reading and answer 4 questions

PLATO "' /Republic/ i Translated from the New Standard Greek Text, with Introduction, by C. D. C. REEVE Hackett Publishing Company, Inc Indianapolis/Cambridge Copyright© 2004 by Hackett Publishing Company, Inc. All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America 08 07 06 05 04 I 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 For further information, please address Hackett Publishing Company, Inc. P. 0. Box 44937 Indianapolis, Indiana 46244-0937 W'-Vw.hackettpublishing.com Cover design by Abigail Coyle Interior design by Jennifer Plumley Composition by William Hartman Printed at Sheridan Books, Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Plato. [Republic. English] Republic I translated from the new standard Greek text, with introduction, by CD. C. Reeve. p.cm.

Includes bibliographical references and indexes.

ISBN 0-87220-737-4 (ha

297 Boo/1 10 SOCRATES: Do you want us to begin our investigation with the following point, then, in accordance with our usual procedure? I mean, as you know, we usually posit some one particular form in connection with each set of many things to which we apply the same name. 1 Or don't you understand? GLAUCON: I do. 10 SOCRATES: Then in the present case, too, let's take any set of many things b you like. For example, there are, if you like, many couches and tables. GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: But the forms connected to these nunufactured items are surely just two, one of a couch and one of a table. GLAUCON: Yes. SOCRATES: Don't we usually say, too, that the craftsman who makes each manufactured item looks toward the form when he makes the couches or the tables we use, and similarly with other things? For surely no craftsman w makes the form itself- GLAUCON: How could he? SOCRATES: Well, now, see what you would call this craftsman? , GLAUCON: Which? SOCRATES: The one who makes everything each individual handicrafts­ man makes. GLAUCON: That's an amazingly clever man you are talking about! SOCRATES: Wait a minute and you will have even more reason to say that!

You see, this same handicraftsman is able to make not only every manufac­ tured item, but he also makes all the plants that grow from the earth, and produces all the animals, including himself; and, in addition, he produces earth and sky and gods and everything in the sky, and everything in Hades beneath the earth. d GLAUCON: You are talking about a wholly amazing sophist! SOCRATES: You do not believe me? Tell me, do you think such a crafts­ man is completely impossible? Or do you think there is a way in which a maker of all these things could exist, and a way in which he could not? Don't you see there is a certain way in which even you yourself could make all of then1? GLAUCON: What way is that? SOCRATES: It is not difficult. On the contrary, it is a sort of craftsmanship that is widely available and quick-and quickest of all, I suppose, if you are 1 Sec 478e7-480a13, 507b2-7. 298 Art iu Kallipolis willing to take a mirror and turn it around in all directions. That way you will quickly make the sun and the things in the sky; you will quickly make , the earth, yourself and the other animals, manufactured items, plants, and everything else that was mentioned just now. GLAUCON: Yes, their appearances, but certainly not the things themselves as they truly are. SOCRATES: Right! You attack the argument at just the right place. For I think the painter is also one of these craftsmen, isn't he? GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: But you will say, I think, that he does not make the things he makes as they truly are-even though there is a certain way in which the painter also makes a couch. Isn't that right? 10 GLAUCON: Yes, he also makes the appearance of one. SOCRATES: What about the couch-maker? Didn't you just say that he does not make the form-which we say is what a couch is2-but only a particu- 597a lar couch?

GLAUCON: Yes, I did say that. SOCRATES: Now, if he does not make what it is, he is not making what is, but smnething that is like what is, but is not. So, if someone were to say that the product of a couch-maker or any other handicraftsman completely is, he probably would not be speaking the truth? GLAUCON: That, at any rate, is what those who occupy themselves with such arguments would think. SOCRATES: So we should not be surprised if it also turns out to be some- what dim in comparison to the truth. 10 GLAUCON: No, we should not. b SOCRATES: Would you like us, then, to use these same examples to search for that imitator of ours and what he really is? GLAUCON: I would, if you would. SOCRATES: Well, then, we have these three sorts of couches. One, that is in nature, 3 which I think we would say a god makes. Or is it someone else? GLAUCON: No one, I suppose. SOCitA TES: One the carpenter makes. GLAUCON: Yes. 2 See Glossary of Terms s.v. what it is. 3 I.e., that is in its nature a couch. See 597c2 and 490b3. 299 '" Book 10 SOCRATES: And one the painter makes. Isn't that so? GLAUCON: It is. SOCRATES: So painter, carpenter, and god-these three oversee three kinds of couches? !5 GLAUCON: Yes, three.

