Explain why Simmias and Cebes are so afraid of death in the phaedo, whereas Socrates is not. Does Socrates' explanation convince you, or are you, like simmias a - Essay Example

The action of the dialogue in Phaedo takes place on the eve of Socrates’ death in Athens in 399 B.C. As to be expected in this scenario, the dialogue centers round the significance and nature of death. Socrates, resolute in his own conviction of the immortality of the soul, faces his impending death with, not just equanimity, but eager anticipation. On the other hand, Simmias and Cebes, lacking Socrates’ conviction, fear death. The crux of the dialogue is Socrates’ argument persuading Simmias and Cebes to accept his point of view.

To the wonder of his disciples, Socrates remains “noble and fearless in the hour of death” (Plato, 5). Socrates unequivocally asserts that any true philosopher “will be willing to die” (6). He is convinced that a better life awaits him. Death, as the harbinger of “the greatest good” (8), is something the true philosopher desires and pursues. Death may be defined as “the separation of the soul and body” (8). The philosopher is a seeker of truth and lover of wisdom, who pursues the essence of the knowledge of existence.

In this pursuit, the body, with its’ lusts, sensual pleasures and physical needs, is “only a disturbing element, hindering the soul from the acquisition of knowledge” (10). Therefore, the philosopher desires death, which will release “the soul from the chains of the body” (11) and free the soul to attain the truth. His desire for the truth will be satisfied only by the separation of the soul from the body – that is, by death – which is the purification of the soul. Death is the philosopher’s means to gain wisdom, while the body is his “enemy” (11).

Socrates fearlessly and eagerly anticipates death and is ready “to depart with joy” (11) from this world. Cebes and Simmias acknowledge the truth of Socrates’ word, but continue to fear death, as they are afraid that the soul “may be destroyed and perish” (12) when she leaves the body, “vanishing into nothingness” after death. Socrates allays their fears by convincing them of the immortality of the soul. The accepted belief that “the living spring from the dead” (15) presupposes the prior existence of the soul, in another world, before it assumes human form.

As recollection is an essential part of knowledge, this recollection is obviously gained by the intelligent souls’ existence in another place. The rebirth of the soul is proof of the souls’ immortality, as “everything living is born of the dead” (19). Once it is accepted that the soul is invisible, unchangeable and “in the very likeness of the divine” (21), it follows that, unlike the body, the pure and noble soul remains indissoluble and immortal. Furthermore, as the soul is the bearer of life, she cannot admit of death, which is the opposite of life.

Socrates, who, as a true philosopher, has devoted his life to “the attainment of the highest virtue and wisdom” (40) and has spurned bodily pleasure, is eager to be “released from this earthly prison” (45). Death, for him, is not a misfortune but a cause of rejoicing and the means “to be freed from human ills” (24). I must confess that, like Simmias and Cebes, “there is a child within (me) to whom death is a sort of hobgoblin” (19). Unlike Socrates, who is armed with the conviction that he has resolutely abhorred bodily pleasures and pursued neither power not wealth, but only true wisdom, I am no true philosopher!

As such, being “not devoid of natural feeling” (32), I am justified in fearing death. However, just as Socrates’ argument convinced Simmias and Cebes of the immortality of the soul and of death being but the means to the salvation of that soul, it has convinced me to endeavor to pursue “temperance, justice, courage, nobility and truth” (45) so that, when my time comes, I too can face death with the fortitude of a philosopher and look forward to “live in bliss --- and forever dwell --- in company with the gods” (22).

360 BC PHAEDO by Plato translated by Benjamin Jowett PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE PHAEDO, who is the narrator of the dialogue to ECHECRATES of Phlius SOCRATES APOLLODORUS SIMMIAS CEBES CRITO ATTENDANT OF THE PRISONPHAEDO SCENE: The Prison of Socrates PLACE OF THE NARRATION: Phlius Echecrates. Were you yourself, Phaedo, in the prison with Socrateson the day when he drank the poison? Phaedo. Yes, Echecrates, I was. Ech. I wish that you would tell me about his death.

What did hesay in his last hours? We were informed that he died by taking poison,but no one knew anything more; for no Phliasian ever goes to Athensnow, and a long time has elapsed since any Athenian found his way toPhlius, and therefore we had no clear account. Phaed. Did you not hear of the proceedings at the trial? Ech. Yes; someone told us about the trial, and we could notunderstand why, having been condemned, he was put to death, asappeared, not at the time, but long afterwards. What was the reason ofthis? Phaed. An accident, Echecrates.

The reason was that the stern of theship which the Athenians send to Delos happened to have been crownedon the day before he was tried. Ech. What is this ship? Phaed. This is the ship in which, as the Athenians say, Theseus wentto Crete when he took with him the fourteen youths, and was thesaviour of them and of himself. And they were said to have vowed toApollo at the time, that if they were saved they would make anannual pilgrimage to Delos. Now this custom still continues, and thewhole period of the voyage to and from Delos, beginning when thepriest of Apollo crowns the stern of the ship, is a holy season,during which the city is not allowed to be polluted by publicexecutions; and often, when the vessel is detained by adverse winds,there may be a very considerable delay.

As I was saying, the shipwas crowned on the day before the trial, and this was the reason whySocrates lay in prison and was not put to death until long after hewas condemned. Ech. What was the manner of his death, Phaedo? What was said ordone? And which of his friends had he with him? Or were they notallowed by the authorities to be present? And did he die alone? Phaed. No; there were several of his friends with him. Ech. If you have nothing to do, I wish that you would tell me whatpassed, as exactly as you can. Phaed. I have nothing to do, and will try to gratify your wish.

For to me, too, there is no greater pleasure than to have Socratesbrought to my recollection, whether I speak myself or hear anotherspeak of him. Ech. You will have listeners who are of the same mind with you,and I hope that you will be as exact as you can. Phaed. I remember the strange feeling which came over me at beingwith him. For I could hardly believe that I was present at the deathof a friend, and therefore I did not pity him, Echecrates; his mienand his language were so noble and fearless in the hour of deaththat to me he appeared blessed.

