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Part IV.
Part IV.
Socrates looked round at us as his manner was, and said, with a smile:
Simmias has reason on his side; and why does not some one of you who is abler
than myself answer him? for there is force in his attack upon me. But perhaps,
before we answer him, we had better also hear what Cebes has to say against
the argument - this will give us time for reflection, and when both of them
have spoken, we may either assent to them if their words appear to be in
consonance with the truth, or if not, we may take up the other side, and argue
with them. Please to tell me then, Cebes, he said, what was the difficulty
which troubled you?
Cebes said: I will tell you. My feeling is that the argument is still in
the same position, and open to the same objections which were urged before;
for I am ready to admit that the existence of the soul before entering into
the bodily form has been very ingeniously, and, as I may be allowed to say,
quite sufficiently proven; but the existence of the soul after death is still,
in my judgment, unproven. Now my objection is not the same as that of Simmias;
for I am not disposed to deny that the soul is stronger and more lasting than
the body, being of opinion that in all such respects the soul very far excels
the body. Well, then, says the argument to me, why do you remain unconvinced?
When you see that the weaker is still in existence after the man is dead, will
you not admit that the more lasting must also survive during the same period
of time? Now I, like Simmias, must employ a figure; and I shall ask you to
consider whether the figure is to the point. The parallel which I will suppose
is that of an old weaver, who dies, and after his death somebody says: He is
not dead, he must be alive; and he appeals to the coat which he himself wove
and wore, and which is still whole and undecayed. And then he proceeds to ask
of someone who is incredulous, whether a man lasts longer, or the coat which
is in use and wear; and when he is answered that a man lasts far longer,
thinks that he has thus certainly demonstrated the survival of the man, who is
the more lasting, because the less lasting remains. But that, Simmias, as I
would beg you to observe, is not the truth; everyone sees that he who talks
thus is talking nonsense. For the truth is that this weaver, having worn and
woven many such costs, though he outlived several of them, was himself
outlived by the last; but this is surely very far from proving that a man is
slighter and weaker than a coat. Now the relation of the body to the soul may
be expressed in a similar figure; for you may say with reason that the soul is
lasting, and the body weak and short - lived in comparison. And every soul may
be said to wear out many bodies, especially in the course of a long life. For
if while the man is alive the body deliquesces and decays, and yet the soul
always weaves her garment anew and repairs the waste, then of course, when the
soul perishes, she must have on her last garment, and this only will survive
her; but then again when the soul is dead the body will at last show its
native weakness, and soon pass into decay. And therefore this is an argument
on which I would rather not rely as proving that the soul exists after death.
For suppose that we grant even more than you affirm as within the range of
possibility, and besides acknowledging that the soul existed before birth
admit also that after death the souls of some are existing still, and will
exist, and will be born and die again and again, and that there is a natural
strength in the soul which will hold out and be born many times - for all
this, we may be still inclined to think that she will weary in the labors of
successive births, and may at last succumb in one of her deaths and utterly
perish; and this death and dissolution of the body which brings destruction to
the soul may be unknown to any of us, for no one of us can have had any
experience of it: and if this be true, then I say that he who is confident in
death has but a foolish confidence, unless he is able to prove that the soul
is altogether immortal and imperishable. But if he is not able to prove this,
he who is about to die will always have reason to fear that when the body is
disunited, the soul also may utterly perish.
All of us, as we afterwards remarked to one another, had an unpleasant
feeling at hearing them say this. When we had been so firmly convinced before,
now to have our faith shaken seemed to introduce a confusion and uncertainty,
not only into the previous argument, but into any future one; either we were
not good judges, or there were no real grounds of belief.
Ech. There I feel with you - indeed I do, Phaedo, and when you were
speaking, I was beginning to ask myself the same question: What argument can I
ever trust again? For what could be more convincing than the argument of
Socrates, which has now fallen into discredit? That the soul is a harmony is a
doctrine which has always had a wonderful attraction for me, and, when
mentioned, came back to me at once, as my own original conviction. And now I
must begin again and find another argument which will assure me that when the
man is dead the soul dies not with him. Tell me, I beg, how did Socrates
proceed? Did he appear to share the unpleasant feeling which you mention? or
did he receive the interruption calmly and give a sufficient answer? Tell us,
as exactly as you can, what passed.
Phaed. Often, Echecrates, as I have admired Socrates, I never admired him
more than at that moment. That he should be able to answer was nothing, but
what astonished me was, first, the gentle and pleasant and approving manner in
which he regarded the words of the young men, and then his quick sense of the
wound which had been inflicted by the argument, and his ready application of
the healing art. He might be compared to a general rallying his defeated and
broken army, urging them to follow him and return to the filed of argument.
