This dialogue presents us with an account of the manner in which
Socrates spent the last day of his life, and how he met his death. The
main subject is that of the soul’s immortality, which Socrates takes
upon himself to prove with as much certainty as it is possible for the
human mind to arrive at. The question itself, though none could be
better suited to the occasion, arises simply and naturally from the
general conversation that precedes it.
When his friends visit him in the morning for the purpose of spending
this his last day with him, they find him sitting up in bed and rubbing
his leg, which had just been freed from bonds. He remarks on the
unaccountable alternation and connexion between pleasure and pain, and
adds that Æsop, had he observed it, would have made a fable from it.
This remark reminds Cebes of Socrates’ having put some of Æsop’s fables
into metre since his imprisonment, and he asks, for the satisfaction of
the poet Evenus, what had induced him to do so. Socrates explains his
reason, and concludes by bidding him tell Evenus to follow him as soon
as he can. Simmias expresses his surprise at this message, on which
Socrates asks, “Is not Evenus a philosopher?” and on the question being
answered in the affirmative, he says, that he or any philosopher would
be willing to die, though perhaps he would not commit violence on
himself. This, again, seems a contradiction to Simmias, but Socrates
explains it by shewing that our souls are placed in the body by God, and
may not leave it without His permission. Whereupon Cebes objects, that
in that case foolish men only would wish to die and quit the service of
the best of masters, to which Simmias agrees. Socrates, therefore,
proposes to plead his cause before them, and to shew that there is a
great probability that after this life he shall go into the presence of
God and good men, and be happy in proportion to the purity of his own
mind.
He begins[12] by stating that philosophy itself is nothing else than a
preparation for and meditation on death. Death and philosophy have this
in common: death separates the soul from the body, philosophy draws off
the mind from bodily things to the contemplation of truth and virtue:
for he is not a true philosopher who is led away by bodily pleasures,
since the senses are the source of ignorance and all evil; the mind,
therefore, is entirely occupied in meditating on death, and freeing
itself as much as possible from the body. How, then, can such a man be
afraid of death? He who grieves at the approach of death cannot be a
true lover of wisdom, but is a lover of his body. And, indeed, most men
are temperate through intemperance, that is to say, they abstain from
some pleasures that they may the more easily and permanently enjoy
others. They embrace only a shadow of virtue, not virtue itself, since
they estimate the value of all things by the pleasures they afford.
Whereas the philosopher purifies his mind from all such things, and
pursues virtue and wisdom for their own sakes. This course Socrates
himself had pursued to the utmost of his ability, with what success he
should shortly know; and on these grounds he did not repine at leaving
his friends in this world, being persuaded that in another he should
meet with good masters and good friends.
-----
Footnote 12:
§ 21-39.
-----
Upon this Cebes[13] says that he agrees with all else that had been
said, but cannot help entertaining doubts of what will become of the
soul when separated from the body, for the common opinion is that it is
dispersed and vanishes like breath or smoke, and no longer exists any
where. Socrates, therefore, proposes to enquire into the probability of
the case, a fit employment for him under his present circumstances.
-----
Footnote 13:
§ 39, 40.
-----
His first argument[14] is drawn from the ancient belief prevalent
amongst men, that souls departing hence exist in Hades, and are produced
again from the dead. If this be true, it must follow that our souls are
there, for they could not be produced again if they did not exist: and
its truth is confirmed by this, that it is a general law of nature that
contraries are produced from contraries, the greater from the less,
strong from weak, slow from swift, heat from cold, and in like manner
life from death, and _vice versâ_. To explain this more clearly, he
proceeds to shew that what is changed passes from one state to another,
and so undergoes three different states, first the actual state, then
the transition, and thirdly the new state, as from a state of sleep, by
awaking to being awake: in like manner birth is a transition from a
state of death to life, and dying from life to death, so that the soul,
by the act of dying, only passes to another state; if it were not so,
all nature would in time become dead, just as if people did not awake
out of sleep all would at last be buried in eternal sleep. Whence the
conclusion is that the souls of men are not annihilated by death.
