speaking. The minutest particulars of the +event are interesting to distant friends, and the narrator has an equal +interest in them. + +During the voyage of the sacred ship to and from Delos, which has occupied +thirty days, the execution of Socrates has been deferred. (Compare Xen. +Mem.) The time has been passed by him in conversation with a select +company of disciples. But now the holy season is over, and the disciples +meet earlier than usual in order that they may converse with Socrates for +the last time. Those who were present, and those who might have been +expected to be present, are mentioned by name. There are Simmias and Cebes +(Crito), two disciples of Philolaus whom Socrates 'by his enchantments has +attracted from Thebes' (Mem.), Crito the aged friend, the attendant of the +prison, who is as good as a friend--these take part in the conversation. +There are present also, Hermogenes, from whom Xenophon derived his +information about the trial of Socrates (Mem.), the 'madman' Apollodorus +(Symp.), Euclid and Terpsion from Megara (compare Theaet.), Ctesippus, +Antisthenes, Menexenus, and some other less-known members of the Socratic +circle, all of whom are silent auditors. Aristippus, Cleombrotus, and +Plato are noted as absent. Almost as soon as the friends of Socrates enter +the prison Xanthippe and her children are sent home in the care of one of +Crito's servants. Socrates himself has just been released from chains, and +is led by this circumstance to make the natural remark that 'pleasure +follows pain.' (Observe that Plato is preparing the way for his doctrine +of the alternation of opposites.) 'Aesop would have represented them in a +fable as a two-headed creature of the gods.' The mention of Aesop reminds +Cebes of a question which had been asked by Evenus the poet (compare +Apol.): 'Why Socrates, who was not a poet, while in prison had been +putting Aesop into verse?'--'Because several times in his life he had been +warned in dreams that he should practise music; and as he was about to die +and was not certain of what was meant, he wished to fulfil the admonition +in the letter as well as in the spirit, by writing verses as well as by +cultivating philosophy. Tell this to Evenus; and say that I would have him +follow me in death.' 'He is not at all the sort of man to comply with your +request, Socrates.' 'Why, is he not a philosopher?' 'Yes.' 'Then he will +be willing to die, although he will not take his own life, for that is held +to be unlawful.' + +Cebes asks why suicide is thought not to be right, if death is to be +accounted a good? Well, (1) according to one explanation, because man is a +prisoner, who must not open the door of his prison and run away--this is +the truth in a 'mystery.' Or (2) rather, because he is not his own +property, but a possession of the gods, and has no right to make away with +that which does not belong to him. But why, asks Cebes, if he is a +possession of the gods, should he wish to die and leave them? For he is +under their protection; and surely he cannot take better care of himself +than they take of him. Simmias explains that Cebes is really referring to +Socrates, whom they think too unmoved at the prospect of leaving the gods +and his friends. Socrates answers that he is going to other gods who are +wise and good, and perhaps to better friends; and he professes that he is +ready to defend himself against the charge of Cebes. The company shall be +his judges, and he hopes that he will be more successful in convincing them +than he had been in convincing the court. + +The philosopher desires death--which the wicked world will insinuate that +he also deserves: and perhaps he does, but not in any sense which they are +capable of understanding. Enough of them: the real question is, What is +the nature of that death which he desires? Death is the separation of soul +and body--and the philosopher desires such a separation. He would like to +be freed from the dominion of bodily pleasures and of the senses, which are +always perturbing his mental vision. He wants to get rid of eyes and ears, +and with the light of the mind only to behold the light of truth. All the +evils and impurities and necessities of men come from the body. And death +separates him from these corruptions, which in life he cannot wholly lay +aside. Why then should he repine when the hour of separation arrives? +Why, if he is dead while he lives, should he fear that other death, through +which alone he can behold wisdom in her purity? + +Besides, the philosopher has notions of good and evil unlike those of other +men. For they are courageous because they are afraid of greater dangers, +and temperate because they desire greater pleasures. But he disdains this +balancing of pleasures and pains, which is the exchange of commerce and not +of virtue. All the virtues, including wisdom, are regarded by him only as +purifications of the soul. And this was the meaning of the founders of the +mysteries when they said, 'Many are the wand-bearers but few are the +mystics.' (Compare Matt. xxii.: 'Many are called but few are chosen.') +And in the hope that he is one of these mystics, Socrates is now departing. +This is his answer to any one who charges him with indifference at the +prospect of leaving the gods and his friends. + +Still, a fear is expressed that the soul upon leaving the body may vanish +away like smoke or air. Socrates in answer appeals first of all to the old +Orphic tradition that the souls of the dead are in the world below, and +that the living come from them. This he attempts to found on a +philosophical assumption that all opposites--e.g. less, greater; weaker, +stronger; sleeping, waking; life, death--are generated out of each other. +Nor can the process of generation be only a passage from living to dying, +for then all would end in death. The perpetual sleeper (Endymion) would be +no longer distinguished from the rest of mankind. The circle of nature is +not complete unless the living come from the dead as well as pass to them. + +The Platonic doctrine of reminiscence is then adduced as a confirmation of +the pre-existence of the soul. Some proofs of this doctrine are demanded. +One proof given is the same as that of the Meno, and is derived from the +latent knowledge of mathematics, which may be elicited from an unlearned +person when a diagram is presented to him. Again, there is a power of +association, which from seeing Simmias may remember Cebes, or from seeing a +picture of Simmias may remember Simmias. The lyre may recall the player of +the lyre, and equal pieces of wood or stone may be associated with the +higher notion of absolute equality. But here observe that material +equalities fall short of the conception of absolute equality with which +they are compared, and which is the measure of them. And the measure or +standard must be prior to that which is measured, the idea of equality +prior to the visible equals. And if prior to them, then prior also to the +perceptions of the senses which recall them, and therefore either given +before birth or at birth. But all men have not this knowledge, nor have +any without a process of reminiscence; which is a proof that it is not +innate or given at birth, unless indeed it was given and taken away at the +same instant. But if not given to men in birth, it must have been given +before birth--this is the only alternative which remains. And if we had +ideas in a former state, then our souls must have existed and must have had +intelligence in a former state. The pre-existence of the soul stands or +falls with the doctrine of ideas. + +It is objected by Simmias and Cebes that these arguments only prove a +former and not a future existence. Socrates answers this objection by +recalling the previous argument, in which he had shown that the living come +from the dead. But the fear that the soul at departing may vanish into air +(especially if there is a wind blowing at the time) has not yet been +charmed away. He proceeds: When we fear that the soul will vanish away, +let us ask ourselves what is that which we suppose to be liable to +dissolution? Is it the simple or the compound, the unchanging or the +changing, the invisible idea or the visible object of sense? Clearly the +latter and not the former; and therefore not the soul, which in her own +pure thought is unchangeable, and only when using the senses descends into +the region of change. Again, the soul commands, the body serves: in this +respect too the soul is akin to the divine, and the body to the mortal. +And in every point of view the soul is the image of divinity and +immortality, and the body of the human and mortal. And whereas the body is +liable to speedy dissolution, the soul is almost if not quite indissoluble. +(Compare Tim.) Yet even the body may be preserved for ages by the +embalmer's art: how unlikely, then, that the soul will perish and be +dissipated into air while on her way to the good and wise God! She has +been gathered into herself, holding aloof from the body, and practising +death all her life long, and she is now finally released from the errors +and follies and passions of men, and for ever dwells in the company of the +gods. + +But the soul which is polluted and engrossed by the corporeal, and has no +eye except that of the senses, and is weighed down by the bodily appetites, +cannot attain to this abstraction. In her fear of the world below she +lingers about the sepulchre, loath to leave the body which she loved, a +ghostly apparition, saturated with sense, and therefore visible. At length +entering into some animal of a nature congenial to her former life of +sensuality or violence, she takes the form of an ass, a wolf or a kite. +And of these earthly souls the happiest are those who have practised virtue +without philosophy; they are allowed to pass into gentle and social +natures, such as bees and ants. (Compare Republic, Meno.) But only the +philosopher who departs pure is permitted to enter the company of the gods. +(Compare Phaedrus.) This is the reason why he abstains from fleshly lusts, +and not because he fears loss or disgrace, which is the motive of other +men. He too has been a captive, and the willing agent of his own +captivity. But philosophy has spoken to him, and he has heard her voice; +she has gently entreated him, and brought him out of the 'miry clay,' and +purged away the mists of passion and the illusions of sense which envelope +him; his soul has escaped from the influence of pleasures and pains, which +are like nails fastening her to the body. To that prison-house she will +not return; and therefore she abstains from bodily pleasures--not from a +desire of having more or greater ones, but because she knows that only when +calm and free from the dominion of the body can she behold the light of +truth. + +Simmias and Cebes remain in doubt; but they are unwilling to raise +objections at such a time. Socrates wonders at their reluctance. Let them +regard him rather as the swan, who, having sung the praises of Apollo all +his life long, sings at his death more lustily than ever. Simmias +acknowledges that there is cowardice in not probing truth to the bottom. +'And if truth divine and inspired is not to be had, then let a man take the +best of human notions, and upon this frail bark let him sail through life.' +He proceeds to state his difficulty: It has been argued that the soul is +invisible and incorporeal, and therefore immortal, and prior to the body. +But is not the soul acknowledged to be a harmony, and has she not the same +relation to the body, as the harmony--which like her is invisible--has to +the lyre? And yet the harmony does not survive the lyre. Cebes has also +an objection, which like Simmias he expresses in a figure. He is willing +to admit that the soul is more lasting than the body. But the more lasting +nature of the soul does not prove her immortality; for after having worn +out many bodies in a single life, and many more in successive births and +deaths, she may at last perish, or, as Socrates afterwards restates the +objection, the very act of birth may be the beginning of her death, and her +last body may survive her, just as the coat of an old weaver is left behind +him after he is dead, although a man is more lasting than his coat. And he +who would prove the immortality of the soul, must prove not only that the +soul outlives one or many bodies, but that she outlives them all. + +The audience, like the chorus in a play, for a moment interpret the +feelings of the actors; there is a temporary depression, and then the +enquiry is resumed. It is a melancholy reflection that arguments, like +men, are apt to be deceivers; and those who have been often deceived become +distrustful both of arguments and of friends. But this unfortunate +experience should not make us either haters of men or haters of arguments. +The want of health and truth is not in the argument, but in ourselves. +Socrates, who is about to die, is sensible of his own weakness; he desires +to be impartial, but he cannot help feeling that he has too great an +interest in the truth of the argument. And therefore he would have his +friends examine and refute him, if they think that he is in error. + +At his request Simmias and Cebes repeat their objections. They do not go +to the length of denying the pre-existence of ideas. Simmias is of opinion +that the soul is a harmony of the body. But the admission of the pre- +existence of ideas, and therefore of the soul, is at variance with this. +(Compare a parallel difficulty in Theaet.) For a harmony is an effect, +whereas the soul is not an effect, but a cause; a harmony follows, but the +soul leads; a harmony admits of degrees, and the soul has no degrees. +Again, upon the supposition that the soul is a harmony, why is one soul +better than another? Are they more or less harmonized, or is there one +harmony within another? But the soul does not admit of degrees, and cannot +therefore be more or less harmonized. Further, the soul is often engaged +in resisting the affections of the body, as Homer describes Odysseus +'rebuking his heart.' Could he have written this under the idea that the +soul is a harmony of the body? Nay rather, are we not contradicting Homer +and ourselves in affirming anything of the sort? + +The goddess Harmonia, as Socrates playfully terms the argument of Simmias, +has been happily disposed of; and now an answer has to be given to the +Theban Cadmus. Socrates recapitulates the argument of Cebes, which, as he +remarks, involves the whole question of natural growth or causation; about +this he proposes to narrate his own mental experience. When he was young +he had puzzled himself with physics: he had enquired into the growth and +decay of animals, and the origin of thought, until at last he began to +doubt the self-evident fact that growth is the result of eating and +drinking; and so he arrived at the conclusion that he was not meant for +such enquiries. Nor was he less perplexed with notions of comparison and +number. At first he had imagined himself to understand differences of +greater and less, and to know that ten is two more than eight, and the +like. But now those very notions appeared to him to contain a +contradiction. For how can one be divided into two? Or two be compounded +into one? These are difficulties which Socrates cannot answer. Of +generation and destruction he knows nothing. But he has a confused notion +of another method in which matters of this sort are to be investigated. +(Compare Republic; Charm.) + +Then he heard some one reading out of a book of Anaxagoras, that mind is +the cause of all things. And he said to himself: If mind is the cause of +all things, surely mind must dispose them all for the best. The new +teacher will show me this 'order of the best' in man and nature. How great +had been his hopes and how great his disappointment! For he found that his +new friend was anything but consistent in his use of mind as a cause, and +that he soon introduced winds, waters, and other eccentric notions. +(Compare Arist. Metaph.) It was as if a person had said that Socrates is +sitting here because he is made up of bones and muscles, instead of telling +the true reason--that he is here because the Athenians have thought good to +sentence him to death, and he has thought good to await his sentence. Had +his bones and muscles been left by him to their own ideas of right, they +would long ago have taken themselves off. But surely there is a great +confusion of the cause and condition in all this. And this confusion also +leads people into all sorts of erroneous theories about the position and +motions of the earth. None of them know how much stronger than any Atlas +is the power of the best. But this 'best' is still undiscovered; and in +enquiring after the cause, we can only hope to attain the second best. + +Now there is a danger in the contemplation of the nature of things, as +there is a danger in looking at the sun during an eclipse, unless the +precaution is taken of looking only at the image reflected in the water, or +in a glass. (Compare Laws; Republic.) 'I was afraid,' says Socrates, +'that I might injure the eye of the soul. I thought that I had better +return to the old and safe method of ideas. Though I do not mean to say +that he who contemplates existence through the medium of ideas sees only +through a glass darkly, any more than he who contemplates actual effects.' + +If the existence of ideas is granted to him, Socrates is of opinion that he +will then have no difficulty in proving the immortality of the soul. He +will only ask for a further admission:--that beauty is the cause of the +beautiful, greatness the cause of the great, smallness of the small, and so +on of other things. This is a safe and simple answer, which escapes the +contradictions of greater and less (greater by reason of that which is +smaller!), of addition and subtraction, and the other difficulties of +relation. These subtleties he is for leaving to wiser heads than his own; +he prefers to test ideas by the consistency of their consequences, and, if +asked to give an account of them, goes back to some higher idea or +hypothesis which appears to him to be the best, until at last he arrives at +a resting-place. (Republic; Phil.) + +The doctrine of ideas, which has long ago received the assent of the +Socratic circle, is now affirmed by the Phliasian auditor to command the +assent of any man of sense. The narrative is continued; Socrates is +desirous of explaining how opposite ideas may appear to co-exist but do not +really co-exist in the same thing or person. For example, Simmias may be +said to have greatness and also smallness, because he is greater than +Socrates and less than Phaedo. And yet Simmias is not really great and +also small, but only when compared to Phaedo and Socrates. I use the +illustration, says Socrates, because I want to show you not only that ideal +opposites exclude one another, but also the opposites in us. I, for +example, having the attribute of smallness remain small, and cannot become +great: the smallness which is in me drives out greatness. + +One of the company here remarked that this was inconsistent with the old +assertion that opposites generated opposites. But that, replies Socrates, +was affirmed, not of opposite ideas either in us or in nature, but of +opposition in the concrete--not of life and death, but of individuals +living and dying. When this objection has been removed, Socrates proceeds: +This doctrine of the mutual exclusion of opposites is not only true of the +opposites themselves, but of things which are inseparable from them. For +example, cold and heat are opposed; and fire, which is inseparable from +heat, cannot co-exist with cold, or snow, which is inseparable from cold, +with heat. Again, the number three excludes the number four, because three +is an odd number and four is an even number, and the odd is opposed to the +even. Thus we are able to proceed a step beyond 'the safe and simple +answer.' We may say, not only that the odd excludes the even, but that the +number three, which participates in oddness, excludes the even. And in +like manner, not only does life exclude death, but the soul, of which life +is the inseparable attribute, also excludes death. And that of which life +is the inseparable attribute is by the force of the terms imperishable. If +the odd principle were imperishable, then the number three would not perish +but remove, on the approach of the even principle. But the immortal is +imperishable; and therefore the soul on the approach of death does not +perish but removes. + +Thus all objections appear to be finally silenced. And now the application +has to be made: If the soul is immortal, 'what manner of persons ought we +to be?' having regard not only to time but to eternity. For death is not +the end of all, and the wicked is not released from his evil by death; but +every one carries with him into the world below that which he is or has +become, and that only. + +For after death the soul is carried away to judgment, and when she has +received her punishment returns to earth in the course of ages. The wise +soul is conscious of her situation, and follows the attendant angel who +guides her through the windings of the world below; but the impure soul +wanders hither and thither without companion or guide, and is carried at +last to her own place, as the pure soul is also carried away to hers. 'In +order that you may understand this, I must first describe to you the nature +and conformation of the earth.' + +Now the whole earth is a globe placed in the centre of the heavens, and is +maintained there by the perfection of balance. That which we call the +earth is only one of many small hollows, wherein collect the mists and +waters and the thick lower air; but the true earth is above, and is in a +finer and subtler element. And if, like birds, we could fly to the surface +of the air, in the same manner that fishes come to the top of the sea, then +we should behold the true earth and the true heaven and the true stars. +Our earth is everywhere corrupted and corroded; and even the land which is +fairer than the sea, for that is a mere chaos or waste of water and mud and +sand, has nothing to show in comparison of the other world. But the +heavenly earth is of divers colours, sparkling with jewels brighter than +gold and whiter than any snow, having flowers and fruits innumerable. And +the inhabitants dwell some on the shore of the sea of air, others in +'islets of the blest,' and they hold converse with the gods, and behold the +sun, moon and stars as they truly are, and their other blessedness is of a +piece with this. + +The hollows on the surface of the globe vary in size and shape from that +which we inhabit: but all are connected by passages and perforations in +the interior of the earth. And there is one huge chasm or opening called +Tartarus, into which streams of fire and water and liquid mud are ever +flowing; of these small portions find their way to the surface and form +seas and rivers and volcanoes. There is a perpetual inhalation and +exhalation of the air rising and falling as the waters pass into the depths +of the earth and return again, in their course forming lakes and rivers, +but never descending below the centre of the earth; for on either side the +rivers flowing either way are stopped by a precipice. These rivers are +many and mighty, and there are four principal ones, Oceanus, Acheron, +Pyriphlegethon, and Cocytus. Oceanus is the river which encircles the +earth; Acheron takes an opposite direction, and after flowing under the +earth through desert places, at last reaches the Acherusian lake,--this is +the river at which the souls of the dead await their return to earth. +Pyriphlegethon is a stream of fire, which coils round the earth and flows +into the depths of Tartarus. The fourth river, Cocytus, is that which is +called by the poets the Stygian river, and passes into and forms the lake +Styx, from the waters of which it gains new and strange powers. This +river, too, falls into Tartarus. + +The dead are first of all judged according to their deeds, and those who +are incurable are thrust into Tartarus, from which they never come out. +Those who have only committed venial sins are first purified of them, and +then rewarded for the good which they have done. Those who have committed +crimes, great indeed, but not unpardonable, are thrust into Tartarus, but +are cast forth at the end of a year by way of Pyriphlegethon or Cocytus, +and these carry them as far as the Acherusian lake, where they call upon +their victims to let them come out of the rivers into the lake. And if +they prevail, then they are let out and their sufferings cease: if not, +they are borne unceasingly into Tartarus and back again, until they at last +obtain mercy. The pure souls also receive their reward, and have their +abode in the upper earth, and a select few in still fairer 'mansions.' + +Socrates is not prepared to insist on the literal accuracy of this +description, but he is confident that something of the kind is true. He +who has sought after the pleasures of knowledge and rejected the pleasures +of the body, has reason to be of good hope at the approach of death; whose +voice is already speaking to him, and who will one day be heard calling all +men. + +The hour has come at which he must drink the poison, and not much remains +to be done. How shall they bury him? That is a question which he refuses +to entertain, for they are burying, not him, but his dead body. His +friends had once been sureties that he would remain, and they shall now be +sureties that he has run away. Yet he would not die without the customary +ceremonies of washing and burial. Shall he make a libation of the poison? +In the spirit he will, but not in the letter. One request he utters in the +very act of death, which has been a puzzle to after ages. With a sort of +irony he remembers that a trifling religious duty is still unfulfilled, +just as above he desires before he departs to compose a few verses in order +to satisfy a scruple about a dream--unless, indeed, we suppose him to mean, +that he was now restored to health, and made the customary offering to +Asclepius in token of his recovery. + +... + +1. The doctrine of the immortality of the soul has sunk deep into the +heart of the human race; and men are apt to rebel against any examination +of the nature or grounds of their belief. They do not like to acknowledge +that this, as well as the other 'eternal ideas; of man, has a history in +time, which may be traced in Greek poetry or philosophy, and also in the +Hebrew Scriptures. They convert feeling into reasoning, and throw a +network of dialectics over that which is really a deeply-rooted instinct. +In the same temper which Socrates reproves in himself they are disposed to +think that even fallacies will do no harm, for they will die with them, and +while they live they will gain by the delusion. And when they consider the +numberless bad arguments which have been pressed into the service of +theology, they say, like the companions of Socrates, 'What argument can we +ever trust again?' But there is a better and higher spirit to be gathered +from the Phaedo, as well as from the other writings of Plato, which says +that first principles should be most constantly reviewed (Phaedo and +Crat.), and that the highest subjects demand of us the greatest accuracy +(Republic); also that we must not become misologists because arguments are +apt to be deceivers. + +2. In former ages there was a customary rather than a reasoned belief in +the immortality of the soul. It was based on the authority of the Church, +on the necessity of such a belief to morality and the order of society, on +the evidence of an historical fact, and also on analogies and figures of +speech which filled up the void or gave an expression in words to a +cherished instinct. The mass of mankind went on their way busy with the +affairs of this life, hardly stopping to think about another. But in our +own day the question has been reopened, and it is doubtful whether the +belief which in the first ages of Christianity was the strongest motive of +action can survive the conflict with a scientific age in which the rules of +evidence are stricter and the mind has become more sensitive to criticism. +It has faded into the distance by a natural process as it was removed +further and further from the historical fact on which it has been supposed +to rest. Arguments derived from material things such as the seed and the +ear of corn or transitions in the life of animals from one state of being +to another (the chrysalis and the butterfly) are not 'in pari materia' with +arguments from the visible to the invisible, and are therefore felt to be +no longer applicable. The evidence to the historical fact seems to be +weaker than was once supposed: it is not consistent with itself, and is +based upon documents which are of unknown origin. The immortality of man +must be proved by other arguments than these if it is again to become a +living belief. We must ask ourselves afresh why we still maintain it, and +seek to discover a foundation for it in the nature of God and in the first +principles of morality. + +3. At the outset of the discussion we may clear away a confusion. We +certainly do not mean by the immortality