Ech. How was that?
Phaed. You shall hear, for I was close to him on his right hand, seated
on a sort of stool, and he on a couch which was a good deal higher. Now he had
a way of playing with my hair, and then he smoothed my head, and pressed the
hair upon my neck, and said: To - morrow, Phaedo, I suppose that these fair
locks of yours will be severed.
Yes, Socrates, I suppose that they will, I replied.
Not so if you will take my advice.
What shall I do with them? I said.
To - day, he replied, and not to - morrow, if this argument dies and
cannot be brought to life again by us, you and I will both shave our locks;
and if I were you, and could not maintain my ground against Simmias and Cebes,
I would myself take an oath, like the Argives, not to wear hair any more until
I had renewed the conflict and defeated them.
Yes, I said, but Heracles himself is said not to be a match for two.
Summon me then, he said, and I will be your Iolaus until the sun goes
down.
I summon you rather, I said, not as Heracles summoning Iolaus, but as
Iolaus might summon Heracles.
That will be all the same, he said. But first let us take care that we
avoid a danger.
And what is that? I said.
The danger of becoming misologists, he replied, which is one of the very
worst things that can happen to us. For as there are misanthropists or haters
of men, there are also misologists or haters of ideas, and both spring from
the same cause, which is ignorance of the world. Misanthropy arises from the
too great confidence of inexperience; you trust a man and think him altogether
true and good and faithful, and then in a little while he turns out to be
false and knavish; and then another and another, and when this has happened
several times to a man, especially within the circle of his most trusted
friends, as he deems them, and he has often quarreled with them, he at last
hates all men, and believes that no one has any good in him at all. I dare say
that you must have observed this.
Yes, I said.
And is not this discreditable? The reason is that a man, having to deal
with other men, has no knowledge of them; for if he had knowledge he would
have known the true state of the case, that few are the good and few and evil,
and that the great majority are in the interval between them.
How do you mean? I said.
I mean, he replied, as you might say of the very large and very small,
that nothing is more uncommon than a very large or a very small man; and this
applies generally to all extremes, whether of great and small, or swift and
slow, or fair and foul, or black and white: and whether the instances you
select be men or dogs or anything else, few are the extremes, but many are in
the mean between them. Did you never observe this?
Yes, I said, I have.
And do you not imagine, he said, that if there were a competition of
evil, the first in evil would be found to be very few?
Yes, that is very likely, I said.
Yes, that is very likely, he replied; not that in this respect arguments
are like men - there I was led on by you to say more than I had intended; but
the point of comparison was that when a simple man who has no skill in
dialectics believes an argument to be true which he afterwards imagines to be
false, whether really false or not, and then another and another, he has no
longer any faith left, and great disputers, as you know, come to think, at
last that they have grown to be the wisest of mankind; for they alone perceive
the utter unsoundness and instability of all arguments, or, indeed, of all
things, which, like the currents in the Euripus, are going up and down in
never - ceasing ebb and flow.
That is quite true, I said.
Yes, Phaedo, he replied, and very melancholy too, if there be such a
thing as truth or certainty or power of knowing at all, that a man should have
lighted upon some argument or other which at first seemed true and then turned
out to be false, and instead of blaming himself and his own want of wit,
because he is annoyed, should at last be too glad to transfer the blame from
himself to arguments in general; and forever afterwards should hate and revile
them, and lose the truth and knowledge of existence.
Yes, indeed, I said; that is very melancholy.
Let us, then, in the first place, he said, be careful of admitting into
our souls the notion that there is no truth or health or soundness in any
arguments at all; but let us rather say that there is as yet no health in us,
and that we must quit ourselves like men and do our best to gain health - you
and all other men with a view to the whole of your future life, and I myself
with a view to death. For at this moment I am sensible that I have not the
temper of a philosopher; like the vulgar, I am only a partisan. For the
partisan, when he is engaged in a dispute, cares nothing about the rights of
the question, but is anxious only to convince his hearers of his own
assertions. And the difference between him and me at the present moment is
only this - that whereas he seeks to convince his hearers that what he says is
true, I am rather seeking to convince myself; to convince my hearers is a
secondary matter with me. And do but see how much I gain by this. For if what
I say is true, then I do well to be persuaded of the truth, but if there be
nothing after death, still, during the short time that remains, I shall save
my friends from lamentations, and my ignorance will not last, and therefore no
harm will be done. This is the state of mind, Simmias and Cebes, in which I
approach the argument. And I would ask you to be thinking of the truth and not
of Socrates: agree with me, if I seem to you to be speaking the truth; or if
not, withstand me might and main, that I may not deceive you as well as myself
in my enthusiasm, and, like the bee, leave my sting in you before I die.