-----
Footnote 14:
§ 40-46.
-----
Cebes[15] agrees to this reasoning, and adds that he is further
convinced of its truth by calling to mind an argument used by Socrates
on former occasions, that knowledge is nothing but reminiscence, and if
this is so, the soul must have existed and had knowledge before it
became united to the body.
-----
Footnote 15:
§ 47.
-----
But in case Simmias should not yet be satisfied, Socrates[16] proceeds
to enlarge on this, his second argument, drawn from reminiscence. We
daily find that we are carried from the knowledge of one thing to
another. Things perceived by the eyes, ears, and other senses, bring up
the thought of other things: thus the sight of a lyre or a garment
reminds us of a friend, and not only are we thus reminded of sensible
objects, but of things which are comprehended by the mind alone, and
have no sensitive existence. For we have formed in our minds an idea of
abstract equality, of the beautiful, the just, the good, in short, of
every thing which we say exists without the aid of the senses, for we
use them only in the perception of individual things, whence it follows
that the mind did not acquire this knowledge in this life, but must have
had it before, and therefore the soul must have existed before.
-----
Footnote 16:
§ 48-57.
-----
Simmias and Cebes[17] both agree in admitting that Socrates has proved
the pre-existence of the soul, but insist that he has not shewn it to be
immortal, for that nothing hinders but that, according to the popular
opinion, it may be dispersed at the dissolution of the body. To which
Socrates replies, that if their former admissions are joined to his last
argument, the immortality, as well as the pre-existence of the soul, has
been sufficiently proved. For if it is true that any thing living is
produced from that which is dead, then the soul must exist after death,
otherwise it could not be produced again.
-----
Footnote 17:
§ 55-59.
-----
However to remove the apprehension that the soul may be dispersed by a
wind as it were, Socrates proceeds, in his third argument[18], to
examine that doubt more thoroughly. What then is meant by being
dispersed but being dissolved into its parts? In order therefore to a
thing being capable of dispersion it must be compounded of parts. Now
there are two kinds of things, one compounded, the other simple, the
former kind is subject to change, the latter not, and can be
comprehended by the mind alone. The one is visible, the other invisible;
and the soul, which is invisible, when it employs the bodily senses
wanders and is confused, but when it abstracts itself from the body it
attains to the knowledge of that which is eternal, immortal, and
unchangeable. The soul, therefore, being uncompounded and invisible must
be indissoluble, that is to say immortal.
-----
Footnote 18:
§ 61-75.
-----
Still Simmias and Cebes[19] are unconvinced. The former objects, that
the soul, according to Socrates’ own shewing, is nothing but a harmony
resulting from a combination of the parts of the body, and so may perish
with the body as the harmony of a lyre does when the lyre itself is
broken. And Cebes, though he admits that the soul is more durable than
the body, yet objects that it is not therefore of necessity immortal but
may in time wear out, and it is by no means clear that this is not its
last period.
-----
Footnote 19:
§ 76-84.
-----
These objections produce a powerful effect on the rest of the company,
but Socrates, undismayed, exhorts them not to suffer themselves to be
deterred from seeking the truth by any difficulties they may meet with;
and then proceeds[20] to shew, in a moment, the fallacy of Simmias’
objection. It was before admitted, he says, that the soul existed before
the body, but harmony is produced after the lyre is formed, so that the
two cases are totally different. And further, there are various degrees
of harmony, but every soul is as much a soul as any other. But then what
will a person who holds this doctrine, that the soul is harmony, say of
virtue and vice in the soul? Will he call them another kind of harmony
and discord? If so, he will contradict himself, for it is admitted that
one soul is not more or less a soul than another, and therefore one
cannot be more or less harmonized than another, and one could not admit
of a greater degree of virtue or vice than another; and indeed a soul,
being harmony, could not partake of vice at all, which is discord.
-----
Footnote 20:
§ 93-99.