SOCRATES: Now, the god, either because he did not want to, or because it c was somehow necessary for hin1 not to tnake more than one that is in its nature a couch, made only the one that is what a couch itself is. 4 Two or more of these have not been naturally developed by the god and never will be naturally developed. GLAUCON: Why is that? SOCRATES: Because, if he were to make only two; one would again come to light whose fonn they in turn would both possess, and it would be what a couch itself is, not the two. to GLAUCON: That's right. SOCRATES: The god knew this, I suppose, al)d, wishing to be the real d maker of the real couch and not just some particular maker of some partic­ ular couch, naturally developed the one that is in its nature unique. GLAUCON: Probably so. SOCRATES: Would you like us to call him its natural maker, then, or some­ thing like that? GLAUCON: It would be right to do so, at any rate, since it is by nature that he has made it and all the others. SOCRATES: What about the carpenter? Shouldn't we call him the crafts­ man who makes a couch? to GLAUCON: Yes. SOCRATES: And should we call a painter, too, a craftsman and n1aker of such a thing? GLAUCON: Certainly not. SOCRATES: In that case, what is it you say he is, of a couch? c GLAUCON: In my view, the most reasonable thing to call him is this: he is an imitator of what the others are craftsmen of. SOCRATES: All right. So .the one whose product is three removed from the natural one, you call an imitator? GLAUCON: Certainly. ' See 490b3, 532b 1. 300 Art i11 Kallipolis SOCllATES: So the tragedian too, if indeed he is an imitator, will be some­ one who is by his nature third from king and truth, 5 and so will all the other imitators. GLAUCON: It looks that way. SOCRATES: We are agreed about the imitator, then. Now, tell me this about the painter: in each case, do you think it is what each thing itself is in 111 its nature that he is trying to imitate, or the products of the craftsmen? 598a GLAUCON: Those of the craftsmen. SOCRATES: As they are, or as they appear to be? You have still to make that distinction. GLAUCON: How do you mean? SOCRATES: This: if you look at a couch from the side or the front or from anywhere else, does it differ in any way from itself? Or, while not differing at all, does it appear different? And similarly with the others? GLAUCON: The latter. It appears different, but is not different at all. HJ SOCRATES: Then consider this very point: at what does painting aim in b each case? To imitate what is as it is? Or what appears as it appears? Is it an imitation of an illusion, or of truth? GLAUCON: Of an illusion. SOCRATES: So, imitation is surely far removed from the truth. And the reason that it produces everything, it seems, is that it grasps only a small part of each thing-and that is an illusion. For example, the painter, we say, can paint us a cobbler, a carpenter, or any other craftsman, even though he knows nothing about these crafts. All the same, if he is a good painter, by c painting a carpenter and displaying him at a distance, he might deceive children and foolish adults into thinking it truly is a carpenter. GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: In fact, my friend, I imagine that what we must bear in mind in all these cases is this: when someone tells us he has met a human being who knows every craft as well as everything else anyone knows, and that there is nothing of which he does not have a more exact knowledge than anyone else, we should assume we are talking to a naive fellow. He has d been deceived, it seems, by an encounter with some sort of sorcerer or in1itator, whom he therefore considers to be all-wise. But that is because of his own inability to clistinguish between knowledge, lack of knowledge, and imitation. GLAUCON: That's absolutely true. 5 God is called king at Laws 10.904a6. 301 Book 10 SoCRATES: Well, then, we must next consider tragedy and its leader, Homer, since we hear front some that these men know every craft, every- c thing relevant to human virtue and vice, and even all about divine matters. They clain1, you see, that if a good poet is to write beautiful poetry about the things he writes about, he must have knowledge of them when he writes, or else he would be unable to. We should consider, then, whether those who tell us this have been deceived by their encounters with these itnitators and do not realize, when they see their works, that they are three 599a removes from what is, and are easy to produce without knowledge of the truth. For they produce illusions, not things that are. Or whether there is something in what they say, and good poets really do have knowledge of the things about which the masses think they speak so well. GLAUCON: We certainly n1ust consider that. SOCRATES: Do you think, then, that if someone could make both what is imitated and its in1.1ge, he would allow himself to take making images seri- b ously, and put it at the forefront of his life as the best ability he had? GLAUCON: No, I do not. SoCRATES: But if he truly had knowledge of what he imitates, I suppose he would take deeds much more seriously than their imitations, would try to leave behind tnany beautiful deeds as his own memorials, and would be nlUch more eager to be the subject of a eulogy than the author of