<p>And now you must allow me to repeat of the just the blessings which you
were attributing to the fortunate unjust. I shall say of them, what you
were saying of the others, that as they grow older, they become rulers in
their own city if they care to be; they marry whom they like and give in
marriage to whom they will; all that you said of the others I now say of
these. And, on the other hand, of the unjust I say that the greater
number, even though they escape in their youth, are found out at last and
look foolish at the end of their course, and when they come to be old and
miserable are flouted alike by stranger and citizen; they are beaten and
then come those things unfit for ears polite, as you truly term them; they
will be racked and have their eyes burned out, as you were saying. And you
may suppose that I have repeated the remainder of your tale of horrors.
But will you let me assume, without reciting them, that these things are
true?</p>
<p>Certainly, he said, what you say is true.</p>
<p>These, then, are the prizes and rewards and gifts which are bestowed upon
the just by gods and men in this present life, in addition to the other
good things which justice of herself provides.</p>
<p>Yes, he said; and they are fair and lasting.</p>
<p>And yet, I said, all these are as nothing either in number or greatness in
comparison with those other recompenses which await both just and unjust
after death. And you ought to hear them, and then both just and unjust
will have received from us a full payment of the debt which the argument
owes to them.</p>
<p>Speak, he said; there are few things which I would more gladly hear.</p>
<p>Well, I said, I will tell you a tale; not one of the tales which Odysseus
tells to the hero Alcinous, yet this too is a tale of a hero, Er the son
of Armenius, a Pamphylian by birth. He was slain in battle, and ten days
afterwards, when the bodies of the dead were taken up already in a state
of corruption, his body was found unaffected by decay, and carried away
home to be buried. And on the twelfth day, as he was lying on the funeral
pile, he returned to life and told them what he had seen in the other
world. He said that when his soul left the body he went on a journey with
a great company, and that they came to a mysterious place at which there
were two openings in the earth; they were near together, and over against
them were two other openings in the heaven above. In the intermediate
space there were judges seated, who commanded the just, after they had
given judgment on them and had bound their sentences in front of them, to
ascend by the heavenly way on the right hand; and in like manner the
unjust were bidden by them to descend by the lower way on the left hand;
these also bore the symbols of their deeds, but fastened on their backs.
He drew near, and they told him that he was to be the messenger who would
carry the report of the other world to men, and they bade him hear and see
all that was to be heard and seen in that place. Then he beheld and saw on
one side the souls departing at either opening of heaven and earth when
sentence had been given on them; and at the two other openings other
souls, some ascending out of the earth dusty and worn with travel, some
descending out of heaven clean and bright. And arriving ever and anon they
seemed to have come from a long journey, and they went forth with gladness
into the meadow, where they encamped as at a festival; and those who knew
one another embraced and conversed, the souls which came from earth
curiously enquiring about the things above, and the souls which came from
heaven about the things beneath. And they told one another of what had
happened by the way, those from below weeping and sorrowing at the
remembrance of the things which they had endured and seen in their journey
beneath the earth (now the journey lasted a thousand years), while those
from above were describing heavenly delights and visions of inconceivable
beauty. The story, Glaucon, would take too long to tell; but the sum was
this:—He said that for every wrong which they had done to any one
they suffered tenfold; or once in a hundred years—such being
reckoned to be the length of man's life, and the penalty being thus paid
ten times in a thousand years. If, for example, there were any who had
been the cause of many deaths, or had betrayed or enslaved cities or
armies, or been guilty of any other evil behaviour, for each and all of
their offences they received punishment ten times over, and the rewards of
beneficence and justice and holiness were in the same proportion. I need
hardly repeat what he said concerning young children dying almost as soon
as they were born. Of piety and impiety to gods and parents, and of
murderers, there were retributions other and greater far which he
described. He mentioned that he was present when one of the spirits asked
another, 'Where is Ardiaeus the Great?' (Now this Ardiaeus lived a