-----
Socrates, having thus satisfactorily answered the argument adduced by
Simmias, goes on to rebut that of Cebes[21], who objected that the soul
might in time wear out. In order to do this, he relates that when a
young man he attempted to investigate the causes of every thing, why
they exist and why they perish; and in the course of his researches
finding the futility of attributing the existence of things to what are
called natural causes, he resolved on endeavouring to find out the
reasons of things. He therefore assumed that there is a certain abstract
beauty, and goodness, and magnitude, and so of all other things: the
truth of which being granted he thinks he shall be able to prove that
the soul is immortal.
-----
Footnote 21:
§ 100-112.
-----
This then being conceded by Cebes, Socrates[22] argues that every thing
that is beautiful is so from partaking of abstract beauty, and great
from partaking of magnitude, and little from partaking of littleness.
Now it is impossible he argues that contraries can exist in the same
thing at the same time, for instance the same thing cannot possess both
magnitude and littleness, but one will withdraw at the approach of the
other: and not only so, but things which, though not contrary to each
other, yet always contain contraries within themselves cannot co-exist;
for instance the number three has no contrary, yet it contains within
itself the idea of odd, which is the contrary to even, and so three
never can become even; in like manner heat while it is heat can never
admit the idea of its contrary, cold. Now if this method of reasoning is
applied to the soul it will be found to be immortal; for life and death
are contraries, and never can co-exist, but wherever the soul is there
is life, so that it contains within itself that which is contrary to
death, and consequently can never admit of death; therefore it is
immortal.
-----
Footnote 22:
§ 112-128.
-----
With this he closes his arguments in support of the soul’s immortality.
Cebes owns himself convinced, but Simmias, though he is unable to make
any objection to the soundness of Socrates’ reasoning, cannot help still
entertaining doubts on the subject. If, however, the soul is immortal,
Socrates proceeds[23], great need is there in this life to endeavour to
become as wise and good as possible. For if death were a deliverance
from every thing it would be a great gain for the wicked, but since the
soul appears to be immortal, it must go to the place suited to its
nature. For it is said that each person’s demon conducts him to a place
where he receives sentence according to his deserts.
-----
Footnote 23:
§ 129-131.
-----
He then[24] draws a fanciful picture of the various regions of the
earth, to which the good and the bad will respectively go after death,
and exhorts his friends to use every endeavour to acquire virtue and
wisdom in this life, “for,” he adds, “the reward is noble and the hope
great.”
-----
Footnote 24:
§ 132-145.
-----
Having thus brought his subject to a conclusion, Socrates proposes to
bathe himself, in order not to trouble others to wash his dead body.
Crito thereupon asks if he has any commands to give, and especially how
he would be buried, to which he, with his usual cheerfulness, makes
answer, “Just as you please, if only you can catch me;” and then,
smiling, he reminds them that after death he shall be no longer with
them, and begs the others of the party to be sureties to Crito for his
absence from the body, as they had been before bound for his presence
before his judges.
After he had bathed, and taken leave of his children and the women of
his family, the officer of the Eleven comes in to intimate to him that
it is now time to drink the poison. Crito urges a little delay, as the
sun had not yet set, but Socrates refuses to make himself ridiculous by
shewing such a fondness for life; the man who is to administer the
poison is therefore sent for, and on his holding out the cup, Socrates,
neither trembling nor changing colour or countenance at all, but, as he
was wont, looking stedfastly at the man, asked if he might make a
libation to any one, and being told that no more poison than enough had
been mixed, he simply prayed that his departure from this to another
world might be happy, and then drank off the poison readily and calmly.
His friends, who had hitherto with difficulty restrained themselves,
could no longer control the outward expressions of grief, to which
Socrates said, “What are you doing, my friends? I, for this reason
chiefly, sent away the women, that they might not commit any folly of
this kind. For I have heard that it is right to die with good omens. Be
quiet, therefore, and bear up.”
When he had walked about for a while his legs began to grow heavy, so he
laid down on his back, and his body, from the feet upwards, gradually
grew cold and stiff. His last words were, “Crito, we owe a cock to
Æsculapius: pay it, therefore, and do not neglect it.”
“This,” concludes Phædo, “was the end of our friend, a man, as we may
say, the best of all his time that we have known, and moreover, the most
wise and just.”