Phaedo
religion especially the traditional form was required in order to give
verisimilitude to the myth. The myth too is far more probable to that
age than to ours, and may fairly be regarded as 'one guess among
many' about the nature of the earth, which he cleverly supports by the
indications of geology. Not that he insists on the absolute truth of
his own particular notions: 'no man of sense will be confident in such
matters; but he will be confident that something of the kind is true.'
As in other passages (Gorg., Tim., compare Crito), he wins belief for
his fictions by the moderation of his statements; he does not, like
Dante or Swedenborg, allow himself to be deceived by his own creations.
The Dialogue must be read in the light of the situation. And first of
all we are struck by the calmness of the scene. Like the spectators
at the time, we cannot pity Socrates; his mien and his language are
so noble and fearless. He is the same that he ever was, but milder and
gentler, and he has in no degree lost his interest in dialectics;
he will not forego the delight of an argument in compliance with the
jailer's intimation that he should not heat himself with talking. At
such a time he naturally expresses the hope of his life, that he has
been a true mystic and not a mere retainer or wand-bearer: and he refers
to passages of his personal history. To his old enemies the Comic
poets, and to the proceedings on the trial, he alludes playfully; but he
vividly remembers the disappointment which he felt in reading the books
of Anaxagoras. The return of Xanthippe and his children indicates that
the philosopher is not 'made of oak or rock.' Some other traits of his
character may be noted; for example, the courteous manner in which
he inclines his head to the last objector, or the ironical touch, 'Me
already, as the tragic poet would say, the voice of fate calls;' or
the depreciation of the arguments with which 'he comforted himself and
them;' or his fear of 'misology;' or his references to Homer; or the
playful smile with which he 'talks like a book' about greater and less;
or the allusion to the possibility of finding another teacher among
barbarous races (compare Polit.); or the mysterious reference to another
science (mathematics?) of generation and destruction for which he is
vainly feeling. There is no change in him; only now he is invested with
a sort of sacred character, as the prophet or priest of Apollo the God
of the festival, in whose honour he first of all composes a hymn,
and then like the swan pours forth his dying lay. Perhaps the extreme
elevation of Socrates above his own situation, and the ordinary
interests of life (compare his jeu d'esprit about his burial, in which
for a moment he puts on the 'Silenus mask'), create in the mind of the
reader an impression stronger than could be derived from arguments that
such a one has in him 'a principle which does not admit of death.'
The other persons of the Dialogue may be considered under two heads: (1)
private friends; (2) the respondents in the argument.
First there is Crito, who has been already introduced to us in the
Euthydemus and the Crito; he is the equal in years of Socrates, and
stands in quite a different relation to him from his younger disciples.
He is a man of the world who is rich and prosperous (compare the jest
in the Euthydemus), the best friend of Socrates, who wants to know his
commands, in whose presence he talks to his family, and who performs
the last duty of closing his eyes. It is observable too that, as in the
Euthydemus, Crito shows no aptitude for philosophical discussions. Nor
among the friends of Socrates must the jailer be forgotten, who seems
to have been introduced by Plato in order to show the impression made
by the extraordinary man on the common. The gentle nature of the man
is indicated by his weeping at the announcement of his errand and then
turning away, and also by the words of Socrates to his disciples: 'How
charming the man is! since I have been in prison he has been always
coming to me, and is as good as could be to me.' We are reminded
too that he has retained this gentle nature amid scenes of death and
violence by the contrasts which he draws between the behaviour of
Socrates and of others when about to die.
Another person who takes no part in the philosophical discussion is the
excitable Apollodorus, the same who, in the Symposium, of which he is
the narrator, is called 'the madman,' and who testifies his grief by the
most violent emotions. Phaedo is also present, the 'beloved disciple'
as he may be termed, who is described, if not 'leaning on his bosom,'
as seated next to Socrates, who is playing with his hair. He too, like
Apollodorus, takes no part in the discussion, but he loves above all
things to hear and speak of Socrates after his death. The calmness
of his behaviour, veiling his face when he can no longer restrain
his tears, contrasts with the passionate outcries of the other. At a
particular point the argument is described as falling before the attack
of Simmias. A sort of despair is introduced in the minds of the company.
The effect of this is heightened by the description of Phaedo, who has
been the eye-witness of the scene, and by the sympathy of his Phliasian
auditors who are beginning to think 'that they too can never trust an
argument again.' And the intense interest of the company is communicated
not only to the first auditors, but to us who in a distant country read
the narrative of their emotions after more than two thousand years have
passed away.