of the soul the immortality of +fame, which whether worth having or not can only be ascribed to a very +select class of the whole race of mankind, and even the interest in these +few is comparatively short-lived. To have been a benefactor to the world, +whether in a higher or a lower sphere of life and thought, is a great +thing: to have the reputation of being one, when men have passed out of +the sphere of earthly praise or blame, is hardly worthy of consideration. +The memory of a great man, so far from being immortal, is really limited to +his own generation:--so long as his friends or his disciples are alive, so +long as his books continue to be read, so long as his political or military +successes fill a page in the history of his country. The praises which are +bestowed upon him at his death hardly last longer than the flowers which +are strewed upon his coffin or the 'immortelles' which are laid upon his +tomb. Literature makes the most of its heroes, but the true man is well +aware that far from enjoying an immortality of fame, in a generation or +two, or even in a much shorter time, he will be forgotten and the world +will get on without him. + +4. Modern philosophy is perplexed at this whole question, which is +sometimes fairly given up and handed over to the realm of faith. The +perplexity should not be forgotten by us when we attempt to submit the +Phaedo of Plato to the requirements of logic. For what idea can we form of +the soul when separated from the body? Or how can the soul be united with +the body and still be independent? Is the soul related to the body as the +ideal to the real, or as the whole to the parts, or as the subject to the +object, or as the cause to the effect, or as the end to the means? Shall +we say with Aristotle, that the soul is the entelechy or form of an +organized living body? or with Plato, that she has a life of her own? Is +the Pythagorean image of the harmony, or that of the monad, the truer +expression? Is the soul related to the body as sight to the eye, or as the +boatman to his boat? (Arist. de Anim.) And in another state of being is +the soul to be conceived of as vanishing into infinity, hardly possessing +an existence which she can call her own, as in the pantheistic system of +Spinoza: or as an individual informing another body and entering into new +relations, but retaining her own character? (Compare Gorgias.) Or is the +opposition of soul and body a mere illusion, and the true self neither soul +nor body, but the union of the two in the 'I' which is above them? And is +death the assertion of this individuality in the higher nature, and the +falling away into nothingness of the lower? Or are we vainly attempting to +pass the boundaries of human thought? The body and the soul seem to be +inseparable, not only in fact, but in our conceptions of them; and any +philosophy which too closely unites them, or too widely separates them, +either in this life or in another, disturbs the balance of human nature. +No thinker has perfectly adjusted them, or been entirely consistent with +himself in describing their relation to one another. Nor can we wonder +that Plato in the infancy of human thought should have confused mythology +and philosophy, or have mistaken verbal arguments for real ones. + +5. Again, believing in the immortality of the soul, we must still ask the +question of Socrates, 'What is that which we suppose to be immortal?' Is +it the personal and individual element in us, or the spiritual and +universal? Is it the principle of knowledge or of goodness, or the union +of the two? Is it the mere force of life which is determined to be, or the +consciousness of self which cannot be got rid of, or the fire of genius +which refuses to be extinguished? Or is there a hidden being which is +allied to the Author of all existence, who is because he is perfect, and to +whom our ideas of perfection give us a title to belong? Whatever answer is +given by us to these questions, there still remains the necessity of +allowing the permanence of evil, if not for ever, at any rate for a time, +in order that the wicked 'may not have too good a bargain.' For the +annihilation of evil at death, or the eternal duration of it, seem to +involve equal difficulties in the moral government of the universe. +Sometimes we are led by our feelings, rather than by our reason, to think +of the good and wise only as existing in another life. Why should the +mean, the weak, the idiot, the infant, the herd of men who have never in +any proper sense the use of reason, reappear with blinking eyes in the +light of another world? But our second thought is that the hope of +humanity is a common one, and that all or none will be partakers of +immortality. Reason does not allow us to suppose that we have any greater +claims than others, and experience may often reveal to us unexpected +flashes of the higher nature in those whom we had despised. Why should the +wicked suffer any more than ourselves? had we been placed in their +circumstances should we have been any better than they? The worst of men +are objects of pity rather than of anger to the philanthropist; must they +not be equally such to divine benevolence? Even more than the good they +have need of another life; not that they may be punished, but that they may +be educated. These are a few of the reflections which arise in our minds +when we attempt to assign any form to our conceptions of a future state. + +There are some other questions which are disturbing to us because we have +no answer to them. What is to become of the animals in a future state? +Have we not seen dogs more faithful and intelligent than men, and men who +are more stupid and brutal than any animals? Does their life cease at +death, or is there some 'better thing reserved' also for them? They may be +said to have a shadow or imitation of morality, and imperfect moral claims +upon the benevolence of man and upon the justice of God. We cannot think +of the least or lowest of them, the insect, the bird, the inhabitants of +the sea or the desert, as having any place in a future world, and if not +all, why should those who are specially attached to man be deemed worthy of +any exceptional privilege? When we reason about such a subject, almost at +once we degenerate into nonsense. It is a passing thought which has no +real hold on the mind. We may argue for the existence of animals in a +future state from the attributes of God, or from texts of Scripture ('Are +not two sparrows sold for one farthing?' etc.), but the truth is that we +are only filling up the void of another world with our own fancies. Again, +we often talk about the origin of evil, that great bugbear of theologians, +by which they frighten us into believing any superstition. What answer can +be made to the old commonplace, 'Is not God the author of evil, if he +knowingly permitted, but could have prevented it?' Even if we assume that +the inequalities of this life are rectified by some transposition of human +beings in another, still the existence of the very least evil if it could +have been avoided, seems to be at variance with the love and justice of +God. And so we arrive at the conclusion that we are carrying logic too +far, and that the attempt to frame the world according to a rule of divine +perfection is opposed to experience and had better be given up. The case +of the animals is our own. We must admit that the Divine Being, although +perfect himself, has placed us in a state of life in which we may work +together with him for good, but we are very far from having attained to it. + +6. Again, ideas must be given through something; and we are always prone +to argue about the soul from analogies of outward things which may serve to +embody our thoughts, but are also partly delusive. For we cannot reason +from the natural to the spiritual, or from the outward to the inward. The +progress of physiological science, without bringing us nearer to the great +secret, has tended to remove some erroneous notions respecting the +relations of body and mind, and in this we have the advantage of the +ancients. But no one imagines that any seed of immortality is to be +discerned in our mortal frames. Most people have been content to rest +their belief in another life on the agreement of the more enlightened part +of mankind, and on the inseparable connection of such a doctrine with the +existence of a God--also in a less degree on the impossibility of doubting +about the continued existence of those whom we love and reverence in this +world. And after all has been said, the figure, the analogy, the argument, +are felt to be only approximations in different forms to an expression of +the common sentiment of the human heart. That we shall live again is far +more certain than that we shall take any particular form of life. + +7. When we speak of the immortality of the soul, we must ask further what +we mean by the word immortality. For of the duration of a living being in +countless ages we can form no conception; far less than a three years' old +child of the whole of life. The naked eye might as well try to see the +furthest star in the infinity of heaven. Whether time and space really +exist when we take away the limits of them may be doubted; at any rate the +thought of them when unlimited us so overwhelming to us as to lose all +distinctness. Philosophers have spoken of them as forms of the human mind, +but what is the mind without them? As then infinite time, or an existence +out of time, which are the only possible explanations of eternal duration, +are equally inconceivable to us, let us substitute for them a hundred or a +thousand years after death, and ask not what will be our employment in +eternity, but what will happen to us in that definite portion of time; or +what is now happening to those who passed out of life a hundred or a +thousand years ago. Do we imagine that the wicked are suffering torments, +or that the good are singing the praises of God, during a period longer +than that of a whole life, or of ten lives of men? Is the suffering +physical or mental? And does the worship of God consist only of praise, or +of many forms of service? Who are the wicked, and who are the good, whom +we venture to divide by a hard and fast line; and in which of the two +classes should we place ourselves and our friends? May we not suspect that +we are making differences of kind, because we are unable to imagine +differences of degree?--putting the whole human race into heaven or hell +for the greater convenience of logical division? Are we not at the same +time describing them both in superlatives, only that we may satisfy the +demands of rhetoric? What is that pain which does not become deadened +after a thousand years? or what is the nature of that pleasure or happiness +which never wearies by monotony? Earthly pleasures and pains are short in +proportion as they are keen; of any others which are both intense and +lasting we have no experience, and can form no idea. The words or figures +of speech which we use are not consistent with themselves. For are we not +imagining Heaven under the similitude of a church, and Hell as a prison, or +perhaps a madhouse or chamber of horrors? And yet to beings constituted as +we are, the monotony of singing psalms would be as great an infliction as +the pains of hell, and might be even pleasantly interrupted by them. Where +are the actions worthy of rewards greater than those which are conferred on +the greatest benefactors of mankind? And where are the crimes which +according to Plato's merciful reckoning,--more merciful, at any rate, than +the eternal damnation of so-called Christian teachers,--for every ten years +in this life deserve a hundred of punishment in the life to come? We +should be ready to die of pity if we could see the least of the sufferings +which the writers of Infernos and Purgatorios have attributed to the +damned. Yet these joys and terrors seem hardly to exercise an appreciable +influence over the lives of men. The wicked man when old, is not, as Plato +supposes (Republic), more agitated by the terrors of another world when he +is nearer to them, nor the good in an ecstasy at the joys of which he is +soon to be the partaker. Age numbs the sense of both worlds; and the habit +of life is strongest in death. Even the dying mother is dreaming of her +lost children as they were forty or fifty years before, 'pattering over the +boards,' not of reunion with them in another state of being. Most persons +when the last hour comes are resigned to the order of nature and the will +of God. They are not thinking of Dante's Inferno or Paradiso, or of the +Pilgrim's Progress. Heaven and hell are not realities to them, but words +or ideas; the outward symbols of some great mystery, they hardly know what. +Many noble poems and pictures have been suggested by the traditional +representations of them, which have been fixed in forms of art and can no +longer be altered. Many sermons have been filled with descriptions of +celestial or infernal mansions. But hardly even in childhood did the +thought of heaven and hell supply the motives of our actions, or at any +time seriously affect the substance of our belief. + +8. Another life must be described, if at all, in forms of thought and not +of sense. To draw pictures of heaven and hell, whether in the language of +Scripture or any other, adds nothing to our real knowledge, but may perhaps +disguise our ignorance. The truest conception which we can form of a +future life is a state of progress or education--a progress from evil to +good, from ignorance to knowledge. To this we are led by the analogy of +the present life, in which we see different races and nations of men, and +different men and women of the same nation, in various states or stages of +cultivation; some more and some less developed, and all of them capable of +improvement under favourable circumstances. There are punishments too of +children when they are growing up inflicted by their parents, of elder +offenders which are imposed by the law of the land, of all men at all times +of life, which are attached by the laws of nature to the performance of +certain actions. All these punishments are really educational; that is to +say, they are not intended to retaliate on the offender, but to teach him a +lesson. Also there is an element of chance in them, which is another name +for our ignorance of the laws of nature. There is evil too inseparable +from good (compare Lysis); not always punished here, as good is not always +rewarded. It is capable of being indefinitely diminished; and as knowledge +increases, the element of chance may more and more disappear. + +For we do not argue merely from the analogy of the present state of this +world to another, but from the analogy of a probable future to which we are +tending. The greatest changes of which we have had experience as yet are +due to our increasing knowledge of history and of nature. They have been +produced by a few minds appearing in three or four favoured nations, in a +comparatively short period of time. May we be allowed to imagine the minds +of men everywhere working together during many ages for the completion of +our knowledge? May not the science of physiology transform the world? +Again, the majority of mankind have really experienced some moral +improvement; almost every one feels that he has tendencies to good, and is +capable of becoming better. And these germs of good are often found to be +developed by new circumstances, like stunted trees when transplanted to a +better soil. The differences between the savage and the civilized man, or +between the civilized man in old and new countries, may be indefinitely +increased. The first difference is the effect of a few thousand, the +second of a few hundred years. We congratulate ourselves that slavery has +become industry; that law and constitutional government have superseded +despotism and violence; that an ethical religion has taken the place of +Fetichism. There may yet come a time when the many may be as well off as +the few; when no one will be weighed down by excessive toil; when the +necessity of providing for the body will not interfere with mental +improvement; when the physical frame may be strengthened and developed; and +the religion of all men may become a reasonable service. + +Nothing therefore, either in the present state of man or in the tendencies +of the future, as far as we can entertain conjecture of them, would lead us +to suppose that God governs us vindictively in this world, and therefore we +have no reason to infer that he will govern us vindictively in another. +The true argument from analogy is not, 'This life is a mixed state of +justice and injustice, of great waste, of sudden casualties, of +disproportionate punishments, and therefore the like inconsistencies, +irregularities, injustices are to be expected in another;' but 'This life +is subject to law, and is in a state of progress, and therefore law and +progress may be believed to be the governing principles of another.' All +the analogies of this world would be against unmeaning punishments +inflicted a hundred or a thousand years after an offence had been +committed. Suffering there might be as a part of education, but not +hopeless or protracted; as there might be a retrogression of individuals or +of bodies of men, yet not such as to interfere with a plan for the +improvement of the whole (compare Laws.) + +9. But some one will say: That we cannot reason from the seen to the +unseen, and that we are creating another world after the image of this, +just as men in former ages have created gods in their own likeness. And +we, like the companions of Socrates, may feel discouraged at hearing our +favourite 'argument from analogy' thus summarily disposed of. Like +himself, too, we may adduce other arguments in which he seems to have +anticipated us, though he expresses them in different language. For we +feel that the soul partakes of the ideal and invisible; and can never fall +into the error of confusing the external circumstances of man with his +higher self; or his origin with his nature. It is as repugnant to us as it +was to him to imagine that our moral ideas are to be attributed only to +cerebral forces. The value of a human soul, like the value of a man's life +to himself, is inestimable, and cannot be reckoned in earthly or material +things. The human being alone has the consciousness of truth and justice +and love, which is the consciousness of God. And the soul becoming more +conscious of these, becomes more conscious of her own immortality. + +10. The last ground of our belief in immortality, and the strongest, is +the perfection of the divine nature. The mere fact of the existence of God +does not tend to show the continued existence of man. An evil God or an +indifferent God might have had the power, but not the will, to preserve us. +He might have regarded us as fitted to minister to his service by a +succession of existences,--like the animals, without attributing to each +soul an incomparable value. But if he is perfect, he must will that all +rational beings should partake of that perfection which he himself is. In +the words of the Timaeus, he is good, and therefore he desires that all +other things should be as like himself as possible. And the manner in +which he accomplishes this is by permitting evil, or rather degrees of +good, which are otherwise called evil. For all progress is good relatively +to the past, and yet may be comparatively evil when regarded in the light +of the future. Good and evil are relative terms, and degrees of evil are +merely the negative aspect of degrees of good. Of the absolute goodness of +any finite nature we can form no conception; we are all of us in process of +transition from one degree of good or evil to another. The difficulties +which are urged about the origin or existence of evil are mere dialectical +puzzles, standing in the same relation to Christian philosophy as the +puzzles of the Cynics and Megarians to the philosophy of Plato. They arise +out of the tendency of the human mind to regard good and evil both as +relative and absolute; just as the riddles about motion are to be explained +by the double conception of space or matter, which the human mind has the +power of regarding either as continuous or discrete. + +In speaking of divine perfection, we mean to say that God is just and true +and loving, the author of order and not of disorder, of good and not of +evil. Or rather, that he is justice, that he is truth, that he is love, +that he is order, that he is the very progress of which we were speaking; +and that wherever these qualities are present, whether in the human soul or +in the order of nature, there is God. We might still see him everywhere, +if we had not been mistakenly seeking for him apart from us, instead of in +us; away from the laws of nature, instead of in them. And we become united +to him not by mystical absorption, but by partaking, whether consciously or +unconsciously, of that truth and justice and love which he himself is. + +Thus the belief in the immortality of the soul rests at last on the belief +in God. If there is a good and wise God, then there is a progress of +mankind towards perfection; and if there is no progress of men towards +perfection, then there is no good and wise God. We cannot suppose that the +moral government of God of which we see the beginnings in the world and in +ourselves will cease when we pass out of life. + +11. Considering the 'feebleness of the human faculties and the uncertainty +of the subject,' we are inclined to believe that the fewer our words the +better. At the approach of death there is not much said; good men are too +honest to go out of the world professing more than they know. There is +perhaps no important subject about which, at any time, even religious +people speak so little to one another. In the fulness of life the thought +of death is mostly awakened by the sight or recollection of the death of +others rather than by the prospect of our own. We must also acknowledge +that there are degrees of the belief in immortality, and many forms in +which it presents itself to the mind. Some persons will say no more than +that they trust in God, and that they leave all to Him. It is a great part +of true religion not to pretend to know more than we do. Others when they +quit this world are comforted with the hope 'That they will see and know +their friends in heaven.' But it is better to leave them in the hands of +God and to be assured that 'no evil shall touch them.' There are others +again to whom the belief in a divine personality has ceased to have any +longer a meaning; yet they are satisfied that the end of all is not here, +but that something still remains to us, 'and some better thing for the good +than for the evil.' They are persuaded, in spite of their theological +nihilism, that the ideas of justice and truth and holiness and love are +realities. They cherish an enthusiastic devotion to the first principles +of morality. Through these they see, or seem to see, darkly, and in a +figure, that the soul is immortal. + +But besides differences of theological opinion which must ever prevail +about things unseen, the hope of immortality is weaker or stronger in men +at one time of life than at another; it even varies from day to day. It +comes and goes; the mind, like the sky, is apt to be overclouded. Other +generations of men may have sometimes lived under an 'eclipse of faith,' to +us the total disappearance of it might be compared to the 'sun falling from +heaven.' And we may sometimes have to begin again and acquire the belief +for ourselves; or to win it back again when it is lost. It is really +weakest in the hour of death. For Nature, like a kind mother or nurse, +lays us to sleep without frightening us; physicians, who are the witnesses +of such scenes, say that under ordinary circumstances there is no fear of +the future. Often, as Plato tells us, death is accompanied 'with +pleasure.' (Tim.) When the end is still uncertain, the cry of many a one +has been, 'Pray, that I may be taken.' The last thoughts even of the best +men depend chiefly on the accidents of their bodily state. Pain soon +overpowers the desire of life; old age, like the child, is laid to sleep +almost in a moment. The long experience of life will often destroy the +interest which mankind have in it. So various are the feelings with which +different persons draw near to death; and still more various the forms in +which imagination clothes it. For this alternation of feeling compare the +Old Testament,--Psalm vi.; Isaiah; Eccles. + +12. When we think of God and of man in his relation to God; of the +imperfection of our present state and yet of the progress which is +observable in the history of the world and of the human mind; of the depth +and power of our moral ideas which seem to partake of the very nature of +God Himself; when we consider the contrast between the physical laws to +which we are subject and the higher law which raises us above them and is +yet a part of them; when we reflect on our capacity of becoming the +'spectators of all time and all existence,' and of framing in our own minds +the ideal of a perfect Being; when we see how the human mind in all the +higher religions of the world, including Buddhism, notwithstanding some +aberrations, has tended towards such a belief--we have reason to think that +our destiny is different from that of animals; and though we cannot +altogether shut out the childish fear that the soul upon leaving the body +may 'vanish into thin air,' we have still, so far as the nature of the +subject admits, a hope of immortality with which we comfort ourselves on +sufficient grounds. The denial of the belief takes the heart out of human +life; it lowers men to the level of the material. As Goethe also says, 'He +is dead even in this world who has no belief in another.' + +13. It is well also that we should sometimes think of the forms of thought +under which the idea of immortality is most naturally presented to us. It +is clear that to our minds the risen soul can no longer be described, as in +a picture, by the symbol of a creature half-bird, half-human, nor in any +other form of sense. The multitude of angels, as in Milton, singing the +Almighty 's praises, are a noble image, and may furnish a theme for the +poet or the painter, but they are no longer an adequate expression of the +kingdom of God which is within us. Neither is there any mansion, in this +world or another, in which the departed can be imagined to dwell and carry +on their occupations. When this earthly tabernacle is dissolved, no other +habitation or building can take them in: it is in the language of ideas +only that we speak of them. + +First of all there is the thought of rest and freedom from pain; they have +gone home, as the common saying is, and the cares of this world touch them +no more. Secondly, we may imagine them as they were at their best and +brightest, humbly fulfilling their daily round of duties--selfless, +childlike, unaffected by the world; when the eye was single and the whole +body seemed to be full of light; when the mind was clear and saw into the +purposes of God. Thirdly, we may think of them as possessed by a great +love of God and man, working out His will at a further stage in the +heavenly pilgrimage. And yet we acknowledge that these are the things +which eye hath not seen nor ear heard and therefore it hath not entered +into the heart of man in any sensible manner to conceive them. Fourthly, +there may have been some moments in our own lives when we have risen above +ourselves, or been conscious of our truer selves, in which the will of God +has superseded our wills, and we have entered into communion with Him, and +been partakers for a brief season of the Divine truth and love, in which +like Christ we have been inspired to utter the prayer, 'I in them, and thou +in me, that we may be all made perfect in one.' These precious moments, if +we have ever known them, are the nearest approach which we can make to the +idea of immortality. + +14. Returning now to the earlier stage of human thought which is +represented by the writings of Plato, we find that many of the same +questions have already arisen: there is the same tendency to materialism; +the same inconsistency in the application of the idea of mind; the same +doubt whether the soul is to be regarded as a cause or as an effect; the +same falling back on moral convictions. In the Phaedo the soul is +conscious of her divine nature, and the separation from the body which has +been commenced in this life is perfected in another. Beginning in mystery, +Socrates, in the intermediate part of the Dialogue, attempts to bring the +doctrine of a future life into connection with his theory of knowledge. In +proportion as he succeeds in this, the individual seems to disappear in a +more general notion of the soul; the contemplation of ideas 'under the form +of eternity' takes the place of past and future states of existence. His +language may be compared to that of some modern philosophers, who speak of +eternity, not in the sense of perpetual duration of time, but as an ever- +present quality of the soul. Yet at the conclusion of the Dialogue, having +'arrived at the end of the intellectual world' (Republic), he replaces the +veil