“Answer me then,” he said, “what that is, which when it is in the body,
the body will be alive?”
“Soul,” he replied.
“Is not this, then, always the case?”
“How should it not be?” said he.
“Does the soul, then, always bring life to whatever it occupies?”
“It does indeed,” he replied.
“Whether, then, is there any thing contrary to life or not?”
“There is,” he replied.
-----
Footnote 38:
That is, to single.
Footnote 39:
See § 113.
-----
“What?”
“Death.”
“The soul, then, will never admit the contrary of that which it brings
with it, as has been already allowed?”
“Most assuredly,” replied Cebes.
“What then? how do we denominate that which does not admit the idea of
the even?”
“Uneven,” he replied.
“And that which does not admit the just, nor the musical?”
“Unmusical,” he said, “and unjust.”
“Be it so. But what do we call that which does not admit death?”
“Immortal,” he replied.
“Therefore does not the soul admit death?”
“No.”
“Is the soul, then, immortal?”
“Immortal.”
“Be it so,” he said. “Shall we say then, that this has been now
demonstrated? or how think you?”
“Most completely, Socrates.”
“What then,” said he, “Cebes, if it were necessary for the uneven to be
imperishable, would the number three be otherwise than imperishable?”
“How should it not?”
“If, therefore, it were also necessary that what is without heat should
be imperishable, when any one should introduce heat to snow, would not
the snow withdraw itself, safe and unmelted? For it would not perish;
nor yet would it stay and admit the heat.”
“You say truly,” he replied.
“In like manner, I think, if that which is insusceptible of cold were
imperishable, that when any thing cold approached the fire, it would
neither be extinguished nor perish, but would depart quite safe.”
“Of necessity,” he said.
“Must we not then of necessity,” he continued, “speak thus of that which
is immortal? if that which is immortal is imperishable, it is impossible
for the soul to perish, when death approaches it. For, from what has
been said already, it will not admit death, nor will ever be dead, just
as we said that three will never be even, nor again will the odd, nor
will fire be cold, nor yet the heat that is in fire. 127. But some one
may say, what hinders, though the odd can never become even by the
approach of the even, as we have allowed, yet, when the odd is
destroyed, that the even should succeed in its place? We could not
contend with him who should make this objection, that it is not
destroyed; for the uneven is not imperishable; since, if this were
granted us, we might easily have contended, that on the approach of the
even the odd and the three depart; and we might have contended in the
same way with respect to fire, heat, and the rest; might we not?”
“Certainly.”
“Wherefore, with respect to the immortal, if we have allowed that it is
imperishable, the soul, in addition to its being immortal, must also be
imperishable; if not, there will be need of other arguments.”
“But there is no need,” he said, “as far as that is concerned; for
scarcely could any thing not admit of corruption, if that which is
immortal and eternal is liable to it.”
128. “The deity, indeed, I think,” said Socrates, “and the idea itself
of life, and if any thing else is immortal, must be allowed by all
beings to be incapable of dissolution.”
“By Jupiter,” he replied, “by all men indeed, and still more, as I
think, by the gods.”
“Since, then, that which is immortal is also incorruptible, can the
soul, since it is immortal, be any thing else than imperishable?”
“It must of necessity be so.”
“When, therefore, death approaches a man, the mortal part of him, as it
appears, dies, but the immortal part departs safe and uncorrupted,
having withdrawn itself from death?”
“It appears so.”
“The soul, therefore,” he said, “Cebes, is most certainly immortal and
imperishable, and our souls will really exist in Hades.”
“Therefore, Socrates,” he said, “I have nothing further to say against
this, nor any reason for doubting your arguments. But if Simmias here or
any one else has any thing to say, it were well for him not to be
silent: for I know not to what other opportunity beyond the present any
one can defer it, who wishes either to speak or hear about these
things.”
129. “But indeed,” said Simmias, “neither have I any reason to doubt
what has been urged; yet from the magnitude f the subject discussed, and
from my low opinion of human weakness, I am compelled still to retain a
doubt within myself with respect to what has been said.”
“Not only so, Simmias,” said Socrates, “but you say this well, and
moreover the first hypotheses, even though they are credible to you,
should nevertheless be examined more carefully; and if you should
investigate them sufficiently, I think you will follow my reasoning as
far as it is possible for man to do so; and if this very point becomes
clear, you will enquire no further.”
“You speak truly,” he said.