I thought that in going to the otherworld he could not be without a divine call, and that he would behappy, if any man ever was, when he arrived there, and therefore I didnot pity him as might seem natural at such a time. But neither could Ifeel the pleasure which I usually felt in philosophical discourse (forphilosophy was the theme of which we spoke). I was pleased, and Iwas also pained, because I knew that he was soon to die, and thisstrange mixture of feeling was shared by us all; we were laughingand weeping by turns, especially the excitable Apollodorus-you knowthe sort of man? Ech. Yes. Phaed. He was quite overcome; and I myself and all of us weregreatly moved. Ech. Who were present? Phaed. Of native Athenians there were, besides Apollodorus,Critobulus and his father Crito, Hermogenes, Epigenes, Aeschines,and Antisthenes; likewise Ctesippus of the deme of Paeania, Menexenus,and some others; but Plato, if I am not mistaken, was ill. Ech. Were there any strangers? Phaed. Yes, there were; Simmias the Theban, and Cebes, andPhaedondes; Euclid and Terpison, who came from Megara. Ech. And was Aristippus there, and Cleombrotus? Phaed. No, they were said to be in Aegina. Ech. Anyone else? Phaed. I think that these were about all. Ech. And what was the discourse of which you spoke? Phaed. I will begin at the beginning, and endeavor to repeat theentire conversation.

You must understand that we had been previouslyin the habit of assembling early in the morning at the court inwhich the trial was held, and which is not far from the prison.There we remained talking with one another until the opening of theprison doors (for they were not opened very early), and then went inand generally passed the day with Socrates. On the last morning themeeting was earlier than usual; this was owing to our having heardon the previous evening that the sacred ship had arrived from Delos,and therefore we agreed to meet very early at the accustomed place.

Onour going to the prison, the jailer who answered the door, insteadof admitting us, came out and bade us wait and he would call us."For the Eleven," he said, "are now with Socrates; they are taking offhis chains, and giving orders that he is to die to-day." He soonreturned and said that we might come in. On entering we found Socratesjust released from chains, and Xanthippe, whom you know, sitting byhim, and holding his child in her arms. When she saw us she uttereda cry and said, as women will: "O Socrates, this is the last time thateither you will converse with your friends, or they with you.

"Socrates turned to Crito and said: "Crito, let someone take her home."Some of Critos people accordingly led her away, crying out andbeating herself. And when she was gone, Socrates, sitting up on thecouch, began to bend and rub his leg, saying, as he rubbed: "Howsingular is the thing called pleasure, and how curiously related topain, which might be thought to be the opposite of it; for theynever come to a man together, and yet he who pursues either of them isgenerally compelled to take the other.

They are two, and yet they growtogether out of one head or stem; and I cannot help thinking that ifAesop had noticed them, he would have made a fable about God trying toreconcile their strife, and when he could not, he fastened their headstogether; and this is the reason why when one comes the other follows,as I find in my own case pleasure comes following after the pain in myleg, which was caused by the chain." Upon this Cebes said: I am very glad indeed, Socrates, that youmentioned the name of Aesop.

For that reminds me of a question whichhas been asked by others, and was asked of me only the day beforeyesterday by Evenus the poet, and as he will be sure to ask again, youmay as well tell me what I should say to him, if you would like him tohave an answer. He wanted to know why you who never before wrote aline of poetry, now that you are in prison are putting Aesop intoverse, and also composing that hymn in honor of Apollo. Tell him, Cebes, he replied, that I had no idea of rivalling himor his poems; which is the truth, for I knew that I could not do that.

But I wanted to see whether I could purge away a scruple which Ifelt about certain dreams. In the course of my life I have often hadintimations in dreams "that I should make music." The same dreamcame to me sometimes in one form, and sometimes in another, but alwayssaying the same or nearly the same words: Make and cultivate music,said the dream. And hitherto I had imagined that this was onlyintended to exhort and encourage me in the study of philosophy,which has always been the pursuit of my life, and is the noblest andbest of music.

The dream was bidding me to do what I was alreadydoing, in the same way that the competitor in a race is bidden bythe spectators to run when he is already running. But I was notcertain of this, as the dream might have meant music in the popularsense of the word, and being under sentence of death, and the festivalgiving me a respite, I thought that I should be safer if I satisfiedthe scruple, and, in obedience to the dream, composed a few versesbefore I departed. And first I made a hymn in honor of the god ofthe festival, and then considering that a poet, if he is really tobe a poet or maker, should not only put words together but makestories, and as I have no invention, I took some fables of esop, whichI had ready at hand and knew, and turned them into verse.

TellEvenus this, and bid him be of good cheer; that I would have himcome after me if he be a wise man, and not tarry; and that to-day I amlikely to be going, for the Athenians say that I must. Simmias said: What a message for such a man! having been afrequent companion of his, I should say that, as far as I know him, hewill never take your advice unless he is obliged. Why, said Socrates,-is not Evenus a philosopher? I think that he is, said Simmias. Then he, or any man who has the spirit of philosophy, will bewilling to die, though he will not take his own life, for that is heldnot to be right.

Here he changed his position, and put his legs off the couch on tothe ground, and during the rest of the conversation he remainedsitting. Why do you say, inquired Cebes, that a man ought not to take his ownlife, but that the philosopher will be ready to follow the dying? Socrates replied: And have you, Cebes and Simmias, who areacquainted with Philolaus, never heard him speak of this? I never understood him, Socrates. My words, too, are only an echo; but I am very willing to say what Ihave heard: and indeed, as I am going to another place, I ought tobe thinking and talking of the nature of the pilgrimage which I amabout to make.

What can I do better in the interval between this andthe setting of the sun? Then tell me, Socrates, why is suicide held not to be right? as Ihave certainly heard Philolaus affirm when he was staying with us atThebes: and there are others who say the same, although none of themhas ever made me understand him. But do your best, replied Socrates, and the day may come when youwill understand. I suppose that you wonder why, as most things whichare evil may be accidentally good, this is to be the only exception(for may not death, too, be better than life in some cases?), and why,when a man is better dead, he is not permitted to be his ownbenefactor, but must wait for the hand of another.

By Jupiter! yes, indeed, said Cebes, laughing, and speaking in hisnative Doric. I admit the appearance of inconsistency, replied Socrates, but theremay not be any real inconsistency after all in this. There is adoctrine uttered in secret that man is a prisoner who has no rightto open the door of his prison and run away; this is a great mysterywhich I do not quite understand. Yet I, too, believe that the gods areour guardians, and that we are a possession of theirs. Do you notagree? Yes, I agree to that, said Cebes.