And now let us proceed, he said. And first of all let me be sure that I
have in my mind what you were saying. Simmias, if I remember rightly, has
fears and misgivings whether the soul, being in the form of harmony, although
a fairer and diviner thing than the body, may not perish first. On the other
hand, Cebes appeared to grant that the soul was more lasting than the body,
but he said that no one could know whether the soul, after having worn out
many bodies, might not perish herself and leave her last body behind her; and
that this is death, which is the destruction not of the body but of the soul,
for in the body the work of destruction is ever going on. Are not these,
Simmias and Cebes, the points which we have to consider?
They both agreed to this statement of them.
He proceeded: And did you deny the force of the whole preceding argument,
or of a part only?
Of a part only, they replied.
And what did you think, he said, of that part of the argument in which we
said that knowledge was recollection only, and inferred from this that the
soul must have previously existed somewhere else before she was enclosed in
the body? Cebes said that he had been wonderfully impressed by that part of
the argument, and that his conviction remained unshaken. Simmias agreed, and
added that he himself could hardly imagine the possibility of his ever
thinking differently about that.
But, rejoined Socrates, you will have to think differently, my Theban
friend, if you still maintain that harmony is a compound, and that the soul is
a harmony which is made out of strings set in the frame of the body; for you
will surely never allow yourself to say that a harmony is prior to the
elements which compose the harmony.
No, Socrates, that is impossible.
But do you not see that you are saying this when you say that the soul
existed before she took the form and body of man, and was made up of elements
which as yet had no existence? For harmony is not a sort of thing like the
soul, as you suppose; but first the lyre, and the strings, and the sounds
exist in a state of discord, and then harmony is made last of all, and
perishes first. And how can such a notion of the soul as this agree with the
other?
Not at all, replied Simmias.
And yet, he said, there surely ought to be harmony when harmony is the
theme of discourse.
There ought, replied Simmias.
But there is no harmony, he said, in the two propositions that knowledge
is recollection, and that the soul is a harmony. Which of them, then, will you
retain?
I think, he replied, that I have a much stronger faith, Socrates, in the
first of the two, which has been fully demonstrated to me, than in the latter,
which has not been demonstrated at all, but rests only on probable and
plausible grounds; and I know too well that these arguments from probabilities
are impostors, and unless great caution is observed in the use of them they
are apt to be deceptive - in geometry, and in other things too. But the
doctrine of knowledge and recollection has been proven to me on trustworthy
grounds; and the proof was that the soul must have existed before she came
into the body, because to her belongs the essence of which the very name
implies existence. Having, as I am convinced, rightly accepted this
conclusion, and on sufficient grounds, I must, as I suppose, cease to argue or
allow others to argue that the soul is a harmony.
Let me put the matter, Simmias, he said, in another point of view: Do you
imagine that a harmony or any other composition can be in a state other than
that of the elements out of which it is compounded?
Certainly not.
Or do or suffer anything other than they do or suffer?
He agreed.
Then a harmony does not lead the parts or elements which make up the
harmony, but only follows them.
He assented.
For harmony cannot possibly have any motion, or sound, or other quality
which is opposed to the parts.
That would be impossible, he replied.
And does not every harmony depend upon the manner in which the elements
are harmonized?
I do not understand you, he said.
I mean to say that a harmony admits of degrees, and is more of a harmony,
and more completely a harmony, when more completely harmonized, if that be
possible; and less of a harmony, and less completely a harmony, when less
harmonized.
True.
But does the soul admit of degrees? or is one soul in the very least
degree more or less, or more or less completely, a soul than another?
Not in the least.
Yet surely one soul is said to have intelligence and virtue, and to be
good, and another soul is said to have folly and vice, and to be an evil soul:
and this is said truly?
Yes, truly.
But what will those who maintain the soul to be a harmony say of this
presence of virtue and vice in the soul? - will they say that there is another
harmony, and another discord, and that the virtuous soul is harmonized, and
herself being a harmony has another harmony within her, and that the vicious
soul is inharmonical and has no harmony within her?
I cannot say, replied Simmias; but I suppose that something of that kind
would be asserted by those who take this view.
And the admission is already made that no soul is more a soul than
another; and this is equivalent to admitting that harmony is not more or less
harmony, or more or less completely a harmony?
Quite true.
And that which is not more or less a harmony is not more or less
harmonized?
True.