“But it is right, my friends,” he said, “that we should consider this,
that if the soul is immortal, it requires our care not only for the
present time, which we call life, but for all time; and the danger would
now appear to be dreadful, if one should neglect it. 130. For if death
were a deliverance from every thing, it would be a great gain for the
wicked, when they die, to be delivered at the same time from the body,
and from their vices together with the soul: but now, since it appears
to be immortal, it can have no other refuge from evils, nor safety,
except by becoming as good and wise as possible. For the soul goes to
Hades, possessing nothing else but its discipline and education, which
are said to be of the greatest advantage or detriment to the dead, on
the very beginning of his journey thither. For thus it is said; that
each person’s demon who was assigned to him while living, when he dies
conducts him to some place, where they that are assembled together must
receive sentence and then proceed to Hades with that guide, who has been
ordered to conduct them from hence thither. But there having received
their deserts, and having remained the appointed time, another guide
brings them back hither again, after many and long revolutions of time.
The journey, then, is not such as the Telephus of Æschylus describes it.
For he says that a simple path leads to Hades; but it appears to me to
be neither simple nor one: for there would be no need of guides, nor
could any one ever miss the way, if there were but one. But now it
appears to have many divisions and windings; and this I conjecture from
our religious and funeral rites[40]. 131. The well-ordered and wise
soul, then, both follows, and is not ignorant of its present condition;
but that which through passion clings to the body, as I said before,
having longingly fluttered about it for a long time, and about its
visible place[41], after vehement resistance and great suffering, is
forcibly and with great difficulty led away by its appointed demon. And
when it arrives at the place where the others are, impure and having
done any such thing as the committal of unrighteous murders or other
similar actions, which are kindred to these, and are the deeds of
kindred souls, every one shuns it and turns away from it, and will
neither be its fellow-traveller or guide, but it wanders about,
oppressed with every kind of helplessness until certain periods have
elapsed: and when these are completed, it is carried of necessity to an
abode suitable to it; but the soul which has passed through life with
purity and moderation, having obtained the gods for its
fellow-travellers and guides, settles each in the place suited to it.
132. There are indeed many and wonderful places in the earth, and it is
itself neither of such a kind, nor of such a magnitude, as is supposed
by those who are accustomed to speak of the earth, as I have been
persuaded by a certain person.”
-----
Footnote 40:
It is difficult to express the distinction between ὅσια and νόμιμα,
the former word seems to have reference to the souls of the dead, the
latter to their bodies.
Footnote 41:
Its place of interment.
-----
Whereupon Simmias said, “How mean you, Socrates? For I too have heard
many things about the earth, not however those things which have
obtained your belief: I would therefore gladly hear them.”
“Indeed, Simmias, the art of Glaucus[42] does not seem to me to be
required to relate what these things are; that they are true however,
appears to me more than the art of Glaucus can prove, and besides, I
should probably not be able to do it, and even if I did know how, what
remains to me of life, Simmias, seems insufficient for the length of the
subject. However, the form of the earth, such as I am persuaded it is,
and the different places in it, nothing hinders me from telling.”
-----
Footnote 42:
A proverb meaning “a matter of great difficulty.”
-----
“But that will be enough,” said Simmias.
“I am persuaded, then,” said he, “in the first place, that, if the earth
is in the middle of the heavens, and is of a spherical form, it has no
need of air, nor of any other similar force, to prevent it from falling,
but that the similarity of the heavens to themselves on every side, and
the equilibrium of the earth itself, are sufficient to support it; for a
thing in a state of equilibrium when placed in the middle of something
that presses it equally on all sides cannot incline more or less on any
side, but being equally affected all around remains unmoved. 133. In
first place then,” he said, “I am persuaded of this.”
“And very properly so,” said Simmias.
