At the end of the discussion his friend Phaedo narrates the final actions and words of Socrates. “Now,” says Socrates, “fate calls me, as a tragic actor might say, and it is about time for me to go take my bath. For it seems to me better to bathe before drinking the potion than to create for the women the difficulty of washing my dead body.”
Crito then asks, “Well, Socrates, what directions do you have for me or the others about your children or anything else, that we could be most helpful to you?”
“What I always say, Crito, nothing new. That by taking care for yourselves you’ll do what’s most helpful to me, to my family and to yourselves, even if you don’t make any special promises now. But if you neglect yourselves and don’t continue in the path we have indicated and that you have followed in your previous lives, even if you do make many extravagant promises, you won’t keep them.”[11]
Crito promises that he and Socrates’ other friends will do all they can. He asks Socrates for instructions about how to bury him. “Any way you like,” he replies with a laugh, “if you can catch me and I don’t get away.” In the philosophical discussion, Socrates made a strong distinction between the eternal soul and the perishable body. That much is Plato’s contribution. But Socrates did identify the soul as the real person, whether it was mortal or immortal. “Take heart and say that you are just burying my body, and bury it however seems good to you and most consistent with the customary rites.”[12]
At this point Socrates arises and goes to another room to bathe, telling his friends to wait for him in his cell. After the bath, his sons are brought to him, two of them being still young and one a teenager, along with the women of his household, his wife Xanthippe and perhaps his dependent Myrto (see ch. 16.2*). He visits with his family in another room for a long time and then takes his leave and sends them away. The sun is almost setting when he comes out to visit with his friends. Then one of the prison guards comes out to see him. “‘Socrates,’ he said, ‘I won’t accuse you as I do the other prisoners because they rage at me and curse me when I order them to drink the potion at the behest of the officers. But I’ve found you in every way to be in this time the kindest, gentlest, and best man who’s ever come here. And now I know full well that you won’t blame me, but those you know are responsible. So now you know what I came to say, farewell and try to bear patiently your fate.’ At that he broke into tears and turned away and left.
“Socrates looking up at him, replied, ‘Farewell to you; we’ll follow your advice.’ Then to us he said, ‘What a fine fellow! This whole time he’s come and visited with me and was very friendly. And now how sweet of him to weep for me. But come, Crito, let’s obey him. Let them bring the potion, if it’s been ground. If not, let the man prepare it.’
“But, Socrates” replies Crito, “I think the sun is still on the mountains and hasn’t yet set. And I know that others have drunk the potion very late after the order came, dining well and drinking, and sometimes having relations with whomever they wished. There’s no rush. There’s still time.”
“It’s reasonable, Crito” says Socrates, “for them to do the things you mention because they think it will benefit them. And it’s reasonable for me not to do that, for I don’t think there’s any benefit in drinking the potion a little later, other than to make myself a laughingstock to myself, hanging on to life when there’s nothing left to cling to. But come, do as I say and don’t stall.”
Crito then nods to an attendant, who goes to fetch the potion. He brings it in a drinking cup. “Well, sir,” says Socrates to the attendant, “since you know the procedure, what should I do?”
“Nothing else but drink it up and walk around until you feel the heaviness in your legs. Then lie down. The potion will do its work.”
Socrates takes the cup without trembling or growing pale, but looks up at the attendant from under his eyebrows “like a bull” in his typical manner. “What do you say about pouring a libation to a god?” asks Socrates. “Is it allowed?” It was customary to pour wine on the ground as an offering to a god before drinking.
“We only prepare as much as is needed,” answers the attendant.
“I understand. But it’s right and good to pray to the gods that the departure from here to there may be propitious. So I pray, amen.” Socrates offers a pious prayer, one not directed to any particular deity, a prayer consistent with a general belief in the gods, but not dependent on any set theology.
Socrates raises the cup and drains it smoothly. “Up until then,” reports Phaedo, “most of us had been able to hold back our tears. But when we saw him drain the cup, we could contain ourselves no longer. My own tears flowed freely so that I covered my head with my cloak to weep—not so much for him as for my own misfortune in being deprived of such a companion. Crito, even before me, when he couldn’t hold back his tears, stood up. Apollodorus, who hadn’t stopped weeping the whole time, then especially let out a wail, sobbing and ranting, so that there was no one he didn’t cause to break down except Socrates himself.
“But Socrates protested, ‘What are you doing, gentlemen! I sent away the women not least because I wanted to avoid a scene. It’s said that one should die in reverent silence. Hold your peace and get control of yourselves.’
“Hearing his rebuke we felt ashamed and held our tears. He walked around, and when he said his legs were getting heavy, he lay down as the attendant had instructed. The man who had administered the potion felt him. After some time passed he examined his feet and legs, then pinching his feet hard he asked Socrates if he felt anything. He said no. After this he tried his shins. Then moving up his body he showed us that he was growing cold and stiff. Touching his own heart, he said, ‘When it reaches the heart, he’ll be gone.’
“When the cold had almost reached his abdomen, he uncovered himself—for he had covered his head—and spoke—and these were his last words—‘Crito,’ he said, ‘we owe a cock to Asclepius. So make the offering and don’t forget.’
“‘I’ll take care of it,’ said Crito. ‘But see if you have anything else to say.’
“He didn’t answer this query. After a little time his body twitched and the man uncovered him and found that his eyes were fixed. Seeing this Crito closed his mouth and eyes.
“This, Echecrates, was the death of our companion, the man, we would declare, who was of those of his generation whom we knew the noblest, the wisest, and the most just.”[13]
[11].Plato Phaedo 115a-c.
[12].Plato Phaedo 115c-116a.
[13].Plato Phaedo 116c-118a.