one. GLAUCON: I suppose so. I mean, these things certainly are not equal either in honor or in benefit. SOCRATES: Let's not demand an account, then, of the other things from c Hon1er or any other poet. Let's not ask if any of them is a doctor or only an imitator of what doctors say; or which people any of the poets, old or new, has reportedly made healthy, as Asclepius did; or which students of medi­ cine he left behind, as Asclepius did his sons. And let's not ask them about the other crafts either, but leave them aside. When it comes, however, to the most important and most beautiful things of which Homer undertakes to speak-warfare, generalship, city government, and a person's educa­ tion-surely, it is fair to question him as follows: "My dear Homer, if you d are not third ren1oved fi·om the truth about virtue, and are not the sort of craftsman of an image, which is what we defined an imitator to be, but if you are even in second place and capable of knowing what practices tnake people better or worse in private or in public life, tell us which cities are better governed because of you, as the Lacedaemonians are because of Lycurgus, and as many others-big and small-are because of many other c n1en. What city gives you credit for having proved to be a good lawgiver who benefited it? Italy and Sicily give it to Charondas, and we give it to Solon. Who gives it to you?"Will he be able to natne one? 302 Art in Kallipolis GLAUCON: I suppose not. At any rate, none is mentioned even by the Homeridae themselves. 6 SOCRATES: Then is any war in Homer's time retnembered that was well fought because of his leadership or advice? 600a GLAUCON: None at all. SOCRATES: Then as you would expect in the case of a man wise in deeds, are we told of his tnany ingenious inventions in the crafts or other activities, as we are about Thales of Miletus and Anacharsis the Scythian? GLAUCON: There's nothing of that sort. SOCRATES: Then if there is nothing of a public nature, is Homer said to have been a leader, during his own lifetime, in the education of people who loved associating with him and passed on a Homeric way of life to those 10 who came later? Is he like Pythagoras, who was himself particularly loved b for this reason, and whose followers even today still seem to be conspicuous for a way oflife they call Pythagorean? GLAUCON: Again, we are told nothing of this kind. Indeed, Socrates, Creophylus, the companion of Homer, would presumably seem even more ridiculous than his name 7 suggests as an example of such education, if the story told about Homer is true. You see, we are told that while he was alive, Creophylus completely neglected him. SOCRATES: Yes, we are told that. But, Glaucon, if Homer had really been able to educate people and make them better, if he had been able, not to imitate such matters but to know about them, wouldn't he have had many companions who honored and loved him? Protagoras of Abdera, Prodicus of Ceos, and a great many others are able to convince anyone who associ­ ates with them in private that he wouldn't be able to manage his household or city unless they themselves supervised his education, and they are so d intensely loved because of this wisdom of theirs that their disciples do everything except carry them around on their shoulders. Are we to believe, then, that if Homer had been able to help people become virtuous, his companions would have allowed either hin1 or Hesiod to wander around as rhapsodes, and wouldn't have clung far tighter to them than to gold and compelled them to come home and live with them? And if persuasion failed, wouldn't they have followed them wherever they went until they had received sufficient education? GLAUCON: I think what you say is entirely true, Socrates. 6 The rhapsodes and poets who recited and expounded Homer throughout the Greek world. 7 It derives from two words, kreas (meat) and phylon (race or kind). A modern equiv­ alent might be "meathead." 303 Book 10 SOCRATES: Are we to conclude, then, that all poets, beginning with Homer, i111itate images of virtue and of all the other things they write about, and have no grasp of the truth? Although, as we were saying just now, a painter will make what seems to be a shoemaker to those who know 6rlla as little about shoemaking as he does himself, but who look at things in terms of their colors and shapes. 8 GLAUCQN: That's right. SOCRATES: Similarly, I suppose, we will say that the poet uses words and phrases to paint colored pictures of each of the crafts, even though he knows only how to imitate them; so that others like himself, who look at things in terms of words, will think he speaks extremely well about shoe­ making or generalship or anything else, provided he speaks with meter, b rhythm, and ha~mony. That is how great a natural spell these things cast. For if a poet's works are stripped of their nmsical colorings and spoken just by themselves, I think you know what they look like. You have surely seen them. GLAUCON: I certainly have. SOCRATES: Don't they resemble the faces of those who are young but not really beautiful, after the bloom of youth has left them? GLAUCON: Absolutely.' SOCRATES: Come on, then, consider this: the maker of an i111age-the 1o imitator-knows nothing, we say, about what is, but only about what appears. Isn't that so?

