soul alone, and when this is granted to them, to be trembling and repining; instead of rejoicing at their departing to that place where, when they arrive, they hope to gain that which in life they loved (and this was wisdom), and at the same time to be rid of the company of their enemy. Many a man has been willing to go to the world below in the hope of seeing there an earthly love, or wife, or son, and conversing with them. And will he who is a true lover of wisdom, and is persuaded in like manner that only in the world below he can worthily enjoy her, still repine at death?
Will he not depart with joy? Surely he will, my friend, if he be a true philosopher. For he will have a firm conviction that there only, and nowhere else, he can find wisdom in her purity. And if this be true, he would be very absurd, as I was saying, if he were to 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 of wisdom, but a lover of the body, and probably at the same time a lover of either money or power, or both?
That is very true, he replied.
There is a virtue, Simmias, which is named courage. Is not that a special attribute of the philosophy.
Certainly.
Again, there is temperance. Is not the calm, and control, and disdain of the passions which even the many call temperance, a quality belonging 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 consider them, are really a contradiction.
How is that, Socrates?
Well, he said, you are aware that death is regarded by men in general as a great evil.
That is true, he said.
And do not courageous men endure death because they are afraid of yet greater evils?
That is true.
Then all but the philosophers are courageous only from fear, and because they are afraid; and yet that a man should
