“Certainly,” he replied.
“Whence have we derived the knowledge of it? Is it not from the things
we have just now mentioned, and that from seeing logs, or stones, or
other things of the kind, equal, we have from these formed an idea of
that which is different from these? for does it not appear to you to be
different? Consider the matter thus. Do not stones that are equal, and
logs sometimes that are the same, appear at one time equal, and at
another not?”
“Certainly.”
“But what? does abstract equality ever appear to you unequal? or
equality inequality?”
“Never, Socrates, at any time.”
“These equal things, then,” he said, “and abstract equality, are not the
same?”
“By no means, Socrates, as it appears.”
“However, from these equal things,” he said, “which are different from
that abstract equality, have you not formed your idea and derived your
knowledge of it?”
“You speak most truly,” he replied.
“Is it not, therefore, from its being like or unlike them?”
“Certainly.”
“But it makes no difference,” he said. “When, therefore, on seeing one
thing, you form, from the sight of it, the notion of another, whether
like or unlike, this,” he said, “must necessarily be reminiscence.”
“Certainly.”
52. “What, then, as to this?” he continued; “are we affected in any such
way with regard to logs and the equal things we have just now spoken of?
and do they appear to us to be equal in the same manner as abstract
equality itself is, or do they fall short in some degree, or not at all,
of being such as equality itself is?”
“They fall far short,” he replied.
“Do we admit, then, that when one, on beholding some particular thing,
perceives that it aims, as that which I now see, at being like something
else that exists, but falls short of it, and cannot become such as that
is, but is inferior to it, do we admit that he who perceives this must
necessarily have had a previous knowledge of that which he says it
resembles, though imperfectly?”
“It is necessary.”
“What then? are we affected in some such way, or not, with respect to
things equal and abstract equality itself?”
“Assuredly.”
“It is necessary, therefore, that we must have known abstract equality
before the time when on first seeing equal things, we perceived that
they all aimed at resembling equality, but failed in doing so.”
“Such is the case.”
53. “Moreover, we admit this too, that we perceived this, and could not
possibly perceive it by any other means than the sight, or touch, or
some other of the senses: for I say the same of them all.”
“For they are the same, Socrates, so far as our argument is concerned.”
“However, we must perceive by means of the senses, that all things which
come under the senses aim at that abstract equality, and yet fall short
of it: or how shall we say it is?”
“Even so.”
“Before, then, we began to see, and hear, and use our other senses, we
must have had a knowledge of equality itself, what it is, if we were to
refer to it those equal things that come under the senses, and observe
that all such things aim at resembling that, but fall far short of it.”
“This necessarily follows, Socrates, from what has been already said.”
“But did we not, as soon as we were born, see and hear, and possess our
other senses?”
“Certainly.”
“But, we have said, before we possessed these, we must have a knowledge
of abstract equality?”
“Yes.”
“We must have had it, then, as it seems, before we were born.”
“It seems so.”
54. “If, therefore, having this before we were born, we were born
possessing it, we knew both before we were born, and as soon as we were
born, not only the equal and the greater and smaller, but all things of
the kind; for our present discussion is not more respecting equality
than the beautiful itself, the good, the just, and the holy, and in one
word, respecting every thing which we mark with the seal of existence,
both in the questions we ask, and the answers we give. So that we must
necessarily have had a knowledge of all these before we were born.”
“Such is the case.”
“And if, having once had it, we did not constantly forget it, we should
always be born with this knowledge, and should always retain it through
life: for to know is this, when one has got a knowledge of any thing, to
retain and not lose it; for do we not call this oblivion, Simmias, the
loss of knowledge?”
“Assuredly, Socrates,” he replied.
55. “But if, having had it before we were born, we lose it at our birth,
and afterwards, through exercising the senses about these things, we
recover the knowledge which we once before possessed, would not that
which we call learning be a recovery of our own knowledge? and in saying
that this is to remember should we not say rightly?”
“Certainly.”
“For this appeared to be possible, for one having perceived any thing,
either by seeing or hearing, or employing any other sense, to form an
idea of something different from this, which he had forgotten, and with
which this was connected by being unlike or like. So that, as I said,
one of these two things must follow, either we are all born with this
knowledge, and we retain it through life, or those whom we say learn
afterwards do nothing else but remember, and this learning will be
reminiscence.”
“Such certainly is the case, Socrates.”
56. “Which, then, do you choose, Simmias: that we are born with
knowledge, or that we afterwards remember what we had formerly known?”
“At present, Socrates, I am unable to choose?”