GLAUCON: Yes. SOCRATES: Then let's not leave the st01y half-told. Let's look at the whole thing.

GLAUCON: Go on. SOCRATES: A painter, we say, will paint reins and a bit? GLAUCON: Yes. SOCRATES: But it is the saddler and the blacksmith who make them? GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: Does the painter know what the reins and bit should be like, to then? Or do not even their makers-the saddler and the blacksmith-know this, but only the one who knows how to use the111, the horseman? GLAUCON: That's absolutely true. SOCI~ATES: So, won't we say that the same holds for everything? 8 See 476b4-8. 304 Art in Ka//ipolis GLAUCON: What? SOCRATES: That for each thing there are these three crafts: one that will use, one that will make, one that will imitate? GLAUCON: Yes. SOCRATES: Then aren't the virtue, goodness, and correctness of each manufactured item, living creature, and activity related to nothing but the use for which each is made or naturally developed? GLAUCON: They are. SOCRATES: So it is entirely necessary, then, that the user of each thing has the most experience of it, and that he inform the maker about what the good and bad points are in the actual use of the thing he uses. For exatnple, d it is the flute player, I take it, who informs the flute-maker about which 10 flutes respond well in actual playing, and prescribes how they should be c made, while the maker obeys him.

GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: Doesn't the one who knows give information, then, about good and bad flutes, whereas the other, by relying on him, makes them? GLAUCON: Yes. SOCRATES: So, as regards the same manufactured item, its maker­ through associating with the one who knows and having to listen to the one who knows-has correct belief about its good and bad qualities, while its user has knowledge. 602a GLAUCON: Exactly. SOCRATES: What about the imitator? Will he, on the basis of using the things he paints, have knowledge of whether they are good and correct or not? Or will he have correct belief through having to associate with the one who knows and being told how he should paint them? GLAUCON: Neither. SOCRATES: So an imitator has neither knowledge nor correct belief about whether the things he makes are good or bad. GLAUCON: Apparently not. SOCRATES: How well situated the poetic imitator is, then, in relation to wisdom about the subjects of his poems! GLAUCON: He isn't really. SOCRATES: And yet he will go on imitating all the same, even though he does not know in what way each thing is good or bad. On the contrary, b whatever appears good to the masses who know nothing-that, it seems, is what he will imitate. 305 10 Book 10 GLAUCON: What else? SOCRATES: Apparently, then, we are fairly well agreed on the following: that the imitator knows nothing worth mentioning about the things he imitates, but that imitation is a kind of game, not something to be taken seriously; and that tragic poets, whether in iambic or epic verse, are as imi- w tative as they could possibly be. GLAUCON: Absolutely. SOCRATES: In the name of Zeus, then, this business of imitation is con- e cerned with what is third removed from the truth. Isn't that right? GLAUCON: Yes. SOCRATES: Now, then, on which of the elements in a human being does it have its effect?

