Chapter XXI: Book X: Argument (2)

CHAP. XIII.—These then, said I, are the prizes, the rewards and gifts, which a just man receives during life, both from gods and men; besides those good things which justice contains in itself. And they are extremely beautiful, said he, and permanent. But these now, said I, are nothing in number or magnitude, when compared with those which await each of the two at death. And these things must likewise be heard, that each of them may completely have what is their due in the reasoning. You may say on, he replied, as to one who would not listen to many other things with greater pleasure. But, however, I will not, said I, tell you the apologue of Alcinous; but that, indeed, of a brave man, Er, the son of Armenius, by descent a Pamphylian; who happening on a time to die in battle, when the dead were on the tenth day carried off, already corrupted, was taken up sound; and being carried home, as he was about to be buried on the twelfth day, when laid on the funeral pile, revived; and being revived, he told what he saw in the other state, and said, that after his soul left the body, it went with many others, and that they came to a certain mysterious, hallowed place, where there were two chasms in the earth, near to each other, and two other openings in the heavens opposite on them, and that the judges sat between these;—that when they gave judgment, they commanded the just to go on the right hand, and upwards through the heaven, having fitted marks on the front of those that had been judged; but the unjust they commanded to the left, and downwards, and these likewise had behind them marks of all that they had done. But when he came before the judges, they said he ought to be a messenger to men concerning things there, and they commanded him to hear, and contemplate everything therein;—and that he saw there, through two openings, one of the heaven, and one of the earth, the souls departing, after they were there judged; and through the other two openings he saw, rising through the one out of the earth, souls full of squalidness and dust; and through the other, he saw other souls descending pure from heaven; and that on their arrival from time to time they seemed as if they came from a long journey, and that they gladly went to rest themselves in the meadow, as in a public assembly, and such as were acquainted saluted one another, and those who rose out of the earth asked the others concerning the things above, and those from heaven asked them concerning the things below, and that they told one another: those wailing and weeping whilst they called to mind, what and how many things they suffered and saw in their journey under the earth (for it was a journey of a thousand years); and that these again from heaven explained their enjoyments, and spectacles of amazing beauty.—To narrate many of them, Glaucon, would occupy much time; but this, he said, was the sum, that whatever unjust actions a man had committed, and whatever injuries a man had committed, they were punished for all these separately tenfold, and that it was in each, according to the rate of a hundred years (the life of man being considered as so long), that they might suffer tenfold punishment for the injustice they had done;—so that if any had been the cause of many deaths, either by betraying cities or armies, or bringing men into slavery, or being confederates in any other wickedness, for each of all these they reaped tenfold sufferings; and if, again, they had benefited any by good deeds, and had been just and holy, they were rewarded according to their deserts. Of those who died very young, and lived but a little time, he related other things not worth mentioning;—but of impiety and piety towards the gods and parents, and of suicide, he told the more remarkable retributions; for he said he was present when one was asked by another, where the great Aridæus was? This Aridæus had been tyrant in a certain city of Pamphylia a thousand years before that time, and had killed his aged father and elder brother, and had done many other unhallowed deeds, as was reported: and he said, that the one who was asked, replied: He neither comes, nor ever will come hither.