of mythology, and describes the soul and her attendant genius in the +language of the mysteries or of a disciple of Zoroaster. Nor can we fairly +demand of Plato a consistency which is wanting among ourselves, who +acknowledge that another world is beyond the range of human thought, and +yet are always seeking to represent the mansions of heaven or hell in the +colours of the painter, or in the descriptions of the poet or rhetorician. + +15. The doctrine of the immortality of the soul was not new to the Greeks +in the age of Socrates, but, like the unity of God, had a foundation in the +popular belief. The old Homeric notion of a gibbering ghost flitting away +to Hades; or of a few illustrious heroes enjoying the isles of the blest; +or of an existence divided between the two; or the Hesiodic, of righteous +spirits, who become guardian angels,--had given place in the mysteries and +the Orphic poets to representations, partly fanciful, of a future state of +rewards and punishments. (Laws.) The reticence of the Greeks on public +occasions and in some part of their literature respecting this +'underground' religion, is not to be taken as a measure of the diffusion of +such beliefs. If Pericles in the funeral oration is silent on the +consolations of immortality, the poet Pindar and the tragedians on the +other hand constantly assume the continued existence of the dead in an +upper or under world. Darius and Laius are still alive; Antigone will be +dear to her brethren after death; the way to the palace of Cronos is found +by those who 'have thrice departed from evil.' The tragedy of the Greeks +is not 'rounded' by this life, but is deeply set in decrees of fate and +mysterious workings of powers beneath the earth. In the caricature of +Aristophanes there is also a witness to the common sentiment. The Ionian +and Pythagorean philosophies arose, and some new elements were added to the +popular belief. The individual must find an expression as well as the +world. Either the soul was supposed to exist in the form of a magnet, or +of a particle of fire, or of light, or air, or water; or of a number or of +a harmony of number; or to be or have, like the stars, a principle of +motion (Arist. de Anim.). At length Anaxagoras, hardly distinguishing +between life and mind, or between mind human and divine, attained the pure +abstraction; and this, like the other abstractions of Greek philosophy, +sank deep into the human intelligence. The opposition of the intelligible +and the sensible, and of God to the world, supplied an analogy which +assisted in the separation of soul and body. If ideas were separable from +phenomena, mind was also separable from matter; if the ideas were eternal, +the mind that conceived them was eternal too. As the unity of God was more +distinctly acknowledged, the conception of the human soul became more +developed. The succession, or alternation of life and death, had occurred +to Heracleitus. The Eleatic Parmenides had stumbled upon the modern +thesis, that 'thought and being are the same.' The Eastern belief in +transmigration defined the sense of individuality; and some, like +Empedocles, fancied that the blood which they had shed in another state of +being was crying against them, and that for thirty thousand years they were +to be 'fugitives and vagabonds upon the earth.' The desire of recognizing +a lost mother or love or friend in the world below (Phaedo) was a natural +feeling which, in that age as well as in every other, has given +distinctness to the hope of immortality. Nor were ethical considerations +wanting, partly derived from the necessity of punishing the greater sort of +criminals, whom no avenging power of this world could reach. The voice of +conscience, too, was heard reminding the good man that he was not +altogether innocent. (Republic.) To these indistinct longings and fears +an expression was given in the mysteries and Orphic poets: a 'heap of +books' (Republic), passing under the names of Musaeus and Orpheus in +Plato's time, were filled with notions of an under-world. + +16. Yet after all the belief in the individuality of the soul after death +had but a feeble hold on the Greek mind. Like the personality of God, the +personality of man in a future state was not inseparably bound up with the +reality of his existence. For the distinction between the personal and +impersonal, and also between the divine and human, was far less marked to +the Greek than to ourselves. And as Plato readily passes from the notion +of the good to that of God, he also passes almost imperceptibly to himself +and his reader from the future life of the individual soul to the eternal +being of the absolute soul. There has been a clearer statement and a +clearer denial of the belief in modern times than is found in early Greek +philosophy, and hence the comparative silence on the whole subject which is +often remarked in ancient writers, and particularly in Aristotle. For +Plato and Aristotle are not further removed in their teaching about the +immortality of the soul than they are in their theory of knowledge. + +17. Living in an age when logic was beginning to mould human thought, +Plato naturally cast his belief in immortality into a logical form. And +when we consider how much the doctrine of ideas was also one of words, it +is not surprising that he should have fallen into verbal fallacies: early +logic is always mistaking the truth of the form for the truth of the +matter. It is easy to see that the alternation of opposites is not the +same as the generation of them out of each other; and that the generation +of them out of each other, which is the first argument in the Phaedo, is at +variance with their mutual exclusion of each other, whether in themselves +or in us, which is the last. For even if we admit the distinction which he +draws between the opposites and the things which have the opposites, still +individuals fall under the latter class; and we have to pass out of the +region of human hopes and fears to a conception of an abstract soul which +is the impersonation of the ideas. Such a conception, which in Plato +himself is but half expressed, is unmeaning to us, and relative only to a +particular stage in the history of thought. The doctrine of reminiscence +is also a fragment of a former world, which has no place in the philosophy +of modern times. But Plato had the wonders of psychology just opening to +him, and he had not the explanation of them which is supplied by the +analysis of language and the history of the human mind. The question, +'Whence come our abstract ideas?' he could only answer by an imaginary +hypothesis. Nor is it difficult to see that his crowning argument is +purely verbal, and is but the expression of an instinctive confidence put +into a logical form:--'The soul is immortal because it contains a principle +of imperishableness.' Nor does he himself seem at all to be aware that +nothing is added to human knowledge by his 'safe and simple answer,' that +beauty is the cause of the beautiful; and that he is merely reasserting the +Eleatic being 'divided by the Pythagorean numbers,' against the +Heracleitean doctrine of perpetual generation. The answer to the 'very +serious question' of generation and destruction is really the denial of +them. For this he would substitute, as in the Republic, a system of ideas, +tested, not by experience, but by their consequences, and not explained by +actual causes, but by a higher, that is, a more general notion. +Consistency with themselves is the only test which is to be applied to +them. (Republic, and Phaedo.) + +18. To deal fairly with such arguments, they should be translated as far +as possible into their modern equivalents. 'If the ideas of men are +eternal, their souls are eternal, and if not the ideas, then not the +souls.' Such an argument stands nearly in the same relation to Plato and +his age, as the argument from the existence of God to immortality among +ourselves. 'If God exists, then the soul exists after death; and if there +is no God, there is no existence of the soul after death.' For the ideas +are to his mind the reality, the truth, the principle of permanence, as +well as of intelligence and order in the world. When Simmias and Cebes say +that they are more strongly persuaded of the existence of ideas than they +are of the immortality of the soul, they represent fairly enough the order +of thought in Greek philosophy. And we might say in the same way that we +are more certain of the existence of God than we are of the immortality of +the soul, and are led by the belief in the one to a belief in the other. +The parallel, as Socrates would say, is not perfect, but agrees in as far +as the mind in either case is regarded as dependent on something above and +beyond herself. The analogy may even be pressed a step further: 'We are +more certain of our ideas of truth and right than we are of the existence +of God, and are led on in the order of thought from one to the other.' Or +more correctly: 'The existence of right and truth is the existence of God, +and can never for a moment be separated from Him.' + +19. The main argument of the Phaedo is derived from the existence of +eternal ideas of which the soul is a partaker; the other argument of the +alternation of opposites is replaced by this. And there have not been +wanting philosophers of the idealist school who have imagined that the +doctrine of the immortality of the soul is a theory of knowledge, and that +in what has preceded Plato is accommodating himself to the popular belief. +Such a view can only be elicited from the Phaedo by what may be termed the +transcendental method of interpretation, and is obviously inconsistent with +the Gorgias and the Republic. Those who maintain it are immediately +compelled to renounce the shadow which they have grasped, as a play of +words only. But the truth is, that Plato in his argument for the +immortality of the soul has collected many elements of proof or persuasion, +ethical and mythological as well as dialectical, which are not easily to be +reconciled with one another; and he is as much in earnest about his +doctrine of retribution, which is repeated in all his more ethical +writings, as about his theory of knowledge. And while we may fairly +translate the dialectical into the language of Hegel, and the religious and +mythological into the language of Dante or Bunyan, the ethical speaks to us +still in the same voice, and appeals to a common feeling. + +20. Two arguments of this ethical character occur in the Phaedo. The +first may be described as the aspiration of the soul after another state of +being. Like the Oriental or Christian mystic, the philosopher is seeking +to withdraw from impurities of sense, to leave the world and the things of +the world, and to find his higher self. Plato recognizes in these +aspirations the foretaste of immortality; as Butler and Addison in modern +times have argued, the one from the moral tendencies of mankind, the other +from the progress of the soul towards perfection. In using this argument +Plato has certainly confused the soul which has left the body, with the +soul of the good and wise. (Compare Republic.) Such a confusion was +natural, and arose partly out of the antithesis of soul and body. The soul +in her own essence, and the soul 'clothed upon' with virtues and graces, +were easily interchanged with one another, because on a subject which +passes expression the distinctions of language can hardly be maintained. + +21. The ethical proof of the immortality of the soul is derived from the +necessity of retribution. The wicked would be too well off if their evil +deeds came to an end. It is not to be supposed that an Ardiaeus, an +Archelaus, an Ismenias could ever have suffered the penalty of their crimes +in this world. The manner in which this retribution is accomplished Plato +represents under the figures of mythology. Doubtless he felt that it was +easier to improve than to invent, and that in religion especially the +traditional form was required in order to give verisimilitude to the myth. +The myth too is far more probable to that age than to ours, and may fairly +be regarded as 'one guess among many' about the nature of the earth, which +he cleverly supports by the indications of geology. Not that he insists on +the absolute truth of his own particular notions: 'no man of sense will be +confident in such matters; but he will be confident that something of the +kind is true.' As in other passages (Gorg., Tim., compare Crito), he wins +belief for his fictions by the moderation of his statements; he does not, +like Dante or Swedenborg, allow himself to be deceived by his own +creations. + +The Dialogue must be read in the light of the situation. And first of all +we are struck by the calmness of the scene. Like the spectators at the +time, we cannot pity Socrates; his mien and his language are so noble and +fearless. He is the same that he ever was, but milder and gentler, and he +has in no degree lost his interest in dialectics; he will not forego the +delight of an argument in compliance with the jailer's intimation that he +should not heat himself with talking. At such a time he naturally +expresses the hope of his life, that he has been a true mystic and not a +mere retainer or wand-bearer: and he refers to passages of his personal +history. To his old enemies the Comic poets, and to the proceedings on the +trial, he alludes playfully; but he vividly remembers the disappointment +which he felt in reading the books of Anaxagoras. The return of Xanthippe +and his children indicates that the philosopher is not 'made of oak or +rock.' Some other traits of his character may be noted; for example, the +courteous manner in which he inclines his head to the last objector, or the +ironical touch, 'Me already, as the tragic poet would say, the voice of +fate calls;' or the depreciation of the arguments with which 'he comforted +himself and them;' or his fear of 'misology;' or his references to Homer; +or the playful smile with which he 'talks like a book' about greater and +less; or the allusion to the possibility of finding another teacher among +barbarous races (compare Polit.); or the mysterious reference to another +science (mathematics?) of generation and destruction for which he is vainly +feeling. There is no change in him; only now he is invested with a sort of +sacred character, as the prophet or priest of Apollo the God of the +festival, in whose honour he first of all composes a hymn, and then like +the swan pours forth his dying lay. Perhaps the extreme elevation of +Socrates above his own situation, and the ordinary interests of life +(compare his jeu d'esprit about his burial, in which for a moment he puts +on the 'Silenus mask'), create in the mind of the reader an impression +stronger than could be derived from arguments that such a one has in him 'a +principle which does not admit of death.' + +The other persons of the Dialogue may be considered under two heads: (1) +private friends; (2) the respondents in the argument. + +First there is Crito, who has been already introduced to us in the +Euthydemus and the Crito; he is the equal in years of Socrates, and stands +in quite a different relation to him from his younger disciples. He is a +man of the world who is rich and prosperous (compare the jest in the +Euthydemus), the best friend of Socrates, who wants to know his commands, +in whose presence he talks to his family, and who performs the last duty of +closing his eyes. It is observable too that, as in the Euthydemus, Crito +shows no aptitude for philosophical discussions. Nor among the friends of +Socrates must the jailer be forgotten, who seems to have been introduced by +Plato in order to show the impression made by the extraordinary man on the +common. The gentle nature of the man is indicated by his weeping at the +announcement of his errand and then turning away, and also by the words of +Socrates to his disciples: 'How charming the man is! since I have been in +prison he has been always coming to me, and is as good as could be to me.' +We are reminded too that he has retained this gentle nature amid scenes of +death and violence by the contrasts which he draws between the behaviour of +Socrates and of others when about to die. + +Another person who takes no part in the philosophical discussion is the +excitable Apollodorus, the same who, in the Symposium, of which he is the +narrator, is called 'the madman,' and who testifies his grief by the most +violent emotions. Phaedo is also present, the 'beloved disciple' as he may +be termed, who is described, if not 'leaning on his bosom,' as seated next +to Socrates, who is playing with his hair. He too, like Apollodorus, takes +no part in the discussion, but he loves above all things to hear and speak +of Socrates after his death. The calmness of his behaviour, veiling his +face when he can no longer restrain his tears, contrasts with the +passionate outcries of the other. At a particular point the argument is +described as falling before the attack of Simmias. A sort of despair is +introduced in the minds of the company. The effect of this is heightened +by the description of Phaedo, who has been the eye-witness of the scene, +and by the sympathy of his Phliasian auditors who are beginning to think +'that they too can never trust an argument again.' And the intense +interest of the company is communicated not only to the first auditors, but +to us who in a distant country read the narrative of their emotions after +more than two thousand years have passed away. + +The two principal interlocutors are Simmias and Cebes, the disciples of +Philolaus the Pythagorean philosopher of Thebes. Simmias is described in +the Phaedrus as fonder of an argument than any man living; and Cebes, +although finally persuaded by Socrates, is said to be the most incredulous +of human beings. It is Cebes who at the commencement of the Dialogue asks +why 'suicide is held to be unlawful,' and who first supplies the doctrine +of recollection in confirmation of the pre-existence of the soul. It is +Cebes who urges that the pre-existence does not necessarily involve the +future existence of the soul, as is shown by the illustration of the weaver +and his coat. Simmias, on the other hand, raises the question about +harmony and the lyre, which is naturally put into the mouth of a +Pythagorean disciple. It is Simmias, too, who first remarks on the +uncertainty of human knowledge, and only at last concedes to the argument +such a qualified approval as is consistent with the feebleness of the human +faculties. Cebes is the deeper and more consecutive thinker, Simmias more +superficial and rhetorical; they are distinguished in much the same manner +as Adeimantus and Glaucon in the Republic. + +Other persons, Menexenus, Ctesippus, Lysis, are old friends; Evenus has +been already satirized in the Apology; Aeschines and Epigenes were present +at the trial; Euclid and Terpsion will reappear in the Introduction to the +Theaetetus, Hermogenes has already appeared in the Cratylus. No inference +can fairly be drawn from the absence of Aristippus, nor from the omission +of Xenophon, who at the time of Socrates' death was in Asia. The mention +of Plato's own absence seems like an expression of sorrow, and may, +perhaps, be an indication that the report of the conversation is not to be +taken literally. + +The place of the Dialogue in the series is doubtful. The doctrine of ideas +is certainly carried beyond the Socratic point of view; in no other of the +writings of Plato is the theory of them so completely developed. Whether +the belief in immortality can be attributed to Socrates or not is +uncertain; the silence of the Memorabilia, and of the earlier Dialogues of +Plato, is an argument to the contrary. Yet in the Cyropaedia Xenophon has +put language into the mouth of the dying Cyrus which recalls the Phaedo, +and may have been derived from the teaching of Socrates. It may be fairly +urged that the greatest religious interest of mankind could not have been +wholly ignored by one who passed his life in fulfilling the commands of an +oracle, and who recognized a Divine plan in man and nature. (Xen. Mem.) +And the language of the Apology and of the Crito confirms this view. + +The Phaedo is not one of the Socratic Dialogues of Plato; nor, on the other +hand, can it be assigned to that later stage of the Platonic writings at +which the doctrine of ideas appears to be forgotten. It belongs rather to +the intermediate period of the Platonic philosophy, which roughly +corresponds to the Phaedrus, Gorgias, Republic, Theaetetus. Without +pretending to determine the real time of their composition, the Symposium, +Meno, Euthyphro, Apology, Phaedo may be conveniently read by us in this +order as illustrative of the life of Socrates. Another chain may be formed +of the Meno, Phaedrus, Phaedo, in which the immortality of the soul is +connected with the doctrine of ideas. In the Meno the theory of ideas is +based on the ancient belief in transmigration, which reappears again in the +Phaedrus as well as in the Republic and Timaeus, and in all of them is +connected with a doctrine of retribution. In the Phaedrus the immortality +of the soul is supposed to rest on the conception of the soul as a +principle of motion, whereas in the Republic the argument turns on the +natural continuance of the soul, which, if not destroyed by her own proper +evil, can hardly be destroyed by any other. The soul of man in the Timaeus +is derived from the Supreme Creator, and either returns after death to her +kindred star, or descends into the lower life of an animal. The Apology +expresses the same view as the Phaedo, but with less confidence; there the +probability of death being a long sleep is not excluded. The Theaetetus +also describes, in a digression, the desire of the soul to fly away and be +with God--'and to fly to him is to be like him.' The Symposium may be +observed to resemble as well as to differ from the Phaedo. While the first +notion of immortality is only in the way of natural procreation or of +posthumous fame and glory, the higher revelation of beauty, like the good +in the Republic, is the vision of the eternal idea. So deeply rooted in +Plato's mind is the belief in immortality; so various are the forms of +expression which he employs. + +As in several other Dialogues, there is more of system in the Phaedo than +appears at first sight. The succession of arguments is based on previous +philosophies; beginning with the mysteries and the Heracleitean alternation +of opposites, and proceeding to the Pythagorean harmony and transmigration; +making a step by the aid of Platonic reminiscence, and a further step by +the help of the nous of Anaxagoras; until at last we rest in the conviction +that the soul is inseparable from the ideas, and belongs to the world of +the invisible and unknown. Then, as in the Gorgias or Republic, the +curtain falls, and the veil of mythology descends upon the argument. After +the confession of Socrates that he is an interested party, and the +acknowledgment that no man of sense will think the details of his narrative +true, but that something of the kind is true, we return from speculation to +practice. He is himself more confident of immortality than he is of his +own arguments; and the confidence which he expresses is less strong than +that which his cheerfulness and composure in death inspire in us. + +Difficulties of two kinds occur in the Phaedo--one kind to be explained out +of contemporary philosophy, the other not admitting of an entire solution. +(1) The difficulty which Socrates says that he experienced in explaining +generation and corruption; the assumption of hypotheses which proceed from +the less general to the more general, and are tested by their consequences; +the puzzle about greater and less; the resort to the method of ideas, which +to us appear only abstract terms,--these are to be explained out of the +position of Socrates and Plato in the history of philosophy. They were +living in a twilight between the sensible and the intellectual world, and +saw no way of connecting them. They could neither explain the relation of +ideas to phenomena, nor their correlation to one another. The very idea of +relation or comparison was embarrassing to them. Yet in this intellectual +uncertainty they had a conception of a proof from results, and of a moral +truth, which remained unshaken amid the questionings of philosophy. (2) +The other is a difficulty which is touched upon in the Republic as well as +in the Phaedo, and is common to modern and ancient philosophy. Plato is +not altogether satisfied with his safe and simple method of ideas. He +wants to have proved to him by facts that all things are for the best, and +that there is one mind or design which pervades them all. But this 'power +of the best' he is unable to explain; and therefore takes refuge in +universal ideas. And are not we at this day seeking to discover that which +Socrates in a glass darkly foresaw? + +Some resemblances to the Greek drama may be noted in all the Dialogues of +Plato. The Phaedo is the tragedy of which Socrates is the protagonist and +Simmias and Cebes the secondary performers, standing to them in the same +relation as to Glaucon and Adeimantus in the Republic. No Dialogue has a +greater unity of subject and feeling. Plato has certainly fulfilled the +condition of Greek, or rather of all art, which requires that scenes of +death and suffering should be clothed in beauty. The gathering of the +friends at the commencement of the Dialogue, the dismissal of Xanthippe, +whose presence would have been out of place at a philosophical discussion, +but who returns again with her children to take a final farewell, the +dejection of the audience at the temporary overthrow of the argument, the +picture of Socrates playing with the hair of Phaedo, the final scene in +which Socrates alone retains his composure--are masterpieces of art. And +the chorus at the end might have interpreted the feeling of the play: +'There can no evil happen to a good man in life or death.' + +'The art of concealing art' is nowhere more perfect than in those writings +of Plato which describe the trial and death of Socrates. Their charm is +their simplicity, which gives them verisimilitude; and yet they touch, as +if incidentally, and because they were suitable to the occasion, on some of +the deepest truths of philosophy. There is nothing in any tragedy, ancient +or modern, nothing in poetry or history (with one exception), like the last +hours of Socrates in Plato. The master could not be more fitly occupied at +such a time than in discoursing of immortality; nor the disciples more +divinely consoled. The arguments, taken in the spirit and not in the +letter, are our arguments; and Socrates by anticipation may be even thought +to refute some 'eccentric notions; current in our own age. For there are +philosophers among ourselves who do not seem to understand how much +stronger is the power of intelligence, or of the best, than of Atlas, or +mechanical force. How far the words attributed to Socrates were actually +uttered by him we forbear to ask; for no answer can be given to this +question. And it is better to resign ourselves to the feeling of a great +work, than to linger among critical uncertainties. + + +PHAEDO + +by + +Plato + +Translated by Benjamin Jowett. + + +PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: +Phaedo, who is the narrator of the dialogue to Echecrates of Phlius. +Socrates, Apollodorus, Simmias, Cebes, Crito and an Attendant of the +Prison. + +SCENE: The Prison of Socrates. + +PLACE OF THE NARRATION: Phlius. + + +ECHECRATES: Were you yourself, Phaedo, in the prison with Socrates on the +day when he drank the poison? + +PHAEDO: Yes, Echecrates, I was. + +ECHECRATES: I should so like to hear about his death. What did he say in +his last hours? We were informed that he died by taking poison, but no one +knew anything more; for no Phliasian ever goes to Athens now, and it is a +long time since any stranger from Athens has found his way hither; so that +we had no clear account. + +PHAEDO: Did you not hear of the proceedings at the trial? + +ECHECRATES: Yes; some one told us about the trial, and we could not +understand why, having been condemned, he should have been put to death, +not at the time, but long afterwards. What was the reason of this? + +PHAEDO: An accident, Echecrates: the stern of the ship which the +Athenians send to Delos happened to have been crowned on the day before he +was tried. + +ECHECRATES: What is this ship? + +PHAEDO: It is the ship in which, according to Athenian tradition, Theseus +went to Crete when he took with him the fourteen youths, and was the +saviour of them and of himself. And they were said to have vowed to Apollo +at the time, that if they were saved they would send a yearly mission to +Delos. Now this custom still continues, and the whole period of the voyage +to and from Delos, beginning when the priest of Apollo crowns the stern of +the ship, is a holy season, during which the city is not allowed to be +polluted by public executions; and when the vessel is detained by contrary +winds, the time spent in going and returning is very considerable. As I +was saying, the ship was crowned on the day before the trial, and this was +the reason why Socrates lay in prison and was not put to death until long +after he was condemned. + +ECHECRATES: What was the manner of his death, Phaedo? What was said or +done? And which of his friends were with him? Or did the authorities +forbid them to be present--so that he had no friends near him when he died? + +PHAEDO: No; there were several of them with him. + +ECHECRATES: If you have nothing to do, I wish that you would tell me what +passed, as exactly as you can. + +PHAEDO: I have nothing at all to do, and will try to gratify your wish. +To be reminded of Socrates is always the greatest delight to me, whether I +speak myself or hear another speak of him. + +ECHECRATES: You will have listeners who are of the same mind with you, and +I hope that you will be as exact as you can. + +PHAEDO: I had a singular feeling at being in his company. For I could +hardly believe that I was present at the death of a friend, and therefore I +did not pity him, Echecrates; he died so fearlessly, and his words and +bearing were so noble and gracious, that to me he appeared blessed. I +thought that in going to the other world he could not be without a divine +call, and that he would be happy, if any man ever was, when he arrived +there, and therefore I did not pity him as might have seemed natural at +such an hour. But I had not the pleasure which I usually feel in +philosophical discourse (for philosophy was the theme of which we spoke). +I was pleased, but in the pleasure there was also a strange admixture of +pain; for I reflected that he was soon to die, and this double feeling was +shared by us all; we were laughing and weeping by turns, especially the +excitable Apollodorus--you know the sort of man? + +ECHECRATES: Yes. + +PHAEDO: He was quite beside himself; and I and all of us were greatly +moved. + +ECHECRATES: Who were present? + +PHAEDO: Of native Athenians there were, besides Apollodorus, Critobulus +and his father Crito, Hermogenes, Epigenes, Aeschines, Antisthenes; +likewise Ctesippus of the deme of Paeania, Menexenus, and some others; +Plato, if I am not mistaken, was ill. + +ECHECRATES: Were there any strangers? + +PHAEDO: Yes, there were; Simmias the Theban, and Cebes, and Phaedondes; +Euclid and Terpison, who came from Megara. + +ECHECRATES: And was Aristippus there, and Cleombrotus? + +PHAEDO: No, they were said to be in Aegina. + +ECHECRATES: Any one else? + +PHAEDO: I think that these were nearly all. + +ECHECRATES: Well, and what did you talk about? + +PHAEDO: I will begin at the beginning, and endeavour to repeat the entire +conversation. On the previous days we had been in the habit of assembling +early in the morning at the court in which the trial took place, and which +is not far from the prison. There we used to wait talking with one another +until the opening of the doors (for they were not opened very early); then +we went in and generally passed the day with Socrates. On the last morning +we assembled sooner than usual, having heard on the day before when we +quitted the prison in the evening that the sacred ship had come from Delos, +and so we arranged to meet very early at the accustomed place. On our +arrival the jailer who answered the door, instead of admitting us, came out +and told us to stay until he called us. 