GLAUCON: What sort of element do you mean? SOCRATES: This sort: the same object, viewed from nearby, does 'not appear the same size, I presume, as when viewed from a distance. GLAUCON: No, it does not. SOCRATES: And the san1e things appear bent and straight when seen in 10 water or out of it, or concave and convex because sight is misled by colors; d and every other similar sort of confusion is clearly present in our soul. It is because it exploits this weakness in our nature that illusionist painting is nothing short of sorcery, and neither are jugglery or many other similar sorts of trickery. ' s GLAUCON: True. 10 SOCRATES: And haven't measuring, counting, and weighing proved to be n1ost welcome assistants in these cases, ensuring that what appears bigger or smaller or more numerous or heavier does not rule within us, but rather what has calculated or measured or even weighed? GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: And that is the task of the soul's rational element? GLAUCON: Yes, of it. SOCRATES: But quite often, when it has measured and indicates that some things are larger or stnaller than others, or the same size, the opposite simultaneously appears to hold of these same things. GLAUCON: Yes. SOCRATES: And didn't we say that it is impossible for the same thing to believe opposites about the same thing at the same tin1e? 9 9 436b8-cl. 306 Art in Kallipolis GLAUCON: Yes, and we were right to say it. SOCRATES: So, the element in the soul that believes contrary to the mea­ surements and the one that believes in accord with the measurements could not be the same. GLAUCON: No, they could not. SOCRATES: But the one that puts its trust in measurement and calculation would be the best element in the souL GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: So the one that opposes it would be one of the inferior parts In us. GLAUCON: Necessarily. SOCRATES: That, then, was what I wanted to get agreement about when I 10 603a said that painting-and itnitation as a whole-are f.:1r from the truth when 10 they produce their work; and tnoreover that imitation really consorts with an element in us that is far from wisdom, and that nothing healthy or true can come from their relationship or friendship. b GLAUCON: That's absolutely right. SOCRATES: So, imitation is an inferior thing that consorts with another inferior thing to produce inferior offspring. GLAUCON: So it seems. SOCRATES: Does this apply only to the imitation that is visible, or also to the one that is audible-the one we call poetry? GLAUCON: It probably applies to that as well. SOCRATES: Well, let's not rely solely on a probable analogy with painting. 10 Instead, let's also go directly again to the very element in our m_ind with which poetic imitation consorts and see whether it is inferior or excellent. c GLAUCON: Yes, we should. SOCRATES: Then let's put it as follows. Imitative poetry, we say, imitates human beings acting under compulsion or voluntarily, who, as a result of these actions, believe they are doing either well or badly, and so experience either pain or enjoyment in all these situations. Does it in1itate anything apart from these? GLAUCON: Not a thing. SOCRATES: So, is a human being of one mind in all these circumstances then? Or, just as in the case of visible representation, where he was split into factions and had opposite beliefs in him about the san1e things at the d same time, is he also split into factions and at war with himself in matters of action? But I am reminded that there is really no need now for us to reach 307 ' Book 10 agreement on this question. You see, in our earlier arguments, we were suf­ ficiently agreed about all that when we said that our soul is filled with myr­ iad opposites of that sort at the san1e time. 10 GLAUCON: And rightly so. SOCRATES: Yes, it was right. But we onlitted something then that I now think we nmst discuss. GLAUCON: What's that? SOCRATES: When a good man suffers son1e stroke of bad luck, such as the loss of a son or something else he values very highly, we also said in our ear­ lier arguments, as you know, that he will bear it more easily than others. 11 GLAUCON: We certainly did. SOCRATES: Now, let's consider this: will he not grieve at all? Or, since that is itnpossible, will he be somehow measured in the face of pain? GLAUCON: The latter is probably closer to the truth. SOCRATES: Now, tell me this about him: do you think he will be more 60·b likely to fight and resist pain when he is seen by his equals, or when he is just by himself in a solitary place? GLAUCON: He's sure to fight it £1r more when he is being seen. SOCRATES: But when he is alone, I imagine, he will venture to say many things he would be ashan1ed if someone else heard, and to do many things he would not want anyone else to see him doing. GLAUCON: That's right. SOCRATES: And isn't it reason and law that tell hin1 to resist, while what b urges hin1 to give in to the pains is the feeling itself? GLAUCON: True. SOCRATES: And when there are opposite impulses in a human being in relation to the same thing at the same time, we say that there must be two elements in him. GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: Isn't one part ready to be persuaded to follow the law, wher­ ever the law leads? GLAUCON: Can you explain how? SOCRATES: The law says, as you know, that it is best to keep as quiet as possible in 1nisfortunes and not get irritated, since what is really good or to bad in such things is not clear. There is nothing to be gained by taking 10 439c2-441c7. 11 387d4-e4. 308 Art in Kallipolis them hard, nor is any aspect of human affairs worth getting very serious about. And the very thing whose aid we need as quickly as possible in such circumstances is the one our grieving hinders. GLAUCON: Which do you mean? SOCRATES: The capacity to deliberate about what has happened and, as with the fall of the dice, to arrange our aff.:1irs, given what has befallen us, in whatever way reason determines would be best. Instead of acting like children who have fallen over, and who hold on to the hurt part and spend their time wailing, we should always accustom our souls to turn as quickly as possible to curing and raising up the part that has suffered a £1ll and is d sick, so as to banish lamentation by means of medicine.

GLAUCON: That would be the most correct way to deal with bad luck, anyway. SOCRATES: So it is the best element, we say, that is willing to follow this rational calculation. GLAUCON: Clearly. SOCRATES: As for the part that leads us to recollections of our suffering and to lamentations, and is insatiable for these things, won't we say that it is the element that lacks reason, is idle, and is a friend of cowardice? 10 GLAUCON: We certainly will. SOCRATES: Now, this element-the one that gets irritated-admits of much complex imitation; whereas the wise and quiet character, which e always remains pretty much selfsame, is neither easy to imitate nor easy to understand when imitated-especially not at a festival where multifarious people are gathered together in theaters. For the experience being imitated is alien to them. GLAUCON: Absolutely. 605o SOCRATES: The imitative poet, then, clearly does not naturally relate to this best element in the soul, and his wisdom is not directed to pleasing it- not if he is going to attain a good reputation with the masses-but to the irritable and complex character, because it is easy to imitate. GLAUCON: Clearly. SOCRATES: So, it would at last be right to take him and place him beside the painter as his counterpart. For he is like the latter in producing things that are inferior as regards truth, and is also sitnilar to him in associating to with the other eletnent in souls, not with the best one. So, we would also at b last be justified in not admitting him into a city that is to be well governed.

You see, he arouses and nourishes this element in the soul and, by making it strong, destroys the rational one-just as someone in a city who makes 309 Book 10 wicked people strong, by handing the city over to them, ruins the better ones. Similarly, we will say an imitative poet produces a bad constitution in the soul of each individual by making itnages that are very far removed c from the truth and by gratifying the element in it that lacks understanding and cannot distinguish bigger from smaller, but believes the same things to be now large, now small. 12 o GLAUCON: He does, indeed. SOCRATES: But we haven't yet brought our chief charge against imitation. For its power to corrupt all but a very few good people is surely an alto­ gether terrible one.