thousand years before the time of Er: he had been the tyrant of some city
of Pamphylia, and had murdered his aged father and his elder brother, and
was said to have committed many other abominable crimes.) The answer of
the other spirit was: 'He comes not hither and will never come. And this,'
said he, 'was one of the dreadful sights which we ourselves witnessed. We
were at the mouth of the cavern, and, having completed all our
experiences, were about to reascend, when of a sudden Ardiaeus appeared
and several others, most of whom were tyrants; and there were also besides
the tyrants private individuals who had been great criminals: they were
just, as they fancied, about to return into the upper world, but the
mouth, instead of admitting them, gave a roar, whenever any of these
incurable sinners or some one who had not been sufficiently punished tried
to ascend; and then wild men of fiery aspect, who were standing by and
heard the sound, seized and carried them off; and Ardiaeus and others they
bound head and foot and hand, and threw them down and flayed them with
scourges, and dragged them along the road at the side, carding them on
thorns like wool, and declaring to the passers-by what were their crimes,
and that they were being taken away to be cast into hell.' And of all the
many terrors which they had endured, he said that there was none like the
terror which each of them felt at that moment, lest they should hear the
voice; and when there was silence, one by one they ascended with exceeding
joy. These, said Er, were the penalties and retributions, and there were
blessings as great.</p>
<p>Now when the spirits which were in the meadow had tarried seven days, on
the eighth they were obliged to proceed on their journey, and, on the
fourth day after, he said that they came to a place where they could see
from above a line of light, straight as a column, extending right through
the whole heaven and through the earth, in colour resembling the rainbow,
only brighter and purer; another day's journey brought them to the place,
and there, in the midst of the light, they saw the ends of the chains of
heaven let down from above: for this light is the belt of heaven, and
holds together the circle of the universe, like the under-girders of a
trireme. From these ends is extended the spindle of Necessity, on which
all the revolutions turn. The shaft and hook of this spindle are made of
steel, and the whorl is made partly of steel and also partly of other
materials. Now the whorl is in form like the whorl used on earth; and the
description of it implied that there is one large hollow whorl which is
quite scooped out, and into this is fitted another lesser one, and
another, and another, and four others, making eight in all, like vessels
which fit into one another; the whorls show their edges on the upper side,
and on their lower side all together form one continuous whorl. This is
pierced by the spindle, which is driven home through the centre of the
eighth. The first and outermost whorl has the rim broadest, and the seven
inner whorls are narrower, in the following proportions—the sixth is
next to the first in size, the fourth next to the sixth; then comes the
eighth; the seventh is fifth, the fifth is sixth, the third is seventh,
last and eighth comes the second. The largest (or fixed stars) is
spangled, and the seventh (or sun) is brightest; the eighth (or moon)
coloured by the reflected light of the seventh; the second and fifth
(Saturn and Mercury) are in colour like one another, and yellower than the
preceding; the third (Venus) has the whitest light; the fourth (Mars) is
reddish; the sixth (Jupiter) is in whiteness second. Now the whole spindle
has the same motion; but, as the whole revolves in one direction, the
seven inner circles move slowly in the other, and of these the swiftest is
the eighth; next in swiftness are the seventh, sixth, and fifth, which
move together; third in swiftness appeared to move according to the law of
this reversed motion the fourth; the third appeared fourth and the second
fifth. The spindle turns on the knees of Necessity; and on the upper
surface of each circle is a siren, who goes round with them, hymning a
single tone or note. The eight together form one harmony; and round about,
at equal intervals, there is another band, three in number, each sitting
upon her throne: these are the Fates, daughters of Necessity, who are
clothed in white robes and have chaplets upon their heads, Lachesis and
Clotho and Atropos, who accompany with their voices the harmony of the
sirens—Lachesis singing of the past, Clotho of the present, Atropos
of the future; Clotho from time to time assisting with a touch of her
right hand the revolution of the outer circle of the whorl or spindle, and
Atropos with her left hand touching and guiding the inner ones, and
Lachesis laying hold of either in turn, first with one hand and then with