“Yet further,” said he, “that it is very large, and that we who inhabit
some small portion of it, from the river Phasis to the pillars of
Hercules, dwell about the sea, like ants or frogs about a marsh, and
that many others elsewhere dwell in many similar places, for that there
are every where about the earth many hollows of various forms and sizes
into which there is a confluence of water, mist, and air; but that the
earth itself, being pure, is situated in the pure heavens, in which are
the stars, and which most persons who are accustomed to speak about such
things call ether; of which these things are the sediment and are
continually flowing into the hollow parts of the earth. 134. That we are
ignorant, then, that we are dwelling in its hollows, and imagine that we
inhabit the upper parts of the earth, just as if any one dwelling in the
bottom of the sea, should think that he dwelt on the sea, and, beholding
the sun and the other stars through the water, should imagine that the
sea was the heavens, but through sloth and weakness should never have
reached the surface of the sea, nor, having emerged and risen up from
the sea to this region, have seen how much more pure and more beautiful
it is than the place where he is, nor has heard of it from any one else
who has seen it. This then is the very condition in which we are; for,
dwelling in some hollow of the earth, we think that we dwell on the
surface of it, and call the air heaven, as if the stars moved through
this, being heaven itself. But this is because by reason of our weakness
and sloth, we are unable to reach to the summit of the air. Since, if
any one could arrive at its summit, or, becoming winged, could fly up
thither, or emerging from hence, he would see,—just as with us, fishes
emerging from the sea, behold what is here,—so any one would behold the
things there, and if his nature were able to endure the contemplation,
he would know that that is the true heaven, and the true light, and the
true earth. 135. For this earth and these stones, and the whole region
here, are decayed and corroded, as things in the sea by the saltness;
for nothing of any value grows in the sea, nor, in a word, does it
contain any thing perfect, but there are caverns and sand, and mud in
abundance, and filth, in whatever parts of the sea there is earth, nor
are they at all worthy to be compared with the beautiful things with us.
But on the other hand, those things in the upper regions of the earth
would appear far more to excel the things with us. For, if we may tell a
beautiful fable, it is well worth hearing, Simmias, what kind the things
are on the earth beneath the heavens.”
“Indeed, Socrates,” said Simmias, “we should be very glad to hear that
fable.”
136. “First of all then, my friend,” he continued, “this earth, if any
one should survey it from above, is said to have the appearance of balls
covered with twelve different pieces of leather, variegated and
distinguished with colours, of which the colours found here, and which
painters use, are as it were copies. But there the whole earth is
composed of such, and far more brilliant and pure than these; for one
part of it is purple, and of wonderful beauty, part of a golden colour,
and part of white, more white than chalk or snow, and in like manner
composed of other colours, and those more in number and more beautiful
than any we have ever beheld. And those very hollow parts of the earth,
though filled with water and air, exhibit a certain species of colour,
shining among the variety of other colours, so that one continually
variegated aspect presents itself to the view. In this earth, being
such, all things that grow, grow in a manner proportioned to its nature,
trees, flowers, and fruits; and again, in like manner, its mountains and
stones possess, in the same proportion, smoothness and transparency, and
more beautiful colours; of which the well-known stones here that are so
highly prized are but fragments, such as sardin-stones, jaspers, and
emeralds, and all of that kind. But there, there is nothing subsists
that is not of this character, and even more beautiful than these. 137.
But the reason of this is, because the stones there are pure, and not
eaten up and decayed, like those here, by rottenness and saltness, which
flow down hither together, and which produce deformity and disease in
the stones and the earth, and in other things, even animals and plants.
But that earth is adorned with all these, and moreover with gold and
silver, and other things of the kind: for they are naturally
conspicuous, being numerous and large, and in all parts of the earth; so
that to behold it is a sight for the blessed. There are also many other
animals and men upon it, some dwelling in mid-earth, others about the
air, as we do about the sea, and others in islands which the air flows
round, and which are near the continent: and in one word, what water and
the sea are to us, for our necessities, the air is to them; and what air
is to us, that ether is to them. 138. But their seasons are of such a
temperament that they are free from disease, and live for a much longer
time than those here, and surpass us in sight, hearing, and smelling,
and every thing of this kind, as much as air excels water, and ether
air, in purity. Moreover, they have abodes and temples of the gods, in
which gods really dwell, and voices and oracles, and sensible visions of
the gods, and such-like intercourse with them; the sun too, and moon,
and stars, are seen by them such as they really are, and their felicity
in other respects is correspondent with these things.
“And such indeed is the nature of the whole earth, and the parts about
the earth; but there are many places all round it throughout its
cavities, some deeper and more open than that in which we dwell: but
others that are deeper, have a less chasm than our region, and others
are shallower in depth than it is here and broader. 139. But all these
are in many places perforated one into another under the earth, some
with narrower and some with wider channels, and have passages through,
by which a great quantity of water flows from one into another, as into
basins, and there are immense bulks of ever-flowing rivers under the
earth, both of hot and cold water, and a great quantity of fire, and
mighty rivers of fire, and many of liquid mire, some purer, and some
more miry, as in Sicily there are rivers of mud that flow before the
lava, and the lava itself, and from these the several places are filled,
according as the overflow from time to time happens to come to each of
them. But all these move up and down as it were by a certain oscillation
existing in the earth. And this oscillation proceeds from such natural
cause as this: one of the chasms of the earth is exceedingly large, and
perforated through the entire earth, and is that which Homer[43] speaks
of, ‘very far off, where is the most profound abyss beneath the earth,’
which elsewhere both he and many other poets have called Tartarus. For
into this chasm all rivers flow together, and from it flow out again:
but they severally derive their character from the earth through which
they flow. 140. And the reason why all streams flow out from thence, and
flow into it, is because this liquid has neither bottom nor base.
