Final Paper

John Nay

Mythologies Term Paper

“Those who apply themselves to philosophy in the proper

way are doing no more nor less than to prepare themselves

for the moment of dying and the state of death.”

“The coldness was spreading about as far as his waist when Socrates

 uncovered his face—for he had covered it up—and said (they were his last words):

‘Crito, we ought to offer a cock to Asclepius. 

See to it, and don’t forget.’

----Plato

            Several weeks ago, on a brisk November afternoon, Dr. Sexson suggested that I, for a final paper, explore the significance of the deity Asclepius in the context of Socrates last words: “Crito, we ought to offer a cock to Asclepius (190)”.  At first, this spontaneous essay prompt, seemed a little beyond my capabilities; particularly since the answer to this riddle-like question could only exist within the confines of my very basic understanding of myth, and Platonic philosophy.  However, after reading various sources, and the footnote in the Phaedo, I felt contended knowing that my riddle had been partially been solved by others.  The re-accruing answer, that I continually stumbled upon, was this: “Socrates soul has been healed…and one is only injuring the body (251)” by condemning him to death.  To clarify this statement a bit, the reason Socrates tells Crito to offer a sacrifice to Aesclepius (the god of healing) is that he wants to pay homage to the new day, and the deity that has cured him during the night, from the pangs of bodily existence.  

This answer, as I have said, is more or less universally agreed upon.  Yet it is still an explanation bound by a limited context.  What seems of more use to the student of myth then—is rather this question: how much depth does the invoked Asclepius provide Socrates on the precipice of his plumage into the underworld.  Stated in slightly cleaner language, after some of the mythological significance of Asclepius is understood—which this is essay shall do—what is added to Socrates last utterance, and how does our understanding of Socrates situation—as the hemlock poison takes effect—depart from the realm of the simplistic?      

After pondering the best way to structure this essay, I have come to the conclusion that I first need to discuss the role of physician, and the role of philosopher in ancient Greece.  However, before we arrive at this comparison, let us first understand our current definitions of the word philosopher, and the word physician.  According to the American College Dictionary, the word philosopher, derived from the Greek origin philosophos, literally means “lover of wisdom”.  Physician, on the other hand, is derived from the Middle English word fisicien, meaning “one who is skilled at the art of healing”.  While perhaps not entirely clear now, the purpose of these definitions will be of partial use throughout the essay as these categories of meaning shift.  

Typically, modern man would probably not find many similarities between the occupation of philosopher, and the occupation of physician.  However, for the Asclepiads of Kos—a cult of the deity Asclepius—sickness, and discovering cures for sickness, was not only empirical study, it was also a metaphysical study.  C. Kerenyi, author of the book Asclepius, Archetypal Image of the Physician’s Existence, proves this point by stating that “the author of…the ‘sacred malady,’(an Asclepiad of Kos) professes that for him all diseases are human and divine, this does mean natural and supernatural, but natural and for this very reason divine…(thus, the) physicians awareness of the divinity of their art must be understood in the same sense (61)”.  To add some weight to the notion that these physicians were philosophically inclined, C. Kerenyi also proves that the Asclepiads of Kos were of the strict belief that “a physician who is lover of wisdom is the equal of god (61)”.   Through this understanding, we can at least deduce these two points concerning the Asclepiads of Kos: 1. They saw Asclepius as “the divine (all knowing) physician (61)” from which their profession was derived. 2: Since the Asclepiads of Kos viewed all sickness as having a divine source, which Asclepius could cure, they, in a sense, by worshiping and studying his craft, were also philosophers—lovers of wisdom. 

Now that I have established a basis for why these categories of meaning (philosopher, physician) were more interchangeable in ancient Greece than one first suspected, it is now my duty to explain why the cults of Asclepius saw this deity—a healer of maladies—as a source of this wisdom.  But, before we engage in the above mentioned, I ask the reader to quickly reference the top quote, on the cover page of this essay. 

For those of us who are familiar with Socrates on trial, and Socrates in his jail cell, this sort of sentiment seems rather typical of him:  one who is a philosopher deeply contemplates his death, and according to Socrates, eventually welcomes it; for it is finally the soul’s opportunity to rid itself of bodily desires.  Deconstructing these ideas, we can at least gather this much: prior to Socrates execution, he had a self-proclaimed intimacy with the topic of death.  For him, it was in his nature as a philosopher, and, in a sense, as a physician to find a cure to the malady inflicted on the soul—the body.  Death for Socrates is thus welcomed as a treatment.