the other.</p>
<p>When Er and the spirits arrived, their duty was to go at once to Lachesis;
but first of all there came a prophet who arranged them in order; then he
took from the knees of Lachesis lots and samples of lives, and having
mounted a high pulpit, spoke as follows: 'Hear the word of Lachesis, the
daughter of Necessity. Mortal souls, behold a new cycle of life and
mortality. Your genius will not be allotted to you, but you will choose
your genius; and let him who draws the first lot have the first choice,
and the life which he chooses shall be his destiny. Virtue is free, and as
a man honours or dishonours her he will have more or less of her; the
responsibility is with the chooser—God is justified.' When the
Interpreter had thus spoken he scattered lots indifferently among them
all, and each of them took up the lot which fell near him, all but Er
himself (he was not allowed), and each as he took his lot perceived the
number which he had obtained. Then the Interpreter placed on the ground
before them the samples of lives; and there were many more lives than the
souls present, and they were of all sorts. There were lives of every
animal and of man in every condition. And there were tyrannies among them,
some lasting out the tyrant's life, others which broke off in the middle
and came to an end in poverty and exile and beggary; and there were lives
of famous men, some who were famous for their form and beauty as well as
for their strength and success in games, or, again, for their birth and
the qualities of their ancestors; and some who were the reverse of famous
for the opposite qualities. And of women likewise; there was not, however,
any definite character in them, because the soul, when choosing a new
life, must of necessity become different. But there was every other
quality, and the all mingled with one another, and also with elements of
wealth and poverty, and disease and health; and there were mean states
also. And here, my dear Glaucon, is the supreme peril of our human state;
and therefore the utmost care should be taken. Let each one of us leave
every other kind of knowledge and seek and follow one thing only, if
peradventure he may be able to learn and may find some one who will make
him able to learn and discern between good and evil, and so to choose
always and everywhere the better life as he has opportunity. He should
consider the bearing of all these things which have been mentioned
severally and collectively upon virtue; he should know what the effect of
beauty is when combined with poverty or wealth in a particular soul, and
what are the good and evil consequences of noble and humble birth, of
private and public station, of strength and weakness, of cleverness and
dullness, and of all the natural and acquired gifts of the soul, and the
operation of them when conjoined; he will then look at the nature of the
soul, and from the consideration of all these qualities he will be able to
determine which is the better and which is the worse; and so he will
choose, giving the name of evil to the life which will make his soul more
unjust, and good to the life which will make his soul more just; all else
he will disregard. For we have seen and know that this is the best choice
both in life and after death. A man must take with him into the world
below an adamantine faith in truth and right, that there too he may be
undazzled by the desire of wealth or the other allurements of evil, lest,
coming upon tyrannies and similar villainies, he do irremediable wrongs to
others and suffer yet worse himself; but let him know how to choose the
mean and avoid the extremes on either side, as far as possible, not only
in this life but in all that which is to come. For this is the way of
happiness.</p>
<p>And according to the report of the messenger from the other world this was
what the prophet said at the time: 'Even for the last comer, if he chooses
wisely and will live diligently, there is appointed a happy and not
undesirable existence. Let not him who chooses first be careless, and let
not the last despair.' And when he had spoken, he who had the first choice
came forward and in a moment chose the greatest tyranny; his mind having
been darkened by folly and sensuality, he had not thought out the whole
matter before he chose, and did not at first sight perceive that he was
fated, among other evils, to devour his own children. But when he had time
to reflect, and saw what was in the lot, he began to beat his breast and
lament over his choice, forgetting the proclamation of the prophet; for,
instead of throwing the blame of his misfortune on himself, he accused
chance and the gods, and everything rather than himself. Now he was one of
those who came from heaven, and in a former life had dwelt in a
well-ordered State, but his virtue was a matter of habit only, and he had
no philosophy. And it was true of others who were similarly overtaken,