“But what? are you able to choose in this case, and what do you think
about it? Can a man, who possesses knowledge, give a reason for the
things that he knows, or not?”
“He needs must be able to do so, Socrates,” he replied.
“And do all men appear to you, to be able to give a reason for the
things of which we have just now been speaking?”
“I wish they could,” said Simmias; “but I am much more afraid, that at
this time to-morrow, there will no longer be any one able to do this
properly.”
“Do not all men then, Simmias,” he said, “seem to you to know these
things?”
“By no means.”
“Do they remember, then, what they once learned?”
“Necessarily so.”
“When did our souls receive this knowledge? not surely, since we were
born into the world.”
“Assuredly not.”
“Before then.”
“Yes.”
“Our souls therefore, Simmias, existed before they were in a human form,
separate from bodies, and possessed intelligence.”
57. “Unless, Socrates, we receive this knowledge at our birth, for this
period yet remains.”
“Be it so, my friend. But at what other time do we lose it? for we are
not born with it, as we have just now admitted. Do we lose it then at
the very time in which we receive it? Or can you mention any other
time?”
“By no means, Socrates: I was not aware that I was saying nothing to the
purpose.”
“Does the case then stand thus with us, Simmias,” he proceeded. “If
those things which we are continually talking about really exist, the
beautiful, the good, and every such essence, and to this we refer all
things that come under the senses, as finding it to have a prior
existence, and to be our own, and if we compare these things to it, it
necessarily follows, that as these exist, so likewise our soul exists
even before we are born; but if these do not exist this discussion will
have been undertaken in vain. Is it not so? and is there not an equal
necessity, both that these things should exist, and our souls also
before we are born, and if not the former neither the latter?”
58. “Most assuredly, Socrates,” said Simmias, “there appears to me to be
the same necessity, and the argument admirably tends to prove that our
souls exist before we are born, just as that essence does which you have
now mentioned. For I hold nothing so clear to me as this, that all such
things most certainly exist, as the beautiful, the good, and all the
rest that you just now spoke of; and as far as I am concerned the case
is sufficiently demonstrated.”
“But how does it appear to Cebes,” said Socrates; “for it is necessary
to persuade Cebes too.”
“He is sufficiently persuaded, I think,” said Simmias, “although he is
the most pertinacious of men in distrusting arguments. Yet I think he is
sufficiently persuaded of this, that our soul existed before we were
born. But whether when we are dead, it will still exist, does not appear
to me to have been demonstrated, Socrates,” he continued, “but that
popular doubt, which Cebes just now mentioned, still stands in our way,
whether, when a man dies, the soul is not dispersed, and this is the end
of its existence. 59. For what hinders its being born, and formed from
some other source, and existing before it came into a human body, and
yet when it has come, and is separated from this body, its then also
dying itself, and being destroyed?”
“You say well, Simmias,” said Cebes; “for it appears that only one half
of what is necessary has been demonstrated, namely, that our soul
existed before we were born: but it is necessary to demonstrate further,
that when we are dead, it will exist no less than before we were born,
if the demonstration is to be made complete.”
“This has been even now demonstrated, Simmias and Cebes,” said Socrates,
“if you will only connect this last argument with that which we before
assented to, that every thing living is produced from that which is
dead. For if the soul exists before, and it is necessary for it when it
enters into life, and is born, to be produced from nothing else than
death, and from being dead, how is it not necessary for it also to exist
after death, since it must needs be produced again? 60. What you require
then, has been already demonstrated. However, both you and Simmias
appear to me as if you wished to sift this argument more thoroughly, and
to be afraid like children, lest on the soul’s departure from the body
the winds should blow it away and disperse it, especially if one should
happen to die not in a calm, but in a violent storm.”
Upon this Cebes smiling said, “Endeavour to teach us better, Socrates,
as if we were afraid, or rather not as if we were afraid, though perhaps
there is some boy[30] within us, who has such a dread. Let us then
endeavour to persuade him not to be afraid of death, as of hobgoblins.”
-----
Footnote 30:
Some boyish spirit.
-----
“But you must charm him every day,” said Socrates, “until you have
quieted his fears.”
“But whence, Socrates,” he said, “can we procure a skilful charmer for
such a case, now that you are about to leave us?”
61. “Greece is wide, Cebes,” he replied, “and in it surely there are
skilful men, there are also many barbarous nations, all of which you
should search through, seeking such a charmer, sparing neither money nor
toil, as there is nothing on which you can more seasonably spend your
money. You should also seek for him among yourselves; for perhaps you
could not easily find any more competent than yourselves to do this.”
“This shall be done,” said Cebes, “but, if it is agreeable to you, let
us return to the point from whence we digressed.”