And if one of your own possessions, an ox or an ass, for exampletook the liberty of putting himself out of the way when you hadgiven no intimation of your wish that he should die, would you notbe angry with him, and would you not punish him if you could? Certainly, replied Cebes. Then there may be reason in saying that a man should wait, and nottake his own life until God summons him, as he is now summoning me. Yes, Socrates, said Cebes, there is surely reason in that. And yethow can you reconcile this seemingly true belief that God is ourguardian and we his possessions, with that willingness to die which wewere attributing to the philosopher?

That the wisest of men shouldbe willing to leave this service in which they are ruled by the godswho are the best of rulers is not reasonable, for surely no wise manthinks that when set at liberty he can take better care of himselfthan the gods take of him. A fool may perhaps think this-he mayargue that he had better run away from his master, not consideringthat his duty is to remain to the end, and not to run away from thegood, and that there is no sense in his running away. But the wise manwill want to be ever with him who is better than himself.

Now this,Socrates, is the reverse of what was just now said; for upon this viewthe wise man should sorrow and the fool rejoice at passing out oflife. The earnestness of Cebes seemed to please Socrates. Here, said he,turning to us, is a man who is always inquiring, and is not to beconvinced all in a moment, nor by every argument. And in this case, added Simmias, his objection does appear to meto have some force. For what can be the meaning of a truly wise manwanting to fly away and lightly leave a master who is better thanhimself?

And I rather imagine that Cebes is referring to you; hethinks that you are too ready to leave us, and too ready to leavethe gods who, as you acknowledge, are our good rulers. Yes, replied Socrates; there is reason in that. And thisindictment you think that I ought to answer as if I were in court? That is what we should like, said Simmias. Then I must try to make a better impression upon you than I did whendefending myself before the judges. For I am quite ready toacknowledge, Simmias and Cebes, that I ought to be grieved at death,if I were not persuaded that I am going to other gods who are wise andgood (of this I am as certain as I can be of anything of the sort) andto men departed (though I am not so certain of this), who are betterthan those whom I leave behind; and therefore I do not grieve as Imight have done, for I have good hope that there is yet somethingremaining for the dead, and, as has been said of old, some farbetter thing for the good than for the evil.

But do you mean to take away your thoughts with you, Socrates?said Simmias. Will you not communicate them to us?-the benefit isone in which we too may hope to share. Moreover, if you succeed inconvincing us, that will be an answer to the charge against yourself. I will do my best, replied Socrates. But you must first let mehear what Crito wants; he was going to say something to me. Only this, Socrates, replied Crito: the attendant who is to give youthe poison has been telling me that you are not to talk much, and hewants me to let you know this; for that by talking heat isincreased, and this interferes with the action of the poison; thosewho excite themselves are sometimes obliged to drink the poison two orthree times.

Then, said Socrates, let him mind his business and be prepared togive the poison two or three times, if necessary; that is all. I was almost certain that you would say that, replied Crito; but Iwas obliged to satisfy him. Never mind him, he said. And now I will make answer to you, O my judges, and show that he whohas lived as a true philosopher has reason to be of good cheer when heis about to die, and that after death he may hope to receive thegreatest good in the other world. And how this may be, Simmias andCebes, I will endeavor to explain.

For I deem that the true discipleof philosophy is likely to be misunderstood by other men; they donot perceive that he is ever pursuing death and dying; and if thisis true, why, having had the desire of death all his life long, shouldhe repine at the arrival of that which he has been always pursuing anddesiring? Simmias laughed and said: Though not in a laughing humor, I swearthat I cannot help laughing when I think what the wicked world willsay when they hear this. They will say that this is very true, and ourpeople at home will agree with them in saying that the life whichphilosophers desire is truly death, and that they have found themout to be deserving of the death which they desire.

And they are right, Simmias, in saying this, with the exception ofthe words "They have found them out"; for they have not found out whatis the nature of this death which the true philosopher desires, or howhe deserves or desires death. But let us leave them and have a wordwith ourselves: Do we believe that there is such a thing as death? To be sure, replied Simmias. And is this anything but the separation of soul and body? Andbeing dead is the attainment of this separation; when the soulexists in herself, and is parted from the body and the body isparted from the soul-that is death?

Exactly: that and nothing else, he replied. And what do you say of another question, my friend, about which Ishould like to have your opinion, and the answer to which willprobably throw light on our present inquiry: Do you think that thephilosopher ought to care about the pleasures-if they are to be calledpleasures-of eating and drinking? Certainly not, answered Simmias. And what do you say of the pleasures of love-should he care aboutthem? By no means. And will he think much of the other ways of indulging the body-forexample, the acquisition of costly raiment, or sandals, or otheradornments of the body?

Instead of caring about them, does he notrather despise anything more than nature needs? What do you say? I should say the true philosopher would despise them. Would you not say that he is entirely concerned with the soul andnot with the body? He would like, as far as he can, to be quit ofthe body and turn to the soul. That is true. In matters of this sort philosophers, above all other men, may beobserved in every sort of way to dissever the soul from the body. That is true. Whereas, Simmias, the rest of the world are of opinion that a lifewhich has no bodily pleasures and no part in them is not worth having;but that he who thinks nothing of bodily pleasures is almost as thoughhe were dead.

That is quite true. What again shall we say of the actual acquirement of knowledge?-isthe body, if invited to share in the inquiry, a hinderer or ahelper? I mean to say, have sight and hearing any truth in them? Arethey not, as the poets are always telling us, inaccurate witnesses?and yet, if even they are inaccurate and indistinct, what is to besaid of the other senses?-for you will allow that they are the best ofthem? Certainly, he replied. Then when does the soul attain truth?-for in attempting toconsider anything in company with the body she is obviously deceived.

Yes, that is true. Then ust nmot existence be revealed to her in thought, if at all? Yes. And thought is best when the mind is gathered into herself andnone of these things trouble her-neither sounds nor sights nor painnor any pleasure-when she has as little as possible to do with thebody, and has no bodily sense or feeling, but is aspiring after being? That is true. And in this the philosopher dishonors the body; his soul runs awayfrom the body and desires to be alone and by herself? That is true.

