"To affirm positively, indeed, that these things are exactly as I have described them does not become a man of sense. That, however, either this, or something of the kind, takes place with respect to our souls and their habitations – since our soul is certainly immortal – this appears to me most fitting to be believed, and worthy the hazard for one who trusts in its reality; for the hazard is noble, and it is right to allure ourselves with such things, as with enchantments, for which reason I have prolonged my story to such a length. 146. On account of these things, then, a man ought to be confident about his soul who, during this life, has disregarded all the pleasures and ornaments of the body as foreign from his nature, and who, having thought that they do more harm than good, has zealously applied himself to the acquirement of knowledge, and who, having adorned his soul, not with a foreign, but its own proper ornament – temperance, justice, fortitude, freedom, and truth – thus waits for his passage to Hades, as one who is ready to depart whenever destiny shall summon him. You, then," he continued, "Simmias and Cebes, and the rest, will each of you depart at some future time, but now destiny summons me, as a tragic writer would say, and it is nearly time for me to betake myself to the bath, for it appears to me to be better to drink the poison after I have bathed myself, and not to trouble the women with washing my dead body."
147. When he had thus spoken, Crito said, "So be it, Socrates, but what commands have you to give to these or to me, either respecting your children, or any other matter, in attending to which we can most oblige you?"
"What I always say, Crito," he replied, "nothing new that by taking care of yourselves you will oblige both me and mine, and yourselves, whatever you do, though you should not now promise it, and if you neglect yourselves, and will not live, as it were, in the footsteps of what has been now and formerly said, even though you should promise much at present, and that earnestly, you will do no good at all."
"We will endeavor, then, so to do," he said. "But how shall we bury you?"
"Just as you please," he said, "if only you can catch me, and I do not escape from you." 148. And, at the same time smiling gently, and looking round on us, he said, "I cannot persuade Crito, my friends, that I am that Socrates who is now conversing with you, and who methodizes each part of the discourse; but he thinks that I am he whom he will shortly behold dead, and asks how he should bury me. But that which I some time since argued at length, that when I have drunk the poison I shall no longer remain with you, but shall depart to some happy state of the blessed, this I seem to have urged to him in vain, though I meant at the same time to console both you and myself. Be ye, then, my sureties to Crito," he said, "in an obligation contrary to that which he made to the judges (for he undertook that I should remain); but do you be sureties that, when I die, I shall not remain, but shall depart, that Crito may more easily bear it; and, when he sees my body either burned or buried, may not be afflicted for me, as if I suffered from some dreadful thing; nor say at my interment that Socrates is laid out, or is carried out, or is buried. 149. For be well assured," he said, "most excellent Crito, that to speak improperly is not only culpable as to the thing itself, but likewise occasions some injury to our souls. You must have a good courage, then, and say that you bury my body, and bury it in such a manner as is pleasing to you, and as you think is most agreeable to our laws."
When he had said thus, he rose, and went into a chamber to bathe, and Crito followed him, but he directed us to wait for him. We waited, therefore, conversing among ourselves about what had been said, and considering it again, and sometimes speaking about our calamity, how severe it would be to us, sincerely thinking that, like those who are deprived of a father, we should pass the rest of our life as orphans. When he had bathed, and his children were brought to him (for he had two little sons and one grown up), and the women belonging to his family were come, having conversed with them in the presence of Crito, and given them such injunctions as he wished, he directed the women and children to go away, and then returned to us. And it was now near sunset; for he spent a considerable time within. 150. But when he came from bathing he sat down, and did not speak much afterward; then the officer of the Eleven came in, and, standing near him, said, "Socrates, I shall not have to find that fault with you that I do with others, that they are angry with me, and curse me, when, by order of the archons, I bid them drink the poison. But you, on all other occasions during the time you have been here, I have found to be the most noble, meek, and excellent man of all that ever came into this place; and, therefore, I am now well convinced that you will not be angry with me (for you know who are to blame), but with them. Now, then (for you know what I came to announce to you), farewell, and endeavor to bear what is inevitable as easily as possible." And at the same time, bursting into tears, he turned away and withdrew.
