Phaedo by Plato
Phaedo

Plato Phaedo

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[1]        PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE:
[2]        Phaedo, who is the narrator of the dialogue to Echecrates of Phlius.
[3]        Socrates, Apollodorus, Simmias, Cebes, Crito and an Attendant of the
[4]        Prison.
[5]        
[6]        SCENE: The Prison of Socrates.
[7]        
[8]        PLACE OF THE NARRATION: Phlius.
[9]        
[10]       
[11]       ECHECRATES: Were you yourself, Phaedo, in the prison with Socrates on the
[12]       day when he drank the poison?
[13]       
[14]       PHAEDO: Yes, Echecrates, I was.
[15]       
[16]       ECHECRATES: I should so like to hear about his death. What did he say in
[17]       his last hours? We were informed that he died by taking poison, but no one
[18]       knew anything more; for no Phliasian ever goes to Athens now, and it is a
[19]       long time since any stranger from Athens has found his way hither; so that
[20]       we had no clear account.
[21]       
[22]       PHAEDO: Did you not hear of the proceedings at the trial?
[23]       
[24]       ECHECRATES: Yes; some one told us about the trial, and we could not
[25]       understand why, having been condemned, he should have been put to death,
[26]       not at the time, but long afterwards. What was the reason of this?
[27]       
[28]       PHAEDO: An accident, Echecrates: the stern of the ship which the
[29]       Athenians send to Delos happened to have been crowned on the day before he
[30]       was tried.
[31]       
[32]       ECHECRATES: What is this ship?
[33]       
[34]       PHAEDO: It is the ship in which, according to Athenian tradition, Theseus
[35]       went to Crete when he took with him the fourteen youths, and was the
[36]       saviour of them and of himself. And they were said to have vowed to Apollo
[37]       at the time, that if they were saved they would send a yearly mission to
[38]       Delos. Now this custom still continues, and the whole period of the voyage
[39]       to and from Delos, beginning when the priest of Apollo crowns the stern of
[40]       the ship, is a holy season, during which the city is not allowed to be
[41]       polluted by public executions; and when the vessel is detained by contrary
[42]       winds, the time spent in going and returning is very considerable. As I
[43]       was saying, the ship was crowned on the day before the trial, and this was
[44]       the reason why Socrates lay in prison and was not put to death until long
[45]       after he was condemned.
[46]       
[47]       ECHECRATES: What was the manner of his death, Phaedo? What was said or
[48]       done? And which of his friends were with him? Or did the authorities
[49]       forbid them to be present--so that he had no friends near him when he died?
[50]       
[51]       PHAEDO: No; there were several of them with him.
[52]       
[53]       ECHECRATES: If you have nothing to do, I wish that you would tell me what
[54]       passed, as exactly as you can.
[55]       
[56]       PHAEDO: I have nothing at all to do, and will try to gratify your wish.
[57]       To be reminded of Socrates is always the greatest delight to me, whether I
[58]       speak myself or hear another speak of him.
[59]       
[60]       ECHECRATES: You will have listeners who are of the same mind with you, and
[61]       I hope that you will be as exact as you can.
[62]       
[63]       PHAEDO: I had a singular feeling at being in his company. For I could
[64]       hardly believe that I was present at the death of a friend, and therefore I
[65]       did not pity him, Echecrates; he died so fearlessly, and his words and
[66]       bearing were so noble and gracious, that to me he appeared blessed. I
[67]       thought that in going to the other world he could not be without a divine
[68]       call, and that he would be happy, if any man ever was, when he arrived
[69]       there, and therefore I did not pity him as might have seemed natural at
[70]       such an hour. But I had not the pleasure which I usually feel in
[71]       philosophical discourse (for philosophy was the theme of which we spoke).
[72]       I was pleased, but in the pleasure there was also a strange admixture of
[73]       pain; for I reflected that he was soon to die, and this double feeling was
[74]       shared by us all; we were laughing and weeping by turns, especially the
[75]       excitable Apollodorus--you know the sort of man?