'For the Eleven,' he said, 'are +now with Socrates; they are taking off his chains, and giving orders that +he is to die to-day.' He soon returned and said that we might come in. On +entering we found Socrates just released from chains, and Xanthippe, whom +you know, sitting by him, and holding his child in her arms. When she saw +us she uttered a cry and said, as women will: 'O Socrates, this is the +last time that either you will converse with your friends, or they with +you.' Socrates turned to Crito and said: 'Crito, let some one take her +home.' Some of Crito's people accordingly led her away, crying out and +beating herself. And when she was gone, Socrates, sitting up on the couch, +bent and rubbed his leg, saying, as he was rubbing: How singular is the +thing called pleasure, and how curiously related to pain, which might be +thought to be the opposite of it; for they are never present to a man at +the same instant, and yet he who pursues either is generally compelled to +take the other; their bodies are two, but they are joined by a single head. +And I cannot help thinking that if Aesop had remembered them, he would have +made a fable about God trying to reconcile their strife, and how, when he +could not, he fastened their heads together; and this is the reason why +when one comes the other follows, as I know by my own experience now, when +after the pain in my leg which was caused by the chain pleasure appears to +succeed. + +Upon this Cebes said: I am glad, Socrates, that you have mentioned the +name of Aesop. For it reminds me of a question which has been asked by +many, and was asked of me only the day before yesterday by Evenus the poet +--he will be sure to ask it again, and therefore if you would like me to +have an answer ready for him, you may as well tell me what I should say to +him:--he wanted to know why you, who never before wrote a line of poetry, +now that you are in prison are turning Aesop's fables into verse, and also +composing that hymn in honour of Apollo. + +Tell him, Cebes, he replied, what is the truth--that I had no idea of +rivalling him or his poems; to do so, as I knew, would be no easy task. +But I wanted to see whether I could purge away a scruple which I felt about +the meaning of certain dreams. In the course of my life I have often had +intimations in dreams 'that I should compose music.' The same dream came +to me sometimes in one form, and sometimes in another, but always saying +the same or nearly the same words: 'Cultivate and make music,' said the +dream. And hitherto I had imagined that this was only intended to exhort +and encourage me in the study of philosophy, which has been the pursuit of +my life, and is the noblest and best of music. The dream was bidding me do +what I was already doing, in the same way that the competitor in a race is +bidden by the spectators to run when he is already running. But I was not +certain of this, for the dream might have meant music in the popular sense +of the word, and being under sentence of death, and the festival giving me +a respite, I thought that it would be safer for me to satisfy the scruple, +and, in obedience to the dream, to compose a few verses before I departed. +And first I made a hymn in honour of the god of the festival, and then +considering that a poet, if he is really to be a poet, should not only put +together words, but should invent stories, and that I have no invention, I +took some fables of Aesop, which I had ready at hand and which I knew--they +were the first I came upon--and turned them into verse. Tell this to +Evenus, Cebes, and bid him be of good cheer; say that I would have him come +after me if he be a wise man, and not tarry; and that to-day I am likely to +be going, for the Athenians say that I must. + +Simmias said: What a message for such a man! having been a frequent +companion of his I should say that, as far as I know him, he will never +take your advice unless he is obliged. + +Why, said Socrates,--is not Evenus a philosopher? + +I think that he is, said Simmias. + +Then he, or any man who has the spirit of philosophy, will be willing to +die, but he will not take his own life, for that is held to be unlawful. + +Here he changed his position, and put his legs off the couch on to the +ground, and during the rest of the conversation he remained sitting. + +Why do you say, enquired Cebes, that a man ought not to take his own life, +but that the philosopher will be ready to follow the dying? + +Socrates replied: And have you, Cebes and Simmias, who are the disciples +of Philolaus, never heard him speak of this? + +Yes, but his language was obscure, Socrates. + +My words, too, are only an echo; but there is no reason why I should not +repeat what I have heard: and indeed, as I am going to another place, it +is very meet for me to be thinking and talking of the nature of the +pilgrimage which I am about to make. What can I do better in the interval +between this and the setting of the sun? + +Then tell me, Socrates, why is suicide held to be unlawful? as I have +certainly heard Philolaus, about whom you were just now asking, affirm when +he was staying with us at Thebes: and there are others who say the same, +although I have never understood what was meant by any of them. + +Do not lose heart, replied Socrates, and the day may come when you will +understand. I suppose that you wonder why, when other things which are +evil may be good at certain times and to certain persons, death is to be +the only exception, and why, when a man is better dead, he is not permitted +to be his own benefactor, but must wait for the hand of another. + +Very true, said Cebes, laughing gently and speaking in his native Boeotian. + +I admit the appearance of inconsistency in what I am saying; but there may +not be any real inconsistency after all. There is a doctrine whispered in +secret that man is a prisoner who has no right to open the door and run +away; this is a great mystery which I do not quite understand. Yet I too +believe that the gods are our guardians, and that we are a possession of +theirs. Do you not agree? + +Yes, I quite agree, said Cebes. + +And if one of your own possessions, an ox or an ass, for example, took the +liberty of putting himself out of the way when you had given no intimation +of your wish that he should die, would you not be angry with him, and would +you not punish him if you could? + +Certainly, replied Cebes. + +Then, if we look at the matter thus, there may be reason in saying that a +man should wait, and not take his own life until God summons him, as he is +now summoning me. + +Yes, Socrates, said Cebes, there seems to be truth in what you say. And +yet how can you reconcile this seemingly true belief that God is our +guardian and we his possessions, with the willingness to die which we were +just now attributing to the philosopher? That the wisest of men should be +willing to leave a service in which they are ruled by the gods who are the +best of rulers, is not reasonable; for surely no wise man thinks that when +set at liberty he can take better care of himself than the gods take of +him. A fool may perhaps think so--he may argue that he had better run away +from his master, not considering that his duty is to remain to the end, and +not to run away from the good, and that there would be no sense in his +running away. The wise man will want to be ever with him who is better +than himself. Now this, Socrates, is the reverse of what was just now +said; for upon this view the wise man should sorrow and the fool rejoice at +passing out of life. + +The earnestness of Cebes seemed to please Socrates. Here, said he, turning +to us, is a man who is always inquiring, and is not so easily convinced by +the first thing which he hears. + +And certainly, added Simmias, the objection which he is now making does +appear to me to have some force. For what can be the meaning of a truly +wise man wanting to fly away and lightly leave a master who is better than +himself? And I rather imagine that Cebes is referring to you; he thinks +that you are too ready to leave us, and too ready to leave the gods whom +you acknowledge to be our good masters. + +Yes, replied Socrates; there is reason in what you say. And so you think +that I ought to answer your indictment as if I were in a court? + +We should like you to do so, said Simmias. + +Then I must try to make a more successful defence before you than I did +when before the judges. For I am quite ready to admit, Simmias and Cebes, +that I ought to be grieved at death, if I were not persuaded in the first +place that I am going to other gods who are wise and good (of which I am as +certain as I can be of any such matters), and secondly (though I am not so +sure of this last) to men departed, better than those whom I leave behind; +and therefore I do not grieve as I might have done, for I have good hope +that there is yet something remaining for the dead, and as has been said of +old, some far better thing for the good than for the evil. + +But do you mean to take away your thoughts with you, Socrates? said +Simmias. Will you not impart them to us?--for they are a benefit in which +we too are entitled to share. Moreover, if you succeed in convincing us, +that will be an answer to the charge against yourself. + +I will do my best, replied Socrates. But you must first let me hear what +Crito wants; he has long been wishing to say something to me. + +Only this, Socrates, replied Crito:--the attendant who is to give you the +poison has been telling me, and he wants me to tell you, that you are not +to talk much, talking, he says, increases heat, and this is apt to +interfere with the action of the poison; persons who excite themselves are +sometimes obliged to take a second or even a third dose. + +Then, said Socrates, let him mind his business and be prepared to give the +poison twice or even thrice if necessary; that is all. + +I knew quite well what you would say, replied Crito; but I was obliged to +satisfy him. + +Never mind him, he said. + +And now, O my judges, I desire to prove to you that the real philosopher +has reason to be of good cheer when he is about to die, and that after +death he may hope to obtain the greatest good in the other world. And how +this may be, Simmias and Cebes, I will endeavour to explain. For I deem +that the true votary of philosophy is likely to be misunderstood by other +men; they do not perceive that he is always pursuing death and dying; and +if this be so, and he has had the desire of death all his life long, why +when his time comes should he repine at that which he has been always +pursuing and desiring? + +Simmias said laughingly: Though not in a laughing humour, you have made me +laugh, Socrates; for I cannot help thinking that the many when they hear +your words will say how truly you have described philosophers, and our +people at home will likewise say that the life which philosophers desire is +in reality death, and that they have found them out to be deserving of the +death which they desire. + +And they are right, Simmias, in thinking so, with the exception of the +words 'they have found them out'; for they have not found out either what +is the nature of that death which the true philosopher deserves, or how he +deserves or desires death. But enough of them:--let us discuss the matter +among ourselves: Do we believe that there is such a thing as death? + +To be sure, replied Simmias. + +Is it not the separation of soul and body? And to be dead is the +completion of this; when the soul exists in herself, and is released from +the body and the body is released from the soul, what is this but death? + +Just so, he replied. + +There is another question, which will probably throw light on our present +inquiry if you and I can agree about it:--Ought the philosopher to care +about the pleasures--if they are to be called pleasures--of eating and +drinking? + +Certainly not, answered Simmias. + +And what about the pleasures of love--should he care for them? + +By no means. + +And will he think much of the other ways of indulging the body, for +example, the acquisition of costly raiment, or sandals, or other adornments +of the body? Instead of caring about them, does he not rather despise +anything more than nature needs? What do you say? + +I should say that the true philosopher would despise them. + +Would you not say that he is entirely concerned with the soul and not with +the body? He would like, as far as he can, to get away from the body and +to turn to the soul. + +Quite true. + +In matters of this sort philosophers, above all other men, may be observed +in every sort of way to dissever the soul from the communion of the body. + +Very true. + +Whereas, Simmias, the rest of the world are of opinion that to him who has +no sense of pleasure and no part in bodily pleasure, life is not worth +having; and that he who is indifferent about them is as good as dead. + +That is also true. + +What again shall we say of the actual acquirement of knowledge?--is the +body, if invited to share in the enquiry, a hinderer or a helper? I mean +to say, have sight and hearing any truth in them? Are they not, as the +poets are always telling us, inaccurate witnesses? and yet, if even they +are inaccurate and indistinct, what is to be said of the other senses?--for +you will allow that they are the best of them? + +Certainly, he replied. + +Then when does the soul attain truth?--for in attempting to consider +anything in company with the body she is obviously deceived. + +True. + +Then must not true existence be revealed to her in thought, if at all? + +Yes. + +And thought is best when the mind is gathered into herself and none of +these things trouble her--neither sounds nor sights nor pain nor any +pleasure,--when she takes leave of the body, and has as little as possible +to do with it, when she has no bodily sense or desire, but is aspiring +after true being? + +Certainly. + +And in this the philosopher dishonours the body; his soul runs away from +his body and desires to be alone and by herself? + +That is true. + +Well, but there is another thing, Simmias: Is there or is there not an +absolute justice? + +Assuredly there is. + +And an absolute beauty and absolute good? + +Of course. + +But did you ever behold any of them with your eyes? + +Certainly not. + +Or did you ever reach them with any other bodily sense?--and I speak not of +these alone, but of absolute greatness, and health, and strength, and of +the essence or true nature of everything. Has the reality of them ever +been perceived by you through the bodily organs? or rather, is not the +nearest approach to the knowledge of their several natures made by him who +so orders his intellectual vision as to have the most exact conception of +the essence of each thing which he considers? + +Certainly. + +And he attains to the purest knowledge of them who goes to each with the +mind alone, not introducing or intruding in the act of thought sight or any +other sense together with reason, but with the very light of the mind in +her own clearness searches into the very truth of each; he who has got rid, +as far as he can, of eyes and ears and, so to speak, of the whole body, +these being in his opinion distracting elements which when they infect the +soul hinder her from acquiring truth and knowledge--who, if not he, is +likely to attain the knowledge of true being? + +What you say has a wonderful truth in it, Socrates, replied Simmias. + +And when real philosophers consider all these things, will they not be led +to make a reflection which they will express in words something like the +following? 'Have we not found,' they will say, 'a path of thought which +seems to bring us and our argument to the conclusion, that while we are in +the body, and while the soul is infected with the evils of the body, our +desire will not be satisfied? and our desire is of the truth. For the body +is a source of endless trouble to us by reason of the mere requirement of +food; and is liable also to diseases which overtake and impede us in the +search after true being: it fills us full of loves, and lusts, and fears, +and fancies of all kinds, and endless foolery, and in fact, as men say, +takes away from us the power of thinking at all. Whence come wars, and +fightings, and factions? whence but from the body and the lusts of the +body? wars are occasioned by the love of money, and money has to be +acquired for the sake and in the service of the body; and by reason of all +these impediments we have no time to give to philosophy; and, last and +worst of all, even if we are at leisure and betake ourselves to some +speculation, the body is always breaking in upon us, causing turmoil and +confusion in our enquiries, and so amazing us that we are prevented from +seeing the truth. It has been proved to us by experience that if we would +have pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of the body--the soul in +herself must behold things in themselves: and then we shall attain the +wisdom which we desire, and of which we say that we are lovers, not while +we live, but after death; for if while in company with the body, the soul +cannot have pure knowledge, one of two things follows--either knowledge is +not to be attained at all, or, if at all, after death. For then, and not +till then, the soul will be parted from the body and exist in herself +alone. In this present life, I reckon that we make the nearest approach to +knowledge when we have the least possible intercourse or communion with the +body, and are not surfeited with the bodily nature, but keep ourselves pure +until the hour when God himself is pleased to release us. And thus having +got rid of the foolishness of the body we shall be pure and hold converse +with the pure, and know of ourselves the clear light everywhere, which is +no other than the light of truth.' For the impure are not permitted to +approach the pure. These are the sort of words, Simmias, which the true +lovers of knowledge cannot help saying to one another, and thinking. You +would agree; would you not? + +Undoubtedly, Socrates. + +But, O my friend, if this is true, there is great reason to hope that, +going whither I go, when I have come to the end of my journey, I shall +attain that which has been the pursuit of my life. And therefore I go on +my way rejoicing, and not I only, but every other man who believes that his +mind has been made ready and that he is in a manner purified. + +Certainly, replied Simmias. + +And what is purification but the separation of the soul from the body, as I +was saying before; the habit of the soul gathering and collecting herself +into herself from all sides out of the body; the dwelling in her own place +alone, as in another life, so also in this, as far as she can;--the release +of the soul from the chains of the body? + +Very true, he said. + +And this separation and release of the soul from the body is termed death? + +To be sure, he said. + +And the true philosophers, and they only, are ever seeking to release the +soul. Is not the separation and release of the soul from the body their +especial study? + +That is true. + +And, as I was saying at first, there would be a ridiculous contradiction in +men studying to live as nearly as they can in a state of death, and yet +repining when it comes upon them. + +Clearly. + +And the true philosophers, Simmias, are always occupied in the practice of +dying, wherefore also to them least of all men is death terrible. Look at +the matter thus:--if they have been in every way the enemies of the body, +and are wanting to be alone with the soul, when this desire of theirs is +granted, how inconsistent would they be if they trembled and repined, +instead of rejoicing at their departure to that place where, when they +arrive, they hope to gain that which in life they desired--and this was +wisdom--and at the same time to be rid of the company of their enemy. Many +a man has been willing to go to the world below animated by the hope of +seeing there an earthly love, or wife, or son, and conversing with them. +And will he who is a true lover of wisdom, and is strongly persuaded in +like manner that only in the world below he can worthily enjoy her, still +repine at death? Will he not depart with joy? Surely he will, O my +friend, if he be a true philosopher. For he will have a firm conviction +that there and there only, he can find wisdom in her purity. And if this +be true, he would be very absurd, as I was saying, if he were afraid of +death. + +He would, indeed, replied Simmias. + +And when you see a man who is repining at the approach of death, is not his +reluctance a sufficient proof that he is not a lover of wisdom, but a lover +of the body, and probably at the same time a lover of either money or +power, or both? + +Quite so, he replied. + +And is not courage, Simmias, a quality which is specially characteristic of +the philosopher? + +Certainly. + +There is temperance again, which even by the vulgar is supposed to consist +in the control and regulation of the passions, and in the sense of +superiority to them--is not temperance a virtue belonging to those only who +despise the body, and who pass their lives in philosophy? + +Most assuredly. + +For the courage and temperance of other men, if you will consider them, are +really a contradiction. + +How so? + +Well, he said, you are aware that death is regarded by men in general as a +great evil. + +Very true, he said. + +And do not courageous men face death because they are afraid of yet greater +evils? + +That is quite true. + +Then all but the philosophers are courageous only from fear, and because +they are afraid; and yet that a man should be courageous from fear, and +because he is a coward, is surely a strange thing. + +Very true. + +And are not the temperate exactly in the same case? They are temperate +because they are intemperate--which might seem to be a contradiction, but +is nevertheless the sort of thing which happens with this foolish +temperance. For there are pleasures which they are afraid of losing; and +in their desire to keep them, they abstain from some pleasures, because +they are overcome by others; and although to be conquered by pleasure is +called by men intemperance, to them the conquest of pleasure consists in +being conquered by pleasure. And that is what I mean by saying that, in a +sense, they are made temperate through intemperance. + +Such appears to be the case. + +Yet the exchange of one fear or pleasure or pain for another fear or +pleasure or pain, and of the greater for the less, as if they were coins, +is not the exchange of virtue. O my blessed Simmias, is there not one true +coin for which all things ought to be exchanged?