GLAUCON: It certainly is, if it really can do that. 10 SOCRATES: Listen and consider. When even the best of us hear Homer, or son1e other tragic poet, imitating one of the heroes in a state of grief and d making a long speech of lamentation, or even chanting and beating his breast, you know we enjoy it and give ourselves over to it. We suffer along with the hero and take his sufferings seriously. And we praise the one who affects us most in this way as a good poet. GLAUCON: Of course l know. SOCRATES: But when .one of us suffers a personal loss, you also realize we do the opposite: we pride ourselves if we are able to keep quiet and endure e it, in the belief that that is what a man does, whereas what we praised before is what a woman does. GLAUCON: l do realize that. SOCRATES: Is praise of that sort rightly bestowed, then? Is it right to look at the sort of man we would be, not honored, but rather ashamed to resem­ ble, and instead of being disgusted by what we see to enjoy and praise it? GLAUCON: No, by Zeus, that does not seem reasonable. SOCRATES: Yes, it does. At least, it does if you look at it in the following 606a way.

GLAUCON: How? SOCRATES: If you reflect as follows: what is forcibly kept in check in our personal misfortunes and has an insatiable hunger for weeping and lament­ ing-since that is what it has a natural appetite for-is the very factor that gets satisfaction and enjoyment from the poets. Second, our naturally best element, since it has not been adequately educated by reason or habit, relaxes its guard over the latnenting one, since it is watching the sufferings b of somebody else and thinks there is no shame involved for it in praising and pitying another purportedly good man who grieves excessively. On the 12 See 523b9~524a5. 310 Art in Kallipolis contrary, it thinks that to be a clear profit-I mean the pleasure it gets. And it would not want to be deprived of it by despising the whole poem. You see, I think only a few people are able to calculate that the enjoyment of other people's sufferings is inevitably transferred to one's own, since, when pity is nourished and strengthened by the former, it is not easily suppressed in the case of one's own sufferings. GLAUCON: That's absolutely true. SOCRATES: Doesn't the same argument also apply to humor? You see, if there are jokes you would be ashamed to tell yourself, but that you very much enjoy when you hear them imitated in a com_edy or even in private, and that you don't hate as something bad, aren't you doing the same as with the things you pity? For the element in you that wanted to tell the jokes, but which you held back by means of reason because you were afraid of being reputed a buffoon, you now release; and having made it strong in that way, you have been led unawares into becoming a comedian in your own life. GLAUCON: Exactly. SOCRATES: And in the case of sexual desires, anger, and all the appetites, d pains, and pleasures in the soul, which we say accmnpany every action of ours, the effect of poetic in1itation on us is the same. I mean, it nurtures and waters them when they should be dried up, and establishes them as rul- ers in us when-if we are to be become better and happier rather than worse and more wretched-they should be ruled. GLAUCON: I cannot disagree with you. SOCRATES: In that case, Glaucon, when you meet admirers of Homer- e who tell us that this is the poet who educated Greece, and that for the management of human affairs and education in them, one should take up his works and learn them and live guided by this poet in the arrangement of one's whole life-you should befriend and welcome them, since they are the best they are capable of being. And you should agree that Homer is the 607o most poetic of the tragedians and the first among then1. Nonetheless, be aware that hymns to the gods and eulogies of good people are the only poetry we can admit into our city. For if you admit the honeyed Muse, whether in lyric or epic poetry, pleasure and pain will be kings in your city instead of law and the thing that has always been generally believed to be best-reason.

