§89ΦΑΙΔ. καὶ μήν, ὦ Ἐχέκρατες, πολλάκις θαυμάσας Σωκράτη οὐ πώποτε μᾶλλον ἠγάσθην ἢ τότε παραγενόμενος.
Phaedo: “Indeed, Echecrates, though I have often admired Socrates, I never wondered at him more than when I was present then.
τὸ μὲν οὖν ἔχειν ὅτι λέγοι ἐκεῖνος ἴσως οὐδὲν ἄτοπον· ἀλλὰ ἔγωγε μάλιστα ἐθαύμασα αὐτοῦ πρῶτον μὲν τοῦτο, ὡς ἡδέως καὶ εὐμενῶς καὶ ἀγαμένως τῶν νεανίσκων τὸν λόγον ἀπεδέξατο, ἔπειτα ἡμῶν ὡς ὀξέως ᾔσθετο ὃ ᾽πεπόνθεμεν ὑπὸ τῶν λόγων, ἔπειτα ὡς εὖ ἡμᾶς ἰάσατο καὶ ὥσπερ πεφευγότας καὶ ἡττημένους ἀνεκαλέσατο καὶ προύτρεψεν πρὸς τὸ παρέπεσθαί τε καὶ συσκοπεῖν τὸν λόγον. ΕΧ. πῶς δή; ΦΑΙΔ. ἐγὼ ἐρῶ.
That he had something to say is perhaps nothing strange; but what I wondered at most in him was first this, how pleasantly, kindly, and with admiration he accepted the young men’s argument, then how quickly he perceived what we had suffered from their arguments, and then how well he healed us and, as if recalling us when we were fleeing and defeated, called us back and encouraged us to follow and join him in examining the argument.” Echecrates: “How so?” Phaedo: “I will tell you.
ἔτυχον γὰρ ἐν δεξιᾷ αὐτοῦ καθήμενος παρὰ τὴν κλίνην ἐπὶ χαμαιζήλου τινός, ὁ δὲ ἐπὶ πολὺ ὑψηλοτέρου ἢ ἐγώ.
For I happened to be sitting on his right, beside the bed on a low stool, while he was sitting on a much higher place than I.
καταψήσας οὖν μου τὴν κεφαλὴν καὶ συμπιέσας τὰς ἐπὶ τῷ αὐχένι τρίχας — εἰώθει γάρ, ὁπότε τύχοι, παίζειν μου εἰς τὰς τρίχας — Αὔριον δή, ἔφη, ἴσως, ὦ Φαίδων, τὰς καλὰς ταύτας κόμας ἀποκερῇ. ἔοικεν, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ, ὦ Σώκρατες. οὔκ, ἄν γε ἐμοὶ πείθῃ. ἀλλὰ τί; ἦν δ’ ἐγώ. τήμερον, ἔφη, κἀγὼ τὰς ἐμὰς καὶ σὺ ταύτας, ἐάνπερ γε ἡμῖν ὁ λόγος τελευτήσῃ καὶ μὴ δυνώμεθα αὐτὸν ἀναβιώσασθαι.
So, stroking my head and pressing together the hair on my neck—for he was accustomed, whenever it happened, to play with my hair—he said, ‘Tomorrow, perhaps, Phaedo, you will cut off these beautiful locks of hair.’ ‘It seems so, Socrates,’ I said. ‘Not if you will be persuaded by me.’ ‘But what then?’ I said. ‘Today,’ he said, ‘both I shall cut mine and you yours, if our argument dies and we cannot bring it back to life.