[76]       
[77]       ECHECRATES: Yes.
[78]       
[79]       PHAEDO: He was quite beside himself; and I and all of us were greatly
[80]       moved.
[81]       
[82]       ECHECRATES: Who were present?
[83]       
[84]       PHAEDO: Of native Athenians there were, besides Apollodorus, Critobulus
[85]       and his father Crito, Hermogenes, Epigenes, Aeschines, Antisthenes;
[86]       likewise Ctesippus of the deme of Paeania, Menexenus, and some others;
[87]       Plato, if I am not mistaken, was ill.
[88]       
[89]       ECHECRATES: Were there any strangers?
[90]       
[91]       PHAEDO: Yes, there were; Simmias the Theban, and Cebes, and Phaedondes;
[92]       Euclid and Terpison, who came from Megara.
[93]       
[94]       ECHECRATES: And was Aristippus there, and Cleombrotus?
[95]       
[96]       PHAEDO: No, they were said to be in Aegina.
[97]       
[98]       ECHECRATES: Any one else?
[99]       
[100]      PHAEDO: I think that these were nearly all.
[101]      
[102]      ECHECRATES: Well, and what did you talk about?
[103]      
[104]      PHAEDO: I will begin at the beginning, and endeavour to repeat the entire
[105]      conversation. On the previous days we had been in the habit of assembling
[106]      early in the morning at the court in which the trial took place, and which
[107]      is not far from the prison. There we used to wait talking with one another
[108]      until the opening of the doors (for they were not opened very early); then
[109]      we went in and generally passed the day with Socrates. On the last morning
[110]      we assembled sooner than usual, having heard on the day before when we
[111]      quitted the prison in the evening that the sacred ship had come from Delos,
[112]      and so we arranged to meet very early at the accustomed place. On our
[113]      arrival the jailer who answered the door, instead of admitting us, came out
[114]      and told us to stay until he called us. 'For the Eleven,' he said, 'are
[115]      now with Socrates; they are taking off his chains, and giving orders that
[116]      he is to die to-day.' He soon returned and said that we might come in. On
[117]      entering we found Socrates just released from chains, and Xanthippe, whom
[118]      you know, sitting by him, and holding his child in her arms. When she saw
[119]      us she uttered a cry and said, as women will: 'O Socrates, this is the
[120]      last time that either you will converse with your friends, or they with
[121]      you.' Socrates turned to Crito and said: 'Crito, let some one take her
[122]      home.' Some of Crito's people accordingly led her away, crying out and
[123]      beating herself. And when she was gone, Socrates, sitting up on the couch,
[124]      bent and rubbed his leg, saying, as he was rubbing: How singular is the
[125]      thing called pleasure, and how curiously related to pain, which might be
[126]      thought to be the opposite of it; for they are never present to a man at
[127]      the same instant, and yet he who pursues either is generally compelled to
[128]      take the other; their bodies are two, but they are joined by a single head.
[129]      And I cannot help thinking that if Aesop had remembered them, he would have
[130]      made a fable about God trying to reconcile their strife, and how, when he
[131]      could not, he fastened their heads together; and this is the reason why
[132]      when one comes the other follows, as I know by my own experience now, when
[133]      after the pain in my leg which was caused by the chain pleasure appears to
[134]      succeed.
[135]      
[136]      Upon this Cebes said: I am glad, Socrates, that you have mentioned the
[137]      name of Aesop. For it reminds me of a question which has been asked by
[138]      many, and was asked of me only the day before yesterday by Evenus the poet
[139]      --he will be sure to ask it again, and therefore if you would like me to
[140]      have an answer ready for him, you may as well tell me what I should say to
[141]      him:--he wanted to know why you, who never before wrote a line of poetry,
[142]      now that you are in prison are turning Aesop's fables into verse, and also
[143]      composing that hymn in honour of Apollo.
