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?