--and that is wisdom; and +only in exchange for this, and in company with this, is anything truly +bought or sold, whether courage or temperance or justice. And is not all +true virtue the companion of wisdom, no matter what fears or pleasures or +other similar goods or evils may or may not attend her? But the virtue +which is made up of these goods, when they are severed from wisdom and +exchanged with one another, is a shadow of virtue only, nor is there any +freedom or health or truth in her; but in the true exchange there is a +purging away of all these things, and temperance, and justice, and courage, +and wisdom herself are the purgation of them. The founders of the +mysteries would appear to have had a real meaning, and were not talking +nonsense when they intimated in a figure long ago that he who passes +unsanctified and uninitiated into the world below will lie in a slough, but +that he who arrives there after initiation and purification will dwell with +the gods. For 'many,' as they say in the mysteries, 'are the thyrsus- +bearers, but few are the mystics,'--meaning, as I interpret the words, 'the +true philosophers.' In the number of whom, during my whole life, I have +been seeking, according to my ability, to find a place;--whether I have +sought in a right way or not, and whether I have succeeded or not, I shall +truly know in a little while, if God will, when I myself arrive in the +other world--such is my belief. And therefore I maintain that I am right, +Simmias and Cebes, in not grieving or repining at parting from you and my +masters in this world, for I believe that I shall equally find good masters +and friends in another world. But most men do not believe this saying; if +then I succeed in convincing you by my defence better than I did the +Athenian judges, it will be well. + +Cebes answered: I agree, Socrates, in the greater part of what you say. +But in what concerns the soul, men are apt to be incredulous; they fear +that when she has left the body her place may be nowhere, and that on the +very day of death she may perish and come to an end--immediately on her +release from the body, issuing forth dispersed like smoke or air and in her +flight vanishing away into nothingness. If she could only be collected +into herself after she has obtained release from the evils of which you are +speaking, there would be good reason to hope, Socrates, that what you say +is true. But surely it requires a great deal of argument and many proofs +to show that when the man is dead his soul yet exists, and has any force or +intelligence. + +True, Cebes, said Socrates; and shall I suggest that we converse a little +of the probabilities of these things? + +I am sure, said Cebes, that I should greatly like to know your opinion +about them. + +I reckon, said Socrates, that no one who heard me now, not even if he were +one of my old enemies, the Comic poets, could accuse me of idle talking +about matters in which I have no concern:--If you please, then, we will +proceed with the inquiry. + +Suppose we consider the question whether the souls of men after death are +or are not in the world below. There comes into my mind an ancient +doctrine which affirms that they go from hence into the other world, and +returning hither, are born again from the dead. Now if it be true that the +living come from the dead, then our souls must exist in the other world, +for if not, how could they have been born again? And this would be +conclusive, if there were any real evidence that the living are only born +from the dead; but if this is not so, then other arguments will have to be +adduced. + +Very true, replied Cebes. + +Then let us consider the whole question, not in relation to man only, but +in relation to animals generally, and to plants, and to everything of which +there is generation, and the proof will be easier. Are not all things +which have opposites generated out of their opposites? I mean such things +as good and evil, just and unjust--and there are innumerable other +opposites which are generated out of opposites. And I want to show that in +all opposites there is of necessity a similar alternation; I mean to say, +for example, that anything which becomes greater must become greater after +being less. + +True. + +And that which becomes less must have been once greater and then have +become less. + +Yes. + +And the weaker is generated from the stronger, and the swifter from the +slower. + +Very true. + +And the worse is from the better, and the more just is from the more +unjust. + +Of course. + +And is this true of all opposites? and are we convinced that all of them +are generated out of opposites? + +Yes. + +And in this universal opposition of all things, are there not also two +intermediate processes which are ever going on, from one to the other +opposite, and back again; where there is a greater and a less there is also +an intermediate process of increase and diminution, and that which grows is +said to wax, and that which decays to wane? + +Yes, he said. + +And there are many other processes, such as division and composition, +cooling and heating, which equally involve a passage into and out of one +another. And this necessarily holds of all opposites, even though not +always expressed in words--they are really generated out of one another, +and there is a passing or process from one to the other of them? + +Very true, he replied. + +Well, and is there not an opposite of life, as sleep is the opposite of +waking? + +True, he said. + +And what is it? + +Death, he answered. + +And these, if they are opposites, are generated the one from the other, and +have there their two intermediate processes also? + +Of course. + +Now, said Socrates, I will analyze one of the two pairs of opposites which +I have mentioned to you, and also its intermediate processes, and you shall +analyze the other to me. One of them I term sleep, the other waking. The +state of sleep is opposed to the state of waking, and out of sleeping +waking is generated, and out of waking, sleeping; and the process of +generation is in the one case falling asleep, and in the other waking up. +Do you agree? + +I entirely agree. + +Then, suppose that you analyze life and death to me in the same manner. Is +not death opposed to life? + +Yes. + +And they are generated one from the other? + +Yes. + +What is generated from the living? + +The dead. + +And what from the dead? + +I can only say in answer--the living. + +Then the living, whether things or persons, Cebes, are generated from the +dead? + +That is clear, he replied. + +Then the inference is that our souls exist in the world below? + +That is true. + +And one of the two processes or generations is visible--for surely the act +of dying is visible? + +Surely, he said. + +What then is to be the result? Shall we exclude the opposite process? And +shall we suppose nature to walk on one leg only? Must we not rather assign +to death some corresponding process of generation? + +Certainly, he replied. + +And what is that process? + +Return to life. + +And return to life, if there be such a thing, is the birth of the dead into +the world of the living? + +Quite true. + +Then here is a new way by which we arrive at the conclusion that the living +come from the dead, just as the dead come from the living; and this, if +true, affords a most certain proof that the souls of the dead exist in some +place out of which they come again. + +Yes, Socrates, he said; the conclusion seems to flow necessarily out of our +previous admissions. + +And that these admissions were not unfair, Cebes, he said, may be shown, I +think, as follows: If generation were in a straight line only, and there +were no compensation or circle in nature, no turn or return of elements +into their opposites, then you know that all things would at last have the +same form and pass into the same state, and there would be no more +generation of them. + +What do you mean? he said. + +A simple thing enough, which I will illustrate by the case of sleep, he +replied. You know that if there were no alternation of sleeping and +waking, the tale of the sleeping Endymion would in the end have no meaning, +because all other things would be asleep, too, and he would not be +distinguishable from the rest. Or if there were composition only, and no +division of substances, then the chaos of Anaxagoras would come again. And +in like manner, my dear Cebes, if all things which partook of life were to +die, and after they were dead remained in the form of death, and did not +come to life again, all would at last die, and nothing would be alive--what +other result could there be? For if the living spring from any other +things, and they too die, must not all things at last be swallowed up in +death? (But compare Republic.) + +There is no escape, Socrates, said Cebes; and to me your argument seems to +be absolutely true. + +Yes, he said, Cebes, it is and must be so, in my opinion; and we have not +been deluded in making these admissions; but I am confident that there +truly is such a thing as living again, and that the living spring from the +dead, and that the souls of the dead are in existence, and that the good +souls have a better portion than the evil. + +Cebes added: Your favorite doctrine, Socrates, that knowledge is simply +recollection, if true, also necessarily implies a previous time in which we +have learned that which we now recollect. But this would be impossible +unless our soul had been in some place before existing in the form of man; +here then is another proof of the soul's immortality. + +But tell me, Cebes, said Simmias, interposing, what arguments are urged in +favour of this doctrine of recollection. I am not very sure at the moment +that I remember them. + +One excellent proof, said Cebes, is afforded by questions. If you put a +question to a person in a right way, he will give a true answer of himself, +but how could he do this unless there were knowledge and right reason +already in him? And this is most clearly shown when he is taken to a +diagram or to anything of that sort. (Compare Meno.) + +But if, said Socrates, you are still incredulous, Simmias, I would ask you +whether you may not agree with me when you look at the matter in another +way;--I mean, if you are still incredulous as to whether knowledge is +recollection. + +Incredulous, I am not, said Simmias; but I want to have this doctrine of +recollection brought to my own recollection, and, from what Cebes has said, +I am beginning to recollect and be convinced; but I should still like to +hear what you were going to say. + +This is what I would say, he replied:--We should agree, if I am not +mistaken, that what a man recollects he must have known at some previous +time. + +Very true. + +And what is the nature of this knowledge or recollection? I mean to ask, +Whether a person who, having seen or heard or in any way perceived +anything, knows not only that, but has a conception of something else which +is the subject, not of the same but of some other kind of knowledge, may +not be fairly said to recollect that of which he has the conception? + +What do you mean? + +I mean what I may illustrate by the following instance:--The knowledge of a +lyre is not the same as the knowledge of a man? + +True. + +And yet what is the feeling of lovers when they recognize a lyre, or a +garment, or anything else which the beloved has been in the habit of using? +Do not they, from knowing the lyre, form in the mind's eye an image of the +youth to whom the lyre belongs? And this is recollection. In like manner +any one who sees Simmias may remember Cebes; and there are endless examples +of the same thing. + +Endless, indeed, replied Simmias. + +And recollection is most commonly a process of recovering that which has +been already forgotten through time and inattention. + +Very true, he said. + +Well; and may you not also from seeing the picture of a horse or a lyre +remember a man? and from the picture of Simmias, you may be led to remember +Cebes? + +True. + +Or you may also be led to the recollection of Simmias himself? + +Quite so. + +And in all these cases, the recollection may be derived from things either +like or unlike? + +It may be. + +And when the recollection is derived from like things, then another +consideration is sure to arise, which is--whether the likeness in any +degree falls short or not of that which is recollected? + +Very true, he said. + +And shall we proceed a step further, and affirm that there is such a thing +as equality, not of one piece of wood or stone with another, but that, over +and above this, there is absolute equality? Shall we say so? + +Say so, yes, replied Simmias, and swear to it, with all the confidence in +life. + +And do we know the nature of this absolute essence? + +To be sure, he said. + +And whence did we obtain our knowledge? Did we not see equalities of +material things, such as pieces of wood and stones, and gather from them +the idea of an equality which is different from them? For you will +acknowledge that there is a difference. Or look at the matter in another +way:--Do not the same pieces of wood or stone appear at one time equal, and +at another time unequal? + +That is certain. + +But are real equals ever unequal? or is the idea of equality the same as of +inequality? + +Impossible, Socrates. + +Then these (so-called) equals are not the same with the idea of equality? + +I should say, clearly not, Socrates. + +And yet from these equals, although differing from the idea of equality, +you conceived and attained that idea? + +Very true, he said. + +Which might be like, or might be unlike them? + +Yes. + +But that makes no difference; whenever from seeing one thing you conceived +another, whether like or unlike, there must surely have been an act of +recollection? + +Very true. + +But what would you say of equal portions of wood and stone, or other +material equals? and what is the impression produced by them? Are they +equals in the same sense in which absolute equality is equal? or do they +fall short of this perfect equality in a measure? + +Yes, he said, in a very great measure too. + +And must we not allow, that when I or any one, looking at any object, +observes that the thing which he sees aims at being some other thing, but +falls short of, and cannot be, that other thing, but is inferior, he who +makes this observation must have had a previous knowledge of that to which +the other, although similar, was inferior? + +Certainly. + +And has not this been our own case in the matter of equals and of absolute +equality? + +Precisely. + +Then we must have known equality previously to the time when we first saw +the material equals, and reflected that all these apparent equals strive to +attain absolute equality, but fall short of it? + +Very true. + +And we recognize also that this absolute equality has only been known, and +can only be known, through the medium of sight or touch, or of some other +of the senses, which are all alike in this respect? + +Yes, Socrates, as far as the argument is concerned, one of them is the same +as the other. + +From the senses then is derived the knowledge that all sensible things aim +at an absolute equality of which they fall short? + +Yes. + +Then before we began to see or hear or perceive in any way, we must have +had a knowledge of absolute equality, or we could not have referred to that +standard the equals which are derived from the senses?--for to that they +all aspire, and of that they fall short. + +No other inference can be drawn from the previous statements. + +And did we not see and hear and have the use of our other senses as soon as +we were born? + +Certainly. + +Then we must have acquired the knowledge of equality at some previous time? + +Yes. + +That is to say, before we were born, I suppose? + +True. + +And if we acquired this knowledge before we were born, and were born having +the use of it, then we also knew before we were born and at the instant of +birth not only the equal or the greater or the less, but all other ideas; +for we are not speaking only of equality, but of beauty, goodness, justice, +holiness, and of all which we stamp with the name of essence in the +dialectical process, both when we ask and when we answer questions. Of all +this we may certainly affirm that we acquired the knowledge before birth? + +We may. + +But if, after having acquired, we have not forgotten what in each case we +acquired, then we must always have come into life having knowledge, and +shall always continue to know as long as life lasts--for knowing is the +acquiring and retaining knowledge and not forgetting. Is not forgetting, +Simmias, just the losing of knowledge? + +Quite true, Socrates. + +But if the knowledge which we acquired before birth was lost by us at +birth, and if afterwards by the use of the senses we recovered what we +previously knew, will not the process which we call learning be a +recovering of the knowledge which is natural to us, and may not this be +rightly termed recollection? + +Very true. + +So much is clear--that when we perceive something, either by the help of +sight, or hearing, or some other sense, from that perception we are able to +obtain a notion of some other thing like or unlike which is associated with +it but has been forgotten. Whence, as I was saying, one of two +alternatives follows:--either we had this knowledge at birth, and continued +to know through life; or, after birth, those who are said to learn only +remember, and learning is simply recollection. + +Yes, that is quite true, Socrates. + +And which alternative, Simmias, do you prefer? Had we the knowledge at our +birth, or did we recollect the things which we knew previously to our +birth? + +I cannot decide at the moment. + +At any rate you can decide whether he who has knowledge will or will not be +able to render an account of his knowledge? What do you say? + +Certainly, he will. + +But do you think that every man is able to give an account of these very +matters about which we are speaking? + +Would that they could, Socrates, but I rather fear that to-morrow, at this +time, there will no longer be any one alive who is able to give an account +of them such as ought to be given. + +Then you are not of opinion, Simmias, that all men know these things? + +Certainly not. + +They are in process of recollecting that which they learned before? + +Certainly. + +But when did our souls acquire this knowledge?--not since we were born as +men? + +Certainly not. + +And therefore, previously? + +Yes. + +Then, Simmias, our souls must also have existed without bodies before they +were in the form of man, and must have had intelligence. + +Unless indeed you suppose, Socrates, that these notions are given us at the +very moment of birth; for this is the only time which remains. + +Yes, my friend, but if so, when do we lose them? for they are not in us +when we are born--that is admitted. Do we lose them at the moment of +receiving them, or if not at what other time? + +No, Socrates, I perceive that I was unconsciously talking nonsense. + +Then may we not say, Simmias, that if, as we are always repeating, there is +an absolute beauty, and goodness, and an absolute essence of all things; +and if to this, which is now discovered to have existed in our former +state, we refer all our sensations, and with this compare them, finding +these ideas to be pre-existent and our inborn possession--then our souls +must have had a prior existence, but if not, there would be no force in the +argument? There is the same proof that these ideas must have existed +before we were born, as that our souls existed before we were born; and if +not the ideas, then not the souls. + +Yes, Socrates; I am convinced that there is precisely the same necessity +for the one as for the other; and the argument retreats successfully to the +position that the existence of the soul before birth cannot be separated +from the existence of the essence of which you speak. For there is nothing +which to my mind is so patent as that beauty, goodness, and the other +notions of which you were just now speaking, have a most real and absolute +existence; and I am satisfied with the proof. + +Well, but is Cebes equally satisfied? for I must convince him too. + +I think, said Simmias, that Cebes is satisfied: although he is the most +incredulous of mortals, yet I believe that he is sufficiently convinced of +the existence of the soul before birth. But that after death the soul will +continue to exist is not yet proven even to my own satisfaction. I cannot +get rid of the feeling of the many to which Cebes was referring--the +feeling that when the man dies the soul will be dispersed, and that this +may be the extinction of her. For admitting that she may have been born +elsewhere, and framed out of other elements, and was in existence before +entering the human body, why after having entered in and gone out again may +she not herself be destroyed and come to an end? + +Very true, Simmias, said Cebes; about half of what was required has been +proven; to wit, that our souls existed before we were born:--that the soul +will exist after death as well as before birth is the other half of which +the proof is still wanting, and has to be supplied; when that is given the +demonstration will be complete. + +But that proof, Simmias and Cebes, has been already given, said Socrates, +if you put the two arguments together--I mean this and the former one, in +which we admitted that everything living is born of the dead. For if the +soul exists before birth, and in coming to life and being born can be born +only from death and dying, must she not after death continue to exist, +since she has to be born again?--Surely the proof which you desire has been +already furnished. Still I suspect that you and Simmias would be glad to +probe the argument further. Like children, you are haunted with a fear +that when the soul leaves the body, the wind may really blow her away and +scatter her; especially if a man should happen to die in a great storm and +not when the sky is calm. + +Cebes answered with a smile: Then, Socrates, you must argue us out of our +fears--and yet, strictly speaking, they are not our fears, but there is a +child within us to whom death is a sort of hobgoblin; him too we must +persuade not to be afraid when he is alone in the dark. + +Socrates said: Let the voice of the charmer be applied daily until you +have charmed away the fear. + +And where shall we find a good charmer of our fears, Socrates, when you are +gone? + +Hellas, he replied, is a large place, Cebes, and has many good men, and +there are barbarous races not a few: seek for him among them all, far and +wide, sparing neither pains nor money; for there is no better way of +spending your money. And you must seek among yourselves too; for you will +not find others better able to make the search. + +The search, replied Cebes, shall certainly be made. And now, if you +please, let us return to the point of the argument at which we digressed. + +By all means, replied Socrates; what else should I please? + +Very good. + +Must we not, said Socrates, ask ourselves what that is which, as we +imagine, is liable to be scattered, and about which we fear? and what again +is that about which we have no fear? And then we may proceed further to +enquire whether that which suffers dispersion is or is not of the nature of +soul--our hopes and fears as to our own souls will turn upon the answers to +these questions. + +Very true, he said. + +Now the compound or composite may be supposed to be naturally capable, as +of being compounded, so also of being dissolved; but that which is +uncompounded, and that only, must be, if anything is, indissoluble. + +Yes; I should imagine so, said Cebes. + +And the uncompounded may be assumed to be the same and unchanging, whereas +the compound is always changing and never the same. + +I agree, he said. + +Then now let us return to the previous discussion. Is that idea or +essence, which in the dialectical process we define as essence or true +existence--whether essence of equality, beauty, or anything else--are these +essences, I say, liable at times to some degree of change? or are they each +of them always what they are, having the same simple self-existent and +unchanging forms, not admitting of variation at all, or in any way, or at +any time? + +They must be always the same, Socrates, replied Cebes. + +And what would you say of the many beautiful--whether men or horses or +garments or any other things which are named by the same names and may be +called equal or beautiful,--are they all unchanging and the same always, or +quite the reverse? May they not rather be described as almost always +changing and hardly ever the same, either with themselves or with one +another? + +The latter, replied Cebes; they are always in a state of change. + +And these you can touch and see and perceive with the senses, but the +unchanging things you can only perceive with the mind--they are invisible +and are not seen? + +That is very true, he said. + +Well, then, added Socrates, let us suppose that there are two sorts of +existences--one seen, the other unseen. + +Let us suppose them. + +The seen is the changing, and the unseen is the unchanging? + +That may be also supposed. + +And, further, is not one part of us body, another part soul? + +To be sure. + +And to which class is the body more alike and akin? + +Clearly to the seen--no one can doubt that. + +And is the soul seen or not seen? + +Not by man, Socrates. + +And what we mean by 'seen' and 'not seen' is that which is or is not +visible to the eye of man? + +Yes, to the eye of man. + +And is the soul seen or not seen? + +Not seen. + +Unseen then? + +Yes. + +Then the soul is more like to the unseen, and the body to the seen? + +That follows necessarily, Socrates. + +And were we not saying long ago that the soul when using the body as an +instrument of perception, that is to say, when using the sense of sight or +hearing or some other sense (for the meaning of perceiving through the body +is perceiving through the senses)--were we not saying that the soul too is +then dragged by the body into the region of the changeable, and wanders and +is confused; the world spins round her, and she is like a drunkard, when +she touches change? + +Very true. + +But when returning into herself she reflects, then she passes into the +other world, the region of purity, and eternity, and immortality, and +unchangeableness, which are her kindred, and with them she ever lives, when +she is by herself and is not let or hindered; then she ceases from her +erring ways, and being in communion with the unchanging is unchanging. And +this state of the soul is called wisdom? + +That is well and truly said, Socrates, he replied. + +And to which class is the soul more nearly alike and akin, as far as may be +inferred from this argument, as well as from the preceding one? + +I think, Socrates, that, in the opinion of every one who follows the +argument, the soul will be infinitely more like the unchangeable--even the +most stupid person will not deny that. + +And the body is more like the changing? + +Yes. + +Yet once more consider the matter in another light: When the soul and the +body are united, then nature orders the soul to rule and govern, and the +body to obey and serve. Now which of these two functions is akin to the +divine? and which to the mortal? Does not the divine appear to you to be +that which naturally orders and rules, and the mortal to be that which is +subject and servant? + +True. + +And which does the soul resemble? + +The soul resembles the divine, and the body the mortal--there can be no +doubt of that, Socrates. + +Then reflect, Cebes: of all which has been said is not this the +conclusion?--that the soul is in the very likeness of the divine, and +immortal, and intellectual, and uniform, and indissoluble, and +unchangeable; and that the body is in the very likeness of the human, and +mortal, and unintellectual, and multiform, and dissoluble, and changeable. +Can this, my dear Cebes, be denied? + +It cannot. + +But if it be true, then is not the body liable to speedy dissolution? and +is not the soul almost or altogether indissoluble? + +Certainly. + +And do you further observe, that after a man is dead, the body, or visible +part of him, which is lying in the visible world, and is called a corpse, +and would naturally be dissolved and decomposed and dissipated, is not +dissolved or decomposed at once, but may remain for a for some time, nay +even for a long time, if the constitution be sound at the time of death, +and the season of the year favourable? For the body when shrunk and +embalmed, as the manner is in Egypt, may remain almost entire through +infinite ages; and even in decay, there are still some portions, such as +the bones and ligaments, which are practically indestructible:--Do you +agree? + +Yes. + +And is it likely that the soul, which is invisible, in passing to the place +of the true Hades, which like her is invisible, and pure, and noble, and on +her way to the good and wise God, whither, if God will, my soul is also +soon to go,--that the soul, I repeat, if this be her nature and origin, +will be blown away and destroyed immediately on quitting the body, as the +many say? That can never be, my dear Simmias and Cebes. The truth rather +is, that the soul which is pure at departing and draws after her no bodily +taint, having never voluntarily during life had connection with the body, +which she is ever avoiding, herself gathered into herself;--and making such +abstraction her perpetual study--which means that she has been a true +disciple of philosophy; and therefore has in fact been always engaged in +the practice of dying? For is not philosophy the practice of death?