[144]      
[145]      Tell him, Cebes, he replied, what is the truth--that I had no idea of
[146]      rivalling him or his poems; to do so, as I knew, would be no easy task.
[147]      But I wanted to see whether I could purge away a scruple which I felt about
[148]      the meaning of certain dreams. In the course of my life I have often had
[149]      intimations in dreams 'that I should compose music.' The same dream came
[150]      to me sometimes in one form, and sometimes in another, but always saying
[151]      the same or nearly the same words: 'Cultivate and make music,' said the
[152]      dream. And hitherto I had imagined that this was only intended to exhort
[153]      and encourage me in the study of philosophy, which has been the pursuit of
[154]      my life, and is the noblest and best of music. The dream was bidding me do
[155]      what I was already doing, in the same way that the competitor in a race is
[156]      bidden by the spectators to run when he is already running. But I was not
[157]      certain of this, for the dream might have meant music in the popular sense
[158]      of the word, and being under sentence of death, and the festival giving me
[159]      a respite, I thought that it would be safer for me to satisfy the scruple,
[160]      and, in obedience to the dream, to compose a few verses before I departed.
[161]      And first I made a hymn in honour of the god of the festival, and then
[162]      considering that a poet, if he is really to be a poet, should not only put
[163]      together words, but should invent stories, and that I have no invention, I
[164]      took some fables of Aesop, which I had ready at hand and which I knew--they
[165]      were the first I came upon--and turned them into verse. Tell this to
[166]      Evenus, Cebes, and bid him be of good cheer; say that I would have him come
[167]      after me if he be a wise man, and not tarry; and that to-day I am likely to
[168]      be going, for the Athenians say that I must.
[169]      
[170]      Simmias said: What a message for such a man! having been a frequent
[171]      companion of his I should say that, as far as I know him, he will never
[172]      take your advice unless he is obliged.
[173]      
[174]      Why, said Socrates,--is not Evenus a philosopher?
[175]      
[176]      I think that he is, said Simmias.
[177]      
[178]      Then he, or any man who has the spirit of philosophy, will be willing to
[179]      die, but he will not take his own life, for that is held to be unlawful.
[180]      
[181]      Here he changed his position, and put his legs off the couch on to the
[182]      ground, and during the rest of the conversation he remained sitting.
[183]      
[184]      Why do you say, enquired Cebes, that a man ought not to take his own life,
[185]      but that the philosopher will be ready to follow the dying?
[186]      
[187]      Socrates replied: And have you, Cebes and Simmias, who are the disciples
[188]      of Philolaus, never heard him speak of this?
[189]      
[190]      Yes, but his language was obscure, Socrates.
[191]      
[192]      My words, too, are only an echo; but there is no reason why I should not
[193]      repeat what I have heard: and indeed, as I am going to another place, it
[194]      is very meet for me to be thinking and talking of the nature of the
[195]      pilgrimage which I am about to make. What can I do better in the interval
[196]      between this and the setting of the sun?
[197]      
[198]      Then tell me, Socrates, why is suicide held to be unlawful? as I have
[199]      certainly heard Philolaus, about whom you were just now asking, affirm when
[200]      he was staying with us at Thebes: and there are others who say the same,
[201]      although I have never understood what was meant by any of them.
[202]      
[203]      Do not lose heart, replied Socrates, and the day may come when you will
[204]      understand. I suppose that you wonder why, when other things which are
[205]      evil may be good at certain times and to certain persons, death is to be
[206]      the only exception, and why, when a man is better dead, he is not permitted
[207]      to be his own benefactor, but must wait for the hand of another.
[208]      
[209]      Very true, said Cebes, laughing gently and speaking in his native Boeotian.
[210]      
[211]      I admit the appearance of inconsistency in what I am saying; but there may
[212]      not be any real inconsistency after all. There is a doctrine whispered in
[213]      secret that man is a prisoner who has no right to open the door and run
[214]      away; this is a great mystery which I do not quite understand. Yet I too
[215]      believe that the gods are our guardians, and that we are a possession of
[216]      theirs. Do you not agree?