καὶ ἔγωγ’ ἄν, εἰ σὺ εἴην καί με διαφεύγοι ὁ λόγος, ἔνορκον ἂν ποιησαίμην ὥσπερ Ἀργεῖοι, μὴ πρότερον κομήσειν, πρὶν ἂν νικήσω ἀναμαχόμενος τὸν Σιμμίου τε καὶ κέβητος λόγον. ἀλλ᾽, ἦν δ’ ἐγώ, πρὸς δύο λέγεται οὐδ’ ὁ Ἡρακλῆς οἷός τε εἶναι. ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐμέ, ἔφη, τὸν Ἰόλεων παρακάλει, ἕως ἔτι φῶς ἐστιν. παρακαλῶ τοίνυν, ἔφην, οὐχ ὡς Ἡρακλῆς, ἀλλ’ ὡς Ἰόλεως τὸν Ἡρακλῆ. οὐδὲν διοίσει, ἔφη. ἀλλὰ πρῶτον εὐλαβηθῶμέν τι πάθος μὴ πάθωμεν. τὸ ποῖον; ἦν δ’ ἐγώ.
And I, if I were you and the argument escaped me, would make an oath like the Argives, never to let my hair grow until I should conquer in battle the argument of Simmias and Cebes.’ ‘But,’ I said, ‘it is said that against two, even Heracles is not able to fight.’ ‘Then,’ he said, ‘call upon me as your Iolaus, while there is still light.’ ‘I call upon you then,’ I said, ‘not as Heracles, but as Iolaus calling upon Heracles.’ ‘It will make no difference,’ he said. ‘But first let us beware lest we suffer a certain passion.’ ‘What kind?’ I said.
μὴ γενώμεθα, ἦ δ’ ὅς, μισόλογοι, ὥσπερ οἱ μισάνθρωποι γιγνόμενοι· ὡς οὐκ ἔστιν, ἔφη, ὅτι ἄν τις μεῖζον τούτου κακὸν πάθοι ἢ λόγους μισήσας.
‘Lest we become,’ he said, ‘haters of arguments, just as people become haters of mankind; for there is no,’ he said, ‘greater evil that one could suffer than to hate arguments.
γίγνεται δὲ ἐκ τοῦ αὐτοῦ τρόπου μισολογία τε καὶ μισανθρωπία.
And misology and misanthropy come from the same manner.
ἥ τε γὰρ μισανθρωπία ἐνδύεται ἐκ τοῦ σφόδρα τινὶ πιστεῦσαι ἄνευ τέχνης, καὶ ἡγήσασθαι παντάπασί γε ἀληθῆ εἶναι καὶ ὑγιῆ καὶ πιστὸν τὸν ἄνθρωπον, ἔπειτα ὀλίγον ὕστερον εὑρεῖν τοῦτον πονηρόν τε καὶ ἄπιστον, καὶ αὖθις ἕτερον· καὶ ὅταν τοῦτο πολλάκις πάθῃ τις καὶ ὑπὸ τούτων μάλιστα οὓς ἂν ἡγήσαιτο οἰκειοτάτους τε καὶ ἑταιροτάτους, τελευτῶν δὴ θαμὰ προσκρούων μισεῖ τε πάντας καὶ ἡγεῖται οὐδενὸς οὐδὲν ὑγιὲς εἶναι τὸ παράπαν.
For misanthropy enters in from trusting someone too much without art, and believing that the human being is altogether true, sound, and trustworthy, and then a little later finding him wicked and untrustworthy, and again another; and when one suffers this many times, especially by those whom one would think to be closest and most companionable, ending at last, after frequent collisions, he hates everyone and believes that there is nothing sound in anyone at all.
ἢ οὐκ ᾔσθησαι σύ πω τοῦτο γιγνόμενον; πάνυ γε, ἦν δ᾽ ἐγώ. οὐκοῦν, ἦ δ’ ὅς, αἰσχρόν, καὶ δῆλον ὅτι ἄνευ τέχνης τῆς περὶ τἀνθρώπεια ὁ τοιοῦτος χρῆσθαι ἐπεχείρει τοῖς ἀνθρώποις;
Or have you not yet perceived this happening?’ ‘Certainly,’ I said. ‘Therefore,’ he said, ‘is it not shameful, and clear that such a person was attempting to deal with human beings without the art of human affairs?’”