GLAUCON: That's absolutely true. SOCRATES: Let that, then, be our defense for our return to the topic of b poetry, which shows that, given her nature, we were right to banish her from the city earlier, since our argmnent compelled us. But let's also tell her-in case we are charged with some harshness and boorishness-that there is an ancient quarrel between poetry and philosophy. For such expressions as "the 311 Book 10 bitch yelping at its master" and "howling," and "great in the empty elo- c quence of fools," and "control by a mob of the omni-wise," and "the subtle thinkers who are beggars all," and countless others are signs of this old oppo­ sition. 13 All the same, let it be said that, if the imitative poetry that ainlS at pleasure has any argun1ent to show it should have a place in a well-governed city, we would gladly welcome it back, since we are well aware of being charmed by it ourselves. Still, it is not pious to betray what one believes to be the truth. What about you, my friend; aren't you also charmed by it, espe- d cially when it is through Homer that you look at it? GLAUCON: Very. SOCRATES: Isn't it just, then, for her to reenter in that way, when she has defended herself in lyric or some other meter? GLAUCON: Yes, indeed. SOCRATES: Then we will surely allow her defenders-the ones who are not poets themselves, but lovers of poetry-to argue without meter on her behalf, showing that she gives not only pleasure but also benefit both to constitutions and to human life. Indeed, we will listen to them graciously, since we would certainly profit if poetry were shown to be not only pleas­ ant but also beneficial. GLAUCON: How could we fail to profit? SOCRATES: But if it is not, my dear comrade, we will behave like men who have fallen in love. If they do not believe their passion is beneficial, hard though it is, they nonetheless stay away. And we too, because of the passion for this sort of poetry implanted in us by our upbringing in those 608a fine constitutions, are well disposed to have her appear in the best and tru­ est light. But as long as she is not able to produce such a defense, then whenever we listen to her, we will chant to ourselves the argument we just now put forward as a counter-charm to prevent us from slipping back into the childish passion that the masses have. For we have come to see that such poetry is not to be taken seriously, as a serious undertaking that grasps truth; but that anyone who listens to it should be careful, if he is concerned b about the constitution within hin1, and should believe what we have said about poetry. GLAUCON: l completely agree. SOCRATES: It is a great struggle, n1y dear Glaucon, greater than people think, to become good rather than bad. So, we must not be tempted by 13 Philosophers, such as Xenophanes and Heraclitus, attacked Homer and Hesiod for their immoral tales about the gods. Poets, such a-s Aristophanes in his Clouds, attacked philosophers for subverting traditional ethical and religious values. The sources of these particular quotations, however, are unknown. 312 The Soul's Immortality and Ti·ue Nature honor, money, or any sort of office whatever-not even by poetry!-into thinking that it is worthwhile to neglect justice and the rest of virtue. GLAUCON: I agree with you on the basis of what we have said. And so, I think, would anyone else. 10 SOCRATES: And yet the greatest rewards of virtue, and the prizes proposed c for it, have not been discussed. GLAUCON: You n1ust have something incredibly great in mind, if it is greater than those already mentioned!

SOCRATES: In a short period of time, could anything really great come to pass? I mean, the entire period from childhood to old age is surely short when compared to the whole of time. GLAUCON: It's a mere nothing. SOCRATES: Well, then, do you think an immortal thing should be seri- ously concerned with that period rather than the whole of tin1e? d GLAUCON: I suppose not, but what exactly do you have in mind by that? SOCRATES: Haven't you realized that our souls are immortal and never destroyed? I-Ie looked at me a11d said in amazeme11t: No, by Zeus, I have not. But are you really in a position to assert that? SOCRATES: I certainly ought to be, and I think you are, too. There is noth­ ing difficult about it.

GLAUCON: There is for me. So I would be glad to hear from you about this non-difficult topic! w SOCRATES: Listen then. GLAUCON: All you have to do is speak! SOCRATES: Do you think there is a good and a bad? GLAUCON: I do. SOCRATES: And do you think about them the same way I do? GLAUCON: What way? SOCRATES: What destroys and corrupts coincides entirely with the bad, \:vhile what preserves and benefits coincides entirely with the good. GLAUCON: I do. SOCRATES: And do you think there is a good and a bad for each thing, such as ophthalmia for the eyes, sickness for the whole body, blight for ' grain, rot for wood, rust for iron and bronze, and, as I say, a natural badness 609a and sickness for nearly everything?

313 Book 10 GLAUCON: I certainly do. SOCRATES: And when one of them attaches itself to something, doesn't it make the thing to which it attaches itself deficient? And in the end, doesn't it break it down completely and destroy it? GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: So the badness natural to each thing-the deficiency peculiar to each-destroys it, but if that does not destroy it, there is nothing else left b to destroy it. For obviously the good will never destroy anything, and again what is neither good nor bad won't either. GLAUCON: How could it? SOCRATES: So if we discover something, the badness of which causes it to deteriorate but cannot break it down and destroy it, won't we inunediately know that something with such a nature cannot be destroyed after all? GLAUCON: That seems reasonable. SOCRATES: Well, then, what about the soul? Isn't there something that w makes it bad? GLAUCON: Certainly. All the things we were discussing earlier: injustice, c intemperance, cowardice, and ignorance. SOCRATES: Do any of these break it down and destroy it? Think about it, so we are not deceived into believing that when an unjust and foolish per­ son is caught, he is destroyed by injustice, which is a deficiency in a soul.