Therefore it oscillates and fluctuates up and down, and the air and the
wind around it do the same; for they accompany it both when it rushes to
those parts of the earth, and when to these. And as in respiration the
flowing breath is continually breathed out and drawn in, so there the
wind oscillating with the liquid, causes certain vehement and
irresistible winds both as it enters and goes out. When, therefore, the
water rushing in descends to the place which we call the lower region,
it flows through the earth into the streams there and fills them, just
as men pump up water. But when again it leaves those regions and rushes
hither, it again fills the rivers here, and these, when filled, flow
through channels and through the earth, and having severally reached the
several places to which they are journeying, they make seas, lakes,
rivers, and fountains. 141. Then sinking again from thence beneath the
earth, some of them having gone round longer and more numerous places,
and others round fewer and shorter, they again discharge themselves into
Tartarus, some much lower than they were drawn up, others only a little
so, but all of them flow in again beneath the point at which they flowed
out. And some issue out directly opposite the place by which they flow
in, others on the same side: there are also some which having gone round
altogether in a circle, folding themselves once or several times round
the earth, like serpents, when they had descended as low as possible,
discharge themselves again: and it is possible for them to descend on
either side as far as the middle, but not beyond; for in each direction
there is an acclivity to the streams both ways.
-----
Footnote 43:
Iliad, lib. viii. v. 14.
-----
“Now there are many other large and various streams, but among this
great number there are four certain streams, of which the largest, and
that which flows most outwardly round the earth, is called Ocean, but
directly opposite this, and flowing in a contrary direction, is Acheron,
which flows through other desert places, and moreover passing under the
earth, reaches the Acherusian lake, where the souls of most who die
arrive, and having remained there for certain destined periods, some
longer and some shorter, are again sent forth into the generations of
animals. 142. A third river issues midway between these, and near its
source falls into a vast region, burning with abundance of fire, and
forms a lake larger than our sea, boiling with water and mud; from hence
it proceeds in a circle, turbulent and muddy, and folding itself round
it reaches both other places and the extremity of the Acherusian lake,
but does not mingle with its water; but folding itself oftentimes
beneath the earth, it discharges itself into the lower parts of
Tartarus. And this is the river which they call Pyriphlegethon, whose
burning streams emit dissevered fragments in whatever part of the earth
they happen to be. Opposite to this again the fourth river first falls
into a place dreadful and savage, as it is said, having its whole colour
like cyanus[44]: this they call Stygian, and the lake, which the river
forms by its discharge, Styx. This river having fallen in here, and
received awful power in the water, sinking beneath the earth, proceeds,
folding itself round, in an opposite course to Pyriphlegethon, and meets
it in the Acherusian lake from a contrary direction. Neither does the
water of this river mingle with any other, but it too, having gone round
in a circle, discharges itself into Tartarus, opposite to
Pyriphlegethon. Its name, as the poets say, is Cocytus.
-----
Footnote 44:
A metallic substance of a deep blue colour, frequently mentioned by
the earliest Grecian writers, but of which the nature is unknown.
-----
143. “These things being thus constituted, when the dead arrive at the
place to which their demon leads them severally, first of all they are
judged, as well those who have lived well and piously, as those who have
not. And those who appear to have passed a middle kind of life,
proceeding to Acheron, and embarking in the vessels they have, on these
arrive at the lake, and there dwell, and when they are purified, and
have suffered punishment for the iniquities they may have committed,
they are set free, and each receives the reward of his good deeds,
according to his deserts: but those who appear to be incurable, through
the magnitude of their offences, either from having committed many and
great sacrileges, or many unjust and lawless murders, or other similar
crimes, these a suitable destiny hurls into Tartarus, whence they never
come forth.
