Part 6 (1/2)

_Phaed._ I was, indeed, wonderfully affected by being present, for I was not impressed with a feeling of pity, like one present at the death of a friend; for the man appeared to me to be happy, Echecrates, both from his manner and discourse, so fearlessly and n.o.bly did he meet his death: so much so, that it occurred to me that in going to Hades he was not going without a divine destiny, but that when he arrived there he would be happy, if any one ever was. For this reason I was entirely uninfluenced by any feeling of pity, as would seem likely to be the case with one present on so mournful an occasion; nor was I affected by pleasure from being engaged in philosophical discussions, as was our custom; for our conversation was of that kind. But an altogether unaccountable feeling possessed me, a kind of unusual mixture compounded of pleasure and pain together, when I considered that he was immediately about to die. And all of us who were present were affected in much the same manner, at one time laughing, at another weeping--one of us especially, Apollodorus, for you know the man and his manner.

_Ech._ How should I not?

6. _Phaed._ He, then, was entirely overcome by these emotions; and I, too, was troubled, as well as the others.

_Ech._ But who were present, Phaedo?

_Phaed._ Of his fellow-countrymen, this Apollodorus was present, and Critobulus, and his father, Crito; moreover, Hermogenes, Epigenes, aeschines and Antisthenes; Ctesippus the Paeanian, Menexenus, and some others of his countrymen, were also there: Plato, I think, was sick.

_Ech._ Were any strangers present?

_Phaed._ Yes; Simmias, the Theban, Cebes and Phaedondes; and from Megara, Euclides and Terpsion.

7. _Ech._ But what! were not Aristippus and Cleombrotus present?

_Phaed._ No, for they were said to be at aegina.

_Ech._ Was any one else there?

_Phaed._ I think that these were nearly all who were present.

_Ech._ Well, now, what do you say was the subject of conversation?

_Phaed._ I will endeavor to relate the whole to you from the beginning.

On the preceding days I and the others were constantly in the habit of visiting Socrates, meeting early in the morning at the court house where the trial took place, for it was near the prison. 8. Here, then, we waited every day till the prison was opened, conversing with each other, for it was not opened very early; but as soon as it was opened we went in to Socrates, and usually spent the day with him. On that occasion, however, we met earlier than usual; for on the preceding day, when we left the prison in the evening, we heard that the s.h.i.+p had arrived from Delos. We therefore urged each other to come as early as possible to the accustomed place. Accordingly we came; and the porter, who used to admit us, coming out, told us to wait, and not to enter until he had called us. ”For,” he said, ”the Eleven are now freeing Socrates from his bonds, and announcing to him that he must die to-day.” But in no long time he returned, and bade us enter.

9. When we entered, we found Socrates just freed from his bonds, and Xantippe, you know her, holding his little boy, and sitting by him. As soon as Xantippe saw us she wept aloud, and said such things as women usually do on such occasions--as, ”Socrates, your friends will now converse with you for the last time, and you with them.” But Socrates, looking towards Crito, said: ”Crito, let some one take her home.” Upon which some of Crito's attendants led her away, wailing and beating herself.

But Socrates, sitting up in bed, drew up his leg, and rubbed it with his hand, and as he rubbed it, said: ”What an unaccountable thing, my friends, that seems to be, which men call pleasure! and how wonderfully is it related toward that which appears to be its contrary, pain, in that they will not both be present to a man at the same time! Yet if any one pursues and attains the one, he is almost always compelled to receive the other, as if they were both united together from one head.”

10. ”And it seems tome,” he said, ”that if aesop had observed this he would have made a fable from it, how the deity, wis.h.i.+ng to reconcile these warring principles, when he could not do so, united their heads together, and from hence whomsoever the one visits the other attends immediately after; as appears to be the case with me, since I suffered pain in my leg before from the chain, but now pleasure seems to have succeeded.”

Hereupon Cebes, interrupting him, said: ”By Jupiter! Socrates, you have done well in reminding me; with respect to the poems which you made, by putting into metre those Fables of aesop and the hymn to Apollo, several other persons asked me, and especially Evenus recently, with what design you made them after you came here, whereas before you had never made any. 11. If therefore, you care at all that I should be able to answer Evenus, when he asks me again--for I am sure he will do so--tell me what I must say to him.”

”Tell him the truth, then, Cebes,” he replied, ”that I did not make them from a wish to compete with him, or his poems, for I knew that this would be no easy matter; but that I might discover the meaning of certain dreams, and discharge my conscience, if this should happen to be the music which they have often ordered me to apply myself to. For they were to the following purport: often in my past life the same dream visited me, appearing at different times in different forms, yet always saying the same thing--'Socrates,' it said, 'apply yourself to and practice music.' 12. And I formerly supposed that it exhorted and encouraged me to continue the pursuit I was engaged in, as those who cheer on racers, so that the dream encouraged me to continue the pursuit I was engaged in--namely, to apply myself to music, since philosophy is the highest music, and I was devoted to it. But now since my trial took place, and the festival of the G.o.d r.e.t.a.r.ded my death, it appeared to me that if by chance the dream so frequently enjoined me to apply myself to popular music, I ought not to disobey it, but do so, for that it would be safer for me not to depart hence before I had discharged my conscience by making some poems in obedience to the dream. Thus, then, I first of all composed a hymn to the G.o.d whose festival was present; and after the G.o.d, considering that a poet, if he means to be a poet, ought to make fables, and not discourses, and knowing that I was not skilled in making fables, I therefore put into verse those Fables of aesop, which were at hand, and were known to me, and which first occurred to me.”

13. ”Tell this, then, to Evenus, Cebes, and bid him farewell, and if he is wise, to follow me as soon as he can. But I depart, as it seems, to-day; for so the Athenians order.”

To this Simmias said, ”What is this, Socrates, which you exhort Evenus to do? for I often meet with him; and, from what I know of him, I am pretty certain that he will not at all be willing to comply with your advice.”

”What, then,” said he, ”is not Evenus a philosopher?”

”To me he seems to be so,” said Simmias.

”Then he will be willing,” rejoined Socrates, ”and so will every one who worthily engages in this study. Perhaps, indeed, he will not commit violence on himself; for that, they say, is not allowable.” And as he said this he let down his leg from the bed on the ground, and in this posture continued during the remainder of the discussion.

Cebes then asked him, ”What do you mean, Socrates, by saying that it is not lawful to commit violence on one's self, but that a philosopher should be willing to follow one who is dying?”

14. ”What, Cebes! have not you and Simmias, who have conversed familiarly with Philolaus[26] on this subject, heard?”