Plato's Phaedo

A Translation of Plato's Phaedo

R.S. Bluck

• Editorial: Routledge
• Año: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781317830320
• Edición: 1
• Categoría: Filosofía
• Categoría: Historia y teoría filosóficas

This is Volume II of ten in a collection on Ancient Philosophy. Originally published in 1955, this is a translation with introduction, notes and appendices of Plato's Phaedo.

Chapter 1 Socrates' Reasons for not Fearing Death

DOI: 10.4324/9781315822921-2

A 57a–59c. Introduction

The opening pages provide a setting for the narrative that follows. Echecrates of Phlius asks Phaedo to describe the discussion that took place during Socrates’ last hours in prison. On those who Phaedo says were present at that meeting, see Introd., pp. 34 sq.

Were you yourself with Socrates, Phaedo, on the day when he drank the poison in his prison? or did you hear the story from someone else?

I was there myself, Echecrates.

Well, what did he talk about just before his death? And how did he die? I would very much like to hear. The people of Phlius, you see, hardly ever go and stay at Athens nowadays, and no visitor has come to us from Athens for a long time past who might have been able to tell us something definite about it—apart, I mean, from the mere fact that he died by drinking poison. That was all the news that we could get.

57B.

You never heard, then, about the proceedings at the trial?

58A.

Yes, we did hear about them; and we couldn’t understand why the execution took place, as it appears to have done, so long ¹ after the trial. Why was that, Phaedo?

1 Thirty days (Xen., Mem. IV, viii, 2; cf. 116c).

That was mere chance, Echecrates. The ship which the Athenians send on sacred mission to Delos had in fact had its prow decorated the day before the trial began.

What ship is this?

58A.

The ship in which, according to the Athenians, Theseus sailed with the famous fourteen, when he saved them and himself too. ² It is said that they at that time prayed to Apollo, and vowed that if they were saved they would send a sacred embassy to Delos every year. As a result, they do so to this day, every year, in honour of the god; and when they send this embassy on its way, it is their practice during this period to keep the city free from bloodshed, and to hold no state executions until the ship has reached Delos and returned again to Athens; and sometimes this takes quite a while, when winds are against them. The embassy officially starts when the priest of Apollo decorates the ship’s prow—and this happened, as I say, the day before the trial began. That is why Socrates was in prison for a considerable time after the trial before he was executed.

2 Minos, king of Crete, compelled the Athenians to send seven youths and seven maidens every year, by way of tribute, to be devoured by the fabulous Minotaur in the Cretan labyrinth. Theseus killed the Minotaur.

B.

C.

Tell me about his actual death, Phaedo. What did they say and do? and which of his friends were present at the time? or did the archons not allow any to attend—did he die without any friends by him?

Oh! no, there were some there—quite a number.

D.

Do please tell us the whole story in detail, if you are not too busy.

I am quite free. I will try to give you an account of what happened. There is nothing I like better than thinking about Socrates, whether I am talking about him myself or listening to someone else.

Your present audience are like you in that, Phaedo; so try to give as detailed an account as you possibly can.

Well, when I arrived I had an extraordinary sensation. I did not feel pity, as might have been expected of one who was present at the death of a friend. The man seemed to me to be wonderfully gifted, Echecrates, in temperament no less than in speech; he died so fearlessly and nobly. It struck me that even on the point of his departure for the other world Providence was guiding him, and that even when he reached it, if anyone there has ever enjoyed blessings, then he would. Consequently, I had none of the sensations of pity that you might expect a man to have on so sad an occasion. Nor again did I derive pleasure from the fact that we were engaged in our usual philosophical discussions—for that was the nature of the conversation. It was simply a rather strange feeling, an unusual mixture of pleasure and pain combined, which came over me when I reflected that in a very short while he was going to die. All of us who were present were affected in much the same way, sometimes laughing, at times crying—one of our number in particular, Apollodorus. I expect you know the man, and what he is like.

E.

59A.

B.

Of course.

Well, he was completely overcome in this way. I and the others present were very much distressed.

Who were present, Phaedo?

Of Athenians, there was this Apollodorus, and Critobulus and his father, and Hermogenes, Epigenes, Aeschines, and Antisthenes. Then there was Ctesippus of the Paeanian deme, Menexenus, and other Athenians; but Plato, I believe, was ill.

Were any foreigners there?

Yes, Simmias the Theban, and Cebes and Phaedondes, and from Megara Euclides and Terpsion.

C.

Weren’t Aristippus and Cleombrotus present?

No: they were said to be in Aegina.

Was anyone else there?

I think that was about all.

