If then it should be asked why, if the case stands thus, Plato has not done this himself, and in general worked up into one piece the description of the philosopher in his two-fold character, we may reply, that since we can no longer enquire of Plato himself, this question on the one hand goes too far, and it cannot be incumbent upon us to give an explanation of the fact; and, on the other, it is easy to point generally to the progress which even at this period the philosophy itself of Plato had made towards perfection, and to the influence it had upon the form of his works; so that without total separation, there yet prevails in all of them a preponderating antithetical character, and the Symposium and Phædon are most naturally connected together, exactly in the same manner as the Gorgias and Theætetus are. One may even venture to say, that in the dialogue we are now considering, this influence is particularly reflected in the description of the opposition between soul and body, two things which, regarded from without, are quite distinct enough; but still, when the fact itself speaks, can never be completely disconnected from one another. For the rest, however, it would be a strange misunderstanding of what has been said, if any reader were to understand this so strictly and literally, as to suppose that the two dialogues constitute the third part of the trilogy which was promised in the Sophist, as if Plato, fearing the frequent repetition of the same form, had now determined to exhibit the philosopher in a different way, and because, instead of the somewhat dry ironical subdivision, he had again chosen the most elegant dramatic form, he was by that perhaps induced to divide his subject, and thus constructed the two dialogues with one another, and sketched them at the same time. For this would be too dry and mechanical a process for us to think of maintaining it. But Plato may easily have let the trilogy go unfinished, thinking that his readers might now turn a speech in the Phædrus to the construction of a philosopher after the manner of the second part of the trilogy, combining much both earlier and later in point of composition, to which he might mentally refer them. But even supposing this to have been the case, still, and this is all, properly speaking, which we maintain, in his progress or his career as an author the same problem must necessarily have returned upon him under another form. For our two dialogues form the first, as the Philebus forms the second point of transition from the dialogues that have preceded, and were characterized by the indirect process to those that follow, which belong to the immediately constructive class. And, when Plato was upon the point of adopting another method, and wished yet once for all to connect together what he had surveyed by the one already used, and what, although without every where enunciating the results with equal precision, he had also in reality taught and established, when he wished to conclude the old matter as well as prepare the way for the new, what could be a more natural result than that he should describe the process of a philosopher as a purely mental process, as he had practised it according to his own inclination and judgment; for the description of his own mode of operation would now for the first time come in his way? It must, indeed, always remain a remarkable circumstance, and one that might point to an earlier period for the composition of this dialogue, that that dramatic character, which in the dialogues immediately preceding had almost vanished, and in the Philebus again is likewise much suppressed, comes out in such strong relief in these two, as it were in its last and highest glory. But, in the first place, every reader must see that there is no other dialogue, and least of all is it the case with the earliest, as the Phædrus and Protagoras, in which the dramatic character is so completely part and parcel of the subject, or so intimately identified with it as in this dialogue, and it could therefore never display itself in its full splendour with more perfect right. And again, a variety of other circumstances may have given occasion to this display; in the Symposium, first, which we know certainly upon other grounds not to belong to the earlier works of Plato, that apologetic tendency which cannot be denied to exist in it, and for which a living representation of the Socratic mode of life must have been of great advantage; in the Phædon, probably, Plato’s recollection of his own Sicilian affairs, and the wish to show how impossible it was that a cowardly fear of death should exist in the breast of a true disciple of Socrates. It is therefore by no means the close connection with the Symposium that alone determines this as the proper place for the Phædon in the works of Plato. Rather should we say, that it is that combination of all that has preceded, which is so manifest, and to which we especially refer all who would be convinced upon this point; and then, whether that particular relation presents itself in a light more or less clear, can make but little difference as regards the principal question.