[217]      
[218]      Yes, I quite agree, said Cebes.
[219]      
[220]      And if one of your own possessions, an ox or an ass, for example, took the
[221]      liberty of putting himself out of the way when you had given no intimation
[222]      of your wish that he should die, would you not be angry with him, and would
[223]      you not punish him if you could?
[224]      
[225]      Certainly, replied Cebes.
[226]      
[227]      Then, if we look at the matter thus, there may be reason in saying that a
[228]      man should wait, and not take his own life until God summons him, as he is
[229]      now summoning me.
[230]      
[231]      Yes, Socrates, said Cebes, there seems to be truth in what you say. And
[232]      yet how can you reconcile this seemingly true belief that God is our
[233]      guardian and we his possessions, with the willingness to die which we were
[234]      just now attributing to the philosopher? That the wisest of men should be
[235]      willing to leave a service in which they are ruled by the gods who are the
[236]      best of rulers, is not reasonable; for surely no wise man thinks that when
[237]      set at liberty he can take better care of himself than the gods take of
[238]      him. A fool may perhaps think so--he may argue that he had better run away
[239]      from his master, not considering that his duty is to remain to the end, and
[240]      not to run away from the good, and that there would be no sense in his
[241]      running away. The wise man will want to be ever with him who is better
[242]      than himself. Now this, Socrates, is the reverse of what was just now
[243]      said; for upon this view the wise man should sorrow and the fool rejoice at
[244]      passing out of life.
[245]      
[246]      The earnestness of Cebes seemed to please Socrates. Here, said he, turning
[247]      to us, is a man who is always inquiring, and is not so easily convinced by
[248]      the first thing which he hears.
[249]      
[250]      And certainly, added Simmias, the objection which he is now making does
[251]      appear to me to have some force. For what can be the meaning of a truly
[252]      wise man wanting to fly away and lightly leave a master who is better than
[253]      himself? And I rather imagine that Cebes is referring to you; he thinks
[254]      that you are too ready to leave us, and too ready to leave the gods whom
[255]      you acknowledge to be our good masters.
[256]      
[257]      Yes, replied Socrates; there is reason in what you say. And so you think
[258]      that I ought to answer your indictment as if I were in a court?
[259]      
[260]      We should like you to do so, said Simmias.
[261]      
[262]      Then I must try to make a more successful defence before you than I did
[263]      when before the judges. For I am quite ready to admit, Simmias and Cebes,
[264]      that I ought to be grieved at death, if I were not persuaded in the first
[265]      place that I am going to other gods who are wise and good (of which I am as
[266]      certain as I can be of any such matters), and secondly (though I am not so
[267]      sure of this last) to men departed, better than those whom I leave behind;
[268]      and therefore I do not grieve as I might have done, for I have good hope
[269]      that there is yet something remaining for the dead, and as has been said of
[270]      old, some far better thing for the good than for the evil.
[271]      
[272]      But do you mean to take away your thoughts with you, Socrates? said
[273]      Simmias. Will you not impart them to us?--for they are a benefit in which
[274]      we too are entitled to share. Moreover, if you succeed in convincing us,
[275]      that will be an answer to the charge against yourself.
[276]      
[277]      I will do my best, replied Socrates. But you must first let me hear what
[278]      Crito wants; he has long been wishing to say something to me.
[279]      
[280]      Only this, Socrates, replied Crito:--the attendant who is to give you the
[281]      poison has been telling me, and he wants me to tell you, that you are not
[282]      to talk much, talking, he says, increases heat, and this is apt to
[283]      interfere with the action of the poison; persons who excite themselves are
[284]      sometimes obliged to take a second or even a third dose.
[285]      
[286]      Then, said Socrates, let him mind his business and be prepared to give the
[287]      poison twice or even thrice if necessary; that is all.