Well now, how do you say the discussion went?

B 59c–64a. Preliminary Conversation

Phaedo describes the scene when Socrates’ friends visited the prison for the last time. Socrates, rubbing his leg after the removal of his chains, remarks that the intimate relationship of pleasure and pain would have been a fitting subject for Aesop. Cebes remembers that Euenus (a poet) wanted to know why Socrates had been putting some of Aesop’s fables into verse; Socrates explains, and sends Euenus a message of farewell, with the advice that he should ‘follow him’ as soon as possible; and this somewhat surprising advice is explained on the grounds that while one should not commit suicide (for we belong not to ourselves, but to the gods), yet death is always preferable to life. Though gods watch over us while we are on earth, there is hope of great blessings for us after death. This leads easily and naturally to the main subject of the dialogue, the question of immortality.

Socrates’ reason for putting Aesop’s fables into verse, ³ that a dream had frequently bidden him ‘pursue art’, seems quite in accordance with Socrates’ usual naïveté, and at the same time with his earnestness in matters of religion. But it may be that there is some irony here on the part of Plato, who had a poor opinion of poets who wrote ‘not fact, but fiction’ (cf. 61b), unless their work was specifically intended to support the highest moral code. As poets seemed to him very often to distort or falsify the truth, in the Republic he prescribes a strict censorship of their works. Socrates’ assurance at 60d–e that he was not trying to outdo Euenus is almost certainly ironical.

3 At 60d the word which I have translated ‘putting into verse’ (ἐυτείνας) could mean ‘setting to music’, and is so taken by Burnet because of the reference to the ‘hymn to Apollo’, which, as he remarks, could never have been in prose; but 61b strongly suggests poetry rather than musical settings, and I think that perhaps ‘the hymn to Apollo’ may have been added almost as an afterthought, and should not be associated too closely with the strict meaning of the preceding participle (see my translation).

I will try to tell you everything, from the beginning. We had all been in the habit, during those last few days preceding the execution, of visiting Socrates, meeting for the purpose, at dawn, in the court in which the trial had taken place—it was near the prison. We used to wait until the prison opened, chatting among ourselves, for it didn’t open very early. When it did open, we would go in and find Socrates, and spend most of the day with him. On this particular day we gathered together rather earlier than usual; for the previous day, when we left the prison in the evening, we had learnt that the ship had arrived back from Delos. We passed the word round that we should arrive as early as possible at the usual rendezvous. We duly arrived, and the warder who always opened the gates for us came out and told us to wait patiently, and not to go in until he gave the word. ‘The Eleven ⁴ are freeing Socrates from his fetters,’ he said, ‘and are giving instructions that he is to die today.’

4 In their capacity as superintendents of the prison.

59C.

D.

E.

59E.

However, after a brief interval he came and told us to go in. On entering, we found Socrates just released from his chains, and Xanthippe ⁵ —you know her—sitting beside him with his little son. ⁶ When Xanthippe saw us, she cried out, and said the sort of things that women always do—‘Oh! Socrates, this is the last time that your friends will ever speak to you, or you to them.’ Socrates looked at Crito and said, ‘Crito, let someone take her home’; and some of Crito’s retainers took her away, crying aloud and beating her breast.

60A.

5 Socrates’ wife. She had apparently spent the night in the prison. 6 Socrates had three sons (Apol. 34d): this was no doubt the youngest.

Meanwhile Socrates, sitting down on the couch, bent his leg and rubbed it, and as he rubbed he said: ‘How strange would appear to be this thing that men call pleasure! and how curiously it is related to what is thought to be its opposite, pain! The two will never be found together in a man, and yet if you seek the one and obtain it, you are almost bound always to get the other as well, just as though they were both attached to one and the same head. It seems to me that if Aesop had noticed them he would have written a fable about them, showing how God wanted to part them when they quarrelled, but finding that he could not do so, joined their heads together: so that wherever the one is found, the other follows up behind. So, in my case, since I had pain in my leg as a result of the fetters, pleasure seems to have come to follow it up.’

B.

C.

At this point Cebes broke in: ‘I say, Socrates, I am glad you reminded me. A number of people have asked me, and Euenus ⁷ did just recently, about those poems which you have written, putting Aesop’s tales into verse, and the hymn to Apollo, too; what was your intention in composing them when you came here, although you had never composed anything before? If you would like me to be able to give Euenus an answer next time he asks me—for I know that he will ask—tell me what I must say.’

7 Also mentioned at Apol. 20b, Phdr. 267a.

D.

‘Tell him the truth, Cebes,’ said Socrates, ‘that I did...