151. And Socrates, looking after him, said, "And thou, too, farewell. We will do as you direct." At the same time turning to us, he said, "How courteous the man is! During the whole time I have been here he has visited me, and conversed with me sometimes, and proved the worthiest of men; and now how generously he weeps for me! But come, Crito, let us obey him, and let some one bring the poison, if it is ready pounded; but if not, let the man pound it."
Then Crito said, "But I think, Socrates, that the sun is still on the mountains, and has not yet set. Besides, I know that others have drunk the poison very late, after it had been announced to them, and have supped and drunk freely, and some even have enjoyed the objects of their love. Do not hasten, then, for there is yet time."
Upon this Socrates replied, "These men whom you mention, Crito, do these things with good reason, for they think they shall gain by so doing; and I, too, with good reason, shall not do so; for I think I shall gain nothing by drinking a little later, except to become ridiculous to myself, in being so fond of life, and sparing of it, when none any longer remains. Go then," he said, "obey, and do not resist."
152. Crito, having heard this, nodded to the boy that stood near. And the boy, having gone out and staid for some time, came, bringing with him the man that was to administer the poison, who brought it ready pounded in a cup. And Socrates, on seeing the man, said, "Well, my good friend, as you are skilled in these matters, what must I do?"
"Nothing else," he replied, "than, when you have drunk it, walk about until there is a heaviness in your legs; then lie down: thus it will do its purpose." And at the same time he held out the cup to Socrates. And he having received it very cheerfully, Echecrates neither trembling, nor changing at all in color or countenance, but, as he was wont, looking steadfastly at the man, said, "What say you of this potion, with respect to making a libation to any one, is it lawful or not?"
"We only pound so much, Socrates," he said, "as we think sufficient to drink."
153. "I understand you," he said; "but it is certainly both lawful and right to pray to the gods, that my departure hence thither may be happy; which, therefore, I pray, and so may it be." And as he said this, he drank it off readily and calmly. Thus far, most of us were with difficulty able to restrain ourselves from weeping; but when we saw him drinking, and having finished the draught, we could do so no longer; but, in spite of myself, the tears came in full torrent, so that, covering my face, I wept for myself; for I did not weep for him, but for my own fortune, in being deprived of such a friend. But Crito, even before me, when he could not restrain his tears, had risen up. 154. But Apollodorus, even before this, had not ceased weeping; and then, bursting into an agony of grief, weeping and lamenting, he pierced the heart of every one present, except Socrates himself. But he said, "What are you doing, my admirable friends? I, indeed, for this reason chiefly, sent away the women, that they might not commit any folly of this kind. For I have heard that it is right to die with good omens. Be quiet, therefore, and bear up."
When we heard this, we were ashamed, and restrained our tears. But he, having walked about, when he said that his legs were growing heavy, lay down on his back; for the man had so directed him. And, at the same time, he who gave the poison taking hold of him, after a short interval, examined his feet and legs; and then, having pressed his foot hard, he asked if he felt it: he said that he did not. And after this he pressed his thighs; and, thus going higher, he showed us that he was growing cold and stiff. Then Socrates touched himself, and said that when the poison reached his heart he should then depart. 155. But now the parts around the lower belly were almost cold; when, uncovering himself, for he had been covered over, he said (and they were his last words), "Crito, we owe a cock to Æsculapius; pay it, therefore; and do not neglect it."
"It shall be done," said Crito; "but consider whether you have any thing else to say."
To this question he gave no reply; but, shortly after, he gave a convulsive movement, and the man covered him, and his eyes were fixed; and Crito, perceiving it, closed his mouth and eyes.
This, Echecrates, was the end of our friend, – a man, as we may say, the best of all of his time that we have known, and, moreover, the most wise and just.