[288]      
[289]      I knew quite well what you would say, replied Crito; but I was obliged to
[290]      satisfy him.
[291]      
[292]      Never mind him, he said.
[293]      
[294]      And now, O my judges, I desire to prove to you that the real philosopher
[295]      has reason to be of good cheer when he is about to die, and that after
[296]      death he may hope to obtain the greatest good in the other world. And how
[297]      this may be, Simmias and Cebes, I will endeavour to explain. For I deem
[298]      that the true votary of philosophy is likely to be misunderstood by other
[299]      men; they do not perceive that he is always pursuing death and dying; and
[300]      if this be so, and he has had the desire of death all his life long, why
[301]      when his time comes should he repine at that which he has been always
[302]      pursuing and desiring?
[303]      
[304]      Simmias said laughingly: Though not in a laughing humour, you have made me
[305]      laugh, Socrates; for I cannot help thinking that the many when they hear
[306]      your words will say how truly you have described philosophers, and our
[307]      people at home will likewise say that the life which philosophers desire is
[308]      in reality death, and that they have found them out to be deserving of the
[309]      death which they desire.
[310]      
[311]      And they are right, Simmias, in thinking so, with the exception of the
[312]      words 'they have found them out'; for they have not found out either what
[313]      is the nature of that death which the true philosopher deserves, or how he
[314]      deserves or desires death. But enough of them:--let us discuss the matter
[315]      among ourselves: Do we believe that there is such a thing as death?
[316]      
[317]      To be sure, replied Simmias.
[318]      
[319]      Is it not the separation of soul and body? And to be dead is the
[320]      completion of this; when the soul exists in herself, and is released from
[321]      the body and the body is released from the soul, what is this but death?
[322]      
[323]      Just so, he replied.
[324]      
[325]      There is another question, which will probably throw light on our present
[326]      inquiry if you and I can agree about it:--Ought the philosopher to care
[327]      about the pleasures--if they are to be called pleasures--of eating and
[328]      drinking?
[329]      
[330]      Certainly not, answered Simmias.
[331]      
[332]      And what about the pleasures of love--should he care for them?
[333]      
[334]      By no means.
[335]      
[336]      And will he think much of the other ways of indulging the body, for
[337]      example, the acquisition of costly raiment, or sandals, or other adornments
[338]      of the body? Instead of caring about them, does he not rather despise
[339]      anything more than nature needs? What do you say?
[340]      
[341]      I should say that the true philosopher would despise them.
[342]      
[343]      Would you not say that he is entirely concerned with the soul and not with
[344]      the body? He would like, as far as he can, to get away from the body and
[345]      to turn to the soul.
[346]      
[347]      Quite true.
[348]      
[349]      In matters of this sort philosophers, above all other men, may be observed
[350]      in every sort of way to dissever the soul from the communion of the body.
[351]      
[352]      Very true.
[353]      
[354]      Whereas, Simmias, the rest of the world are of opinion that to him who has
[355]      no sense of pleasure and no part in bodily pleasure, life is not worth
[356]      having; and that he who is indifferent about them is as good as dead.
[357]      
[358]      That is also true.
[359]      
[360]      What again shall we say of the actual acquirement of knowledge?--is the
[361]      body, if invited to share in the enquiry, a hinderer or a helper? I mean
[362]      to say, have sight and hearing any truth in them? Are they not, as the
[363]      poets are always telling us, inaccurate witnesses? and yet, if even they
[364]      are inaccurate and indistinct, what is to be said of the other senses?--for
[365]      you will allow that they are the best of them?
[366]      
[367]      Certainly, he replied.
[368]      
[369]      Then when does the soul attain truth?--for in attempting to consider
[370]      anything in company with the body she is obviously deceived.
[371]      
[372]      True.
[373]      
[374]      Then must not true existence be revealed to her in thought, if at all?
[375]      
[376]      Yes.