“It will be agreeable to me, for how should it not?”
“You say well,” rejoined Cebes.
“We ought then,” said Socrates, “to ask ourselves some such question as
this, to what kind of thing it appertains to be thus affected, namely to
be dispersed, and for what we ought to fear, lest it should be so
affected, and for what not. And after this, we should consider which of
the two the soul is; and in the result should either be confident or
fearful for our soul.”
“You speak truly,” said he.
62. “Does it not, then, appertain to that which is formed by
composition, and is naturally compounded, to be thus affected, to be
dissolved in the same manner as that in which it was compounded; and if
there is any thing not compounded, does it not appertain to this alone,
if to any thing, not to be thus affected?”
“It appears to me to be so,” said Cebes.
“Is it not most probable then that things which are always the same, and
in the same state, are uncompounded, but that things which are
constantly changing, and are never in the same state, are compounded?”
“To me it appears so.”
“Let us return then,” he said, “to the subjects on which we before
discoursed. Whether is essence itself, of which we gave this account
that it exists, both in our questions and answers, always the same, or
does it sometimes change? Does equality itself, the beautiful itself,
and each several thing which is, ever undergo any change, however small?
Or does each of them which exists, being an unmixed essence by itself,
continue always the same, and in the same state, and never undergo any
variation at all under any circumstances?”
“They must of necessity continue the same and in the same state,
Socrates,” said Cebes.
63. “But what shall we say of the many beautiful things, such as men,
horses, garments, or other things of the kind, whether equal, or
beautiful, or of all things synonymous with them? Do they continue the
same, or, quite contrary to the former, are they never at any time, so
to say, the same, either with respect to themselves or one another?”
“These on the other hand,” replied Cebes, “never continue the same.”
“These then you can touch, or see, or perceive by the other senses; but
those that continue the same, you cannot apprehend in any other way than
by the exercise of thought; for such things are invisible, and are not
seen?”
“You say what is strictly true,” replied Cebes.
64. “We may assume then, if you please,” he continued, “that there are
two species of things, the one visible, the other invisible?”
“We may,” he said.
“And the invisible always continuing the same, but the visible never the
same?”
“This too,” he said, “we may assume.”
“Come then,” he asked, “is there any thing else belonging to us, than on
the one hand body, and on the other soul?”
“Nothing else,” he replied.
“To which species, then, shall we say the body is more like, and more
nearly allied?”
“It is clear to every one,” he said, “that it is to the visible.”
“But what of the soul? Is it visible or invisible?”
“It is not visible to men, Socrates,” he replied.
“But we speak of things which are visible or not so to the nature of
men: or to some other nature, think you?”
“To that of men.”
“What then shall we say of the soul, that it is visible, or not
visible?”
“Not visible.”
“Is it then invisible?”
“Yes.”
“The soul then is more like the invisible than the body, and the body,
the visible?”
“It must needs be so, Socrates.”
65. “And did we not some time since say this too, that the soul, when it
employs the body to examine any thing, either by means of the sight or
hearing, or any other sense, (for to examine any thing by means of the
body is to do so by the senses,) is then drawn by the body to things
that never continue the same, and wanders and is confused, and reels as
if intoxicated through coming into contact with things of this kind?”
“Certainly.”
“But when it examines any thing by itself, does it approach that which
is pure, eternal, immortal, and unchangeable, and, as being allied to
it, continue constantly with it, so long as it subsists by itself, and
has the power, and does it cease from its wandering, and constantly
continue the same with respect to those things, through coming into
contact with things of this kind? and is this affection of the soul
called wisdom?”
“You speak,” he said, “in every respect, well and truly, Socrates.”
“To which species of the two, then, both from what was before, and now
said, does the soul appear to you to be more like and more nearly
allied?”
66. “Every one, I think, would allow, Socrates,” he replied, “even the
dullest person, from this method of reasoning that the soul is in every
respect more like that which continues constantly the same, than that
which does not so.”
“But what as to the body?”
“It is more like the other.”
“Consider it also thus, that, when soul and body are together, nature
enjoins the latter to be subservient and obey, the former to rule and
exercise dominion. And in this way, which of the two appears to you to
be like the divine, and which the mortal? Does it not appear to you to
be natural that the divine should rule and command, but the mortal obey
and be subservient?”
“To me it does so.”
“Which then, does the soul resemble?”
“It is clear, Socrates, that the soul resembles the divine, but the
body, the mortal.”
