 Book 10, Part 4 of Plato's Republic. And now you must allow me to repeat of the jest, 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 wracked, and have their eyes burnt 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? Certainly, he said, what you say is true. These then are the prizes and rewards and gifts which are bestowed upon the jest by gods and men in this present life, in addition to the other good things which justice of herself provides. Yes, he said, and they are fair and lasting. And yet, I said, all these are as nothing, either in number or greatness, in comparison with those other recompenses which await both jest and unjust after death. And you want to hear them, and then both jest and unjust will have received from us a full payment of the debt which the argument owes to them. Speak, he said, there are few things which I would more gladly hear. Well, I said, I will tell you a tale. Not one of the tales which Odysseus tells to the hero Alcenus, yet this too is a tale of a hero, Ur, the son of Arminius, a pamphillion 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 jest 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 bitten 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 bait him here 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 inquiring 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 behavior, for each and all of their offenses they received punishment ten times over, and the rewards of beneficence and justice and holiness were in the same proportion. I need to 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 Ardeus the Great? Now this Ardeus lived a thousand years before the time of Ur. 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 re-ascend when of a sudden Ardeus appeared in several others, most of whom were tyrants, and there were also besides the tyrant's 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 someone 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 Ardeus and the 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, carting them on thorns like wool and declaring to the passage 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, there were 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 Ur, were the penalties and retributions, and there were blessings as great. 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 color 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 the lower side altogether form one continuous whorl. This is pierced by the spindle, which is driven home through the center 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, our sun, is brightest. The eighth, or moon, colored by the reflected light of the seventh, the second and fifth, Saturn and Mercury, are in color 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, hemming 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 the torch 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. When Ur 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, Here 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 honors or dishonors 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 Ur 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 lesting 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 they 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 per adventure he may be able to learn, and may find some other 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, or 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 lurements 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. 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 great 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 Thamerus, 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 Telobon, 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 Aepeus, the son of Penopius, passing into the nature of a woman cunning in the arts, and far away among the last who chose, the soul of the gesture Thercides 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. 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 fulfiler 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 Otropos, 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 verger, and then, towards evening, they encamped by the river of unmindfulness, his water no vessel can hold. Of this they were all obliged to drink a certain quantity, and those who were not saved by wisdom drink 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, waking suddenly, he found himself lying on the pyre. 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 ever 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.