Plato sets the final conversation and execution of Socrates in a metaphysically speculative, Pythagorean dialogue where intricately intertwined arguments, mythology, and Socratic biography have roles to play. The Phaedo is Plato’s most dualistic dialogue, exploring the soul’s troubled relationship with the body; and it is the only dialogue in which Plato’s absence is explicitly remarked (59b10). What in the Theaetetus is Socrates’ down-to-earth maieutic method, is in the Phaedo the soul’s recollection of transcendent Forms. What in the Theaetetus is the philosopher’s escape from the earthly mix of good and bad, is in Phaedo the soul’s escape from the body.
Phaedo is, by custom, the dialogue most concerned with what it is to be a philosopher and to lead the life of philosophy - though in more rarefied air than when the rough Socrates practices his questioning techniques on anyone willing to be engaged by him. It is perhaps closer to the truth to say that the dialogue is about dying in philosophy, for the recurring image is of the soul’s purification and final flight from the imprisoning body that distracts it with pleasures and pains, needs and desires, throughout life. Phaedo tells the Pythagorean community at Phlius that - while Socrates’ companions felt ‘‘an unaccustomed mixture of pleasure and pain at the same time... sometimes laughing, then weeping’’ - the philosopher himself, on his last day of life, ‘‘appeared happy both in manner and words as he died nobly and without fear’’ (58e3-4), a proem sustained in the conversations about the soul that follow.
Without ever claiming certainty, and sometimes flatly denying he has it, Socrates wants to put his argument before his ‘‘judges,’’ his friends: one who has spent a lifetime doing philosophy should face death cheerfully. He says, ‘‘other people do not realize that the one aim of those who practice philosophy in the proper manner is to practice for dying and death’’ (64a4 -6) - which raises a laugh and Simmias’ joke that people think ‘‘true philosophers are nearly dead’’ (64b4-6; cf. 65d, 80e). But the seriousness of the day’s talk is plain when Simmias and Cebes have delivered themselves of arguments against the immortality of the soul, depressing everyone. Socrates rallies: ‘‘If you take my advice, you will give but little thought to Socrates but much more to the truth. If you think that what I say is true, agree with me; if not, oppose it with every argument and take care that in my eagerness I do not deceive myself and you and, like a bee, leave my sting in you when I go’’ (Phd. 91b8-c5). Philosophical argument resumes. Near the end, Socrates breaks into a long story of the afterlife that ‘‘no sensible man would insist’’ were true, but where ‘‘Those who have purified themselves sufficiently by philosophy live in the future altogether without a body’’ (114c2-6).
In sharp contrast, realism dominates the opening and closing scenes in the prison. In the morning, Socrates visits with Xanthippe and their baby, and rubs his ankle where the bonds have been removed, speaking of pleasure and pain; the Eleven, prison officials chosen by lot, are already gone (59e-60b). Now, sometime in the afternoon and with the philosophical conversation ended, attention focuses again on the body. Socrates has no interest in whether his corpse is burned or buried, he says, but he wants to take a bath to save the women of his household from having to wash the corpse; then he meets with his family before rejoining his companions. The servant of the Eleven, a public slave, bids Socrates farewell by calling him ‘‘the noblest, the gentlest, and the best’’ (116c5-6), but cannot forbear weeping. The poisoner describes the physical effects of the poison, the Conium maculatum variety of hemlock (Bloch 2001). Socrates cheerfully takes the cup, ‘‘without a tremor or any change of feature or color’’ (117b3-5), and drinks. The emotions that have been threatening Socrates’ companions now erupt violently - and are immediately checked by Socrates’ shaming, ‘‘keep quiet and control yourselves’’ (117e2). The poison begins to work, and the poisoner follows its numbing progress from the feet to the belly - touching, testing, pressing Socrates’ body. Socrates makes a last request of Crito. Presently, his body gives a jerk, after which his eyes are fixed. Crito closes them. Phaedo, the former slave, echoes the servant of the Eleven, ending the dialogue with an epithet for Socrates, ‘‘the best, ... the wisest and the most upright’’ (118a16-17).
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