“Consider then, Cebes,” said he, “whether, from all that has been said,
these conclusions follow, that the soul is most like that which is
divine, immortal, intelligent, uniform, indissoluble, and which always
continues in the same state, but that the body on the other hand is most
like that which is human, mortal, unintelligent, multiform, dissoluble,
and which never continues in the same state. Can we say any thing
against this, my dear Cebes, to shew that it is not so?”
“We cannot.”
67. “What then? Since these things are so, does it not appertain to the
body to be quickly dissolved, but to the soul, on the contrary, to be
altogether indissoluble, or nearly so?”
“How not?”
“You perceive, however,” he said, “that when a man dies, the visible
part of him, the body, which is exposed to sight, and which we call a
corpse, to which it appertains to be dissolved, to fall asunder and be
dispersed, does not immediately undergo any of these affections, but
remains for a considerable time, and especially so if any one should die
with his body in full vigour, and at a corresponding age[31]; for when
the body has collapsed and been embalmed, as those that are embalmed in
Egypt, it remains almost entire for an incredible length of time; and
some parts of the body, even though it does decay, such as the bones and
nerves, and every thing of that kind, are nevertheless, as one may say,
immortal. Is it not so?”
-----
Footnote 31:
That is, at a time of life when the body is in full vigour.
-----
“Yes.”
68. “Can the soul, then, which is invisible, and which goes to another
place like itself, excellent, pure, and invisible, and therefore truly
called the invisible world[32], to the presence of a good and wise God,
(whither if God will, my soul also must shortly go,) can this soul of
ours, I ask, being such and of such a nature, when separated from the
body be immediately dispersed and destroyed, as most men assert? Far
from it, my dear Cebes and Simmias. But the case is much rather thus; if
it is separated in a pure state, taking nothing of the body with it, as
not having willingly communicated with it in the present life, but
having shunned it and gathered itself within itself, as constantly
studying this; but this is nothing else than to pursue philosophy
aright, and in reality to study how to die easily; would not this be to
study how to die?”
-----
Footnote 32:
In the original there is a play on the words Ἅιδης and ἀείδης, which I
can only attempt to retain by departing from the usual rendering of
the former word.
-----
“Most assuredly.”
“Does not the soul, then, when in this state, depart to that which
resembles itself, the invisible, the divine, immortal, and wise? and on
its arrival there, is it not its lot to be happy, free from error,
ignorance, fears, wild passions, and all the other evils to which human
nature is subject, and, as is said of the initiated, does it not in
truth pass the rest of its time with the gods? Must we affirm that it is
so, Cebes, or otherwise?”
“So, by Jupiter,” said Cebes.
69. “But, I think, if it departs from the body polluted and impure, as
having constantly held communion with the body, and having served and
loved it, and been bewitched by it, through desires and pleasures, so as
to think that there is nothing real except what is corporeal, which one
can touch and see, and drink and eat, and employ for sensual purposes;
but what is dark and invisible to the eyes, which is intellectual and
apprehended by philosophy, having been accustomed to hate, fear, and
shun this, do you think that a soul thus affected can depart from the
body by itself, and uncontaminated?”
“By no means whatever,” he replied.
“But I think it will be impressed with that which is corporeal, which
the intercourse and communion of the body, through constant association
and great attention, have made natural to it.”
“Certainly.”
“We must think, my dear Cebes, that this is ponderous and heavy, earthly
and visible, by possessing which such a soul is weighed down, and drawn
again into the visible world through dread of the invisible and of
Hades, wandering, as it is said, amongst monuments and tombs, about
which, indeed, certain shadowy phantoms of souls have been seen, being
such images as those souls produced which have not departed pure from
the body, but which partake of the visible, on which account also they
are visible.”
“That is probable, Socrates.”
70. “Probable indeed, Cebes; and not that these are the souls of the
good, but of the wicked, which are compelled to wander about such
places, paying the penalty of their former conduct, which was evil; and
they wander about so long, until, through the desire of the corporeal
nature that accompanies them, they are again united to a body; and they
are united, as is probable, to animals having the same habits as those
they have given themselves up to during life.”
“But what do you say these are, Socrates?”
“For instance, those who have given themselves up to gluttony,
wantonness, and drinking, and have put no restraint on themselves, will
probably be clothed in the form of asses and brutes of that kind. Do you
not think so?”
“You say what is very probable.”
“And that such as have set great value on injustice, tyranny, and
rapine, will be clothed in the species of wolves, hawks, and kites?
Where else can we say such souls go?”
“Without doubt,” said Cebes, “into such as these.”
“Is it not then evident,” he continued, “as to the rest, whither each
will go, according to the resemblances of their several pursuits?”