Phaedo Phaedo.

When Socrates had finished, Cebes answered and said: “Socrates, I agree to 70a the other things you say, but in regard to the soul men are very prone to disbelief. They fear that when the soul leaves the body it no longer exists anywhere, and that on the day when the man dies it is destroyed and perishes, and when it leaves the body and departs from it, straightway it flies away and is no longer anywhere, scattering like a breath or smoke. If it exists anywhere by itself as a unit, freed from these evils which you have enumerated just now, 70b there would be good reason for the blessed hope, Socrates, that what you say is true. But perhaps no little argument and proof is required to show that when a man is dead the soul still exists and has any power and intelligence.”

“What you say, Cebes, is true,” said Socrates. “Now what shall we do? Do you wish to keep on conversing about this to see whether it is probable or not?”

“I do,” said Cebes. “I should like to hear what you think about it.”

“Well,” said Socrates, “I do not believe anyone who heard us now, 70c even if he were a comic poet, would say that I am chattering and talking about things which do not concern me. So if you like, let us examine the matter to the end.

Let us consider it by asking whether the souls of men who have died are in the nether world or not. There is an ancient tradition, which we remember, that they go there from here and come back here again and are born from the dead. Now if this is true, if the living are born again from the dead, our souls would exist there, 70d would they not? For they could not be born again if they did not exist, and this would be a sufficient proof that they exist, if it should really be made evident that the living are born only from the dead. But if this is not so then some other argument would be needed.”

“Certainly,” said Cebes.

“Now,” said he, “if you wish to find this out easily, do not consider the question with regard to men only, but with regard to all animals and plants, and, in short, to all things which may be said to have birth. Let us see with regard to all these, whether it is true that they are all born or generated 70e only from their opposites, in case they have opposites, as for instance, the noble is the opposite of the disgraceful, the just of the unjust, and there are countless other similar pairs. Let us consider the question whether it is inevitable that everything which has an opposite be generated from its opposite and from it only. For instance, when anything becomes greater it must inevitably have been smaller and then have become greater.”

“Yes.”

Phaedo.

“And if it becomes smaller, 71a it must have been greater and then have become smaller?”

“That is true,” said he.

“And the weaker is generated from the stronger, and the slower from the quicker?”

“Certainly.”

“And the worse from the better and the more just from the more unjust?”

“Of course.”

“Then,” said he, “we have this fact sufficiently established, that all things are generated in this way, opposites from opposites?”

“Certainly.”

“Now then, is there between all these pairs of opposites what may be called 71b two kinds of generation, from one to the other and back again from the other to the first? Between a larger thing and a smaller thing there is increment and diminution and we call one increasing and the other decreasing, do we not?”

“Yes,” said he.

“And similarly analyzing and combining, and cooling and heating, and all opposites in the same way. Even if we do not in every case have the words to express it, yet in fact is it not always inevitable that there is a process of generation from each to the other?”

“Certainly,” said he. 71c “Well then,” said Socrates, “is there anything that is the opposite of living, as being awake is the opposite of sleeping?”

“Certainly,” said Cebes.

“What?”

“Being dead,” said he.

“Then these two are generated from each other, and as they are two, so the processes between them are two; is it not so?”

“Of course.”

“Now,” said Socrates, “I will tell about one of the two pairs of which I just spoke to you and its intermediate processes; and do you tell me about the other. I say one term is sleeping and the other is being awake, and being awake is generated from sleeping, and sleeping from being awake, 71d and the processes of generation are, in the latter case, falling asleep, and in the former, waking up. Do you agree, or not?”

“Certainly.”

“Now do you,” said he, “tell me in this way about life and death. Do you not say that living is the opposite of being dead?”

“I do.”

“And that they are generated one from the other?”

“Yes.”

“Now what is it which is generated from the living?”

“The dead,” said he.

“And what,” said Socrates, “from the dead?”

“I can say only one thing—the living.”

“From the dead, then, Cebes, the living, both things and persons, 71e are generated?”

“Evidently,” said he.

“Then,” said Socrates, “our souls exist in the other world.”

“So it seems.”

“And of the two processes of generation between these two, the one is plain to be seen; for surely dying is plain to be seen, is it not?”

“Certainly,” said he.