-- + +Certainly-- + +That soul, I say, herself invisible, departs to the invisible world--to the +divine and immortal and rational: thither arriving, she is secure of bliss +and is released from the error and folly of men, their fears and wild +passions and all other human ills, and for ever dwells, as they say of the +initiated, in company with the gods (compare Apol.). Is not this true, +Cebes? + +Yes, said Cebes, beyond a doubt. + +But the soul which has been polluted, and is impure at the time of her +departure, and is the companion and servant of the body always, and is in +love with and fascinated by the body and by the desires and pleasures of +the body, until she is led to believe that the truth only exists in a +bodily form, which a man may touch and see and taste, and use for the +purposes of his lusts,--the soul, I mean, accustomed to hate and fear and +avoid the intellectual principle, which to the bodily eye is dark and +invisible, and can be attained only by philosophy;--do you suppose that +such a soul will depart pure and unalloyed? + +Impossible, he replied. + +She is held fast by the corporeal, which the continual association and +constant care of the body have wrought into her nature. + +Very true. + +And this corporeal element, my friend, is heavy and weighty and earthy, and +is that element of sight by which a soul is depressed and dragged down +again into the visible world, because she is afraid of the invisible and of +the world below--prowling about tombs and sepulchres, near which, as they +tell us, are seen certain ghostly apparitions of souls which have not +departed pure, but are cloyed with sight and therefore visible. + +(Compare Milton, Comus:-- + +'But when lust, +By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, +But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, +Lets in defilement to the inward parts, +The soul grows clotted by contagion, +Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose, +The divine property of her first being. +Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp +Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchres, +Lingering, and sitting by a new made grave, +As loath to leave the body that it lov'd, +And linked itself by carnal sensuality +To a degenerate and degraded state.') + +That is very likely, Socrates. + +Yes, that is very likely, Cebes; and these must be the souls, not of the +good, but of the evil, which are compelled to wander about such places in +payment of the penalty of their former evil way of life; and they continue +to wander until through the craving after the corporeal which never leaves +them, they are imprisoned finally in another body. And they may be +supposed to find their prisons in the same natures which they have had in +their former lives. + +What natures do you mean, Socrates? + +What I mean is that men who have followed after gluttony, and wantonness, +and drunkenness, and have had no thought of avoiding them, would pass into +asses and animals of that sort. What do you think? + +I think such an opinion to be exceedingly probable. + +And those who have chosen the portion of injustice, and tyranny, and +violence, will pass into wolves, or into hawks and kites;--whither else can +we suppose them to go? + +Yes, said Cebes; with such natures, beyond question. + +And there is no difficulty, he said, in assigning to all of them places +answering to their several natures and propensities? + +There is not, he said. + +Some are happier than others; and the happiest both in themselves and in +the place to which they go are those who have practised the civil and +social virtues which are called temperance and justice, and are acquired by +habit and attention without philosophy and mind. (Compare Republic.) + +Why are they the happiest? + +Because they may be expected to pass into some gentle and social kind which +is like their own, such as bees or wasps or ants, or back again into the +form of man, and just and moderate men may be supposed to spring from them. + +Very likely. + +No one who has not studied philosophy and who is not entirely pure at the +time of his departure is allowed to enter the company of the Gods, but the +lover of knowledge only. And this is the reason, Simmias and Cebes, why +the true votaries of philosophy abstain from all fleshly lusts, and hold +out against them and refuse to give themselves up to them,--not because +they fear poverty or the ruin of their families, like the lovers of money, +and the world in general; nor like the lovers of power and honour, because +they dread the dishonour or disgrace of evil deeds. + +No, Socrates, that would not become them, said Cebes. + +No indeed, he replied; and therefore they who have any care of their own +souls, and do not merely live moulding and fashioning the body, say +farewell to all this; they will not walk in the ways of the blind: and +when philosophy offers them purification and release from evil, they feel +that they ought not to resist her influence, and whither she leads they +turn and follow. + +What do you mean, Socrates? + +I will tell you, he said. The lovers of knowledge are conscious that the +soul was simply fastened and glued to the body--until philosophy received +her, she could only view real existence through the bars of a prison, not +in and through herself; she was wallowing in the mire of every sort of +ignorance; and by reason of lust had become the principal accomplice in her +own captivity. This was her original state; and then, as I was saying, and +as the lovers of knowledge are well aware, philosophy, seeing how terrible +was her confinement, of which she was to herself the cause, received and +gently comforted her and sought to release her, pointing out that the eye +and the ear and the other senses are full of deception, and persuading her +to retire from them, and abstain from all but the necessary use of them, +and be gathered up and collected into herself, bidding her trust in herself +and her own pure apprehension of pure existence, and to mistrust whatever +comes to her through other channels and is subject to variation; for such +things are visible and tangible, but what she sees in her own nature is +intelligible and invisible. And the soul of the true philosopher thinks +that she ought not to resist this deliverance, and therefore abstains from +pleasures and desires and pains and fears, as far as she is able; +reflecting that when a man has great joys or sorrows or fears or desires, +he suffers from them, not merely the sort of evil which might be +anticipated--as for example, the loss of his health or property which he +has sacrificed to his lusts--but an evil greater far, which is the greatest +and worst of all evils, and one of which he never thinks. + +What is it, Socrates? said Cebes. + +The evil is that when the feeling of pleasure or pain is most intense, +every soul of man imagines the objects of this intense feeling to be then +plainest and truest: but this is not so, they are really the things of +sight. + +Very true. + +And is not this the state in which the soul is most enthralled by the body? + +How so? + +Why, because each pleasure and pain is a sort of nail which nails and +rivets the soul to the body, until she becomes like the body, and believes +that to be true which the body affirms to be true; and from agreeing with +the body and having the same delights she is obliged to have the same +habits and haunts, and is not likely ever to be pure at her departure to +the world below, but is always infected by the body; and so she sinks into +another body and there germinates and grows, and has therefore no part in +the communion of the divine and pure and simple. + +Most true, Socrates, answered Cebes. + +And this, Cebes, is the reason why the true lovers of knowledge are +temperate and brave; and not for the reason which the world gives. + +Certainly not. + +Certainly not! The soul of a philosopher will reason in quite another way; +she will not ask philosophy to release her in order that when released she +may deliver herself up again to the thraldom of pleasures and pains, doing +a work only to be undone again, weaving instead of unweaving her Penelope's +web. But she will calm passion, and follow reason, and dwell in the +contemplation of her, beholding the true and divine (which is not matter of +opinion), and thence deriving nourishment. Thus she seeks to live while +she lives, and after death she hopes to go to her own kindred and to that +which is like her, and to be freed from human ills. Never fear, Simmias +and Cebes, that a soul which has been thus nurtured and has had these +pursuits, will at her departure from the body be scattered and blown away +by the winds and be nowhere and nothing. + +When Socrates had done speaking, for a considerable time there was silence; +he himself appeared to be meditating, as most of us were, on what had been +said; only Cebes and Simmias spoke a few words to one another. And +Socrates observing them asked what they thought of the argument, and +whether there was anything wanting? For, said he, there are many points +still open to suspicion and attack, if any one were disposed to sift the +matter thoroughly. Should you be considering some other matter I say no +more, but if you are still in doubt do not hesitate to say exactly what you +think, and let us have anything better which you can suggest; and if you +think that I can be of any use, allow me to help you. + +Simmias said: I must confess, Socrates, that doubts did arise in our +minds, and each of us was urging and inciting the other to put the question +which we wanted to have answered and which neither of us liked to ask, +fearing that our importunity might be troublesome under present at such a +time. + +Socrates replied with a smile: O Simmias, what are you saying? I am not +very likely to persuade other men that I do not regard my present situation +as a misfortune, if I cannot even persuade you that I am no worse off now +than at any other time in my life. Will you not allow that I have as much +of the spirit of prophecy in me as the swans? For they, when they perceive +that they must die, having sung all their life long, do then sing more +lustily than ever, rejoicing in the thought that they are about to go away +to the god whose ministers they are. But men, because they are themselves +afraid of death, slanderously affirm of the swans that they sing a lament +at the last, not considering that no bird sings when cold, or hungry, or in +pain, not even the nightingale, nor the swallow, nor yet the hoopoe; which +are said indeed to tune a lay of sorrow, although I do not believe this to +be true of them any more than of the swans. But because they are sacred to +Apollo, they have the gift of prophecy, and anticipate the good things of +another world, wherefore they sing and rejoice in that day more than they +ever did before. And I too, believing myself to be the consecrated servant +of the same God, and the fellow-servant of the swans, and thinking that I +have received from my master gifts of prophecy which are not inferior to +theirs, would not go out of life less merrily than the swans. Never mind +then, if this be your only objection, but speak and ask anything which you +like, while the eleven magistrates of Athens allow. + +Very good, Socrates, said Simmias; then I will tell you my difficulty, and +Cebes will tell you his. I feel myself, (and I daresay that you have the +same feeling), how hard or rather impossible is the attainment of any +certainty about questions such as these in the present life. And yet I +should deem him a coward who did not prove what is said about them to the +uttermost, or whose heart failed him before he had examined them on every +side. For he should persevere until he has achieved one of two things: +either he should discover, or be taught the truth about them; or, if this +be impossible, I would have him take the best and most irrefragable of +human theories, and let this be the raft upon which he sails through life-- +not without risk, as I admit, if he cannot find some word of God which will +more surely and safely carry him. And now, as you bid me, I will venture +to question you, and then I shall not have to reproach myself hereafter +with not having said at the time what I think. For when I consider the +matter, either alone or with Cebes, the argument does certainly appear to +me, Socrates, to be not sufficient. + +Socrates answered: I dare say, my friend, that you may be right, but I +should like to know in what respect the argument is insufficient. + +In this respect, replied Simmias:--Suppose a person to use the same +argument about harmony and the lyre--might he not say that harmony is a +thing invisible, incorporeal, perfect, divine, existing in the lyre which +is harmonized, but that the lyre and the strings are matter and material, +composite, earthy, and akin to mortality? And when some one breaks the +lyre, or cuts and rends the strings, then he who takes this view would +argue as you do, and on the same analogy, that the harmony survives and has +not perished--you cannot imagine, he would say, that the lyre without the +strings, and the broken strings themselves which are mortal remain, and yet +that the harmony, which is of heavenly and immortal nature and kindred, has +perished--perished before the mortal. The harmony must still be somewhere, +and the wood and strings will decay before anything can happen to that. +The thought, Socrates, must have occurred to your own mind that such is our +conception of the soul; and that when the body is in a manner strung and +held together by the elements of hot and cold, wet and dry, then the soul +is the harmony or due proportionate admixture of them. But if so, whenever +the strings of the body are unduly loosened or overstrained through disease +or other injury, then the soul, though most divine, like other harmonies of +music or of works of art, of course perishes at once, although the material +remains of the body may last for a considerable time, until they are either +decayed or burnt. And if any one maintains that the soul, being the +harmony of the elements of the body, is first to perish in that which is +called death, how shall we answer him? + +Socrates looked fixedly at us as his manner was, and said with a smile: +Simmias has reason on his side; and why does not some one of you who is +better able than myself answer him? for there is force in his attack upon +me. But perhaps, before we answer him, we had better also hear what Cebes +has to say that we may gain time for reflection, and when they have both +spoken, we may either assent to them, if there is truth in what they say, +or if not, we will maintain our position. Please to tell me then, Cebes, +he said, what was the difficulty which troubled you? + +Cebes said: I will tell you. My feeling is that the argument is where it +was, and open to the same objections which were urged before; for I am +ready to admit that the existence of the soul before entering into the +bodily form has been very ingeniously, and, if I may say so, quite +sufficiently proven; but the existence of the soul after death is still, in +my judgment, unproven. Now my objection is not the same as that of +Simmias; for I am not disposed to deny that the soul is stronger and more +lasting than the body, being of opinion that in all such respects the soul +very far excels the body. Well, then, says the argument to me, why do you +remain unconvinced?--When you see that the weaker continues in existence +after the man is dead, will you not admit that the more lasting must also +survive during the same period of time? Now I will ask you to consider +whether the objection, which, like Simmias, I will express in a figure, is +of any weight. The analogy which I will adduce is that of an old weaver, +who dies, and after his death somebody says:--He is not dead, he must be +alive;--see, there is the coat which he himself wove and wore, and which +remains whole and undecayed. And then he proceeds to ask of some one who +is incredulous, whether a man lasts longer, or the coat which is in use and +wear; and when he is answered that a man lasts far longer, thinks that he +has thus certainly demonstrated the survival of the man, who is the more +lasting, because the less lasting remains. But that, Simmias, as I would +beg you to remark, is a mistake; any one can see that he who talks thus is +talking nonsense. For the truth is, that the weaver aforesaid, having +woven and worn many such coats, outlived several of them, and was outlived +by the last; but a man is not therefore proved to be slighter and weaker +than a coat. Now the relation of the body to the soul may be expressed in +a similar figure; and any one may very fairly say in like manner that the +soul is lasting, and the body weak and shortlived in comparison. He may +argue in like manner that every soul wears out many bodies, especially if a +man live many years. While he is alive the body deliquesces and decays, +and the soul always weaves another garment and repairs the waste. But of +course, whenever the soul perishes, she must have on her last garment, and +this will survive her; and then at length, when the soul is dead, the body +will show its native weakness, and quickly decompose and pass away. I +would therefore rather not rely on the argument from superior strength to +prove the continued existence of the soul after death. For granting even +more than you affirm to be possible, and acknowledging not only that the +soul existed before birth, but also that the souls of some exist, and will +continue to exist after death, and will be born and die again and again, +and that there is a natural strength in the soul which will hold out and be +born many times--nevertheless, we may be still inclined to think that she +will weary in the labours of successive births, and may at last succumb in +one of her deaths and utterly perish; and this death and dissolution of the +body which brings destruction to the soul may be unknown to any of us, for +no one of us can have had any experience of it: and if so, then I maintain +that he who is confident about death has but a foolish confidence, unless +he is able to prove that the soul is altogether immortal and imperishable. +But if he cannot prove the soul's immortality, he who is about to die will +always have reason to fear that when the body is disunited, the soul also +may utterly perish. + +All of us, as we afterwards remarked to one another, had an unpleasant +feeling at hearing what they said. When we had been so firmly convinced +before, now to have our faith shaken seemed to introduce a confusion and +uncertainty, not only into the previous argument, but into any future one; +either we were incapable of forming a judgment, or there were no grounds of +belief. + +ECHECRATES: There I feel with you--by heaven I do, Phaedo, and when you +were speaking, I was beginning to ask myself the same question: What +argument can I ever trust again? For what could be more convincing than +the argument of Socrates, which has now fallen into discredit? That the +soul is a harmony is a doctrine which has always had a wonderful attraction +for me, and, when mentioned, came back to me at once, as my own original +conviction. And now I must begin again and find another argument which +will assure me that when the man is dead the soul survives. Tell me, I +implore you, how did Socrates proceed? Did he appear to share the +unpleasant feeling which you mention? or did he calmly meet the attack? +And did he answer forcibly or feebly? Narrate what passed as exactly as +you can. + +PHAEDO: Often, Echecrates, I have wondered at Socrates, but never more +than on that occasion. That he should be able to answer was nothing, but +what astonished me was, first, the gentle and pleasant and approving manner +in which he received the words of the young men, and then his quick sense +of the wound which had been inflicted by the argument, and the readiness +with which he healed it. He might be compared to a general rallying his +defeated and broken army, urging them to accompany him and return to the +field of argument. + +ECHECRATES: What followed? + +PHAEDO: You shall hear, for I was close to him on his right hand, seated +on a sort of stool, and he on a couch which was a good deal higher. He +stroked my head, and pressed the hair upon my neck--he had a way of playing +with my hair; and then he said: To-morrow, Phaedo, I suppose that these +fair locks of yours will be severed. + +Yes, Socrates, I suppose that they will, I replied. + +Not so, if you will take my advice. + +What shall I do with them? I said. + +To-day, he replied, and not to-morrow, if this argument dies and we cannot +bring it to life again, you and I will both shave our locks; and if I were +you, and the argument got away from me, and I could not hold my ground +against Simmias and Cebes, I would myself take an oath, like the Argives, +not to wear hair any more until I had renewed the conflict and defeated +them. + +Yes, I said, but Heracles himself is said not to be a match for two. + +Summon me then, he said, and I will be your Iolaus until the sun goes down. + +I summon you rather, I rejoined, not as Heracles summoning Iolaus, but as +Iolaus might summon Heracles. + +That will do as well, he said. But first let us take care that we avoid a +danger. + +Of what nature? I said. + +Lest we become misologists, he replied, no worse thing can happen to a man +than this. For as there are misanthropists or haters of men, there are +also misologists or haters of ideas, and both spring from the same cause, +which is ignorance of the world. Misanthropy arises out of the too great +confidence of inexperience;--you trust a man and think him altogether true +and sound and faithful, and then in a little while he turns out to be false +and knavish; and then another and another, and when this has happened +several times to a man, especially when it happens among those whom he +deems to be his own most trusted and familiar friends, and he has often +quarreled with them, he at last hates all men, and believes that no one has +any good in him at all. You must have observed this trait of character? + +I have. + +And is not the feeling discreditable? Is it not obvious that such an one +having to deal with other men, was clearly without any experience of human +nature; for experience would have taught him the true state of the case, +that few are the good and few the evil, and that the great majority are in +the interval between them. + +What do you mean? I said. + +I mean, he replied, as you might say of the very large and very small, that +nothing is more uncommon than a very large or very small man; and this +applies generally to all extremes, whether of great and small, or swift and +slow, or fair and foul, or black and white: and whether the instances you +select be men or dogs or anything else, few are the extremes, but many are +in the mean between them. Did you never observe this? + +Yes, I said, I have. + +And do you not imagine, he said, that if there were a competition in evil, +the worst would be found to be very few? + +Yes, that is very likely, I said. + +Yes, that is very likely, he replied; although in this respect arguments +are unlike men--there I was led on by you to say more than I had intended; +but the point of comparison was, that when a simple man who has no skill in +dialectics believes an argument to be true which he afterwards imagines to +be false, whether really false or not, and then another and another, he has +no longer any faith left, and great disputers, as you know, come to think +at last that they have grown to be the wisest of mankind; for they alone +perceive the utter unsoundness and instability of all arguments, or indeed, +of all things, which, like the currents in the Euripus, are going up and +down in never-ceasing ebb and flow. + +That is quite true, I said. + +Yes, Phaedo, he replied, and how melancholy, if there be such a thing as +truth or certainty or possibility of knowledge--that a man should have +lighted upon some argument or other which at first seemed true and then +turned out to be false, and instead of blaming himself and his own want of +wit, because he is annoyed, should at last be too glad to transfer the +blame from himself to arguments in general: and for ever afterwards should +hate and revile them, and lose truth and the knowledge of realities. + +Yes, indeed, I said; that is very melancholy. + +Let us then, in the first place, he said, be careful of allowing or of +admitting into our souls the notion that there is no health or soundness in +any arguments at all. Rather say that we have not yet attained to +soundness in ourselves, and that we must struggle manfully and do our best +to gain health of mind--you and all other men having regard to the whole of +your future life, and I myself in the prospect of death. For at this +moment I am sensible that I have not the temper of a philosopher; like the +vulgar, I am only a partisan. Now the partisan, when he is engaged in a +dispute, cares nothing about the rights of the question, but is anxious +only to convince his hearers of his own assertions. And the difference +between him and me at the present moment is merely this--that whereas he +seeks to convince his hearers that what he says is true, I am rather +seeking to convince myself; to convince my hearers is a secondary matter +with me. And do but see how much I gain by the argument. For if what I +say is true, then I do well to be persuaded of the truth, but if there be +nothing after death, still, during the short time that remains, I shall not +distress my friends with lamentations, and my ignorance will not last, but +will die with me, and therefore no harm will be done. This is the state of +mind, Simmias and Cebes, in which I approach the argument. And I would ask +you to be thinking of the truth and not of Socrates: agree with me, if I +seem to you to be speaking the truth; or if not, withstand me might and +main, that I may not deceive you as well as myself in my enthusiasm, and +like the bee, leave my sting in you before I die. + +And now let us proceed, he said. And first of all let me be sure that I +have in my mind what you were saying. Simmias, if I remember rightly, has +fears and misgivings whether the soul, although a fairer and diviner thing +than the body, being as she is in the form of harmony, may not perish +first. On the other hand, Cebes appeared to grant that the soul was more +lasting than the body, but he said that no one could know whether the soul, +after having worn out many bodies, might not perish herself and leave her +last body behind her; and that this is death, which is the destruction not +of the body but of the soul, for in the body the work of destruction is +ever going on. Are not these, Simmias and Cebes, the points which we have +to consider? + +They both agreed to this statement of them. + +He proceeded: And did you deny the force of the whole preceding argument, +or of a part only? + +Of a part only, they replied. + +And what did you think, he said, of that part of the argument in which we +said that knowledge was recollection, and hence inferred that the soul must +have previously existed somewhere else before she was enclosed in the body? + +Cebes said that he had been wonderfully impressed by that part of the +argument, and that his conviction remained absolutely unshaken. Simmias +agreed, and added that he himself could hardly imagine the possibility of +his ever thinking differently. + +But, rejoined Socrates, you will have to think differently, my Theban +friend, if you still maintain that harmony is a compound, and that the soul +is a harmony which is made out of strings set in the frame of the body; for +you will surely never allow yourself to say that a harmony is prior to the +elements which compose it. + +Never, Socrates. + +But do you not see that this is what you imply when you say that the soul +existed before she took the form and body of man, and was made up of +elements which as yet had no existence? For harmony is not like the soul, +as you suppose; but first the lyre, and the strings, and the sounds exist +in a state of discord, and then harmony is made last of all, and perishes +first. And how can such a notion of the soul as this agree with the other? + +Not at all, replied Simmias. + +And yet, he said, there surely ought to be harmony in a discourse of which +harmony is the theme. + +There ought, replied Simmias. + +But there is no harmony, he said, in the two propositions that knowledge is +recollection, and that the soul is a harmony. Which of them will you +retain? + +I think, he replied, that I have a much stronger faith, Socrates, in the +first of the two, which has been fully demonstrated to me, than in the +latter, which has not been demonstrated at all, but rests only on probable +and plausible grounds; and is therefore believed by the many. I know too +well that these arguments from probabilities are impostors, and unless +great caution is observed in the use of them, they are apt to be deceptive +--in geometry, and in other things too. But the doctrine of knowledge and +recollection has been proven to me on trustworthy grounds; and the proof +was that the soul must have existed before she came into the body, because +to her belongs the essence of which the very name implies existence. +Having, as I am convinced, rightly accepted this conclusion, and on +sufficient grounds, I must, as I suppose, cease to argue or allow others to +argue that the soul is a harmony. + +Let me put the matter, Simmias, he said, in another point of view: Do you +imagine that a harmony or any other composition can be in a state other +than that of the elements, out of which it is compounded? + +Certainly not. + +Or do or suffer anything other than they do or suffer? + +He agreed. + +Then a harmony does not, properly speaking, lead the parts or elements +which make up the harmony, but only follows them. + +He assented. + +For harmony cannot possibly have any motion, or sound, or other quality +which is opposed to its parts. + +That would be impossible, he replied. + +And does not the nature of every harmony depend upon the manner in which +the elements are harmonized? + +I do not understand you, he said. + +I mean to say that a harmony admits of degrees, and is more of a harmony, +and more completely a harmony, when more truly and fully harmonized, to any +extent which is possible; and less of a harmony, and less completely a +harmony, when less truly and fully harmonized. + +True. + +But does the soul admit of degrees? or is one soul in the very least degree +more or less, or more or less completely, a soul than another? + +Not in the least. + +Yet surely of two souls, one is said to have intelligence and virtue, and +to be good, and the other to have folly and vice, and to be an evil soul: +and this is said truly? + +Yes, truly. + +But what will those who maintain the soul to be a harmony say of this +presence of virtue and vice in the soul?