And first of all, it must be evident to every one, that it is only on the transition from the previous works to those that are to come, that the account would be in its proper place, which Plato in the person of Socrates here gives us of his own advances in speculation, and of the turns in his philosophical career; how, for instance, he begun with Anaxagoras; how, from the study of that philosopher, the idea of the good, and the supremacy of reason as the highest norma of all cosmical contemplation, first shot upon him; how by the dialectic method he convinced himself of the unsoundness of the Empedoclean doctrine of physics, and therefore, so long as his own ideas were not sufficiently clear and distinct to follow them out consistently and plenarily as principles, he could not proceed otherwise than critically and hypothetically; and this applies particularly to his speculations upon the Eleatic and Heraclitic philosophy, and to the result of those speculations, which taught him that in the eternal forms alone is found the constant as connected with the changeable, and real unities as connected with pluralities, and that it is only upon them, and the relation of things to them, that knowledge or science of anything whatever can be constructed. And this principle is here for the first time established so totally without restraint, and with so much reference made to the construction of science, that every reader who is familiar with the Platonic turns, and the value of Platonic expressions, must very easily see that when Plato wrote this, the idea of the good had ceased to be too strange to him, or too obscure to prevent him any longer from constructing in connection with that principle the two sciences which are here alluded to. But every really attentive reader must feel in this place the most decided inclination to pass at once from the Phædon to the Timæus, until he reflects that in Plato’s speculations the ethical generally precede the physical, and on the other hand, that the idea of the good itself was still susceptible of more accurate explanation, and indeed, more especially on account of disputed questions, at that time still unsettled, even required it; and we have, therefore, yet tó pass through the Philebus and the Republic, of both of which the germs manifestly appear in this place in the Phædon. And again, it can hardly escape any one of sound and unprejudiced mind, that the doctrine of the soul is in our dialogue still imperfect, though in its last stage of developement, no longer in a mythological chrysalis’ sheath, as in the Phædrus, but like the just emergent butterfly, whose wings only want to grow to maturity, a process which a few moments may complete. And this circumstance in the case of the Phædrus, points very nearly to the Timæus. For the manner in which the soul is here described as producing life generally, and as related to immutable essence, does indeed approximate to strict definition, but still is not definition itself; and we observe here exactly the appearance of an author’s only producing so much of one subject, to which a particular investigation is to be devoted, to bear upon another, as every reader must grant without more ado.

As then all these allusions to what is still to come, assign the Phædon its place before the last great works of Plato, though in such a manner as to bring it near to them, so also, all references to the dialogues already given determine its place after them. For, if we look to the dialogues forming the second part, in the order in which they are here published, we find that in that arrangement the connection which obtains between the Platonic doctrine of knowledge and that of immortality has not as yet been indicated by decisive strokes, but only in a vague and sketchy manner, inasmuch as, wherever perfect and immutable existence is spoken of, in opposition to that which is imperfect and mutable, mention is also made in some way or other of immortality. It is first brought nearer, by the way in which in the Menon the doctrine, that knowledge is recollection, is expounded and put into tangible form, and to this Plato himself appeals here in the Phædon, perhaps more definitely and expressly than he anywhere else alludes to an earlier work. For a denial of this appeal would scarcely leave us anything remaining, but to suppose that the speech of the Socratic Cebes refers only to colloquial discussions, whether of Socrates or of Plato, and that the Menon was composed after this had been said by Cebes, though not. indeed then by Plato, but by some one else, a supposition, however, which it would be difficult to make appear probable to any one who understood the practice of sound criticism. But the connection of which we speak could not be well represented quite clearly until the investigations contained in the Sophist had preceded; and the ease with which Socrates admits all principles relating to this point to be taken for granted as long since dispatched, would be, without such a reference, inexplicable. The exposition, therefore, of this theory follows in this place, being the first in which it is found; but here it is quite complete, and that part of the dialogue in which it appears is indisputably the kernel of the whole. And agreeably with this supposition, the Platonic Socrates himself clearly lays most weight upon the theory, that the ideas and the soul exist by a similar necessity even before we are born; and moreover, that there is a similar mode of the existence of ideas and of the soul, without the sphere of that imperfect existence in which it appears in life. To Socrates and his disciples this is the immediately certain principle to which they firmly adhere, simply, because it is immediately one and the same with that of the reality of knowledge, and they who understand Plato otherwise, or at least foist upon him any other conception of immortality, as if it were that of which he is immediately certain, and the result of his demonstration, might learn to be cautious from this passage, not to associate themselves without intending it with those who dream, erroneously enough, that, according to Plato, the ideas had a kind of sensible existence, or, somehow and somewhere, a special and external being, or I know not what, out of nature and out of the mind. For, with the exception of what is necessarily connected with that higher and truly immortal existence of the soul, and is here also followed out as a regular theory, that, namely, the repeated appearances of the soul in the body always proceed out of the abundance of that immortality, and are real repetitions, and not new creations; with the exception of this, Plato arranges all other conceptions and minor points subordinate to that doctrine, as something not homogeneous with it, nor of an equal degree of certainty, considering them partly in the light of amusing conversation, and exorcisement of the baby within us which foolishly fears death, while they have in part quite a different bearing. Thus, for instance, the repeated and always perfected appearances of the soul in the life of the body are quite homogeneous with, and correspondent to its different places upon the earth, in one of which it may see more clearly, and be less exposed to disturbing influences than in another; but what it sees must still be only material things, and it is not in a more distinct conception of clearer impressions of ideas that every glimpse of higher and really immortal existence is vouchsafed to it, but only in knowledge itself. Hence, both do indeed serve more to specify the whole province of the soul in the kingdom of imperfect being and of corporeal life, than to exhibit or define more closely immortality itself. Nay, who can say that the whole of Cebes’ objection, that the fact of souls lingering among many bodies does not nevertheless prove their immortality, an objection which is somewhat harshly and unexpectedly directed against Simmias the disciple of Philolaus, is not covertly meant against the Pythagoreans, who thought that they had in the doctrine of Metempsychosis demonstrated the immortality of souls, and therefore, produced no more accurate information upon this point; a deficiency upon which some regret is expressed in an earlier part of the dialogue. Only, let no reader be misled by this, and by the mention of the harmony, to suppose that Simmias probably brings forward his argument, that the soul may be after all but a disposition of what is given in the body, in the name of the Pythagoreans. On the contrary, these philosophers were perfectly agreed with Plato, that only virtue and vice could be regarded as arising from a disposition of the soul itself; and the argument may be rather considered as exclusively in the spirit of the strictly atomical system, to which indeed Empedocles, in this point of view, in no small degree approximates; so that it might scarcely be possible to decide, from whom in particular the dress into which the thought is put is either borrowed or adapted. And if there are any to whom the answer appears, partially at least, obscure and unsatisfactory, let them not overlook that it refers to the distinction already started in several places between the ideas subjected to the conditions of more and less, and those which, as expressing independent existence, have also their own measure in themselves; for from this it may be discovered, although it is not quite after our manner of viewing the subject, how far the theory of the disposition may be placed among the former, and the soul only among the latter.