The two principal interlocutors are Simmias and Cebes, the disciples of
Philolaus the Pythagorean philosopher of Thebes. Simmias is described
in the Phaedrus as fonder of an argument than any man living; and
Cebes, although finally persuaded by Socrates, is said to be the most
incredulous of human beings. It is Cebes who at the commencement of
the Dialogue asks why 'suicide is held to be unlawful,' and who
first supplies the doctrine of recollection in confirmation of the
pre-existence of the soul. It is Cebes who urges that the pre-existence
does not necessarily involve the future existence of the soul, as is
shown by the illustration of the weaver and his coat. Simmias, on the
other hand, raises the question about harmony and the lyre, which is
naturally put into the mouth of a Pythagorean disciple. It is Simmias,
too, who first remarks on the uncertainty of human knowledge, and
only at last concedes to the argument such a qualified approval as is
consistent with the feebleness of the human faculties. Cebes is the
deeper and more consecutive thinker, Simmias more superficial and
rhetorical; they are distinguished in much the same manner as Adeimantus
and Glaucon in the Republic.
Other persons, Menexenus, Ctesippus, Lysis, are old friends; Evenus
has been already satirized in the Apology; Aeschines and Epigenes
were present at the trial; Euclid and Terpsion will reappear in the
Introduction to the Theaetetus, Hermogenes has already appeared in
the Cratylus. No inference can fairly be drawn from the absence of
Aristippus, nor from the omission of Xenophon, who at the time of
Socrates' death was in Asia. The mention of Plato's own absence seems
like an expression of sorrow, and may, perhaps, be an indication that
the report of the conversation is not to be taken literally.
The place of the Dialogue in the series is doubtful. The doctrine of
ideas is certainly carried beyond the Socratic point of view; in no
other of the writings of Plato is the theory of them so completely
developed. Whether the belief in immortality can be attributed to
Socrates or not is uncertain; the silence of the Memorabilia, and of the
earlier Dialogues of Plato, is an argument to the contrary. Yet in the
Cyropaedia Xenophon has put language into the mouth of the dying Cyrus
which recalls the Phaedo, and may have been derived from the teaching of
Socrates. It may be fairly urged that the greatest religious interest of
mankind could not have been wholly ignored by one who passed his life in
fulfilling the commands of an oracle, and who recognized a Divine plan
in man and nature. (Xen. Mem.) And the language of the Apology and of
the Crito confirms this view.
The Phaedo is not one of the Socratic Dialogues of Plato; nor, on the
other hand, can it be assigned to that later stage of the Platonic
writings at which the doctrine of ideas appears to be forgotten. It
belongs rather to the intermediate period of the Platonic philosophy,
which roughly corresponds to the Phaedrus, Gorgias, Republic,
Theaetetus. Without pretending to determine the real time of their
composition, the Symposium, Meno, Euthyphro, Apology, Phaedo may be
conveniently read by us in this order as illustrative of the life of
Socrates. Another chain may be formed of the Meno, Phaedrus, Phaedo,
in which the immortality of the soul is connected with the doctrine of
ideas. In the Meno the theory of ideas is based on the ancient belief in
transmigration, which reappears again in the Phaedrus as well as in the
Republic and Timaeus, and in all of them is connected with a doctrine of
retribution. In the Phaedrus the immortality of the soul is supposed to
rest on the conception of the soul as a principle of motion, whereas in
the Republic the argument turns on the natural continuance of the soul,
which, if not destroyed by her own proper evil, can hardly be destroyed
by any other. The soul of man in the Timaeus is derived from the Supreme
Creator, and either returns after death to her kindred star, or descends
into the lower life of an animal. The Apology expresses the same view
as the Phaedo, but with less confidence; there the probability of death
being a long sleep is not excluded. The Theaetetus also describes, in a
digression, the desire of the soul to fly away and be with God--'and to
fly to him is to be like him.' The Symposium may be observed to
resemble as well as to differ from the Phaedo. While the first notion of
immortality is only in the way of natural procreation or of posthumous
fame and glory, the higher revelation of beauty, like the good in the
Republic, is the vision of the eternal idea. So deeply rooted in
Plato's mind is the belief in immortality; so various are the forms of
expression which he employs.
As in several other Dialogues, there is more of system in the Phaedo
than appears at first sight. The succession of arguments is based on
previous philosophies; beginning with the mysteries and the Heracleitean
alternation of opposites, and proceeding to the Pythagorean harmony and
transmigration; making a step by the aid of Platonic reminiscence, and
a further step by the help of the nous of Anaxagoras; until at last we
rest in the conviction that the soul is inseparable from the ideas,
and belongs to the world of the invisible and unknown. Then, as in
the Gorgias or Republic, the curtain falls, and the veil of mythology
descends upon the argument. After the confession of Socrates that he is
an interested party, and the acknowledgment that no man of sense will
think the details of his narrative true, but that something of the kind
is true, we return from speculation to practice. He is himself more
confident of immortality than he is of his own arguments; and the
confidence which he expresses is less strong than that which his
cheerfulness and composure in death inspire in us.
Difficulties of two kinds occur in the Phaedo--one kind to be explained
out of contemporary philosophy, the other not admitting of an entire
solution. (1) The difficulty which Socrates says that he experienced in
explaining generation and corruption; the assumption of hypotheses which
proceed from the less general to the more general, and are tested by