Well, but there is another thing, Simmias: Is there or is therenot an absolute justice? Assuredly there is. And an absolute beauty and absolute good? Of course. But did you ever behold any of them with your eyes? Certainly not. Or did you ever reach them with any other bodily sense? (and I speaknot of these alone, but of absolute greatness, and health, andstrength, and of the essence or true nature of everything). Has thereality of them ever been perceived by you through the bodilyorgans?

or rather, is not the nearest approach to the knowledge oftheir several natures made by him who so orders his intellectualvision as to have the most exact conception of the essence of thatwhich he considers? Certainly. And he attains to the knowledge of them in their highest puritywho goes to each of them with the mind alone, not allowing when in theact of thought the intrusion or introduction of sight or any othersense in the company of reason, but with the very light of the mind inher clearness penetrates into the very fight of truth in each; hehas got rid, as far as he can, of eyes and ears and of the whole body,which he conceives of only as a disturbing element, hindering the soulfrom the acquisition of knowledge when in company with her-is not thisthe sort of man who, if ever man did, is likely to attain theknowledge of existence?

There is admirable truth in that, Socrates, replied Simmias. And when they consider all this, must not true philosophers make areflection, of which they will speak to one another in such words asthese: We have found, they will say, a path of speculation which seemsto bring us and the argument to the conclusion that while we are inthe body, and while the soul is mingled with this mass of evil, ourdesire will not be satisfied, and our desire is of the truth. Forthe body is a source of endless trouble to us by reason of the mererequirement of food; and also is liable to diseases which overtake andimpede us in the search after truth: and by filling us so full ofloves, and lusts, and fears, and fancies, and idols, and every sort offolly, prevents our ever having, as people say, so much as athought.

For whence come wars, and fightings, and factions? whence butfrom the body and the lusts of the body? For wars are occasioned bythe love of money, and money has to be acquired for the sake and inthe service of the body; and in consequence of all these things thetime which ought to be given to philosophy is lost. Moreover, if thereis time and an inclination toward philosophy, yet the bodyintroduces a turmoil and confusion and fear into the course ofspeculation, and hinders us from seeing the truth: and allexperience shows that if we would have pure knowledge of anything wemust be quit of the body, and the soul in herself must behold allthings in themselves: then I suppose that we shall attain that whichwe desire, and of which we say that we are lovers, and that is wisdom,not while we live, but after death, as the argument shows; for ifwhile in company with the body the soul cannot have pure knowledge,one of two things seems to follow-either knowledge is not to beattained at all, or, if at all, after death.

For then, and not tillthen, the soul will be in herself alone and without the body. Inthis present life, I reckon that we make the nearest approach toknowledge when we have the least possible concern or interest in thebody, and are not saturated with the bodily nature, but remain pureuntil the hour when God himself is pleased to release us. And then thefoolishness of the body will be cleared away and we shall be pureand hold converse with other pure souls, and know of ourselves theclear light everywhere; and this is surely the light of truth.

Forno impure thing is allowed to approach the pure. These are the sort ofwords, Simmias, which the true lovers of wisdom cannot help sayingto one another, and thinking. You will agree with me in that? Certainly, Socrates. But if this is true, O my friend, then there is great hope that,going whither I go, I shall there be satisfied with that which hasbeen the chief concern of you and me in our past lives. And now thatthe hour of departure is appointed to me, this is the hope withwhich I depart, and not I only, but every man who believes that he hashis mind purified.

Certainly, replied Simmias. And what is purification but the separation of the soul from thebody, as I was saying before; the habit of the soul gathering andcollecting herself into herself, out of all the courses of the body;the dwelling in her own place alone, as in another life, so also inthis, as far as she can; the release of the soul from the chains ofthe body? Very true, he said. And what is that which is termed death, but this very separation andrelease of the soul from the body? To be sure, he said.

And the true philosophers, and they only, study and are eager torelease the soul. Is not the separation and release of the soul fromthe body their especial study? That is true. And as I was saying at first, there would be a ridiculouscontradiction in men studying to live as nearly as they can in a stateof death, and yet repining when death comes. Certainly. Then, Simmias, as the true philosophers are ever studying death,to them, of all men, death is the least terrible. Look at the matterin this way: how inconsistent of them to have been always enemies ofthe body, and wanting to have the soul alone, and when this is grantedto them, to be trembling and repining; instead of rejoicing at theirdeparting to that place where, when they arrive, they hope to gainthat which in life they loved (and this was wisdom), and at the sametime to be rid of the company of their enemy.

Many a man has beenwilling to go to the world below in the hope of seeing there anearthly love, or wife, or son, and conversing with them. And will hewho is a true lover of wisdom, and is persuaded in like manner thatonly in the world below he can worthily enjoy her, still repine atdeath? Will he not depart with joy? Surely he will, my friend, if hebe a true philosopher. For he will have a firm conviction that thereonly, and nowhere else, he can find wisdom in her purity. And ifthis be true, he would be very absurd, as I was saying, if he wereto fear death.

He would, indeed, replied Simmias. And when you see a man who is repining at the approach of death,is not his reluctance a sufficient proof that he is not a lover ofwisdom, but a lover of the body, and probably at the same time a loverof either money or power, or both? That is very true, he replied. There is a virtue, Simmias, which is named courage. Is not that aspecial attribute of the philosopher? Certainly. Again, there is temperance. Is not the calm, and control, anddisdain of the passions which even the many call temperance, a qualitybelonging only to those who despise the body and live in philosophy?

That is not to be denied. For the courage and temperance of other men, if you will considerthem, are really a contradiction. How is that, Socrates? Well, he said, you are aware that death is regarded by men ingeneral as a great evil. That is true, he said. And do not courageous men endure death because they are afraid ofyet greater evils? That is true. Then all but the philosophers are courageous only from fear, andbecause they are afraid; and yet that a man should be courageousfrom fear, and because he is a coward, is surely a strange thing.

Very true. And are not the temperate exactly in the same case? They aretemperate because they are intemperate-which may seem to be acontradiction, but is nevertheless the sort of thing which happenswith this foolish temperance. For there are pleasures which theymust have, and are afraid of losing; and therefore they abstain fromone class of pleasures because they are overcome by another: andwhereas intemperance is defined as "being under the dominion ofpleasure," they overcome only because they are overcome by pleasure.