[377]      
[378]      And thought is best when the mind is gathered into herself and none of
[379]      these things trouble her--neither sounds nor sights nor pain nor any
[380]      pleasure,--when she takes leave of the body, and has as little as possible
[381]      to do with it, when she has no bodily sense or desire, but is aspiring
[382]      after true being?
[383]      
[384]      Certainly.
[385]      
[386]      And in this the philosopher dishonours the body; his soul runs away from
[387]      his body and desires to be alone and by herself?
[388]      
[389]      That is true.
[390]      
[391]      Well, but there is another thing, Simmias: Is there or is there not an
[392]      absolute justice?
[393]      
[394]      Assuredly there is.
[395]      
[396]      And an absolute beauty and absolute good?
[397]      
[398]      Of course.
[399]      
[400]      But did you ever behold any of them with your eyes?
[401]      
[402]      Certainly not.
[403]      
[404]      Or did you ever reach them with any other bodily sense?--and I speak not of
[405]      these alone, but of absolute greatness, and health, and strength, and of
[406]      the essence or true nature of everything. Has the reality of them ever
[407]      been perceived by you through the bodily organs? or rather, is not the
[408]      nearest approach to the knowledge of their several natures made by him who
[409]      so orders his intellectual vision as to have the most exact conception of
[410]      the essence of each thing which he considers?
[411]      
[412]      Certainly.
[413]      
[414]      And he attains to the purest knowledge of them who goes to each with the
[415]      mind alone, not introducing or intruding in the act of thought sight or any
[416]      other sense together with reason, but with the very light of the mind in
[417]      her own clearness searches into the very truth of each; he who has got rid,
[418]      as far as he can, of eyes and ears and, so to speak, of the whole body,
[419]      these being in his opinion distracting elements which when they infect the
[420]      soul hinder her from acquiring truth and knowledge--who, if not he, is
[421]      likely to attain the knowledge of true being?
[422]      
[423]      What you say has a wonderful truth in it, Socrates, replied Simmias.
[424]      
[425]      And when real philosophers consider all these things, will they not be led
[426]      to make a reflection which they will express in words something like the
[427]      following? 'Have we not found,' they will say, 'a path of thought which
[428]      seems to bring us and our argument to the conclusion, that while we are in
[429]      the body, and while the soul is infected with the evils of the body, our
[430]      desire will not be satisfied? and our desire is of the truth. For the body
[431]      is a source of endless trouble to us by reason of the mere requirement of
[432]      food; and is liable also to diseases which overtake and impede us in the
[433]      search after true being: it fills us full of loves, and lusts, and fears,
[434]      and fancies of all kinds, and endless foolery, and in fact, as men say,
[435]      takes away from us the power of thinking at all. Whence come wars, and
[436]      fightings, and factions? whence but from the body and the lusts of the
[437]      body? wars are occasioned by the love of money, and money has to be
[438]      acquired for the sake and in the service of the body; and by reason of all
[439]      these impediments we have no time to give to philosophy; and, last and
[440]      worst of all, even if we are at leisure and betake ourselves to some
[441]      speculation, the body is always breaking in upon us, causing turmoil and
[442]      confusion in our enquiries, and so amazing us that we are prevented from
[443]      seeing the truth. It has been proved to us by experience that if we would
[444]      have pure knowledge of anything we must be quit of the body--the soul in
[445]      herself must behold things in themselves: and then we shall attain the
[446]      wisdom which we desire, and of which we say that we are lovers, not while
[447]      we live, but after death; for if while in company with the body, the soul
[448]      cannot have pure knowledge, one of two things follows--either knowledge is
[449]      not to be attained at all, or, if at all, after death. For then, and not
[450]      till then, the soul will be parted from the body and exist in herself
[451]      alone. In this present life, I reckon that we make the nearest approach to
[452]      knowledge when we have the least possible intercourse or communion with the
[453]      body, and are not surfeited with the bodily nature, but keep ourselves pure
[454]      until the hour when God himself is pleased to release us. And thus having
[455]      got rid of the foolishness of the body we shall be pure and hold converse
[456]      with the pure, and know of ourselves the clear light everywhere, which is
[457]      no other than the light of truth.' For the impure are not permitted to
[458]      approach the pure. These are the sort of words, Simmias, which the true
[459]      lovers of knowledge cannot help saying to one another, and thinking. You
[460]      would agree; would you not?
