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 65
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.
[Sidenote: _The doctrine of ideas._]
[Sidenote: The senses are untrustworthy guides: they mislead the soul in
the search for truth.]
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.
[Sidenote: And therefore the philosopher runs away from the body.]
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.
[Sidenote: Another argument. The absolute truth of justice, beauty,
and other ideas is not perceived by the senses, which only introduce a
disturbing element.]
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?
[Sidenote: _The bodily nature._]
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 66
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 to the
knowledge of true being?
What you say has a wonderful truth in it, Socrates, replied
Simmias.
[Sidenote: The soul in herself must perceive things in themselves.]
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 67
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?
[Sidenote: _The hope of the departing soul._]
Undoubtedly, Socrates.
But, O my friend, if this be 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.
[Sidenote: Purification is the separation of the soul from the body.]
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.
[Sidenote: _The true philosopher._]
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.
[Sidenote: And therefore the true philosopher who has been always trying
to disengage himself from the body will rejoice in death.]
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 68
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.
[Sidenote: He alone possesses the true secret of virtue, which in
ordinary men is merely based on a calculation of lesser and greater
evils.]
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.
[Sidenote: _The exchange of virtue._]
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.
[Sidenote: Ordinary men are courageous only from cowardice; temperate
from intemperance.]
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 69
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.
[Sidenote: True virtue is inseparable from wisdom.]
[Sidenote: _The incredulity of Cebes._]
[Sidenote: The thyrsus-bearers and the mystics.]
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.
[Sidenote: Fears are entertained lest the soul when she dies should be
scattered to the winds.]
Cebes answered: I agree, Socrates, in the greater part of
what you say. But in what concerns the soul, men are apt 70
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 were 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.
[Sidenote: The discussion suited to the occasion.]
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 enquiry.
[Sidenote: _The alternation of all existence._]
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.
[Sidenote: All things which have opposites are generated out of
opposites.]
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. 71
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.
[Sidenote: _Life and death like waking and sleeping._]
[Sidenote: And there are intermediate processes or passages into and
out of one another, such as increase and diminution, division and
composition, and the like.]
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 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?