Phaedo
goodness, justice, holiness, and of all which we stamp with the name of
essence in the dialectical process, both when we ask and when we answer
questions. Of all this we may certainly affirm that we acquired the
knowledge before birth?
We may.
But if, after having acquired, we have not forgotten what in each case
we acquired, then we must always have come into life having knowledge,
and shall always continue to know as long as life lasts--for knowing
is the acquiring and retaining knowledge and not forgetting. Is not
forgetting, Simmias, just the losing of knowledge?
Quite true, Socrates.
But if the knowledge which we acquired before birth was lost by us at
birth, and if afterwards by the use of the senses we recovered what
we previously knew, will not the process which we call learning be a
recovering of the knowledge which is natural to us, and may not this be
rightly termed recollection?
Very true.
So much is clear--that when we perceive something, either by the help of
sight, or hearing, or some other sense, from that perception we are
able to obtain a notion of some other thing like or unlike which is
associated with it but has been forgotten. Whence, as I was saying, one
of two alternatives follows:--either we had this knowledge at birth, and
continued to know through life; or, after birth, those who are said to
learn only remember, and learning is simply recollection.
Yes, that is quite true, Socrates.
And which alternative, Simmias, do you prefer? Had we the knowledge at
our birth, or did we recollect the things which we knew previously to
our birth?
I cannot decide at the moment.
At any rate you can decide whether he who has knowledge will or will not
be able to render an account of his knowledge? What do you say?
Certainly, he will.
But do you think that every man is able to give an account of these very
matters about which we are speaking?
Would that they could, Socrates, but I rather fear that to-morrow, at
this time, there will no longer be any one alive who is able to give an
account of them such as ought to be given.
Then you are not of opinion, Simmias, that all men know these things?
Certainly not.
They are in process of recollecting that which they learned before?
Certainly.
But when did our souls acquire this knowledge?--not since we were born
as men?
Certainly not.
And therefore, previously?
Yes.
Then, Simmias, our souls must also have existed without bodies before
they were in the form of man, and must have had intelligence.
Unless indeed you suppose, Socrates, that these notions are given us at
the very moment of birth; for this is the only time which remains.
Yes, my friend, but if so, when do we lose them? for they are not in
us when we are born--that is admitted. Do we lose them at the moment of
receiving them, or if not at what other time?
No, Socrates, I perceive that I was unconsciously talking nonsense.
Then may we not say, Simmias, that if, as we are always repeating, there
is an absolute beauty, and goodness, and an absolute essence of all
things; and if to this, which is now discovered to have existed in our
former state, we refer all our sensations, and with this compare them,
finding these ideas to be pre-existent and our inborn possession--then
our souls must have had a prior existence, but if not, there would be
no force in the argument? There is the same proof that these ideas must
have existed before we were born, as that our souls existed before we
were born; and if not the ideas, then not the souls.
Yes, Socrates; I am convinced that there is precisely the same necessity
for the one as for the other; and the argument retreats successfully
to the position that the existence of the soul before birth cannot be
separated from the existence of the essence of which you speak. For
there is nothing which to my mind is so patent as that beauty, goodness,
and the other notions of which you were just now speaking, have a most
real and absolute existence; and I am satisfied with the proof.
Well, but is Cebes equally satisfied? for I must convince him too.
I think, said Simmias, that Cebes is satisfied: although he is the most
incredulous of mortals, yet I believe that he is sufficiently convinced
of the existence of the soul before birth. But that after death the soul
will continue to exist is not yet proven even to my own satisfaction.
I cannot get rid of the feeling of the many to which Cebes was
referring--the feeling that when the man dies the soul will be
dispersed, and that this may be the extinction of her. For admitting
that she may have been born elsewhere, and framed out of other elements,
and was in existence before entering the human body, why after having
entered in and gone out again may she not herself be destroyed and come
to an end?
Very true, Simmias, said Cebes; about half of what was required has been
proven; to wit, that our souls existed before we were born:--that the
soul will exist after death as well as before birth is the other half of
which the proof is still wanting, and has to be supplied; when that is
given the demonstration will be complete.
But that proof, Simmias and Cebes, has been already given, said
Socrates, if you put the two arguments together--I mean this and the
former one, in which we admitted that everything living is born of the
dead. For if the soul exists before birth, and in coming to life and
being born can be born only from death and dying, must she not after
death continue to exist, since she has to be born again?--Surely the
proof which you desire has been already furnished. Still I suspect
that you and Simmias would be glad to probe the argument further. Like
children, you are haunted with a fear that when the soul leaves the
body, the wind may really blow her away and scatter her; especially if a
man should happen to die in a great storm and not when the sky is calm.