CHAP. XIV.—Well then we saw this likewise, among other dreadful spectacles: When we were near the mouth of the opening, and were about to ascend after having suffered everything else, we on a sudden beheld both him, and others likewise, most of whom were tyrants, and there were some private persons who had committed great iniquity, whom, when they thought they were to ascend, the mouth of the opening did not admit, but bellowed when any of those who were so polluted with wickedness, or who had not been sufficiently punished, attempted to ascend. And then, said he, fierce men, and fiery to look on, standing by, and perceiving the bellowing, took some of them and led them apart, but Aridæus and the rest, having bound their hands and feet, and head, they thrust down and flayed, and then dragged them to an outer road, tearing them on thorns; declaring always to those who passed by, on what accounts they suffered these things, and that they were carrying them to be thrown into Tartarus. And hence, he said, that amidst all their various terrors, this terror surpassed, lest the mouth should bellow, and that when it was silent every one most gladly ascended; and that the punishments and torments were such as these, and their rewards were the reverse of these. He also added, that every one arising thence, after they had been seven days in the meadow, was required to depart on the eighth day, and arrive at another place on the fourth day after, whence they perceived from above through the whole heaven and earth, a light extended as a pillar, mostly resembling the rainbow, but more splendid and pure; at which they arrived in one day’s journey; and thence they perceived, through the middle of the light from heaven, the extremities of its ligatures extended; as this light was the belt of heaven, like the transverse beams of ships keeping the whole circumference united;—that from the extremities the distaff of Necessity is extended, by which all the revolutions were turned round, whose spindle and point were both of adamant, but its whirl commingled both with this and other things; and that the nature of the whirl was of such a kind, as to its figure, as is any one we see here. But you must conceive it, from what he said, to be of such a kind as this: as if in some great hollow whirl, carved throughout, there was such another, but lesser, within it, adapted to it, like casks fitted one within another; and in the same manner a third, and a fourth, and four others, for that the whirls were eight[256] in all, as circles one within another, having their lips appearing upwards, and forming round the spindle one united convexity of one whirl; that the spindle was driven through the middle of the eight; and that the first and outmost whirl had the widest circumference in the lip, that the sixth had the second wide, and that of the fourth the third wide, and the fourth that of the eighth, and the fifth that of the seventh, the sixth that of the fifth, and the seventh that of the third, and the eighth that of the second. Likewise that the circle of the largest is variegated, that of the seventh is the brightest, and that of the eighth has its colour from the shining of the seventh; those of the second and fifth resemble each other, but are more yellow than the rest. But the third is bright white, the fourth reddish, the second in whiteness surpasses the sixth; and the distaff must turn round in a circle with the whole that it carries; and while the whole is turning round, the seven inner circles are gently turned round in a contrary motion to the whole;—again, that of these, the eighth moves the swiftest; and next to it, and equal to one another, the seventh, the sixth, and the fifth; and that the third went in a motion which as appeared to them completed its circle in the same way as the fourth. The fourth in swiftness was the third, and the fifth was the second, and it was turned round on the knees of Necessity;—and that on each of its circles there was seated a Siren on the upper side, carried round, and uttering one voice variegated by diverse modulations; but that the whole of them, being eight, composed one harmony;—that there were other three sitting round at equal distance one from another, each on a throne, the daughters of Necessity, the Fates, clothed in white vestments, and having crowns on their heads; Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos, singing to the harmony of the Sirens; Lachesis singing the past, Clotho the present, and Atropos the future. And that Clotho, at certain intervals, with her right hand laid hold of the spindle, and along with her mother turned about the outer circle;—and Atropos, in like manner, turned the inner ones with her left hand,—and that Lachesis touched both of these, severally, with either hand.

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Footnote 256:

By the eight whirls, we must understand the eight starry spheres, viz.
the sphere of the fixed stars, and the spheres of the seven planets.

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CHAP. XV.—After they arrive here, it is necessary for them to go directly to Lachesis. That then a certain prophet first of all ranges them in order, and afterwards taking the lots, and the models of lives, from the knees of Lachesis, and ascending a lofty tribunal, he says:—The speech of the virgin Lachesis, the daughter of Necessity: Souls of a day! The beginning of another period of men of mortal race:—the demon shall not receive you as his lot, but you shall choose the demon: he who draws the first, let him first make choice of a life, to which he must of necessity adhere: Virtue is independent, of which every one shall partake, more or less, according as he honours or dishonours her: the cause is in him who makes the choice, and the Deity is blameless;—that when he had said these things, he threw the lots on all of them, and that each took up the one which fell beside him, except himself, for he was not permitted; and that when each had taken it, he knew what number he had drawn;—that after this he placed on the ground before them the models of lives, many more than those we see at present;—and that they were all various,—for there were lives of all sorts of animals, and human lives of every kind;—and that among these there were tyrannies also, some of them perpetual, and others destroyed in the midst of their greatness, and ending in poverty, banishment, and want. That there were also lives of renowned men, some for their appearance as to beauty, strength, and agility; and others for their descent, and the virtues of their ancestors. There were the lives of renowned women in the same manner. But that there was no disposition of soul among these models, because of necessity, on choosing a different life, it becomes different itself. As to other things, riches and poverty, sickness and health, they were mixed with one another, and some were in a middle station between these.

There then, as it seems, friend Glaucon, is the whole danger of man. And hence this of all things is most to be attended to, how each of us, omitting other studies, is to become an inquirer and learner in this study, in order to be able to learn and find out who will make him expert and intelligent to discern a good life, and a bad; and to choose everywhere, and at all times the best of what is possible, considering all that we have mentioned, both compounded and separated from one another, what they are with respect to the virtue of life; and to understand what good or evil beauty produces when mixed with poverty, or riches, and with this or the other habit of soul; and what is effected by noble and ignoble descent, by privacy, and by public station, by strength and weakness, docility and indocility, and everything else of the kind which naturally pertains to the soul, and likewise of what is acquired, when blended one with another, so as to be able from all these things to compute, and, having an eye to the nature of the soul, to comprehend both the worse and the better life, pronouncing that to be the worse which shall lead the soul to become more unjust, and that to be the better life which shall lead it to become more just, and to dismiss every other consideration:—for we have seen, that in life, and in death, this is the best choice. It is necessary, therefore, that a man should have this opinion firm as an adamant in him, when he departs to Hades, that there also he may be unmoved by riches, or any such evils, and may not, falling into tyrannies, and other such practices, do many and incurable mischiefs, and himself suffer still greater: but may know how to choose always the middle life, as to these things, and to shun the extremes on either hand, both in this life as far as is possible, and in the whole future. For thus man becomes happy.