144. “But those who appear to have been guilty of curable, yet great
offences, such as those who through anger have committed any violence
against father or mother, and have lived the remainder of their life in
a state of penitence, or they who have become homicides in a similar
manner, these must of necessity fall into Tartarus, but after they have
fallen, and have been there for a year, the wave casts them forth, the
homicides into Cocytus, but the parricides and matricides into
Pyriphlegethon: but when, being borne along, they arrive at the
Acherusian lake, there they cry out to and invoke, some those whom they
slew, others those whom they injured, and invoking them, they entreat
and implore them to suffer them to go out into the lake, and to receive
them, and if they persuade them, they go out, and are freed from their
sufferings, but if not, they are borne back to Tartarus, and thence
again to the rivers, and they do not cease from suffering this until
they have persuaded those whom they have injured, for this sentence was
imposed on them by the judges. 145. But those who are found to have
lived an eminently holy life, these are they, who, being freed and set
at large from these regions in the earth, as from a prison, arrive at
the pure abode above, and dwell on the upper parts of the earth. And
among these, they who have sufficiently purified themselves by
philosophy shall live without bodies, throughout all future time, and
shall arrive at habitations yet more beautiful than these, which it is
neither easy to describe, nor at present is there sufficient time for
the purpose.
“But for the sake of these things which we have described, we should use
every endeavour, Simmias, so as to acquire virtue and wisdom in this
life; for the reward is noble, and the hope great.
“To affirm positively, indeed, that these things are exactly as I have
described them, does not become a man of sense; that however either
this, or something of the kind, takes place with respect to our souls
and their habitations—since our soul is certainly immortal—this appears
to me most fitting to be believed, and worthy the hazard for one who
trusts in its reality; for the hazard is noble, and it is right to
allure ourselves with such things, as with enchantments; for which
reason I have prolonged my story to such a length. 146. On account of
these things, then, a man ought to be confident about his soul, who
during this life has disregarded all the pleasures and ornaments of the
body as foreign from his nature, and who, having thought that they do
more harm than good, has zealously applied himself to the acquirement of
knowledge, and who having adorned his soul not with a foreign but its
own proper ornament, temperance, justice, fortitude, freedom, and truth,
thus waits for his passage to Hades, as one who is ready to depart
whenever destiny shall summon him. You then,” he continued, “Simmias and
Cebes, and the rest, will each of you depart at some future time; but
now destiny summons me, as a tragic writer would say, and it is nearly
time for me to betake myself to the bath; for it appears to me to be
better to drink the poison after I have bathed myself, and not to
trouble the women with washing my dead body.”
147. When he had thus spoken, Crito said, “So be it, Socrates, but what
commands have you to give to these or to me, either respecting your
children, or any other matter, in attending to which we can most oblige
you?”
“What I always say, Crito,” he replied, “nothing new; that by taking
care of yourselves you will oblige both me and mine, and yourselves,
whatever you do, though you should not now promise it; but if you
neglect yourselves, and will not live as it were in the footsteps of
what has been now and formerly said, even though you should promise much
at present, and that earnestly, you will do no good at all.”
“We will endeavour then so to do,” he said; “but how shall we bury you?”
“Just as you please,” he said, “if only you can catch me, and I do not
escape from you.” 148. And at the same time smiling gently, and looking
round on us, he said; “I cannot persuade Crito, my friends, that I am
that Socrates who is now conversing with you, and who methodizes each
part of the discourse; but he thinks that I am he whom he will shortly
behold dead, and asks how he should bury me. But that which I some time
since argued at length, that when I have drunk the poison I shall no
longer remain with you, but shall depart to some happy state of the
blessed, this I seem to have urged to him in vain, though I meant at the
same time to console both you and myself. Be ye then my sureties to
Crito,” he said, “in an obligation contrary to that which he made to the
judges; for he undertook that I should remain; but do you be sureties
that, when I die, I shall not remain, but shall depart, that Crito may
more easily bear it, and when he sees my body either burnt or buried,
may not be afflicted for me, as if I suffered some dreadful thing, nor
say at my interment that Socrates is laid out, or is carried out, or is
buried. 149. For be well assured,” he said, “most excellent Crito, that
to speak improperly is not only culpable as to the thing itself, but
likewise occasions some injury to our souls. You must have a good
courage then, and say that you bury my body, and bury it in such a
manner as is pleasing to you, and as you think is most agreeable to our
laws.”
When he had said thus he rose, and went into a chamber to bathe, and
Crito followed him, but he directed us to wait for him. We waited,
therefore, conversing among ourselves about what had been said, and
considering it again, and sometimes speaking about our calamity, how
severe it would be to us, sincerely thinking that, like those who are
deprived of a father, we should pass the rest of our life as orphans.