Now without taking into consideration this general reference to the previous dialogues up to this point, by means of the connection between the doctrine of knowledge and that of immortality, further allusions to other earlier matter more or less connected with that pervading and principal point, are not wanting. Thus, for example, besides the quotation already alluded to, we are also further put in mind of a passage in the Menon, by what is here said of public and civil virtue; and it would seem as if Plato here wished to show that this inferior kind of virtue, properly speaking only a shadow of the true, may even exist without being based upon any independent or true principle; and that view in the Statesman, of the natural qualifications which lead some to this and others to that species of virtue, forms as it were, the transition between the two. So also, when the true virtue is spoken of, and it is described to be rationality, the way in which the Protagoras is referred to, and every possible misunderstanding of the dialectics there employed is once for all now removed, necessarily supposes the existence of all the intervening dialogues between that and the Phædon. For we are now first enabled to learn, what nevertheless necessarily belongs to the subject of that dialogue, that the comparative estimation of different degrees of pleasure against one another, cannot constitute any kind of knowledge. Moreover, the derivation from the dead, of those who are in the natal state, which is here taken generally from a natural law affecting every created being, has been already given in the Statesman in a mythical description, which every one will easily recognize as the earlier of the two. So also, in the very same place, the first foundation is laid of the most sublime expansion of, and most general speculation upon, the idea of the soul, as it is said that even heaven and earth are participative of the nature of the body, which must thus necessarily possess a soul, so that, viewed on this side also, the Phædon comes between that work and the Timæus, as preparing the way for the latter by more minute explanations and accurate definitions. In like manner, when we consider closely what is here said of pleasure, we can scarcely suppose that it is of an earlier date than the discussion in the Gorgias, so much more dispassionately is it introduced, and drawn from views so much more profound: while we must at once recognize it as earlier than the Philebus, which first contains the full discussion of the pleasant in this point of view, nay, it seems almost as if Plato here wished to prepare the way for a still necessary discussion of this subject, which was to be more mature, more tranquil, and with more regard for nature. But for all who from the Phædon as their point of view, take a survey of the works hitherto communicated, the comparison of this dialogue with the Phædrus will have most attraction from the manifold points of contact between the two. And, it will probably be the case with most, that if they put aside the Phædon for a short time, and then fix their attention upon the Phædrus, they will find in it particular points which appear to them too similar to allow of a great interval between the two; and even many in which they discover a foretaste of the Timæus, and they might on that account consider the Phædrus as later than the Phædon; whence I explain to myself the fact, that this opinion also has not been without its followers. Whoever, on the other hand, places both works at an equal distance from the Timæus, and is consequently in a condition to survey the whole system uniformly from the two, can hardly, I think, fail to feel surprise when he sees how much more perfect the Phædon appears; wiser, and worthy of more mature age; so that it stands to the Phædrus precisely in the relation of the dying Socrates to him who still hopes to learn much from the people in the market-place. For even the mythical part, to go no further, how much more sober and judicious is it! In this dialogue we hear no more of a supercelestial region, and of a dazzling gaze at ideas, and no necessity arises to assist the dry uncertainty of them by an indistinct image; but it is sufficient, in order to demonstrate the revolution of the soul, to give a theory of the earth, which, though constructed indeed upon lore of poets and wise men, is taken from later sources, and such as contain more of a presentiment of science. Nay, though a special meaning is not to be looked for in every particular, we should, nevertheless, scarcely be disposed to disagree with any one who might suppose that what is said of Socrates’ treatment of the Æsopic fables, is a justification of the fact, that in the majority of the Platonic myths so little original invention is contained. And how much more finished is the philosophic talent in the Phædon, how much more definite the connection of the author’s own views, how differently, compared with that youthful joy in the first elements, is the philosophical method spoken of, after long practice and complex knowledge; so that certainly in the Phædrus, the young Plato might more easily make Socrates speak so like a youth, than in the Phædon so like a sage. Nay, even if it is to be supposed that Plato, when he wrote the Phædrus, already professed an acquaintance with the Pythagorean writings, which does however to us never seem necessary, how very differently is this school treated of, when it appears in the light of distant mythical wisdom, and here, where Plato sets to work to complete what is insufficient in their doctrines. And then, as to the proof given in the Phædrus, of the immortality of the soul; will any one bring himself to believe that this would be an acceptable supplement, after all the discussion in our dialogue upon that point? Or, must not every one see, on the contrary, that Plato set aside this proof, and as it were disowned it, because he now shrank from calling the soul, as he there does, the original principle; or God, who is the real original principle, soul?

