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Section 88

When we heard them say this, all of us felt very unpleasant, as we later confessed to one another. We had been powerfully persuaded by the previous argument, but now they seemed to upset us and cast us back into doubt—not only about the previous arguments, but also about what was to follow. We feared either that we were poor judges of arguments, or that the subject itself admitted no trust.

ECHECRATES. By the gods, Phaedo, I sympathize with you. Listening to you now, I find myself thinking something similar: "What argument shall we trust now? The argument Socrates presented was very persuasive, but now it has fallen into discredit." The theory that the soul is a harmony has always had a wondrous hold on me, and hearing it now reminds me that I myself have long believed it. So I desperately need, as if starting from the beginning, some other argument to persuade me that the soul does not die along with the man. Tell me, by Zeus, how did Socrates pursue the argument? Was he visibly dismayed, as you were, or did he calmly come to the argument's defense? And did he defend it adequately or poorly? Tell us everything as precisely as possible.

PHAEDO. I assure you, Echecrates, I have often wondered at Socrates, but never more so than being with him then. That he had a reply to make was perhaps not unusual for him. But what amazed me most was, first, how pleasantly, kindly, and admiringly he received the young men's argument; second, how sharply he perceived our dismay at what they had said; and finally, how well he cured us, recalling us as if we were fleeing, defeated troops, and turning us back to follow him and examine the argument.

ECHECRATES. How did he do that?

PHAEDO. I will tell you. I was sitting on his right by the bed, on a low stool, and he was sitting much higher than I was. He stroked my head and gathered the hair on the back of my neck—he often used to play with my hair—and said, "Tomorrow, Phaedo, I suppose you will cut these beautiful locks." "It seems so, Socrates," I said. "Not if you listen to me." "Why not?" I asked. "Today," he said, "both I and you should cut our hair, if our argument has died and we cannot bring it back to life. If I were you, and the argument escaped me, I would swear an oath like the Argives never to let my hair grow long until I had fought and defeated the argument of Simmias and Cebes." "But," I said, "as the proverb goes, even Heracles cannot fight against two." "Then call me, your Iolaus, to help," he said, "while there is still daylight." "I call on you," I said, "not as Heracles calling Iolaus, but as Iolaus calling Heracles." "It will make no difference," he said. "But first let us be careful not to suffer a certain misfortune." "What misfortune?" I asked.