Phaedo
opposites exclude one another, but also concrete things, which, although
not in themselves opposed, contain opposites; these, I say, likewise
reject the idea which is opposed to that which is contained in them,
and when it approaches them they either perish or withdraw. For example;
Will not the number three endure annihilation or anything sooner than be
converted into an even number, while remaining three?
Very true, said Cebes.
And yet, he said, the number two is certainly not opposed to the number
three?
It is not.
Then not only do opposite ideas repel the advance of one another, but
also there are other natures which repel the approach of opposites.
Very true, he said.
Suppose, he said, that we endeavour, if possible, to determine what
these are.
By all means.
Are they not, Cebes, such as compel the things of which they have
possession, not only to take their own form, but also the form of some
opposite?
What do you mean?
I mean, as I was just now saying, and as I am sure that you know, that
those things which are possessed by the number three must not only be
three in number, but must also be odd.
Quite true.
And on this oddness, of which the number three has the impress, the
opposite idea will never intrude?
No.
And this impress was given by the odd principle?
Yes.
And to the odd is opposed the even?
True.
Then the idea of the even number will never arrive at three?
No.
Then three has no part in the even?
None.
Then the triad or number three is uneven?
Very true.
To return then to my distinction of natures which are not opposed, and
yet do not admit opposites--as, in the instance given, three, although
not opposed to the even, does not any the more admit of the even, but
always brings the opposite into play on the other side; or as two does
not receive the odd, or fire the cold--from these examples (and there
are many more of them) perhaps you may be able to arrive at the general
conclusion, that not only opposites will not receive opposites, but also
that nothing which brings the opposite will admit the opposite of
that which it brings, in that to which it is brought. And here let me
recapitulate--for there is no harm in repetition. The number five will
not admit the nature of the even, any more than ten, which is the
double of five, will admit the nature of the odd. The double has another
opposite, and is not strictly opposed to the odd, but nevertheless
rejects the odd altogether. Nor again will parts in the ratio 3:2, nor
any fraction in which there is a half, nor again in which there is a
third, admit the notion of the whole, although they are not opposed to
the whole: You will agree?
Yes, he said, I entirely agree and go along with you in that.
And now, he said, let us begin again; and do not you answer my question
in the words in which I ask it: let me have not the old safe answer of
which I spoke at first, but another equally safe, of which the truth
will be inferred by you from what has been just said. I mean that if any
one asks you 'what that is, of which the inherence makes the body
hot,' you will reply not heat (this is what I call the safe and
stupid answer), but fire, a far superior answer, which we are now in a
condition to give. Or if any one asks you 'why a body is diseased,' you
will not say from disease, but from fever; and instead of saying that
oddness is the cause of odd numbers, you will say that the monad is the
cause of them: and so of things in general, as I dare say that you will
understand sufficiently without my adducing any further examples.
Yes, he said, I quite understand you.
Tell me, then, what is that of which the inherence will render the body
alive?
The soul, he replied.
And is this always the case?
Yes, he said, of course.
Then whatever the soul possesses, to that she comes bearing life?
Yes, certainly.
And is there any opposite to life?
There is, he said.
And what is that?
Death.
Then the soul, as has been acknowledged, will never receive the opposite
of what she brings.
Impossible, replied Cebes.
And now, he said, what did we just now call that principle which repels
the even?
The odd.
And that principle which repels the musical, or the just?
The unmusical, he said, and the unjust.
And what do we call the principle which does not admit of death?
The immortal, he said.
And does the soul admit of death?
No.
Then the soul is immortal?
Yes, he said.
And may we say that this has been proven?
Yes, abundantly proven, Socrates, he replied.
Supposing that the odd were imperishable, must not three be
imperishable?
Of course.
And if that which is cold were imperishable, when the warm principle
came attacking the snow, must not the snow have retired whole and
unmelted--for it could never have perished, nor could it have remained
and admitted the heat?
True, he said.
Again, if the uncooling or warm principle were imperishable, the fire
when assailed by cold would not have perished or have been extinguished,
but would have gone away unaffected?
Certainly, he said.
And the same may be said of the immortal: if the immortal is also
imperishable, the soul when attacked by death cannot perish; for the
preceding argument shows that the soul will not admit of death, or ever
be dead, any more than three or the odd number will admit of the even,
or fire or the heat in the fire, of the cold. Yet a person may say: 'But
although the odd will not become even at the approach of the even, why
may not the odd perish and the even take the place of the odd?' Now to
him who makes this objection, we cannot answer that the odd principle is
imperishable; for this has not been acknowledged, but if this had been
acknowledged, there would have been no difficulty in contending that
at the approach of the even the odd principle and the number three took
their departure; and the same argument would have held good of fire and
heat and any other thing.