And that which is not more or less harmonized cannot have more or less of
harmony, but only an equal harmony?
Yes, an equal harmony.
Then one soul not being more or less absolutely a soul than another, is
not more or less harmonized?
Exactly.
And therefore has neither more nor less of harmony or of discord?
She has not.
And having neither more nor less of harmony or of discord, one soul has
no more vice or virtue than another, if vice be discord and virtue harmony?
Not at all more.
Or speaking more correctly, Simmias, the soul, if she is a harmony, will
never have any vice; because a harmony, being absolutely a harmony, has no
part in the inharmonical?
No.
And therefore a soul which is absolutely a soul has no vice?
How can she have, consistently with the preceding argument?
Then, according to this, if the souls of all animals are equally and
absolutely souls, they will be equally good?
I agree with you, Socrates, he said.
And can all this be true, think you? he said; and are all these
consequences admissible - which nevertheless seem to follow from the
assumption that the soul is a harmony?
Certainly not, he said.
Once more, he said, what ruling principle is there of human things other
than the soul, and especially the wise soul? Do you know of any?
Indeed, I do not.
And is the soul in agreement with the affections of the body? or is she
at variance with them? For example, when the body is hot and thirsty, does not
the soul incline us against drinking? and when the body is hungry, against
eating? And this is only one instance out of ten thousand of the opposition of
the soul to the things of the body.
Very true.
But we have already acknowledged that the soul, being a harmony, can
never utter a note at variance with the tensions and relaxations and
vibrations and other affections of the strings out of which she is composed;
she can only follow, she cannot lead them?
Yes, he said, we acknowledged that, certainly.
And yet do we not now discover the soul to be doing the exact opposite -
leading the elements of which she is believed to be composed; almost always
opposing and coercing them in all sorts of ways throughout life, sometimes
more violently with the pains of medicine and gymnastic; then again more
gently; threatening and also reprimanding the desires, passions, fears, as if
talking to a thing which is not herself, as Homer in the "Odyssey" represents
Odysseus doing in the words,
"He beat his breast, and thus reproached his heart:
Endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured!"
Do you think that Homer could have written this under the idea that the soul
is a harmony capable of being led by the affections of the body, and not
rather of a nature which leads and masters them; and herself a far diviner
thing than any harmony?
Yes, Socrates, I quite agree to that.
Then, my friend, we can never be right in saying that the soul is a
harmony, for that would clearly contradict the divine Homer as well as
ourselves.
True, he said.
Thus much, said Socrates, of Harmonia, your Theban goddess, Cebes, who
has not been ungracious to us, I think; but what shall I say to the Theban
Cadmus, and how shall I propitiate him?
I think that you will discover a way of propitiating him, said Cebes; I
am sure that you have answered the argument about harmony in a manner that I
could never have expected. For when Simmias mentioned his objection, I quite
imagined that no answer could be given to him, and therefore I was surprised
at finding that his argument could not sustain the first onset of yours; and
not impossibly the other, whom you call Cadmus, may share a similar fate.
Nay, my good friend, said Socrates, let us not boast, lest some evil eye
should put to flight the word which I am about to speak. That, however, may be
left in the hands of those above, while I draw near in Homeric fashion, and
try the mettle of your words. Briefly, the sum of your objection is as
follows: You want to have proven to you that the soul is imperishable and
immortal, and you think that the philosopher who is confident in death has but
a vain and foolish confidence, if he thinks that he will fare better than one
who has led another sort of life, in the world below, unless he can prove
this; and you say that the demonstration of the strength and divinity of the
soul, and of her existence prior to our becoming men, does not necessarily
imply her immortality. Granting that the soul is long - lived, and has known
and done much in a former state, still she is not on that account immortal;
and her entrance into the human form may be a sort of disease which is the
beginning of dissolution, and may at last, after the toils of life are over,
end in that which is called death. And whether the soul enters into the body
once only or many times, that, as you would say, makes no difference in the
fears of individuals. For any man, who is not devoid of natural feeling, has
reason to fear, if he has no knowledge or proof of the soul`s immortality.
That is what I suppose you to say, Cebes, which I designedly repeat, in order
that nothing may escape us, and that you may, if you wish, add or subtract
anything.
But, said Cebes, as far as I can see at present, I have nothing to add or
subtract; you have expressed my meaning.
Socrates paused awhile, and seemed to be absorbed in reflection. At
length he said: This is a very serious inquiry which you are raising, Cebes,
involving the whole question of generation and corruption, about which I will,
if you like, give you my own experience; and you can apply this, if you think
that anything which I say will avail towards the solution of your difficulty.
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