And that is what I mean by saying that they are temperate throughintemperance. That appears to be true. Yet the exchange of one fear or pleasure or pain for another fear orpleasure or pain, which are measured like coins, the greater withthe less, is not the exchange of virtue. O my dear Simmias, is therenot one true coin for which all things ought to exchange?-and thatis wisdom; and only in exchange for this, and in company with this, isanything truly bought or sold, whether courage or temperance orjustice.

And is not all true virtue the companion of wisdom, no matterwhat fears or pleasures or other similar goods or evils may or may notattend her? But the virtue which is made up of these goods, whenthey are severed from wisdom and exchanged with one another, is ashadow of virtue only, nor is there any freedom or health or truthin her; but in the true exchange there is a purging away of allthese things, and temperance, and justice, and courage, and wisdomherself are a purgation of them. And I conceive that the founders ofthe mysteries had a real meaning and were not mere triflers whenthey intimated in a figure long ago that he who passes unsanctifiedand uninitiated into the world below will live in a slough, but thathe who arrives there after initiation and purification will dwell withthe gods.

For "many," as they say in the mysteries, "are the thyrsusbearers, but few are the mystics,"-meaning, as I interpret thewords, the true philosophers. In the number of whom I have beenseeking, according to my ability, to find a place during my wholelife; whether I have sought in a right way or not, and whether Ihave succeeded or not, I shall truly know in a little while, if Godwill, when I myself arrive in the other world: that is my belief.And now, Simmias and Cebes, I have answered those who charge me withnot grieving or repining at parting from you and my masters in thisworld; and I am right in not repining, for I believe that I shall findother masters and friends who are as good in the world below.

Butall men cannot believe this, and I shall be glad if my words haveany more success with you than with the judges of the Athenians. Cebes answered: I agree, Socrates, in the greater part of what yousay. But in what relates to the soul, men are apt to be incredulous;they fear that when she leaves the body her place may be nowhere,and that on the very day of death she may be destroyed andperish-immediately on her release from the body, issuing forth likesmoke or air and vanishing away into nothingness.

For if she couldonly hold together and be herself after she was released from theevils of the body, there would be good reason to hope, Socrates,that what you say is true. But much persuasion and many argumentsare required in order to prove that when the man is dead the soulyet exists, and has any force of intelligence. True, Cebes, said Socrates; and shall I suggest that we talk alittle of the probabilities of these things? I am sure, said Cebes, that I should gready like to know youropinion about them.

I reckon, said Socrates, that no one who heard me now, not even ifhe were one of my old enemies, the comic poets, could accuse me ofidle talking about matters in which I have no concern. Let us, then,if you please, proceed with the inquiry. Whether the souls of men after death are or are not in the worldbelow, is a question which may be argued in this manner: The ancientdoctrine of which I have been speaking affirms that they go fromthis into the other world, and return hither, and are born from thedead.

Now if this be true, and the living come from the dead, then oursouls must be in the other world, for if not, how could they be bornagain? And this would be conclusive, if there were any real evidencethat the living are only born from the dead; but if there is noevidence of this, then other arguments will have to be adduced. That is very true, replied Cebes. Then let us consider this question, not in relation to man only, butin relation to animals generally, and to plants, and to everythingof which there is generation, and the proof will be easier.

Are notall things which have opposites generated out of their opposites? Imean such things as good and evil, just and unjust-and there areinnumerable other opposites which are generated out of opposites.And I want to show that this holds universally of all opposites; Imean to say, for example, that anything which becomes greater mustbecome greater after being less. True. And that which becomes less must have been once greater and thenbecome less. Yes. And the weaker is generated from the stronger, and the swifterfrom the slower.

Very true. And the worse is from the better, and the more just is from the moreunjust. Of course. And is this true of all opposites? and are we convinced that allof them are generated out of opposites? Yes. And in this universal opposition of all things, are there not alsotwo intermediate processes which are ever going on, from one to theother, and back again; where there is a greater and a less there isalso an intermediate process of increase and diminution, and thatwhich grows is said to wax, and that which decays to wane?

Yes, he said. And there are many other processes, such as division andcomposition, cooling and heating, which equally involve a passage intoand out of one another. And this holds of all opposites, even thoughnot always expressed in words-they are generated out of one another,and there is a passing or process from one to the other of them? Very true, he replied. Well, and is there not an opposite of life, as sleep is the oppositeof waking? True, he said. And what is that? Death, he answered.

And these, then, are generated, if they are opposites, the onefrom the other, and have there their two intermediate processes also? Of course. Now, said Socrates, I will analyze one of the two pairs of oppositeswhich I have mentioned to you, and also its intermediate processes,and you shall analyze the other to me. The state of sleep is opposedto the state of waking, and out of sleeping waking is generated, andout of waking, sleeping, and the process of generation is in the onecase falling asleep, and in the other waking up.

Are you agreedabout that? Quite agreed. Then suppose that you analyze life and death to me in the samemanner. Is not death opposed to life? Yes. And they are generated one from the other? Yes. What is generated from life? Death. And what from death? I can only say in answer-life. Then the living, whether things or persons, Cebes, are generatedfrom the dead? That is clear, he replied. Then the inference is, that our souls are in the world below? That is true. And one of the two processes or generations is visible-for surelythe act of dying is visible?

Surely, he said. And may not the other be inferred as the complement of nature, whois not to be supposed to go on one leg only? And if not, acorresponding process of generation in death must also be assignedto her? Certainly, he replied. And what is that process? Revival. And revival, if there be such a thing, is the birth of the dead intothe world of the living? Quite true. Then there is a new way in which we arrive at the inference that theliving come from the dead, just as the dead come from the living;and if this is true, then the souls of the dead must be in someplace out of which they come again.

And this, as I think, has beensatisfactorily proved. Yes, Socrates, he said; all this seems to flow necessarily out ofour previous admissions. And that these admissions are not unfair, Cebes, he said, may beshown, as I think, in this way: If generation were in a straightline only, and there were no compensation or circle in nature, no turnor return into one another, then you know that all things would atlast have the same form and pass into the same state, and therewould be no more generation of them.