--will they say that here is +another harmony, and another discord, and that the virtuous soul is +harmonized, and herself being a harmony has another harmony within her, and +that the vicious soul is inharmonical and has no harmony within her? + +I cannot tell, replied Simmias; but I suppose that something of the sort +would be asserted by those who say that the soul is a harmony. + +And we have already admitted that no soul is more a soul than another; +which is equivalent to admitting that harmony is not more or less harmony, +or more or less completely a harmony? + +Quite true. + +And that which is not more or less a harmony is not more or less +harmonized? + +True. + +And that which is not more or less harmonized cannot have more or less of +harmony, but only an equal harmony? + +Yes, an equal harmony. + +Then one soul not being more or less absolutely a soul than another, is not +more or less harmonized? + +Exactly. + +And therefore has neither more nor less of discord, nor yet of harmony? + +She has not. + +And having neither more nor less of harmony or of discord, one soul has no +more vice or virtue than another, if vice be discord and virtue harmony? + +Not at all more. + +Or speaking more correctly, Simmias, the soul, if she is a harmony, will +never have any vice; because a harmony, being absolutely a harmony, has no +part in the inharmonical. + +No. + +And therefore a soul which is absolutely a soul has no vice? + +How can she have, if the previous argument holds? + +Then, if all souls are equally by their nature souls, all souls of all +living creatures will be equally good? + +I agree with you, Socrates, he said. + +And can all this be true, think you? he said; for these are the +consequences which seem to follow from the assumption that the soul is a +harmony? + +It cannot be true. + +Once more, he said, what ruler is there of the elements of human nature +other than the soul, and especially the wise soul? Do you know of any? + +Indeed, I do not. + +And is the soul in agreement with the affections of the body? or is she at +variance with them? For example, when the body is hot and thirsty, does +not the soul incline us against drinking? and when the body is hungry, +against eating? And this is only one instance out of ten thousand of the +opposition of the soul to the things of the body. + +Very true. + +But we have already acknowledged that the soul, being a harmony, can never +utter a note at variance with the tensions and relaxations and vibrations +and other affections of the strings out of which she is composed; she can +only follow, she cannot lead them? + +It must be so, he replied. + +And yet do we not now discover the soul to be doing the exact opposite-- +leading the elements of which she is believed to be composed; almost always +opposing and coercing them in all sorts of ways throughout life, sometimes +more violently with the pains of medicine and gymnastic; then again more +gently; now threatening, now admonishing the desires, passions, fears, as +if talking to a thing which is not herself, as Homer in the Odyssee +represents Odysseus doing in the words-- + +'He beat his breast, and thus reproached his heart: +Endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured!' + +Do you think that Homer wrote this under the idea that the soul is a +harmony capable of being led by the affections of the body, and not rather +of a nature which should lead and master them--herself a far diviner thing +than any harmony? + +Yes, Socrates, I quite think so. + +Then, my friend, we can never be right in saying that the soul is a +harmony, for we should contradict the divine Homer, and contradict +ourselves. + +True, he said. + +Thus much, said Socrates, of Harmonia, your Theban goddess, who has +graciously yielded to us; but what shall I say, Cebes, to her husband +Cadmus, and how shall I make peace with him? + +I think that you will discover a way of propitiating him, said Cebes; I am +sure that you have put the argument with Harmonia in a manner that I could +never have expected. For when Simmias was mentioning his difficulty, I +quite imagined that no answer could be given to him, and therefore I was +surprised at finding that his argument could not sustain the first onset of +yours, and not impossibly the other, whom you call Cadmus, may share a +similar fate. + +Nay, my good friend, said Socrates, let us not boast, lest some evil eye +should put to flight the word which I am about to speak. That, however, +may be left in the hands of those above, while I draw near in Homeric +fashion, and try the mettle of your words. Here lies the point:--You want +to have it proven to you that the soul is imperishable and immortal, and +the philosopher who is confident in death appears to you to have but a vain +and foolish confidence, if he believes that he will fare better in the +world below than one who has led another sort of life, unless he can prove +this; and you say that the demonstration of the strength and divinity of +the soul, and of her existence prior to our becoming men, does not +necessarily imply her immortality. Admitting the soul to be longlived, and +to have known and done much in a former state, still she is not on that +account immortal; and her entrance into the human form may be a sort of +disease which is the beginning of dissolution, and may at last, after the +toils of life are over, end in that which is called death. And whether the +soul enters into the body once only or many times, does not, as you say, +make any difference in the fears of individuals. For any man, who is not +devoid of sense, must fear, if he has no knowledge and can give no account +of the soul's immortality. This, or something like this, I suspect to be +your notion, Cebes; and I designedly recur to it in order that nothing may +escape us, and that you may, if you wish, add or subtract anything. + +But, said Cebes, as far as I see at present, I have nothing to add or +subtract: I mean what you say that I mean. + +Socrates paused awhile, and seemed to be absorbed in reflection. At length +he said: You are raising a tremendous question, Cebes, involving the whole +nature of generation and corruption, about which, if you like, I will give +you my own experience; and if anything which I say is likely to avail +towards the solution of your difficulty you may make use of it. + +I should very much like, said Cebes, to hear what you have to say. + +Then I will tell you, said Socrates. When I was young, Cebes, I had a +prodigious desire to know that department of philosophy which is called the +investigation of nature; to know the causes of things, and why a thing is +and is created or destroyed appeared to me to be a lofty profession; and I +was always agitating myself with the consideration of questions such as +these:--Is the growth of animals the result of some decay which the hot and +cold principle contracts, as some have said? Is the blood the element with +which we think, or the air, or the fire? or perhaps nothing of the kind-- +but the brain may be the originating power of the perceptions of hearing +and sight and smell, and memory and opinion may come from them, and science +may be based on memory and opinion when they have attained fixity. And +then I went on to examine the corruption of them, and then to the things of +heaven and earth, and at last I concluded myself to be utterly and +absolutely incapable of these enquiries, as I will satisfactorily prove to +you. For I was fascinated by them to such a degree that my eyes grew blind +to things which I had seemed to myself, and also to others, to know quite +well; I forgot what I had before thought self-evident truths; e.g. such a +fact as that the growth of man is the result of eating and drinking; for +when by the digestion of food flesh is added to flesh and bone to bone, and +whenever there is an aggregation of congenial elements, the lesser bulk +becomes larger and the small man great. Was not that a reasonable notion? + +Yes, said Cebes, I think so. + +Well; but let me tell you something more. There was a time when I thought +that I understood the meaning of greater and less pretty well; and when I +saw a great man standing by a little one, I fancied that one was taller +than the other by a head; or one horse would appear to be greater than +another horse: and still more clearly did I seem to perceive that ten is +two more than eight, and that two cubits are more than one, because two is +the double of one. + +And what is now your notion of such matters? said Cebes. + +I should be far enough from imagining, he replied, that I knew the cause of +any of them, by heaven I should; for I cannot satisfy myself that, when one +is added to one, the one to which the addition is made becomes two, or that +the two units added together make two by reason of the addition. I cannot +understand how, when separated from the other, each of them was one and not +two, and now, when they are brought together, the mere juxtaposition or +meeting of them should be the cause of their becoming two: neither can I +understand how the division of one is the way to make two; for then a +different cause would produce the same effect,--as in the former instance +the addition and juxtaposition of one to one was the cause of two, in this +the separation and subtraction of one from the other would be the cause. +Nor am I any longer satisfied that I understand the reason why one or +anything else is either generated or destroyed or is at all, but I have in +my mind some confused notion of a new method, and can never admit the +other. + +Then I heard some one reading, as he said, from a book of Anaxagoras, that +mind was the disposer and cause of all, and I was delighted at this notion, +which appeared quite admirable, and I said to myself: If mind is the +disposer, mind will dispose all for the best, and put each particular in +the best place; and I argued that if any one desired to find out the cause +of the generation or destruction or existence of anything, he must find out +what state of being or doing or suffering was best for that thing, and +therefore a man had only to consider the best for himself and others, and +then he would also know the worse, since the same science comprehended +both. And I rejoiced to think that I had found in Anaxagoras a teacher of +the causes of existence such as I desired, and I imagined that he would +tell me first whether the earth is flat or round; and whichever was true, +he would proceed to explain the cause and the necessity of this being so, +and then he would teach me the nature of the best and show that this was +best; and if he said that the earth was in the centre, he would further +explain that this position was the best, and I should be satisfied with the +explanation given, and not want any other sort of cause. And I thought +that I would then go on and ask him about the sun and moon and stars, and +that he would explain to me their comparative swiftness, and their +returnings and various states, active and passive, and how all of them were +for the best. For I could not imagine that when he spoke of mind as the +disposer of them, he would give any other account of their being as they +are, except that this was best; and I thought that when he had explained to +me in detail the cause of each and the cause of all, he would go on to +explain to me what was best for each and what was good for all. These +hopes I would not have sold for a large sum of money, and I seized the +books and read them as fast as I could in my eagerness to know the better +and the worse. + +What expectations I had formed, and how grievously was I disappointed! As +I proceeded, I found my philosopher altogether forsaking mind or any other +principle of order, but having recourse to air, and ether, and water, and +other eccentricities. I might compare him to a person who began by +maintaining generally that mind is the cause of the actions of Socrates, +but who, when he endeavoured to explain the causes of my several actions in +detail, went on to show that I sit here because my body is made up of bones +and muscles; and the bones, as he would say, are hard and have joints which +divide them, and the muscles are elastic, and they cover the bones, which +have also a covering or environment of flesh and skin which contains them; +and as the bones are lifted at their joints by the contraction or +relaxation of the muscles, I am able to bend my limbs, and this is why I am +sitting here in a curved posture--that is what he would say, and he would +have a similar explanation of my talking to you, which he would attribute +to sound, and air, and hearing, and he would assign ten thousand other +causes of the same sort, forgetting to mention the true cause, which is, +that the Athenians have thought fit to condemn me, and accordingly I have +thought it better and more right to remain here and undergo my sentence; +for I am inclined to think that these muscles and bones of mine would have +gone off long ago to Megara or Boeotia--by the dog they would, if they had +been moved only by their own idea of what was best, and if I had not chosen +the better and nobler part, instead of playing truant and running away, of +enduring any punishment which the state inflicts. There is surely a +strange confusion of causes and conditions in all this. It may be said, +indeed, that without bones and muscles and the other parts of the body I +cannot execute my purposes. But to say that I do as I do because of them, +and that this is the way in which mind acts, and not from the choice of the +best, is a very careless and idle mode of speaking. I wonder that they +cannot distinguish the cause from the condition, which the many, feeling +about in the dark, are always mistaking and misnaming. And thus one man +makes a vortex all round and steadies the earth by the heaven; another +gives the air as a support to the earth, which is a sort of broad trough. +Any power which in arranging them as they are arranges them for the best +never enters into their minds; and instead of finding any superior strength +in it, they rather expect to discover another Atlas of the world who is +stronger and more everlasting and more containing than the good;--of the +obligatory and containing power of the good they think nothing; and yet +this is the principle which I would fain learn if any one would teach me. +But as I have failed either to discover myself, or to learn of any one +else, the nature of the best, I will exhibit to you, if you like, what I +have found to be the second best mode of enquiring into the cause. + +I should very much like to hear, he replied. + +Socrates proceeded:--I thought that as I had failed in the contemplation of +true existence, I ought to be careful that I did not lose the eye of my +soul; as people may injure their bodily eye by observing and gazing on the +sun during an eclipse, unless they take the precaution of only looking at +the image reflected in the water, or in some similar medium. So in my own +case, I was afraid that my soul might be blinded altogether if I looked at +things with my eyes or tried to apprehend them by the help of the senses. +And I thought that I had better have recourse to the world of mind and seek +there the truth of existence. I dare say that the simile is not perfect-- +for I am very far from admitting that he who contemplates existences +through the medium of thought, sees them only 'through a glass darkly,' any +more than he who considers them in action and operation. However, this was +the method which I adopted: I first assumed some principle which I judged +to be the strongest, and then I affirmed as true whatever seemed to agree +with this, whether relating to the cause or to anything else; and that +which disagreed I regarded as untrue. But I should like to explain my +meaning more clearly, as I do not think that you as yet understand me. + +No indeed, replied Cebes, not very well. + +There is nothing new, he said, in what I am about to tell you; but only +what I have been always and everywhere repeating in the previous discussion +and on other occasions: I want to show you the nature of that cause which +has occupied my thoughts. I shall have to go back to those familiar words +which are in the mouth of every one, and first of all assume that there is +an absolute beauty and goodness and greatness, and the like; grant me this, +and I hope to be able to show you the nature of the cause, and to prove the +immortality of the soul. + +Cebes said: You may proceed at once with the proof, for I grant you this. + +Well, he said, then I should like to know whether you agree with me in the +next step; for I cannot help thinking, if there be anything beautiful other +than absolute beauty should there be such, that it can be beautiful only in +as far as it partakes of absolute beauty--and I should say the same of +everything. Do you agree in this notion of the cause? + +Yes, he said, I agree. + +He proceeded: I know nothing and can understand nothing of any other of +those wise causes which are alleged; and if a person says to me that the +bloom of colour, or form, or any such thing is a source of beauty, I leave +all that, which is only confusing to me, and simply and singly, and perhaps +foolishly, hold and am assured in my own mind that nothing makes a thing +beautiful but the presence and participation of beauty in whatever way or +manner obtained; for as to the manner I am uncertain, but I stoutly contend +that by beauty all beautiful things become beautiful. This appears to me +to be the safest answer which I can give, either to myself or to another, +and to this I cling, in the persuasion that this principle will never be +overthrown, and that to myself or to any one who asks the question, I may +safely reply, That by beauty beautiful things become beautiful. Do you not +agree with me? + +I do. + +And that by greatness only great things become great and greater greater, +and by smallness the less become less? + +True. + +Then if a person were to remark that A is taller by a head than B, and B +less by a head than A, you would refuse to admit his statement, and would +stoutly contend that what you mean is only that the greater is greater by, +and by reason of, greatness, and the less is less only by, and by reason +of, smallness; and thus you would avoid the danger of saying that the +greater is greater and the less less by the measure of the head, which is +the same in both, and would also avoid the monstrous absurdity of supposing +that the greater man is greater by reason of the head, which is small. You +would be afraid to draw such an inference, would you not? + +Indeed, I should, said Cebes, laughing. + +In like manner you would be afraid to say that ten exceeded eight by, and +by reason of, two; but would say by, and by reason of, number; or you would +say that two cubits exceed one cubit not by a half, but by magnitude?-for +there is the same liability to error in all these cases. + +Very true, he said. + +Again, would you not be cautious of affirming that the addition of one to +one, or the division of one, is the cause of two? And you would loudly +asseverate that you know of no way in which anything comes into existence +except by participation in its own proper essence, and consequently, as far +as you know, the only cause of two is the participation in duality--this is +the way to make two, and the participation in one is the way to make one. +You would say: I will let alone puzzles of division and addition--wiser +heads than mine may answer them; inexperienced as I am, and ready to start, +as the proverb says, at my own shadow, I cannot afford to give up the sure +ground of a principle. And if any one assails you there, you would not +mind him, or answer him, until you had seen whether the consequences which +follow agree with one another or not, and when you are further required to +give an explanation of this principle, you would go on to assume a higher +principle, and a higher, until you found a resting-place in the best of the +higher; but you would not confuse the principle and the consequences in +your reasoning, like the Eristics--at least if you wanted to discover real +existence. Not that this confusion signifies to them, who never care or +think about the matter at all, for they have the wit to be well pleased +with themselves however great may be the turmoil of their ideas. But you, +if you are a philosopher, will certainly do as I say. + +What you say is most true, said Simmias and Cebes, both speaking at once. + +ECHECRATES: Yes, Phaedo; and I do not wonder at their assenting. Any one +who has the least sense will acknowledge the wonderful clearness of +Socrates' reasoning. + +PHAEDO: Certainly, Echecrates; and such was the feeling of the whole +company at the time. + +ECHECRATES: Yes, and equally of ourselves, who were not of the company, +and are now listening to your recital. But what followed? + +PHAEDO: After all this had been admitted, and they had that ideas exist, +and that other things participate in them and derive their names from them, +Socrates, if I remember rightly, said:-- + +This is your way of speaking; and yet when you say that Simmias is greater +than Socrates and less than Phaedo, do you not predicate of Simmias both +greatness and smallness? + +Yes, I do. + +But still you allow that Simmias does not really exceed Socrates, as the +words may seem to imply, because he is Simmias, but by reason of the size +which he has; just as Simmias does not exceed Socrates because he is +Simmias, any more than because Socrates is Socrates, but because he has +smallness when compared with the greatness of Simmias? + +True. + +And if Phaedo exceeds him in size, this is not because Phaedo is Phaedo, +but because Phaedo has greatness relatively to Simmias, who is +comparatively smaller? + +That is true. + +And therefore Simmias is said to be great, and is also said to be small, +because he is in a mean between them, exceeding the smallness of the one by +his greatness, and allowing the greatness of the other to exceed his +smallness. He added, laughing, I am speaking like a book, but I believe +that what I am saying is true. + +Simmias assented. + +I speak as I do because I want you to agree with me in thinking, not only +that absolute greatness will never be great and also small, but that +greatness in us or in the concrete will never admit the small or admit of +being exceeded: instead of this, one of two things will happen, either the +greater will fly or retire before the opposite, which is the less, or at +the approach of the less has already ceased to exist; but will not, if +allowing or admitting of smallness, be changed by that; even as I, having +received and admitted smallness when compared with Simmias, remain just as +I was, and am the same small person. And as the idea of greatness cannot +condescend ever to be or become small, in like manner the smallness in us +cannot be or become great; nor can any other opposite which remains the +same ever be or become its own opposite, but either passes away or perishes +in the change. + +That, replied Cebes, is quite my notion. + +Hereupon one of the company, though I do not exactly remember which of +them, said: In heaven's name, is not this the direct contrary of what was +admitted before--that out of the greater came the less and out of the less +the greater, and that opposites were simply generated from opposites; but +now this principle seems to be utterly denied. + +Socrates inclined his head to the speaker and listened. I like your +courage, he said, in reminding us of this. But you do not observe that +there is a difference in the two cases. For then we were speaking of +opposites in the concrete, and now of the essential opposite which, as is +affirmed, neither in us nor in nature can ever be at variance with itself: +then, my friend, we were speaking of things in which opposites are inherent +and which are called after them, but now about the opposites which are +inherent in them and which give their name to them; and these essential +opposites will never, as we maintain, admit of generation into or out of +one another. At the same time, turning to Cebes, he said: Are you at all +disconcerted, Cebes, at our friend's objection? + +No, I do not feel so, said Cebes; and yet I cannot deny that I am often +disturbed by objections. + +Then we are agreed after all, said Socrates, that the opposite will never +in any case be opposed to itself? + +To that we are quite agreed, he replied. + +Yet once more let me ask you to consider the question from another point of +view, and see whether you agree with me:--There is a thing which you term +heat, and another thing which you term cold? + +Certainly. + +But are they the same as fire and snow? + +Most assuredly not. + +Heat is a thing different from fire, and cold is not the same with snow? + +Yes. + +And yet you will surely admit, that when snow, as was before said, is under +the influence of heat, they will not remain snow and heat; but at the +advance of the heat, the snow will either retire or perish? + +Very true, he replied. + +And the fire too at the advance of the cold will either retire or perish; +and when the fire is under the influence of the cold, they will not remain +as before, fire and cold. + +That is true, he said. + +And in some cases the name of the idea is not only attached to the idea in +an eternal connection, but anything else which, not being the idea, exists +only in the form of the idea, may also lay claim to it. I will try to make +this clearer by an example:--The odd number is always called by the name of +odd? + +Very true. + +But is this the only thing which is called odd? Are there not other things +which have their own name, and yet are called odd, because, although not +the same as oddness, they are never without oddness?--that is what I mean +to ask--whether numbers such as the number three are not of the class of +odd. And there are many other examples: would you not say, for example, +that three may be called by its proper name, and also be called odd, which +is not the same with three? and this may be said not only of three but also +of five, and of every alternate number--each of them without being oddness +is odd, and in the same way two and four, and the other series of alternate +numbers, has every number even, without being evenness. Do you agree? + +Of course. + +Then now mark the point at which I am aiming:--not only do essential +opposites exclude one another, but also concrete things, which, although +not in themselves opposed, contain opposites; these, I say, likewise reject +the idea which is opposed to that which is contained in them, and when it +approaches them they either perish or withdraw. For example; Will not the +number three endure annihilation or anything sooner than be converted into +an even number, while remaining three? + +Very true, said Cebes. + +And yet, he said, the number two is certainly not opposed to the number +three? + +It is not. + +Then not only do opposite ideas repel the advance of one another, but also +there are other natures which repel the approach of opposites. + +Very true, he said. + +Suppose, he said, that we endeavour, if possible, to determine what these +are. + +By all means. + +Are they not, Cebes, such as compel the things of which they have +possession, not only to take their own form, but also the form of some +opposite? + +What do you mean? + +I mean, as I was just now saying, and as I am sure that you know, that +those things which are possessed by the number three must not only be three +in number, but must also be odd. + +Quite true. + +And on this oddness, of which the number three has the impress, the +opposite idea will never intrude? + +No. + +And this impress was given by the odd principle? + +Yes. + +And to the odd is opposed the even? + +True. + +Then the idea of the even number will never arrive at three? + +No. + +Then three has no part in the even? + +None. + +Then the triad or number three is uneven? + +Very true. + +To return then to my distinction of natures which are not opposed, and yet +do not admit opposites--as, in the instance given, three, although not +opposed to the even, does not any the more admit of the even, but always +brings the opposite into play on the other side; or as two does not receive +the odd, or fire the cold--from these examples (and there are many more of +them) perhaps you may be able to arrive at the general conclusion, that not +only opposites will not receive opposites, but also that nothing which +brings the opposite will admit the opposite of that which it brings, in +that to which it is brought. And here let me recapitulate--for there is no +harm in repetition. The number five will not admit the nature of the even, +any more than ten, which is the double of five, will admit the nature of +the odd. The double has another opposite, and is not strictly opposed to +the odd, but nevertheless rejects the odd altogether. Nor again will parts +in the ratio 3:2, nor any fraction in which there is a half, nor again in +which there is a third, admit the notion of the whole, although they are +not opposed to the whole: You will agree? + +Yes, he said, I entirely agree and go along with you in that. + +And now, he said, let us begin again; and do not you answer my question in +the words in which I ask it: let me have not the old safe answer of which +I spoke at first, but another equally safe, of which the truth will be +inferred by you from what has been just said. I mean that if any one asks +you 'what that is, of which the inherence makes the body hot,' you will +reply not heat (this is what I call the safe and stupid answer), but fire, +a far superior answer, which we are now in a condition to give. Or if any +one asks you 'why a body is diseased,' you will not say from disease, but +from fever; and instead of saying that oddness is the cause of odd numbers, +you will say that the monad is the cause of them: and so of things in +general, as I dare say that you will understand sufficiently without my +adducing any further examples. + +Yes, he said, I quite understand you. + +Tell me, then, what is that of which the inherence will render the body +alive? + +The soul, he replied. + +And is this always the case? + +Yes, he said, of course. + +Then whatever the soul possesses, to that she comes bearing life? + +Yes, certainly. + +And is there any opposite to life? + +There is, he said. + +And what is that? + +Death. + +Then the soul, as has been acknowledged, will never receive the opposite of +what she brings. + +Impossible, replied Cebes. + +And now, he said, what did we just now call that principle which repels the +even? + +The odd. + +And that principle which repels the musical, or the just? + +The unmusical, he said, and