 Like the philosopher Socrates, C kerenyi in his study proves that the Asclepiads also had a self-proclaimed intimacy with the topic of death: “the limits between chthonic darkness and solar radiance are effaced in a way that is almost terrifying…but less so perhaps to the physician (who)… is accustomed to a certain twilight realm between life and death (17)”. Although we are still not sure whether the Asclepiads welcomed death in the same way as Socrates, we still have at least discovered two more similarities between philosopher and physician—their inherent intimacy with death, and their interests in curing maladies.  Now, let us investigate the story of how Asclepius came to inhabit this “twighlight realm” so as to better understand the mythological significance of Socrates cure.

 However, before we turn our attention back to Asclepius, we first need to address the fact that there is a problem which arises when investigating the origins of this deity—the vast array of varying regional myths.  For the purpose of this paper however, so as not to encumber it with tedious detail, I will simply focus on Asclepius’s conception at Thessaly, and Epidaurus, so as to better focus on what I have found to be a prevalent theme: Asclepius’s was conception, via a god of light and dark, and a maiden also of light and dark.

Concerning Asclepius’s paternal lineage, C. Kerenyi in his book tells us that at the “Thessalian temples of Asclepius, sacrifices were first offered to Apollo…thus Apollo came first…in mythological terms, he was the father.”  (We, as students of myth, are all of course aware that Apollo is typically associated with the sun—a luminous life giving source.)  However, at Epidaurus, Apollo was also seen as dark.  C. Kerenyi gives us this bit of information which defends this claim: “the wolf…identified with darkness, was (also) sacred to Apollo (29)”.  Thus, we must understand that Apollo is both a god of dark and light.

 When investigating Asclepius’s maternal lineage, we also encounter a similar combination of light and dark that enshrouds Asclepius existence; yet, according to C. Kerenyi, the myths of the maternal origin seem to be much more of a mystery.  Overcoming this problem, C.Kerenyi relies on the information of Isyllos, a poet of Epidaurus, who tells the story of Asclepius’s mother, Aigla, the “Luminous one”.  C. Kerenyi, in his study, also reveals the more complicated nature of this figure Aiga, the “Luminous one”, by revealing that she was known more commonly during Isyllos’s time, as Koronis, “a dark haired, dark skinned maiden (28)”.  Thus, with this information compiled, it seems appropriate that C. Kerenyi suggest that “Asclepius is the procreative Apollo, flaring up from out of a mother both light and dark.” 

So, now that that we have briefly covered Asclepius’s origin myth (how he came to inhabit the realm between light and dark) one certainly needs to take this note: Socrates uttered his last words at dawn, on the precipice of a new day—during this “twilight realm”, that moment between light and dark.  Also, one should note that Socrates’ “twilight realm” was doubly meaningful; for this realm also existed between his life, and his death.  However, before we can assess the exact significance of this last statement, let us first investigate how Asclepius cured his patients during the night, and during their dreams.

As I begin to unfold this final topic, it has come my realization that I have forgotten to make mention of Asclepius’s sacred animal, the snake.  Yet, as I discuss the divine cures of Asclepius, perhaps this is the most opportune moment for me to discuss the immense importance of the symbol of the snake. 

Like the dog—a symbol of light—the symbol of Asclepius’s sacred snake also represented divine healing.  This snake, another manifestation of Asclepius, often visited its patients at Epidaurus in their dreams, licking their wounds, curing them of their ailments (32).  Because this symbolic healing typically occurred in the dark recesses of the patients dreams, C. Kerenyi has described the animal as representing “life at the threshold of death…dark and cold, but at the same time warm and radiant, that stirs beneath the surface of the waking world and accomplishes the miracle of cure (34)”.  Now that we are aware that Asclepius visits his patients during a dream, we must certainly add this context to our discussion of Socrates. 

Though Socrates was not visited by a snake, the significance of his death during this “twighlight realm” is beginning to be understood.  One can now begin to view Socrates invocation of Asclepius as a waking from the dream of life—so his soul could embark on its path to the realm of “true forms”.  To add further context this point, C. Kerenyi states that “In sleep the patient withdraws from his fellow men and even from his physician, and surrenders to a process at work within him (35).” By this point, we have probably already speculated that Socrates is in a sense a physician, yet now, as he passes out of existence, we realize he is neither this, nor philosopher—rather, he is simply cured.                                   

At the end of our study, I now ask the reader to envision Socrates against the foreground of a nuptial light, rising from the east, and awaking the world.  At this moment, as Socrates journeys into the realm of the underworld, after all this mythological depth has been digested, we must ask ourselves about the role of the hemlock poison.

 Now as my works is done, I leave this riddle, and Socrates at the precise moment between night and day,—hemlock taking effect, philosopher and physician waking from a tormenting dream—body no longer inflicted.

 After, as this “twilight realm” has dispersed, and Socrates is no longer, one must at least give thanks to magical herbs and the dawning of a new day.