What do you mean? he said. A simple thing enough, which I will illustrate by the case of sleep,he replied. You know that if there were no compensation of sleepingand waking, the story of the sleeping Endymion would in the end haveno meaning, because all other things would be asleep, too, and hewould not be thought of. Or if there were composition only, and nodivision of substances, then the chaos of Anaxagoras would come again.And in like manner, my dear Cebes, if all things which partook of lifewere to die, and after they were dead remained in the form of death,and did not come to life again, all would at last die, and nothingwould be alive-how could this be otherwise?

For if the living springfrom any others who are not the dead, and they die, must not allthings at last be swallowed up in death? There is no escape from that, Socrates, said Cebes; and I think thatwhat you say is entirely true. Yes, he said, Cebes, I entirely think so, too; and we are notwalking in a vain imagination; but I am confident in the belief thatthere truly is such a thing as living again, and that the livingspring from the dead, and that the souls of the dead are in existence,and that the good souls have a better portion than the evil.

Cebes added: Your favorite doctrine, Socrates, that knowledge issimply recollection, if true, also necessarily implies a previous timein which we learned that which we now recollect. But this would beimpossible unless our soul was in some place before existing in thehuman form; here, then, is another argument of the souls immortality. But tell me, Cebes, said Simmias, interposing, what proofs are givenof this doctrine of recollection? I am not very sure at this momentthat I remember them. One excellent proof, said Cebes, is afforded by questions.

If youput a question to a person in a right way, he will give a trueanswer of himself; but how could he do this unless there wereknowledge and right reason already in him? And this is most clearlyshown when he is taken to a diagram or to anything of that sort. But if, said Socrates, you are still incredulous, Simmias, I wouldask you whether you may not agree with me when you look at thematter in another way; I mean, if you are still incredulous as towhether knowledge is recollection. Incredulous, I am not, said Simmias; but I want to have thisdoctrine of recollection brought to my own recollection, and, fromwhat Cebes has said, I am beginning to recollect and be convinced; butI should still like to hear what more you have to say.

This is what I would say, he replied: We should agree, if I am notmistaken, that what a man recollects he must have known at someprevious time. Very true. And what is the nature of this recollection? And, in asking this,I mean to ask whether, when a person has already seen or heard or inany way perceived anything, and he knows not only that, butsomething else of which he has not the same, but another knowledge, wemay not fairly say that he recollects that which comes into hismind. Are we agreed about that?

What do you mean? I mean what I may illustrate by the following instance: Theknowledge of a lyre is not the same as the knowledge of a man? True. And yet what is the feeling of lovers when they recognize a lyre, ora garment, or anything else which the beloved has been in the habit ofusing? Do not they, from knowing the lyre, form in the minds eye animage of the youth to whom the lyre belongs? And this is recollection:and in the same way anyone who sees Simmias may remember Cebes; andthere are endless other things of the same nature.

Yes, indeed, there are-endless, replied Simmias. And this sort of thing, he said, is recollection, and is mostcommonly a process of recovering that which has been forgotten throughtime and inattention. Very true, he said. Well; and may you not also from seeing the picture of a horse or alyre remember a man? and from the picture of Simmias, you may be ledto remember Cebes? True. Or you may also be led to the recollection of Simmias himself? True, he said. And in all these cases, the recollection may be derived fromthings either like or unlike?

That is true. And when the recollection is derived from like things, then there issure to be another question, which is, whether the likeness of thatwhich is recollected is in any way defective or not. Very true, he said. And shall we proceed a step further, and affirm that there is such athing as equality, not of wood with wood, or of stone with stone,but that, over and above this, there is equality in the abstract?Shall we affirm this? Affirm, yes, and swear to it, replied Simmias, with all theconfidence in life.

And do we know the nature of this abstract essence? To be sure, he said. And whence did we obtain this knowledge? Did we not see equalitiesof material things, such as pieces of wood and stones, and gather fromthem the idea of an equality which is different from them?-you willadmit that? Or look at the matter again in this way: Do not the samepieces of wood or stone appear at one time equal, and at anothertime unequal? That is certain. But are real equals ever unequal? or is the idea of equality everinequality?

That surely was never yet known, Socrates. Then these (so-called) equals are not the same with the idea ofequality? I should say, clearly not, Socrates. And yet from these equals, although differing from the idea ofequality, you conceived and attained that idea? Very true, he said. Which might be like, or might be unlike them? Yes. But that makes no difference; whenever from seeing one thing youconceived another, whether like or unlike, there must surely have beenan act of recollection?

Very true. But what would you say of equal portions of wood and stone, or othermaterial equals? and what is the impression produced by them? Are theyequals in the same sense as absolute equality? or do they fall shortof this in a measure? Yes, he said, in a very great measure, too. And must we not allow that when I or anyone look at any object,and perceive that the object aims at being some other thing, but fallsshort of, and cannot attain to it-he who makes this observation musthave had previous knowledge of that to which, as he says, the other,although similar, was inferior?

Certainly. And has not this been our case in the matter of equals and ofabsolute equality? Precisely. Then we must have known absolute equality previously to the timewhen we first saw the material equals, and reflected that all theseapparent equals aim at this absolute equality, but fall short of it? That is true. And we recognize also that this absolute equality has only beenknown, and can only be known, through the medium of sight or touch, orof some other sense. And this I would affirm of all such conceptions.

Yes, Socrates, as far as the argument is concerned, one of them isthe same as the other. And from the senses, then, is derived the knowledge that allsensible things aim at an idea of equality of which they fall short-isnot that true? Yes. Then before we began to see or hear or perceive in any way, wemust have had a knowledge of absolute equality, or we could not havereferred to that the equals which are derived from the senses-for tothat they all aspire, and of that they fall short? That, Socrates, is certainly to be inferred from the previousstatements.

And did we not see and hear and acquire our other senses as soonas we were born? Certainly. Then we must have acquired the knowledge of the ideal equal atsome time previous to this? Yes. That is to say, before we were born, I suppose? True. And if we acquired this knowledge before we were born, and were bornhaving it, then we also knew before we were born and at the instant ofbirth not only equal or the greater or the less, but all otherideas; for we are not speaking only of equality absolute, but ofbeauty, goodness, justice, holiness, and all which we stamp with thename of essence in the dialectical process, when we ask and answerquestions.