the unjust. + +And what do we call the principle which does not admit of death? + +The immortal, he said. + +And does the soul admit of death? + +No. + +Then the soul is immortal? + +Yes, he said. + +And may we say that this has been proven? + +Yes, abundantly proven, Socrates, he replied. + +Supposing that the odd were imperishable, must not three be imperishable? + +Of course. + +And if that which is cold were imperishable, when the warm principle came +attacking the snow, must not the snow have retired whole and unmelted--for +it could never have perished, nor could it have remained and admitted the +heat? + +True, he said. + +Again, if the uncooling or warm principle were imperishable, the fire when +assailed by cold would not have perished or have been extinguished, but +would have gone away unaffected? + +Certainly, he said. + +And the same may be said of the immortal: if the immortal is also +imperishable, the soul when attacked by death cannot perish; for the +preceding argument shows that the soul will not admit of death, or ever be +dead, any more than three or the odd number will admit of the even, or fire +or the heat in the fire, of the cold. Yet a person may say: 'But although +the odd will not become even at the approach of the even, why may not the +odd perish and the even take the place of the odd?' Now to him who makes +this objection, we cannot answer that the odd principle is imperishable; +for this has not been acknowledged, but if this had been acknowledged, +there would have been no difficulty in contending that at the approach of +the even the odd principle and the number three took their departure; and +the same argument would have held good of fire and heat and any other +thing. + +Very true. + +And the same may be said of the immortal: if the immortal is also +imperishable, then the soul will be imperishable as well as immortal; but +if not, some other proof of her imperishableness will have to be given. + +No other proof is needed, he said; for if the immortal, being eternal, is +liable to perish, then nothing is imperishable. + +Yes, replied Socrates, and yet all men will agree that God, and the +essential form of life, and the immortal in general, will never perish. + +Yes, all men, he said--that is true; and what is more, gods, if I am not +mistaken, as well as men. + +Seeing then that the immortal is indestructible, must not the soul, if she +is immortal, be also imperishable? + +Most certainly. + +Then when death attacks a man, the mortal portion of him may be supposed to +die, but the immortal retires at the approach of death and is preserved +safe and sound? + +True. + +Then, Cebes, beyond question, the soul is immortal and imperishable, and +our souls will truly exist in another world! + +I am convinced, Socrates, said Cebes, and have nothing more to object; but +if my friend Simmias, or any one else, has any further objection to make, +he had better speak out, and not keep silence, since I do not know to what +other season he can defer the discussion, if there is anything which he +wants to say or to have said. + +But I have nothing more to say, replied Simmias; nor can I see any reason +for doubt after what has been said. But I still feel and cannot help +feeling uncertain in my own mind, when I think of the greatness of the +subject and the feebleness of man. + +Yes, Simmias, replied Socrates, that is well said: and I may add that +first principles, even if they appear certain, should be carefully +considered; and when they are satisfactorily ascertained, then, with a sort +of hesitating confidence in human reason, you may, I think, follow the +course of the argument; and if that be plain and clear, there will be no +need for any further enquiry. + +Very true. + +But then, O my friends, he said, if the soul is really immortal, what care +should be taken of her, not only in respect of the portion of time which is +called life, but of eternity! And the danger of neglecting her from this +point of view does indeed appear to be awful. If death had only been the +end of all, the wicked would have had a good bargain in dying, for they +would have been happily quit not only of their body, but of their own evil +together with their souls. But now, inasmuch as the soul is manifestly +immortal, there is no release or salvation from evil except the attainment +of the highest virtue and wisdom. For the soul when on her progress to the +world below takes nothing with her but nurture and education; and these are +said greatly to benefit or greatly to injure the departed, at the very +beginning of his journey thither. + +For after death, as they say, the genius of each individual, to whom he +belonged in life, leads him to a certain place in which the dead are +gathered together, whence after judgment has been given they pass into the +world below, following the guide, who is appointed to conduct them from +this world to the other: and when they have there received their due and +remained their time, another guide brings them back again after many +revolutions of ages. Now this way to the other world is not, as Aeschylus +says in the Telephus, a single and straight path--if that were so no guide +would be needed, for no one could miss it; but there are many partings of +the road, and windings, as I infer from the rites and sacrifices which are +offered to the gods below in places where three ways meet on earth. The +wise and orderly soul follows in the straight path and is conscious of her +surroundings; but the soul which desires the body, and which, as I was +relating before, has long been fluttering about the lifeless frame and the +world of sight, is after many struggles and many sufferings hardly and with +violence carried away by her attendant genius, and when she arrives at the +place where the other souls are gathered, if she be impure and have done +impure deeds, whether foul murders or other crimes which are the brothers +of these, and the works of brothers in crime--from that soul every one +flees and turns away; no one will be her companion, no one her guide, but +alone she wanders in extremity of evil until certain times are fulfilled, +and when they are fulfilled, she is borne irresistibly to her own fitting +habitation; as every pure and just soul which has passed through life in +the company and under the guidance of the gods has also her own proper +home. + +Now the earth has divers wonderful regions, and is indeed in nature and +extent very unlike the notions of geographers, as I believe on the +authority of one who shall be nameless. + +What do you mean, Socrates? said Simmias. I have myself heard many +descriptions of the earth, but I do not know, and I should very much like +to know, in which of these you put faith. + +And I, Simmias, replied Socrates, if I had the art of Glaucus would tell +you; although I know not that the art of Glaucus could prove the truth of +my tale, which I myself should never be able to prove, and even if I could, +I fear, Simmias, that my life would come to an end before the argument was +completed. I may describe to you, however, the form and regions of the +earth according to my conception of them. + +That, said Simmias, will be enough. + +Well, then, he said, my conviction is, that the earth is a round body in +the centre of the heavens, and therefore has no need of air or any similar +force to be a support, but is kept there and hindered from falling or +inclining any way by the equability of the surrounding heaven and by her +own equipoise. For that which, being in equipoise, is in the centre of +that which is equably diffused, will not incline any way in any degree, but +will always remain in the same state and not deviate. And this is my first +notion. + +Which is surely a correct one, said Simmias. + +Also I believe that the earth is very vast, and that we who dwell in the +region extending from the river Phasis to the Pillars of Heracles inhabit a +small portion only about the sea, like ants or frogs about a marsh, and +that there are other inhabitants of many other like places; for everywhere +on the face of the earth there are hollows of various forms and sizes, into +which the water and the mist and the lower air collect. But the true earth +is pure and situated in the pure heaven--there are the stars also; and it +is the heaven which is commonly spoken of by us as the ether, and of which +our own earth is the sediment gathering in the hollows beneath. But we who +live in these hollows are deceived into the notion that we are dwelling +above on the surface of the earth; which is just as if a creature who was +at the bottom of the sea were to fancy that he was on the surface of the +water, and that the sea was the heaven through which he saw the sun and the +other stars, he having never come to the surface by reason of his +feebleness and sluggishness, and having never lifted up his head and seen, +nor ever heard from one who had seen, how much purer and fairer the world +above is than his own. And such is exactly our case: for we are dwelling +in a hollow of the earth, and fancy that we are on the surface; and the air +we call the heaven, in which we imagine that the stars move. But the fact +is, that owing to our feebleness and sluggishness we are prevented from +reaching the surface of the air: for if any man could arrive at the +exterior limit, or take the wings of a bird and come to the top, then like +a fish who puts his head out of the water and sees this world, he would see +a world beyond; and, if the nature of man could sustain the sight, he would +acknowledge that this other world was the place of the true heaven and the +true light and the true earth. For our earth, and the stones, and the +entire region which surrounds us, are spoilt and corroded, as in the sea +all things are corroded by the brine, neither is there any noble or perfect +growth, but caverns only, and sand, and an endless slough of mud: and even +the shore is not to be compared to the fairer sights of this world. And +still less is this our world to be compared with the other. Of that upper +earth which is under the heaven, I can tell you a charming tale, Simmias, +which is well worth hearing. + +And we, Socrates, replied Simmias, shall be charmed to listen to you. + +The tale, my friend, he said, is as follows:--In the first place, the +earth, when looked at from above, is in appearance streaked like one of +those balls which have leather coverings in twelve pieces, and is decked +with various colours, of which the colours used by painters on earth are in +a manner samples. But there the whole earth is made up of them, and they +are brighter far and clearer than ours; there is a purple of wonderful +lustre, also the radiance of gold, and the white which is in the earth is +whiter than any chalk or snow. Of these and other colours the earth is +made up, and they are more in number and fairer than the eye of man has +ever seen; the very hollows (of which I was speaking) filled with air and +water have a colour of their own, and are seen like light gleaming amid the +diversity of the other colours, so that the whole presents a single and +continuous appearance of variety in unity. And in this fair region +everything that grows--trees, and flowers, and fruits--are in a like degree +fairer than any here; and there are hills, having stones in them in a like +degree smoother, and more transparent, and fairer in colour than our +highly-valued emeralds and sardonyxes and jaspers, and other gems, which +are but minute fragments of them: for there all the stones are like our +precious stones, and fairer still (compare Republic). The reason is, that +they are pure, and not, like our precious stones, infected or corroded by +the corrupt briny elements which coagulate among us, and which breed +foulness and disease both in earth and stones, as well as in animals and +plants. They are the jewels of the upper earth, which also shines with +gold and silver and the like, and they are set in the light of day and are +large and abundant and in all places, making the earth a sight to gladden +the beholder's eye. And there are animals and men, some in a middle +region, others dwelling about the air as we dwell about the sea; others in +islands which the air flows round, near the continent: and in a word, the +air is used by them as the water and the sea are by us, and the ether is to +them what the air is to us. Moreover, the temperament of their seasons is +such that they have no disease, and live much longer than we do, and have +sight and hearing and smell, and all the other senses, in far greater +perfection, in the same proportion that air is purer than water or the +ether than air. Also they have temples and sacred places in which the gods +really dwell, and they hear their voices and receive their answers, and are +conscious of them and hold converse with them, and they see the sun, moon, +and stars as they truly are, and their other blessedness is of a piece with +this. + +Such is the nature of the whole earth, and of the things which are around +the earth; and there are divers regions in the hollows on the face of the +globe everywhere, some of them deeper and more extended than that which we +inhabit, others deeper but with a narrower opening than ours, and some are +shallower and also wider. All have numerous perforations, and there are +passages broad and narrow in the interior of the earth, connecting them +with one another; and there flows out of and into them, as into basins, a +vast tide of water, and huge subterranean streams of perennial rivers, and +springs hot and cold, and a great fire, and great rivers of fire, and +streams of liquid mud, thin or thick (like the rivers of mud in Sicily, and +the lava streams which follow them), and the regions about which they +happen to flow are filled up with them. And there is a swinging or see-saw +in the interior of the earth which moves all this up and down, and is due +to the following cause:--There is a chasm which is the vastest of them all, +and pierces right through the whole earth; this is that chasm which Homer +describes in the words,-- + +'Far off, where is the inmost depth beneath the earth;' + +and which he in other places, and many other poets, have called Tartarus. +And the see-saw is caused by the streams flowing into and out of this +chasm, and they each have the nature of the soil through which they flow. +And the reason why the streams are always flowing in and out, is that the +watery element has no bed or bottom, but is swinging and surging up and +down, and the surrounding wind and air do the same; they follow the water +up and down, hither and thither, over the earth--just as in the act of +respiration the air is always in process of inhalation and exhalation;--and +the wind swinging with the water in and out produces fearful and +irresistible blasts: when the waters retire with a rush into the lower +parts of the earth, as they are called, they flow through the earth in +those regions, and fill them up like water raised by a pump, and then when +they leave those regions and rush back hither, they again fill the hollows +here, and when these are filled, flow through subterranean channels and +find their way to their several places, forming seas, and lakes, and +rivers, and springs. Thence they again enter the earth, some of them +making a long circuit into many lands, others going to a few places and not +so distant; and again fall into Tartarus, some at a point a good deal lower +than that at which they rose, and others not much lower, but all in some +degree lower than the point from which they came. And some burst forth +again on the opposite side, and some on the same side, and some wind round +the earth with one or many folds like the coils of a serpent, and descend +as far as they can, but always return and fall into the chasm. The rivers +flowing in either direction can descend only to the centre and no further, +for opposite to the rivers is a precipice. + +Now these rivers are many, and mighty, and diverse, and there are four +principal ones, of which the greatest and outermost is that called Oceanus, +which flows round the earth in a circle; and in the opposite direction +flows Acheron, which passes under the earth through desert places into the +Acherusian lake: this is the lake to the shores of which the souls of the +many go when they are dead, and after waiting an appointed time, which is +to some a longer and to some a shorter time, they are sent back to be born +again as animals. The third river passes out between the two, and near the +place of outlet pours into a vast region of fire, and forms a lake larger +than the Mediterranean Sea, boiling with water and mud; and proceeding +muddy and turbid, and winding about the earth, comes, among other places, +to the extremities of the Acherusian Lake, but mingles not with the waters +of the lake, and after making many coils about the earth plunges into +Tartarus at a deeper level. This is that Pyriphlegethon, as the stream is +called, which throws up jets of fire in different parts of the earth. The +fourth river goes out on the opposite side, and falls first of all into a +wild and savage region, which is all of a dark-blue colour, like lapis +lazuli; and this is that river which is called the Stygian river, and falls +into and forms the Lake Styx, and after falling into the lake and receiving +strange powers in the waters, passes under the earth, winding round in the +opposite direction, and comes near the Acherusian lake from the opposite +side to Pyriphlegethon. And the water of this river too mingles with no +other, but flows round in a circle and falls into Tartarus over against +Pyriphlegethon; and the name of the river, as the poets say, is Cocytus. + +Such is the nature of the other world; and when the dead arrive at the +place to which the genius of each severally guides them, first of all, they +have sentence passed upon them, as they have lived well and piously or not. +And those who appear to have lived neither well nor ill, go to the river +Acheron, and embarking in any vessels which they may find, are carried in +them to the lake, and there they dwell and are purified of their evil +deeds, and having suffered the penalty of the wrongs which they have done +to others, they are absolved, and receive the rewards of their good deeds, +each of them according to his deserts. But those who appear to be +incurable by reason of the greatness of their crimes--who have committed +many and terrible deeds of sacrilege, murders foul and violent, or the +like--such are hurled into Tartarus which is their suitable destiny, and +they never come out. Those again who have committed crimes, which, +although great, are not irremediable--who in a moment of anger, for +example, have done violence to a father or a mother, and have repented for +the remainder of their lives, or, who have taken the life of another under +the like extenuating circumstances--these are plunged into Tartarus, the +pains of which they are compelled to undergo for a year, but at the end of +the year the wave casts them forth--mere homicides by way of Cocytus, +parricides and matricides by Pyriphlegethon--and they are borne to the +Acherusian lake, and there they lift up their voices and call upon the +victims whom they have slain or wronged, to have pity on them, and to be +kind to them, and let them come out into the lake. And if they prevail, +then they come forth and cease from their troubles; but if not, they are +carried back again into Tartarus and from thence into the rivers +unceasingly, until they obtain mercy from those whom they have wronged: +for that is the sentence inflicted upon them by their judges. Those too +who have been pre-eminent for holiness of life are released from this +earthly prison, and go to their pure home which is above, and dwell in the +purer earth; and of these, such as have duly purified themselves with +philosophy live henceforth altogether without the body, in mansions fairer +still which may not be described, and of which the time would fail me to +tell. + +Wherefore, Simmias, seeing all these things, what ought not we to do that +we may obtain virtue and wisdom in this life? Fair is the prize, and the +hope great! + +A man of sense ought not to say, nor will I be very confident, that the +description which I have given of the soul and her mansions is exactly +true. But I do say that, inasmuch as the soul is shown to be immortal, he +may venture to think, not improperly or unworthily, that something of the +kind is true. The venture is a glorious one, and he ought to comfort +himself with words like these, which is the reason why I lengthen out the +tale. Wherefore, I say, let a man be of good cheer about his soul, who +having cast away the pleasures and ornaments of the body as alien to him +and working harm rather than good, has sought after the pleasures of +knowledge; and has arrayed the soul, not in some foreign attire, but in her +own proper jewels, temperance, and justice, and courage, and nobility, and +truth--in these adorned she is ready to go on her journey to the world +below, when her hour comes. You, Simmias and Cebes, and all other men, +will depart at some time or other. Me already, as the tragic poet would +say, the voice of fate calls. Soon I must drink the poison; and I think +that I had better repair to the bath first, in order that the women may not +have the trouble of washing my body after I am dead. + +When he had done speaking, Crito said: And have you any commands for us, +Socrates--anything to say about your children, or any other matter in which +we can serve you? + +Nothing particular, Crito, he replied: only, as I have always told you, +take care of yourselves; that is a service which you may be ever rendering +to me and mine and to all of us, whether you promise to do so or not. But +if you have no thought for yourselves, and care not to walk according to +the rule which I have prescribed for you, not now for the first time, +however much you may profess or promise at the moment, it will be of no +avail. + +We will do our best, said Crito: And in what way shall we bury you? + +In any way that you like; but you must get hold of me, and take care that I +do not run away from you. Then he turned to us, and added with a smile:--I +cannot make Crito believe that I am the same Socrates who have been talking +and conducting the argument; he fancies that I am the other Socrates whom +he will soon see, a dead body--and he asks, How shall he bury me? And +though I have spoken many words in the endeavour to show that when I have +drunk the poison I shall leave you and go to the joys of the blessed,-- +these words of mine, with which I was comforting you and myself, have had, +as I perceive, no effect upon Crito. And therefore I want you to be surety +for me to him now, as at the trial he was surety to the judges for me: but +let the promise be of another sort; for he was surety for me to the judges +that I would remain, and you must be my surety to him that I shall not +remain, but go away and depart; and then he will suffer less at my death, +and not be grieved when he sees my body being burned or buried. I would +not have him sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the burial, Thus we lay out +Socrates, or, Thus we follow him to the grave or bury him; for false words +are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. Be of +good cheer, then, my dear Crito, and say that you are burying my body only, +and do with that whatever is usual, and what you think best. + +When he had spoken these words, he arose and went into a chamber to bathe; +Crito followed him and told us to wait. So we remained behind, talking and +thinking of the subject of discourse, and also of the greatness of our +sorrow; he was like a father of whom we were being bereaved, and we were +about to pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had taken the bath +his children were brought to him--(he had two young sons and an elder one); +and the women of his family also came, and he talked to them and gave them +a few directions in the presence of Crito; then he dismissed them and +returned to us. + +Now the hour of sunset was near, for a good deal of time had passed while +he was within. When he came out, he sat down with us again after his bath, +but not much was said. Soon the jailer, who was the servant of the Eleven, +entered and stood by him, saying:--To you, Socrates, whom I know to be the +noblest and gentlest and best of all who ever came to this place, I will +not impute the angry feelings of other men, who rage and swear at me, when, +in obedience to the authorities, I bid them drink the poison--indeed, I am +sure that you will not be angry with me; for others, as you are aware, and +not I, are to blame. And so fare you well, and try to bear lightly what +must needs be--you know my errand. Then bursting into tears he turned away +and went out. + +Socrates looked at him and said: I return your good wishes, and will do as +you bid. Then turning to us, he said, How charming the man is: since I +have been in prison he has always been coming to see me, and at times he +would talk to me, and was as good to me as could be, and now see how +generously he sorrows on my account. We must do as he says, Crito; and +therefore let the cup be brought, if the poison is prepared: if not, let +the attendant prepare some. + +Yet, said Crito, the sun is still upon the hill-tops, and I know that many +a one has taken the draught late, and after the announcement has been made +to him, he has eaten and drunk, and enjoyed the society of his beloved; do +not hurry--there is time enough. + +Socrates said: Yes, Crito, and they of whom you speak are right in so +acting, for they think that they will be gainers by the delay; but I am +right in not following their example, for I do not think that I should gain +anything by drinking the poison a little later; I should only be ridiculous +in my own eyes for sparing and saving a life which is already forfeit. +Please then to do as I say, and not to refuse me. + +Crito made a sign to the servant, who was standing by; and he went out, and +having been absent for some time, returned with the jailer carrying the cup +of poison. Socrates said: You, my good friend, who are experienced in +these matters, shall give me directions how I am to proceed. The man +answered: You have only to walk about until your legs are heavy, and then +to lie down, and the poison will act. At the same time he handed the cup +to Socrates, who in the easiest and gentlest manner, without the least fear +or change of colour or feature, looking at the man with all his eyes, +Echecrates, as his manner was, took the cup and said: What do you say +about making a libation out of this cup to any god? May I, or not? The +man answered: We only prepare, Socrates, just so much as we deem enough. +I understand, he said: but I may and must ask the gods to prosper my +journey from this to the other world--even so--and so be it according to my +prayer. Then raising the cup to his lips, quite readily and cheerfully he +drank off the poison. And hitherto most of us had been able to control our +sorrow; but now when we saw him drinking, and saw too that he had finished +the draught, we could no longer forbear, and in spite of myself my own +tears were flowing fast; so that I covered my face and wept, not for him, +but at the thought of my own calamity in having to part from such a friend. +Nor was I the first; for Crito, when he found himself unable to restrain +his tears, had got up, and I followed; and at that moment, Apollodorus, who +had been weeping all the time, broke out in a loud and passionate cry which +made cowards of us all. Socrates alone retained his calmness: What is +this strange outcry? he said. I sent away the women mainly in order that +they might not misbehave in this way, for I have been told that a man +should die in peace. Be quiet, then, and have patience. When we heard his +words we were ashamed, and refrained our tears; and he walked about until, +as he said, his legs began to fail, and then he lay on his back, according +to the directions, and the man who gave him the poison now and then looked +at his feet and legs; and after a while he pressed his foot hard, and asked +him if he could feel; and he said, No; and then his leg, and so upwards and +upwards, and showed us that he was cold and stiff. And he felt them +himself, and said: When the poison reaches the heart, that will be the +end. He was beginning to grow cold about the groin, when he uncovered his +face, for he had covered himself up, and said--they were his last words--he +said: Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you remember to pay the debt? +The debt shall be paid, said Crito; is there anything else? There was no +answer to this question; but in a minute or two a movement was heard, and +the attendants uncovered him; his eyes were set, and Crito closed his eyes +and mouth. + +Such was the end, Echecrates, of our friend; concerning whom I may truly +say, that of all the men of his time whom I have known, he was the wisest +and justest and best. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Phaedo, by Plato + diff --git a/old/phado10.zip b/old/phado10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3d068b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/phado10.zip |