“Well then,” said Socrates, “what shall we do next? Shall we deny the opposite process, and shall nature be one-sided in this instance? Or must we grant that there is some process of generation the opposite of dying?”

“Certainly we must,” said he.

“What is this process?”

“Coming to life again.”

Phaedo.

“Then,” said Socrates, “if there be such a thing as 72a coming to life again, this would be the process of generation from the dead to the living?”

“Certainly.”

“So by this method also we reach the conclusion that the living are generated from the dead, just as much as the dead from the living; and since this is the case, it seems to me to be a sufficient proof that the souls of the dead exist somewhere, whence they come back to life.”

“I think, Socrates, that results necessarily from our previous admissions.”

“Now here is another method, Cebes, to prove, as it seems to me, that we were right in making those admissions. 72b For if generation did not proceed from opposite to opposite and back again, going round, as it were in a circle, but always went forward in a straight line without turning back or curving, then, you know, in the end all things would have the same form and be acted upon in the same way and stop being generated at all.”

“What do you mean?” said he.

“It is not at all hard,” said Socrates, “to understand what I mean. For example, if the process of falling asleep existed, but not the opposite process of waking from sleep, 72c in the end, you know, that would make the sleeping Endymion mere nonsense; he would be nowhere, for everything else would be in the same state as he, sound asleep. Or if all thing were mixed together and never separated, the saying of Anaxagoras, all things are chaos, would soon come true. And in like manner, my dear Cebes, if all things that have life should die, and, when they had died, the dead should remain in that condition, is it not inevitable that at last all things would be dead 72d and nothing alive? For if the living were generated from any other things than from the dead, and the living were to die, is there any escape from the final result that all things would be swallowed up in death?”

“I see none, Socrates,” said Cebes. “What you say seems to be perfectly true.”

“I think, Cebes,” said he, “it is absolutely so, and we are not deluded in making these admissions, but the return to life is an actual fact, and it is a fact that the living are generated from the dead and that the souls of the dead 72e exist.”

“And besides,” Cebes rejoined, “if it is true, Socrates, as you are fond of saying, that our learning is nothing else than recollection, then this would be an additional argument that we must necessarily have learned in some previous time what we now remember.”

Phaedo. “But this is impossible if 73a our soul did not exist somewhere before being born in this human form; and so by this argument also it appears that the soul is immortal.”

“But, Cebes,” said Simmias, “what were the proofs of this? Remind me; for I do not recollect very well just now.”

“Briefly,” said Cebes, “a very good proof is this: When people are questioned, if you put the questions well, they answer correctly of themselves about everything; and yet if they had not within them some knowledge and right reason, they could not do this. And that this is so is shown most clearly if you take them 73b to mathematical diagrams or anything of that sort.”

“And if you are not convinced in that way, Simmias,” said Socrates, “see if you don’t agree when you look at it in this way. You are incredulous, are you not, how that which is called learning can be recollection?”

“I am not incredulous,” said Simmias, “but I want just what we are talking about, recollection. And from what Cebes undertook to say I already begin to recollect and be convinced; nevertheless, I should like to hear 73c what you were going to say.”

“It was this,” said he. “We agree, I suppose, that if anyone is to remember anything, he must know it at some previous time?”

“Certainly,” said he.

“Then do we agree to this also, that when knowledge comes in such a way, it is recollection? What I mean is this: If a man, when he has heard or seen or in any other way perceived a thing, knows not only that thing, but also has a perception of some other thing, the knowledge of which is not the same, but different, are we not right in saying that 73d he recollects the thing of which he has the perception?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me give an example. Knowledge of a man is different from knowledge of a lyre.”

“Of course.”

“Well, you know that a lover when he sees a lyre or a cloak or anything else which his beloved is wont to use, perceives the lyre and in his mind receives an image of the boy to whom the lyre belongs, do you not? But this is recollection, just as when one sees Simmias, one often remembers Cebes, and I could cite countless such examples.”

“To be sure you could,” said Simmias.

“Now,” said he, 73e “is that sort of thing a kind of recollection? Especially when it takes place with regard to things which have already been forgotten through time and inattention?”

“Certainly,” he replied.

“Well, then,” said Socrates, “can a person on seeing a picture of a horse or of a lyre be reminded of a man, or on seeing a picture of Simmias be reminded of Cebes?”

“Surely.”