Of all this we may certainly affirm that we acquired theknowledge before birth? That is true. But if, after having acquired, we have not forgotten that which weacquired, then we must always have been born with knowledge, and shallalways continue to know as long as life lasts-for knowing is theacquiring and retaining knowledge and not forgetting. Is notforgetting, Simmias, just the losing of knowledge? Quite true, Socrates. But if the knowledge which we acquired before birth was lost by usat birth, and afterwards by the use of the senses we recovered thatwhich we previously knew, will not that which we call learning be aprocess of recovering our knowledge, and may not this be rightlytermed recollection by us?

Very true. For this is clear, that when we perceived something, either by thehelp of sight or hearing, or some other sense, there was no difficultyin receiving from this a conception of some other thing like or unlikewhich had been forgotten and which was associated with this; andtherefore, as I was saying, one of two alternatives follows: either wehad this knowledge at birth, and continued to know through life; or,after birth, those who are said to learn only remember, and learningis recollection only.

Yes, that is quite true, Socrates. And which alternative, Simmias, do you prefer? Had we theknowledge at our birth, or did we remember afterwards the things whichwe knew previously to our birth? I cannot decide at the moment. At any rate you can decide whether he who has knowledge ought orought not to be able to give a reason for what he knows. Certainly, he ought. But do you think that every man is able to give a reason about thesevery matters of which we are speaking? I wish that they could, Socrates, but I greatly fear thatto-morrow at this time there will be no one able to give a reasonworth having.

Then you are not of opinion, Simmias, that all men know thesethings? Certainly not. Then they are in process of recollecting that which they learnedbefore. Certainly. But when did our souls acquire this knowledge?-not since we wereborn as men? Certainly not. And therefore previously? Yes. Then, Simmias, our souls must have existed before they were in theform of man-without bodies, and must have had intelligence. Unless indeed you suppose, Socrates, that these notions were givenus at the moment of birth; for this is the only time that remains.

Yes, my friend, but when did we lose them? for they are not in uswhen we are born-that is admitted. Did we lose them at the moment ofreceiving them, or at some 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 essence in general, andto this, which is now discovered to be a previous condition of ourbeing, we refer all our sensations, and with this comparethem-assuming this to have a prior existence, then our souls must havehad a prior existence, but if not, there would be no force in theargument?

There can be no doubt that if these absolute ideas existedbefore we were born, then our souls must have existed before we wereborn, and if not the ideas, then not the souls. Yes, Socrates; I am convinced that there is precisely the samenecessity for the existence of the soul before birth, and of theessence of which you are speaking: and the argument arrives at aresult which happily agrees with my own notion. For there is nothingwhich to my mind is so evident as that beauty, goodness, and othernotions of which you were just now speaking have a most real andabsolute 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 themost incredulous of mortals, yet I believe that he is convinced of theexistence of the soul before birth. But that after death the soul willcontinue to exist is not yet proven even to my own satisfaction. Icannot get rid of the feeling of the many to which Cebes wasreferring-the feeling that when the man dies the soul may bescattered, and that this may be the end of her.

For admitting that shemay be generated and created in some other place, and may have existedbefore entering the human body, why after having entered in and goneout again may she not herself be destroyed and come to an end? Very true, Simmias, said Cebes; that our soul existed before we wereborn was the first half of the argument, and this appears to have beenproven; that the soul will exist after death as well as before birthis the other half of which the proof is still wanting, and has to besupplied.

But that proof, Simmias and Cebes, has been already given, saidSocrates, if you put the two arguments together-I mean this and theformer one, in which we admitted that everything living is born of thedead. For if the soul existed before birth, and in coming to lifeand being born can be born only from death and dying, must she notafter death continue to exist, since she has to be born again?surely the proof which you desire has been already furnished. StillI suspect that you and Simmias would be glad to probe the argumentfurther; like children, you are haunted with a fear that when the soulleaves the body, the wind may really blow her away and scatter her;especially if a man should happen to die in stormy weather and notwhen the sky is calm.

Cebes answered with a smile: Then, Socrates, you must argue us outof our fears-and yet, strictly speaking, they are not our fears, butthere is a child within us to whom death is a sort of hobgoblin; himtoo we must persuade not to be afraid when he is alone with him in thedark. Socrates said: Let the voice of the charmer be applied daily untilyou have charmed him away. 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 goodmen, and there are barbarous races not a few: seek for him amongthem all, far and wide, sparing neither pains nor money; for thereis no better way of using your money.

And you must not forget toseek for him among yourselves too; for he is nowhere more likely to befound. The search, replied Cebes, shall certainly be made. And now, ifyou please, let us return to the point of the argument at which wedigressed. By all means, replied Socrates; what else should I please? Very good, he said. Must we not, said Socrates, ask ourselves some question of thissort?-What is that which, as we imagine, is liable to be scatteredaway, and about which we fear? and what again is that about which wehave no fear?

And then we may proceed to inquire whether that whichsuffers dispersion is or is not of the nature of soul-our hopes andfears as to our own souls will turn upon that. That is true, he said. Now the compound or composite may be supposed to be naturallycapable of being dissolved in like manner as of being compounded;but that which is uncompounded, and that only, must be, if anythingis, indissoluble. Yes; that is what I should imagine, said Cebes. And the uncompounded may be assumed to be the same and unchanging,where the compound is always changing and never the same?

That I also think, he said. Then now let us return to the previous discussion. Is that idea oressence, which in the dialectical process we define as essence of trueexistence-whether essence of equality, beauty, or anything else: arethese essences, I say, liable at times to some degree of change? orare they each of them always what they are, having the same simple,self-existent and unchanging forms, and not admitting of variationat 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 horsesor garments or any other things which may be called equal orbeautiful-are they all unchanging and the same always, or quite thereverse? May they not rather be described as almost always changingand 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, butthe unchanging things you can only perceive with the mind-they areinvisible and are not seen?

That is very true, he said. Well, then, he added, let us suppose that there are two sorts ofexistences, 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, and the rest of us soul? To be sure. And to which class may we say that the body is 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 by "seen" and "not seen" is meant by us that which is or isnot visible to the eye of man? Yes, to the eye of man. And what do we say of the soul? is that 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 is most certain, Socrates. And were we not saying long ago that the soul when using the body asan instrument of perception, that is to say, when using the sense ofsight or hearing or some other sense (for the meaning of perceivingthrough the body is perceiving through the senses)-were we notsaying that the soul too is then dragged by the body into the regionof the changeable, and wanders and is confused; the world spinsround her, and she is like a drunkard when under their influence?

