Phaed. An accidental circumstance happened in his favor, Echecrates; for the poop of the ship which the Athenians send to Delos chanced to be crowned on the day before the trial.

Ech. But what is this ship?

Phaed. It is the ship, as the Athenians say, in which Theseus formerly conveyed the fourteen boys and girls to Crete, and saved both them and himself.  They, therefore, made a vow to Apollo on that occasion, as it is said, that if they were saved they would every year dispatch a solemn embassy to Delos; which, from that time to the present, they send yearly to the god. 3.  When they begin the preparations for this solemn embassy, they have a law that the city shall be purified during this period, and that no public execution shall take place until the ship has reached Delos, and returned to Athens; and this occasionally takes a long time, when the winds happen to impede their passage.  The commencement of the embassy is when the priest of Apollo has crowned the poop of the ship.  And this was done, as I said, on the day before the trial:  on this account Socrates had a long interval in prison between the trial and his death.

4. Ech. And what, Phaedo, were the circumstances of his death?  What was said and done? and who of his friends were with him? or would not the magistrates allow them to be present, but did he die destitute of friends?

Phaed. By no means; but some, indeed several, were present.

Ech. Take the trouble, then, to relate to me all the particulars as clearly as you can, unless you have any pressing business.

Phaed. I am at leisure, and will endeavor to give you a full account; for to call Socrates to mind, whether speaking myself or listening to some one else, is always most delightful to me.

5. Ech. And indeed, Phaedo, you have others to listen to you who are of the same mind.  However, endeavor to relate every thing as accurately as you can.

Phaed. I was, indeed, wonderfully affected by being present, for I was not impressed with a feeling of pity, like one present at the death of a friend; for the man appeared to me to be happy, Echecrates, both from his manner and discourse, so fearlessly and nobly did he meet his death:  so much so, that it occurred to me that in going to Hades he was not going without a divine destiny, but that when he arrived there he would be happy, if any one ever was.  For this reason I was entirely uninfluenced by any feeling of pity, as would seem likely to be the case with one present on so mournful an occasion; nor was I affected by pleasure from being engaged in philosophical discussions, as was our custom; for our conversation was of that kind.  But an altogether unaccountable feeling possessed me, a kind of unusual mixture compounded of pleasure and pain together, when I considered that he was immediately about to die.  And all of us who were present were affected in much the same manner, at one time laughing, at another weeping—­one of us especially, Apollodorus, for you know the man and his manner.