Cebes answered with a smile: Then, Socrates, you must argue us out of
our fears--and yet, strictly speaking, they are not our fears, but there
is a child within us to whom death is a sort of hobgoblin; him too we
must persuade not to be afraid when he is alone in the dark.
Socrates said: Let the voice of the charmer be applied daily until you
have charmed away the fear.
And where shall we find a good charmer of our fears, Socrates, when you
are gone?
Hellas, he replied, is a large place, Cebes, and has many good men, and
there are barbarous races not a few: seek for him among them all, far
and wide, sparing neither pains nor money; for there is no better way
of spending your money. And you must seek among yourselves too; for you
will not find others better able to make the search.
The search, replied Cebes, shall certainly be made. And now, if
you please, let us return to the point of the argument at which we
digressed.
By all means, replied Socrates; what else should I please?
Very good.
Must we not, said Socrates, ask ourselves what that is which, as we
imagine, is liable to be scattered, and about which we fear? and what
again is that about which we have no fear? And then we may proceed
further to enquire whether that which suffers dispersion is or is not
of the nature of soul--our hopes and fears as to our own souls will turn
upon the answers to these questions.
Very true, he said.
Now the compound or composite may be supposed to be naturally capable,
as of being compounded, so also of being dissolved; but that which is
uncompounded, and that only, must be, if anything is, indissoluble.
Yes; I should imagine so, said Cebes.
And the uncompounded may be assumed to be the same and unchanging,
whereas the compound is always changing and never the same.
I agree, he said.
Then now let us return to the previous discussion. Is that idea or
essence, which in the dialectical process we define as essence or true
existence--whether essence of equality, beauty, or anything else--are
these essences, I say, liable at times to some degree of change? or
are they each of them always what they are, having the same simple
self-existent and unchanging forms, not admitting of variation at all,
or in any way, or at any time?
They must be always the same, Socrates, replied Cebes.
And what would you say of the many beautiful--whether men or horses or
garments or any other things which are named by the same names and may
be called equal or beautiful,--are they all unchanging and the same
always, or quite the reverse? May they not rather be described as almost
always changing and hardly ever the same, either with themselves or with
one another?
The latter, replied Cebes; they are always in a state of change.
And these you can touch and see and perceive with the senses, but
the unchanging things you can only perceive with the mind--they are
invisible and are not seen?
That is very true, he said.
Well, then, added Socrates, let us suppose that there are two sorts of
existences--one seen, the other unseen.
Let us suppose them.
The seen is the changing, and the unseen is the unchanging?
That may be also supposed.
And, further, is not one part of us body, another part soul?
To be sure.
And to which class is the body more alike and akin?
Clearly to the seen--no one can doubt that.
And is the soul seen or not seen?
Not by man, Socrates.
And what we mean by 'seen' and 'not seen' is that which is or is not
visible to the eye of man?
Yes, to the eye of man.
And is the soul seen or not seen?
Not seen.
Unseen then?
Yes.
Then the soul is more like to the unseen, and the body to the seen?
That follows necessarily, Socrates.
And were we not saying long ago that the soul when using the body as an
instrument of perception, that is to say, when using the sense of sight
or hearing or some other sense (for the meaning of perceiving through
the body is perceiving through the senses)--were we not saying that the
soul too is then dragged by the body into the region of the changeable,
and wanders and is confused; the world spins round her, and she is like
a drunkard, when she touches change?
Very true.
But when returning into herself she reflects, then she passes into the
other world, the region of purity, and eternity, and immortality, and
unchangeableness, which are her kindred, and with them she ever lives,
when she is by herself and is not let or hindered; then she ceases
from her erring ways, and being in communion with the unchanging is
unchanging. And this state of the soul is called wisdom?
That is well and truly said, Socrates, he replied.
And to which class is the soul more nearly alike and akin, as far as may
be inferred from this argument, as well as from the preceding one?
I think, Socrates, that, in the opinion of every one who follows the
argument, the soul will be infinitely more like the unchangeable--even
the most stupid person will not deny that.
And the body is more like the changing?
Yes.
Yet once more consider the matter in another light: When the soul and
the body are united, then nature orders the soul to rule and govern, and
the body to obey and serve. Now which of these two functions is akin to
the divine? and which to the mortal? Does not the divine appear to you
to be that which naturally orders and rules, and the mortal to be that
which is subject and servant?
True.
And which does the soul resemble?
The soul resembles the divine, and the body the mortal--there can be no
doubt of that, Socrates.
Then reflect, Cebes: of all which has been said is not this the
conclusion?--that the soul is in the very likeness of the divine,
and immortal, and intellectual, and uniform, and indissoluble, and
unchangeable; and that the body is in the very likeness of the human,