Very true. But when returning into herself she reflects; then she passes intothe realm of purity, and eternity, and immortality, andunchangeableness, which are her kindred, and with them she ever lives,when she is by herself and is not let or hindered; then she ceasesfrom her erring ways, and being in communion with the unchanging isunchanging. 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 asmay be inferred from this argument, as well as from the preceding one?

I think, Socrates, that, in the opinion of everyone who followsthe argument, the soul will be infinitely more like the unchangeableeven the most stupid person will not deny that. And the body is more like the changing? Yes. Yet once more consider the matter in this light: When the soul andthe 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 tothe mortal? Does not the divine appear to you to be that whichnaturally orders and rules, and the mortal that which is subject andservant? True. And which does the soul resemble?

The soul resembles the divine and the body the mortal-there can beno doubt of that, Socrates. Then reflect, Cebes: is not the conclusion of the whole matterthis?-that the soul is in the very likeness of the divine, andimmortal, and intelligible, and uniform, and indissoluble, andunchangeable; and the body is in the very likeness of the human, andmortal, and unintelligible, and multiform, and dissoluble, andchangeable. Can this, my dear Cebes, be denied? No, indeed. But if this is true, then is not the body liable to speedydissolution?

and is not the soul almost or altogether indissoluble? Certainly. And do you further observe, that after a man is dead, the body,which is the visible part of man, and has a visible framework, whichis called a corpse, and which would naturally be dissolved anddecomposed and dissipated, is not dissolved or decomposed at once, butmay remain for a good while, if the constitution be sound at thetime of death, and the season of the year favorable? For the body whenshrunk and embalmed, as is the custom in Egypt, may remain almostentire through infinite ages; and even in decay, still there aresome portions, such as the bones and ligaments, which arepractically indestructible.

You allow that? Yes. And are we to suppose that the soul, which is invisible, inpassing to the true Hades, which like her is invisible, and pure,and noble, and on her way to the good and wise God, whither, if Godwill, my soul is also soon to go-that the soul, I repeat, if this beher nature and origin, is blown away and perishes immediately onquitting the body as the many say? That can never be, dear Simmias andCebes. The truth rather is that the soul which is pure at departingdraws after her no bodily taint, having never voluntarily hadconnection with the body, which she is ever avoiding, herself gatheredinto herself (for such abstraction has been the study of her life).

And what does this mean but that she has been a true disciple ofphilosophy and has practised how to die easily? And is notphilosophy the practice of death? Certainly. That soul, I say, herself invisible, departs to the invisibleworldto the divine and immortal and rational: thither arriving, shelives in bliss and is released from the error and folly of men,their fears and wild passions and all other human ills, and foreverdwells, as they say of the initiated, in company with the gods. Is notthis true, Cebes?

Yes, said Cebes, beyond a doubt. But the soul which has been polluted, and is impure at the time ofher departure, and is the companion and servant of the body always,and is in love with and fascinated by the body and by the desiresand pleasures of the body, until she is led to believe that thetruth only exists in a bodily form, which a man may touch and seeand taste and use for the purposes of his lusts-the soul, I mean,accustomed to hate and fear and avoid the intellectual principle,which to the bodily eye is dark and invisible, and can be attainedonly by philosophy-do you suppose that such a soul as this will departpure and unalloyed?

That is impossible, he replied. She is engrossed by the corporeal, which the continual associationand constant care of the body have made natural to her. Very true. And this, my friend, may be conceived to be that heavy, weighty,earthy element of sight by which such a soul is depressed anddragged down again into the visible world, because she is afraid ofthe invisible and of the world below-prowling about tombs andsepulchres, in the neighborhood of which, as they tell us, are seencertain ghostly apparitions of souls which have not departed pure, butare cloyed with sight and therefore visible.

That is very likely, Socrates. Yes, that is very likely, Cebes; and these must be the souls, not ofthe good, but of the evil, who are compelled to wander about suchplaces in payment of the penalty of their former evil way of life; andthey continue to wander until the desire which haunts them issatisfied and they are imprisoned in another body. And they may besupposed to be fixed in the same natures which they had in theirformer life. What natures do you mean, Socrates? I mean to say that men who have followed after gluttony, andwantonness, and drunkenness, and have had no thought of avoiding them,would pass into asses and animals of that sort.

What do you think? I think that exceedingly probable. And those who have chosen the portion of injustice, and tyranny, andviolence, will pass into wolves, or into hawks and kites; whither elsecan we suppose them to go? Yes, said Cebes; that is doubtless the place of natures such astheirs. And there is no difficulty, he said, in assigning to all ofthem places answering to their several natures and propensities? There is not, he said. Even among them some are happier than others; and the happiestboth in themselves and their place of abode are those who havepractised the civil and social virtues which are called temperance andjustice, and are acquired by habit and attention without philosophyand mind.

Why are they the happiest? Because they may be expected to pass into some gentle, social naturewhich is like their own, such as that of bees or ants, or even backagain into the form of man, and just and moderate men spring fromthem. That is not impossible. But he who is a philosopher or lover of learning, and is entirelypure at departing, is alone permitted to reach the gods. And this isthe reason, Simmias and Cebes, why the true votaries of philosophyabstain from all fleshly lusts, and endure and refuse to givethemselves up to them-not because they fear poverty or the ruin oftheir families, like the lovers of money, and the world in general;nor like the lovers of power and honor, because they dread thedishonor or disgrace of evil deeds.

No, Socrates, that would not become them, said Cebes. No, indeed, he replied; and therefore they who have a care oftheir souls, and do not merely live in the fashions of the body, sayfarewell to all this; they will not walk in the ways of the blind: andwhen philosophy offers them purification and release from evil, theyfeel that they ought not to resist her influence, and to her theyincline, and whither she leads they follow her. What do you mean, Socrates? I will tell you, he said. The lovers of knowledge are conscious thattheir souls, when philosophy receives them, are simply fastened andglued to their bodies: the soul is only able to view existence throughthe bars of a prison, and not in her own nature; she is wallowing inthe mire of all ignorance; and philosophy, seeing the terriblenature of her confinement, and that the captive through desire isled to conspire in her own captivity (for the lovers of knowledgeare aware that this was the original state of the soul, and thatwhen she was in this state philosophy received and gently counseledher, a