that the greater number of them came from heaven and therefore they had
never been schooled by trial, whereas the pilgrims who came from earth
having themselves suffered and seen others suffer, were not in a hurry to
choose. And owing to this inexperience of theirs, and also because the lot
was a chance, many of the souls exchanged a good destiny for an evil or an
evil for a good. For if a man had always on his arrival in this world
dedicated himself from the first to sound philosophy, and had been
moderately fortunate in the number of the lot, he might, as the messenger
reported, be happy here, and also his journey to another life and return
to this, instead of being rough and underground, would be smooth and
heavenly. Most curious, he said, was the spectacle—sad and laughable
and strange; for the choice of the souls was in most cases based on their
experience of a previous life. There he saw the soul which had once been
Orpheus choosing the life of a swan out of enmity to the race of women,
hating to be born of a woman because they had been his murderers; he
beheld also the soul of Thamyras choosing the life of a nightingale;
birds, on the other hand, like the swan and other musicians, wanting to be
men. The soul which obtained the twentieth lot chose the life of a lion,
and this was the soul of Ajax the son of Telamon, who would not be a man,
remembering the injustice which was done him in the judgment about the
arms. The next was Agamemnon, who took the life of an eagle, because, like
Ajax, he hated human nature by reason of his sufferings. About the middle
came the lot of Atalanta; she, seeing the great fame of an athlete, was
unable to resist the temptation: and after her there followed the soul of
Epeus the son of Panopeus passing into the nature of a woman cunning in
the arts; and far away among the last who chose, the soul of the jester
Thersites was putting on the form of a monkey. There came also the soul of
Odysseus having yet to make a choice, and his lot happened to be the last
of them all. Now the recollection of former toils had disenchanted him of
ambition, and he went about for a considerable time in search of the life
of a private man who had no cares; he had some difficulty in finding this,
which was lying about and had been neglected by everybody else; and when
he saw it, he said that he would have done the same had his lot been first
instead of last, and that he was delighted to have it. And not only did
men pass into animals, but I must also mention that there were animals
tame and wild who changed into one another and into corresponding human
natures—the good into the gentle and the evil into the savage, in
all sorts of combinations.</p>
<p>All the souls had now chosen their lives, and they went in the order of
their choice to Lachesis, who sent with them the genius whom they had
severally chosen, to be the guardian of their lives and the fulfiller of
the choice: this genius led the souls first to Clotho, and drew them
within the revolution of the spindle impelled by her hand, thus ratifying
the destiny of each; and then, when they were fastened to this, carried
them to Atropos, who spun the threads and made them irreversible, whence
without turning round they passed beneath the throne of Necessity; and
when they had all passed, they marched on in a scorching heat to the plain
of Forgetfulness, which was a barren waste destitute of trees and verdure;
and then towards evening they encamped by the river of Unmindfulness,
whose water no vessel can hold; of this they were all obliged to drink a
certain quantity, and those who were not saved by wisdom drank more than
was necessary; and each one as he drank forgot all things. Now after they
had gone to rest, about the middle of the night there was a thunderstorm
and earthquake, and then in an instant they were driven upwards in all
manner of ways to their birth, like stars shooting. He himself was
hindered from drinking the water. But in what manner or by what means he
returned to the body he could not say; only, in the morning, awaking
suddenly, he found himself lying on the pyre.</p>
<p>And thus, Glaucon, the tale has been saved and has not perished, and will
save us if we are obedient to the word spoken; and we shall pass safely
over the river of Forgetfulness and our soul will not be defiled.
Wherefore my counsel is, that we hold fast ever to the heavenly way and
follow after justice and virtue always, considering that the soul is
immortal and able to endure every sort of good and every sort of evil.
Thus shall we live dear to one another and to the gods, both while
remaining here and when, like conquerors in the games who go round to
gather gifts, we receive our reward. And it shall be well with us both in
this life and in the pilgrimage of a thousand years which we have been
describing.</p>
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