A Life of Socrates by Dr. G. Wiggers [pp. 236-265]

1fe Receives the Poison.
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, says Plato, 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 so directed him. And at the same time, he who
gave him 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. But now the lower parts of his body 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 IEsculapius; 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 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. Plato adds, "This, Echerates, 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."
No doubt the reader's mind, like our own, has been wrought
up to a high degree of painful interest, by this affecting narrative. Such an account could not well be fictitious. It is too
simple, and bears all the marks of truthfulness. Its tragical
effect on the mind depends rather on our being alone than in
company. The death of Socrates has never been well acted on
the stage. Indeed, it has seldom been attempted. One cannot,
however, but admire the friendly attachment of Plato to Socrates, which leads him to "linger and dwell upon the circumstances of that awful tragedy with minuteness and particularity of
1851.]
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