Very true.
And the same may be said of the immortal: if the immortal is also
imperishable, then the soul will be imperishable as well as immortal;
but if not, some other proof of her imperishableness will have to be
given.
No other proof is needed, he said; for if the immortal, being eternal,
is liable to perish, then nothing is imperishable.
Yes, replied Socrates, and yet all men will agree that God, and the
essential form of life, and the immortal in general, will never perish.
Yes, all men, he said--that is true; and what is more, gods, if I am not
mistaken, as well as men.
Seeing then that the immortal is indestructible, must not the soul, if
she is immortal, be also imperishable?
Most certainly.
Then when death attacks a man, the mortal portion of him may be supposed
to die, but the immortal retires at the approach of death and is
preserved safe and sound?
True.
Then, Cebes, beyond question, the soul is immortal and imperishable, and
our souls will truly exist in another world!
I am convinced, Socrates, said Cebes, and have nothing more to object;
but if my friend Simmias, or any one else, has any further objection to
make, he had better speak out, and not keep silence, since I do not know
to what other season he can defer the discussion, if there is anything
which he wants to say or to have said.
But I have nothing more to say, replied Simmias; nor can I see any
reason for doubt after what has been said. But I still feel and cannot
help feeling uncertain in my own mind, when I think of the greatness of
the subject and the feebleness of man.
Yes, Simmias, replied Socrates, that is well said: and I may add that
first principles, even if they appear certain, should be carefully
considered; and when they are satisfactorily ascertained, then, with a
sort of hesitating confidence in human reason, you may, I think, follow
the course of the argument; and if that be plain and clear, there will
be no need for any further enquiry.
Very true.
But then, O my friends, he said, if the soul is really immortal, what
care should be taken of her, not only in respect of the portion of time
which is called life, but of eternity! And the danger of neglecting her
from this point of view does indeed appear to be awful. If death had
only been the end of all, the wicked would have had a good bargain in
dying, for they would have been happily quit not only of their body, but
of their own evil together with their souls. But now, inasmuch as the
soul is manifestly immortal, there is no release or salvation from evil
except the attainment of the highest virtue and wisdom. For the soul
when on her progress to the world below takes nothing with her but
nurture and education; and these are said greatly to benefit or greatly
to injure the departed, at the very beginning of his journey thither.
For after death, as they say, the genius of each individual, to whom
he belonged in life, leads him to a certain place in which the dead are
gathered together, whence after judgment has been given they pass into
the world below, following the guide, who is appointed to conduct them
from this world to the other: and when they have there received their
due and remained their time, another guide brings them back again after
many revolutions of ages. Now this way to the other world is not, as
Aeschylus says in the Telephus, a single and straight path--if that were
so no guide would be needed, for no one could miss it; but there are
many partings of the road, and windings, as I infer from the rites and
sacrifices which are offered to the gods below in places where three
ways meet on earth. The wise and orderly soul follows in the straight
path and is conscious of her surroundings; but the soul which desires
the body, and which, as I was relating before, has long been fluttering
about the lifeless frame and the world of sight, is after many struggles
and many sufferings hardly and with violence carried away by her
attendant genius, and when she arrives at the place where the other
souls are gathered, if she be impure and have done impure deeds, whether
foul murders or other crimes which are the brothers of these, and the
works of brothers in crime--from that soul every one flees and turns
away; no one will be her companion, no one her guide, but alone she
wanders in extremity of evil until certain times are fulfilled, and
when they are fulfilled, she is borne irresistibly to her own fitting
habitation; as every pure and just soul which has passed through life in
the company and under the guidance of the gods has also her own proper
home.
Now the earth has divers wonderful regions, and is indeed in nature
and extent very unlike the notions of geographers, as I believe on the
authority of one who shall be nameless.
What do you mean, Socrates? said Simmias. I have myself heard many
descriptions of the earth, but I do not know, and I should very much
like to know, in which of these you put faith.
And I, Simmias, replied Socrates, if I had the art of Glaucus would tell
you; although I know not that the art of Glaucus could prove the truth
of my tale, which I myself should never be able to prove, and even if
I could, I fear, Simmias, that my life would come to an end before the
argument was completed. I may describe to you, however, the form and
regions of the earth according to my conception of them.
That, said Simmias, will be enough.
Well, then, he said, my conviction is, that the earth is a round body
in the centre of the heavens, and therefore has no need of air or any
similar force to be a support, but is kept there and hindered from
falling or inclining any way by the equability of the surrounding heaven
and by her own equipoise. For that which, being in equipoise, is in the