CHAP. XVI.—At that time, therefore, the messenger from the other world further told how that the prophet spoke thus: Even to him who comes last, if he chooses with judgment, and lives consistently, there is prepared a desirable life; not bad. Let neither him who is first be negligent in his choice, not let him who is last despair. He said, that when the prophet had spoken these things, the first who drew a lot ran instantly and chose the greatest tyranny, but through folly and insatiableness had not sufficiently examined all things on making his choice, but was ignorant that in this life there was this destiny, the devouring of his own children, and other evils; and that afterwards, when he had considered it at leisure, he wailed and lamented his choice, not having observed the admonitions of the prophet above mentioned;—inasmuch as he did not accuse himself, as the author of his misfortunes, but fortune and the demons, and everything rather than himself. He added, that he was one of those who came from heaven, who had in his former life lived in a regulated republic, and had been virtuous by custom without philosophy; and that, in short, among these there were not a few who came from heaven, as being unexercised in trials; but most of those who came from earth, as they had endured hardships themselves, and had seen others in hardships, did not precipitately make their choice. And hence, and through the fortune of the lot, to most souls there was an exchange of good and evil things. Since, if one should always, whenever he comes into this life, soundly philosophize, and the lot of election should not fall on him the very last, it would seem, from what has been told us from thence, that he shall be happy not only here, but when he goes hence, and his journey hither back again shall not be earthy, and rugged, but smooth and heavenly. This spectacle, he said, was worthy to behold, in what manner the several souls made choice of their lives; for it was pitiful and ridiculous and wonderful to behold, as each for the most part chose according to the habit of his former life; for he alleged, that he saw the soul which was formerly the soul of Orpheus making choice of the life of a swan, through hatred of womankind, being unwilling to be born of woman on account of the death he suffered from them. He saw likewise the soul of Thamyris making choice of the life of a nightingale. And he saw also a swan turning to the choice of human life; and other musical animals in a similar manner, as is likely;—and he saw also one soul, while making its choices, choosing the life of a lion; and it was the soul of Telamonian Ajax, unwilling to become a man, because it recollected the judgment given with reference to the armour;—that he then saw the soul of Agamemnon, which, in hatred also of the human kind, through his misfortunes, exchanged it for the life of an eagle: and that the soul of Atalante, choosing her lot amidst the rest, and, having attentively observed the great honours paid to an athletic man, was unable to pass by this lot, but took it. Next to this, he saw the soul of Epeus the Panopean going into the nature of a skilful workwoman; and that far off, among the last, he saw the soul of the buffoon Thersites assuming the ape. And that by chance he saw the soul of Ulysses, who had drawn its lot last of all, going to make its choice: that in remembrance of its former toils, and tired of ambition, it went about a long time seeking the life of a private man of no business, and with difficulty found it lying somewhere, neglected by the rest. And that on seeing this life, it said, that it would have made the same choice even if it had obtained the first lot,—and joyfully chose it. That in like manner the souls of wild beasts went into men, and men again into beasts: the unjust changing into wild beasts, and the just into tame; and that they were blended by all sorts of mixtures. After, therefore, all the souls had chosen their lives according as they drew their lots, they all went in order to Lachesis, and that she gave to every one the demon he chose, and sent him along with him to be the guardian of his life, and the accomplisher of what he had chosen.—That, first of all, he conducts the soul to Clotho, to ratify under her hand, and by the whirl of the vortex of her spindle, the destiny it had chosen by lot: and, after being with her, he leads it back again to the spinning of Atropos, who makes the destinies irreversible. And that from hence they proceed directly under the throne of Necessity; and that, after he had passed by it, as all the others passed, they all of them marched into the plain of Lethe amidst dreadful heat and scorching, for he said that it is void of trees and everything that the earth produces;—that when night came on, they encamped beside the river Amelete, whose water no vessel contains.—Of this water all of them must necessarily drink a certain quantity, and such as are not kept by prudence drink more than they ought, and that he who from time to time drinks forgets everything.—And, after they were laid asleep, and midnight was approaching, there was thunder, and an earthquake, and they were thence on a sudden carried upwards, some one way, and some another, approaching to generation like stars. And he himself was forbidden to drink of the water. Where, however, and in what manner, he came into his body, he was entirely ignorant; but, suddenly looking up in the morning, he saw himself already laid on the funeral pile. And this fable, Glaucon, has been preserved, and is not lost, and it will preserve us, too, if we be persuaded thereby, for thus we shall happily pass over the river Lethe, and shall not pollute our souls.

But if the company will be persuaded by me; considering the soul to be immortal, and able to bear all evil and good, we shall always persevere in the road which leads upwards, and shall by all means pursue justice in unison with prudence, that so we may be friends both to ourselves and the gods, both whilst we remain here, and when we afterwards receive its rewards, like victors assembled together; and so, both here, and in that journey of a thousand years, which we have described, we shall be happy.

THE END OF THE TENTH AND LAST BOOK OF THE REPUBLIC.