When he had bathed, and his children were brought to him, for he had two
little sons and one grown up, and the women belonging to his family were
come, having conversed with them in the presence of Crito, and given
them such injunctions as he wished, he directed the women and children
to go away, and then returned to us. And it was now near sun-set; for he
spent a considerable time within. 150. But when he came from bathing he
sat down, and did not speak much afterwards; then the officer of the
Eleven came in, and standing near him, said, “Socrates, I shall not have
to find that fault with you that I do with others, that they are angry
with me, and curse me, when, by order of the archons, I bid them drink
the poison. But you, on all other occasions during the time you have
been here, I have found to be the most noble, meek, and excellent man of
all that ever came into this place: and, therefore, I am now well
convinced that you will not be angry with me, for you know who are to
blame, but with them. Now, then, for you know what I came to announce to
you, farewell, and endeavour to bear what is inevitable as easily as
possible.” And at the same time, bursting into tears, he turned away and
withdrew.
151. And Socrates, looking after him, said, “And thou, too, farewell, we
will do as you direct.” At the same time turning to us, he said, “How
courteous the man is; during the whole time I have been here he has
visited me, and conversed with me sometimes, and proved the worthiest of
men; and now how generously he weeps for me. But come, Crito, let us
obey him, and let some one bring the poison, if it is ready pounded, but
if not, let the man pound it.”
Then Crito said, “But I think, Socrates, that the sun is still on the
mountains, and has not yet set. Besides, I know that others have drunk
the poison very late, after it had been announced to them, and have
supped and drunk freely, and some even have enjoyed the objects of their
love. Do not hasten then, for there is yet time.”
Upon this Socrates replied, “These men whom you mention, Crito, do these
things with good reason, for they think they shall gain by so doing, and
I too with good reason shall not do so; for I think I shall gain nothing
by drinking a little later, except to become ridiculous to myself, in
being so fond of life, and sparing of it when none any longer remains.
Go then,” he said, “obey, and do not resist.”
152. Crito having heard this, nodded to the boy that stood near. And the
boy having gone out, and staid for some time, came, bringing with him
the man that was to administer the poison, who brought it ready pounded
in a cup. And Socrates, on seeing the man, said, “Well, my good friend,
as you are skilled in these matters, what must I do?”
“Nothing else,” he replied, “than when you have drunk it walk about,
until there is a heaviness in your legs, then lie down; thus it will do
its purpose.” And at the same time he held out the cup to Socrates. And
he having received it very cheerfully, Echecrates, neither trembling,
nor changing at all in colour or countenance, but, as he was wont,
looking stedfastly at the man, said, “What say you of this potion, with
respect to making a libation to any one, is it lawful or not?”
“We only pound so much, Socrates,” he said, “as we think sufficient to
drink.”
“I understand you,” he said, “but it is certainly both lawful and right
to pray to the gods, that my departure hence thither may be happy; which
therefore I pray, and so may it be.” And as he said this he drank it off
readily and calmly. Thus far, most of us were with difficulty able to
restrain ourselves from weeping, but when we saw him drinking, and
having finished the draught, we could do so no longer; but in spite of
myself the tears came in full torrent, so that, covering my face, I wept
for myself, for I did not weep for him, but for my own fortune, in being
deprived of such a friend. But Crito, even before me, when he could not
restrain his tears, had risen up. 154. But Apollodorus even before this
had not ceased weeping, and then bursting into an agony of grief,
weeping and lamenting, he pierced the heart of every one present, except
Socrates himself. But he said, “What are you doing, my admirable
friends? I indeed, 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 we heard this we were ashamed, and restrained our tears. But he,
having walked about, when he said that his legs were growing heavy, laid
down on his back; for the man so directed him. And at the same time he
who gave him the poison, taking hold of him, after a short interval
examined his feet and legs; and then having pressed his foot hard, he
asked if he felt it: he said that he did not. And after this he pressed
his thighs; and thus going higher, he shewed us that he was growing cold
and stiff. Then Socrates touched himself, and said, that when the poison
reached his heart he should then depart. 155. But now the parts around
the lower belly were almost cold; when uncovering himself, for he had
been covered over, he said, and they were his last words, “Crito, we owe
a cock to Æsculapius; pay it, therefore, and do not neglect it.”
“It shall be done,” said Crito, “but consider whether you have any thing
else to say.”
To this question he gave no reply; but shortly after he gave a
convulsive movement, and the man covered him, and his eyes were fixed;
and Crito, perceiving it, closed his mouth and eyes.
This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend, a man, as we may say, the
best of all of his time that we have known, and moreover, the most wise
and just.