[461]      
[462]      Undoubtedly, Socrates.
[463]      
[464]      But, O my friend, if this is true, there is great reason to hope that,
[465]      going whither I go, when I have come to the end of my journey, I shall
[466]      attain that which has been the pursuit of my life. And therefore I go on
[467]      my way rejoicing, and not I only, but every other man who believes that his
[468]      mind has been made ready and that he is in a manner purified.
[469]      
[470]      Certainly, replied Simmias.
[471]      
[472]      And what is purification but the separation of the soul from the body, as I
[473]      was saying before; the habit of the soul gathering and collecting herself
[474]      into herself from all sides out of the body; the dwelling in her own place
[475]      alone, as in another life, so also in this, as far as she can;--the release
[476]      of the soul from the chains of the body?
[477]      
[478]      Very true, he said.
[479]      
[480]      And this separation and release of the soul from the body is termed death?
[481]      
[482]      To be sure, he said.
[483]      
[484]      And the true philosophers, and they only, are ever seeking to release the
[485]      soul. Is not the separation and release of the soul from the body their
[486]      especial study?
[487]      
[488]      That is true.
[489]      
[490]      And, as I was saying at first, there would be a ridiculous contradiction in
[491]      men studying to live as nearly as they can in a state of death, and yet
[492]      repining when it comes upon them.
[493]      
[494]      Clearly.
[495]      
[496]      And the true philosophers, Simmias, are always occupied in the practice of
[497]      dying, wherefore also to them least of all men is death terrible. Look at
[498]      the matter thus:--if they have been in every way the enemies of the body,
[499]      and are wanting to be alone with the soul, when this desire of theirs is
[500]      granted, how inconsistent would they be if they trembled and repined,
[501]      instead of rejoicing at their departure to that place where, when they
[502]      arrive, they hope to gain that which in life they desired--and this was
[503]      wisdom--and at the same time to be rid of the company of their enemy. Many
[504]      a man has been willing to go to the world below animated by the hope of
[505]      seeing there an earthly love, or wife, or son, and conversing with them.
[506]      And will he who is a true lover of wisdom, and is strongly persuaded in
[507]      like manner that only in the world below he can worthily enjoy her, still
[508]      repine at death? Will he not depart with joy? Surely he will, O my
[509]      friend, if he be a true philosopher. For he will have a firm conviction
[510]      that there and there only, he can find wisdom in her purity. And if this
[511]      be true, he would be very absurd, as I was saying, if he were afraid of
[512]      death.
[513]      
[514]      He would, indeed, replied Simmias.
[515]      
[516]      And when you see a man who is repining at the approach of death, is not his
[517]      reluctance a sufficient proof that he is not a lover of wisdom, but a lover
[518]      of the body, and probably at the same time a lover of either money or
[519]      power, or both?
[520]      
[521]      Quite so, he replied.
[522]      
[523]      And is not courage, Simmias, a quality which is specially characteristic of
[524]      the philosopher?
[525]      
[526]      Certainly.
[527]      
[528]      There is temperance again, which even by the vulgar is supposed to consist
[529]      in the control and regulation of the passions, and in the sense of
[530]      superiority to them--is not temperance a virtue belonging to those only who
[531]      despise the body, and who pass their lives in philosophy?
[532]      
[533]      Most assuredly.
[534]      
[535]      For the courage and temperance of other men, if you will consider them, are
[536]      really a contradiction.
[537]      
[538]      How so?
[539]      
[540]      Well, he said, you are aware that death is regarded by men