Phaedrus — Plato

PHiEDO 439 money, and the world in general; nor like the lovers of power and honor, because they dread the dishonor or disgrace of evil deeds. No, Socrates, that would not become them, said Cebes.

No indeed, he replied ; and therefore they who have a care of their souls, and do not merely live in the fashions of the body, say farewell to all this ; they will not walk in the ways of the blind : and when Philosophy offers them purification and release from evil, they feel that they ought not to resist her influence, and to her they incline, and whither she leads they follow her. What do you mean, Socrates? I will tell you, he said.

The lovers of knowledge are conscious that their souls, when philosophy receives them, are simply fastened and glued to their bodies : the soul is only able to view existence through the bars of a prison,* and not in her own nature ; she is wallowing in the mire of all ignorance ; and philosophy, seeing the terrible nature of her confinement, and that the captive through desire is led to conspire in g. her own captivity (for the lovers of knowledge are aware that this was the original state of the soul, and that when she was in this state philosophy received and gently counseled her, and wanted to release her, pointing out to her that the eye is full of deceit, and also the ear and the other senses, and persuading her to retire from them in all but the necessary use of them, and to be gathered up and collected into herself, and to trust only to herself and her own intuitions of absolute existence, and mistrust that which comes to her through others and is subject to vicissitude) — philosophy shows her that this is visible and tangible, but that what she sees in her own nature is intellectual and invisible.

And the soul of the true philosopher thinks that she ought not to resist this deliverance, and therefore abstains from pleasures and desires and pains and fears, as far as she is able ; reflecting that when a man has great joys or sorrows or fears or desires, he suffers from them, not the sort of evil which might be anticipated — as for example, the loss 6f his health or property which he has sacrificed to his lusts — but he has suffered an evil greater far, which is the greatest and worst of all evils, and one of which he never thinks. M " For now we see through a glass darkly." — i Cor. xiii. la. Compare Rep., VIL, $14 and following.

p. 440And what is that, Socrates? said Cebes. Why this : When the feeling of pleasure or pain in the soul is most intense, all of us naturally suppose that the object of this intense feeling is then plainest and truest : but this is not the case. Very true. And this is the state in which the soul is most inthralled by the body. How is that ?

Why, because each pleasure and pain is a sort of nail which nails and rivets the soul to the body, and engrosses her and makes her believe that to be true which the body affirms ' to be true ; and from agreeing with the body and having the same delights she is obliged to have the same habits and ways, and is not likely ever to be pure at her departure to the world below, but is always saturated with the body ; so that she soon sinks into another body and there germinates and grows, and has therefore no part in the communion of the divine and pure and simple.

That is most true, Socrates, answered Cebes. And this, Cebes, is the reason why the true lovers of knowledge are temperate and brave ; and not for the reason which the world gives. g Certainly not. ^ Certainly not !

For not in that way does the soul of a philosopher reason ; she will not ask philosophy to release her in order that when released she may deliver herself up again to the thralldom of pleasures and pains, doing a work only to be undone again, weaving instead of unweaving her Penelope's web.* But she will make herself a calm of passion, and follow Reason, and dwell in her, beholding the true and divine (which is not matter of opinion), and thence derive nourishment.

Thus she seeks to live while she lives, and after death she hopes to go to her own kindred and to be freed from human ills. Never fear, Simmias and Cebes, that a soul which has been thus nourished and has had these pursuits, will at her departure from the body be scattered and blown away by the winds and be nowhere and nothing. a» Penelope (pe-n51'5-pe) : wife of the legendary hero Odysseus.

During his absence at the Trojan War she was beset by many suitors. To put them off, she promised to make choice as soon as she nnifihed a web she was weaving ; but each night she unraveled what she wove during the day.

PUJEDO 441 When Socrates had done speaking, for a considerable time there was silence ; he himself and most of us appeared to be meditating on what had been said ; only Cebes and Simmias spoke a few words to one another. And Socrates observing this asked them what they thought of the argument, and whether there was anything wanting ? For, said he, much is still open to suspicion and attack, if any one were disposed to sift the matter thoroughly.

If you are talking of something else I would rather not interrupt you, but if you are still doubtful about the argument do not hesitate to say exactly what you think, and let us have anything better which you can suggest ; and if I am likely to be of any use, allow me to help you.

Simmias said: I must confess, Socrates, that doubts did arise in our minds, and each of us was urging and inciting the other to put the question which we wanted to have answered and which neither of us liked to ask, fearing that our importunity might be troublesome under present circumstances.

Socrates smiled, and said : O Simmias, how strange that is ; I am not very likely to persuade other men that I do not regard my present situation as a misfortune, if I am unable to persuade you, and you will keep fancying that I am at all more troubled now than at any other time.

Will you not allow that I have as much of the spirit of prophecy in me as the swans ? * For they, when they perceive that they must die, having sung all their life long, do then sing more than « ever, rejoicing in the thought that they are about to go away to the god whose ministers they are.

But men, because they are themselves afraid of death, slanderously affirm of the swans that they sing a lament at the last, not considering that no bird sings when cold, or hungry, or in pain, not even the nightingale, nor the swallow, nor yet the hoopoe ; which are said indeed to tune a lay of sorrow, although I do not believe this to be true of them any more than of the swans.

But because they are sacred to Apollo and have the gift of prophecy and anticipate the good things of another world, therefore they sing and rejoice in that day more than they ever did before. And I too, believing myself to be the consecrated ^ The swan was sacred to Apollo and said to be gifted with the power of song and of prophecy. The myth of the swan's dying song has come dowa to modem times.