Those, therefore, who believe the Phædon to have been written immediately after the death of Socrates, and the Phædrus not before his Egyptian travels, what proof can they bring forward but that already anticipated in the Introduction to the Phædrus, except perhaps, on the one side, the grand discovery, if we are not the first to make them a present of it, that in the Phædrus Simmias is ranked above Phædrus as an occasion of arguments, because he occasioned those in the Phædon; and on the other side, those particular passages in the Phædrus in which doctrinal points are enunciated with greater precision than appears suitable to a first piece, and in which words occur, which suppose the existence of investigations not to be found except in subsequent dialogues? But any one must see at once how little that circumstance will avail against all that we have established; and thus, it may be left for every reader to explain for himself, how these few passages in the Phædrus arose from the dialectic tendency of the dialogue, even when the Platonic philosophy was yet in an entirely undeveloped state, so that there may be no occasion for the subterfuge, that they were first introduced on a subsequent elaboration of the work, although they look sufficiently as if they had been so introduced. Finally, without any reference to the Phædrus, there would be nothing to say in favour of so early a position of the Phædon, except that so elaborate a description of Socrates would have been in its place only a short time after his death, and that the passage in the Theætetus about the flight from this world, is intended to be an elucidation of the wish for death in the Phædon; and the allegation of such arguments is sufficiently tantamount to bringing to light the weakness of the cause.

This analysis, into which all that there was to say by way of preface upon the subject of the dialogue, has at the same time spontaneously worked itself, will, it is hoped, secure to the Phædon its place between the Symposium and the Philebus. Beyond this, we find no immediate chronological traces, though several indications do indeed point to a somewhat advanced period. We will draw attention to two only. In the first place, the way in which Socrates not only in the myth describes the locality of the Hellenic education as the worst district upon earth, but also expressly advises his disciples to seek for wisdom even without Hellas, among the races of barbarians, bears throughout the dress of a late period, where from an acquaintance probably with the Pythagoreans in particular, the passion for the wisdom of the East was excited, and has an entirely different bearing from particular commendations elsewhere bestowed upon the Egyptians, or Locrians, or Getæ. And in the next place, an acquaintance with the writings of Philolaus is manifestly here supposed, and the dialogue itself sufficiently teaches that these had not yet at that time become naturalized in Athens itself, because it is only to his Theban friends that a knowledge of the doctrines of the philosopher, who had lived there, is attributed; and a different style is usually observable in enquiries made after writings already known at Athens; so that the legend certainly acquires a degree of probability, that Plato brought these books home with him from his travels as a present from his friend.

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Footnotes

1. Τόκος ἐν καλῷ. Symp. ↩