Instead, let's proceed this way: just as the body's deficiency, which is disease, wastes and destroys a body, and brings it to the point of not being a body at all, so all the things we n1entioned just now reach the point of not being d when their own peculiar badness attaches itself to them, is present in them, and destroys ·them. Isn't that so? GLAUCON: Yes. SOCRATES: Come on, then, and look at the soul in the same way. When injustice and the rest of vices are present in it, does their presence in it and attachment to it corrupt and wither it until they bring it to the point of death and separate it from the body? GLAUCON: No, they never do that. SOCRATES: But surely it is unreasonable to suppose that a thing is w destroyed by something else's deficiency and not by its own? GLAUCON: It is unreasonable. SOCRATES: Think about it, Glaucon. We do not even believe that a body , would be destroyed by the deficiency belonging to foods, whether it is staleness, rottenness, or anything else. But if the foods' own deficiency 314 The Soul's Immortality aud True Nattrre induces bodily deterioration, we will say the body was destroyed through them by its own badness, which is disease. But we will never admit that the body is destroyed by the deficiency belonging to foods-since they and the body are different things-except when external badness induces the natu- 610a raJ badness. GLAUCON: That's absolutely right. SOCRATES: By the same argument, then, if the body's deficiency does not induce a soul's own deficiency in a soul, we will never admit that a soul is destroyed by external badness in the absence of its own peculiar defi­ ciency-one thing by another's badness. GLAUCON: Yes, that's reasonable. SOCRATES: Well, then, let's refi.lte these arguments and show that what we said was not right. Or, so long as they remain unrefuted, let's never say that 10 the soul even comes close to being destroyed by a fever or any other disease, b or by killing for that matter-not even if one were to cut the entire body up into the very smallest pieces-until someone detnc:mstrates to us that these conditions of the body make the soul itself more unjust and more s impious. Bilt when an external badness is present, while its own particular badness is absent, let's not allow anyone to say that a soul or anything else whatever is destroyed. c GLAUCON: But you may be sure no one will ever prove that the souls of the dying are made more unjust by death! SOCRATES: But suppose someone dares to come to grips with our argu­ ment and-simply in order to avoid having to agree that our souls are immortal-dares to say that a dying man does becon1e worse and tnore unjust. We are sure to reply that if what he says is true, injustice must be as deadly as a disease to those who have it, and that those who catch it must 10 die because of its own deadly nature-with the worst cases dying quickly d and the less serious ones more slowly-and not as now in fact happens, where the unjust are put to death because of their injustice by others who inflict the penalty.

GLAUCON: By Zeus, injustice won't seetn so altogether terrible if it will be deadly to the person who contracts it, since then it would be an escape from evils! But I am more inclined to think that it will be shown to be entirely the opposite-something that kills others if it can, but makes its possessor e very lively indeed-and not just lively, but positively sleepless! That's how £1.r it is, in my view, frmn being deadly. SOCRATES: You are right. After all, if its own deficiency-its own bad- s ness-is not enough to kill and destroy the soul, an evil designed for the destruction of something else will hardly destroy the soul, or anything else except what it is designed to destroy.

315 Book 10 GLAUCON: "Hardly" is right, it seems. 10 SOCRATES: Then when something is not destroyed by a single bad thing- 61la whether its own or an external one-clearly it must always exist. And if it always exists, it is immortal. GLAUCON: It must be. SOCRATES: Well, then, let's assume it to be so. And if it is so, you realize that the same ones will always exist. I mean, they surely could not become fewer in nmnber if none is destroyed, or more numerous either. For if any­ thing immortal is increased, you know that the increase would have to come from the mortal, and then everything would end up being immortal. GLAUCON: True. SOCRATES: Then we must not think such a thing-for our argument does w not allow it. And we must not think, either, that the soul in its truest nature b is full of multicolored variety and dissitnilarity and conflict with itself. GLAUCON: How do you mean? SOCRATES: It is not easy for something to be immortal when it is com­ posed of many elements and is not composed in the most beautiful way­ which is how the soul now seemed to us. GLAUCON: It probably isn't. SOCRATES: Yet both our recent argument and others as well require us to accept that the soul is immortal. But what it is like in truth, seen as it should be, not maimed by its partnership with the body and other bad c things, which is how we see it now, what it is like when it has become pure-that we can adequately see only by means of rational calculation. And you will find it to be a much more beautiful thing than we thought and get a Inuch clearer view of all the cases of justice and injustice and of all :; the other things that we have so far discussed. So far, what we have said about the soul is true of it as it appears at present. But the condition we d have seen it in is like that of all the sea god Glaucus, 14 whose original nature cannot easily be made out by those who catch glimpses of him, because some of the original parts of his body have been broken off, others have been worn away and altogether mutilated by the waves, and other things­ shells, seaweeds, and rocks-have grown into him, so that he looks more like any wild beast than what he naturally was. Such, too, is the condition of the soul when we see it beset by myriad bad things. But, Glaucon, we should be looking in another direction. GLAUCON: Where? 14 Ancient paintings may have represented Glaucus in the way Plato describes hiffi here. His name appears in the accusative (Glauko11), suggesting a play on Glaucon (GlaukOn). 316 The Comequences if justice and lfy·ustice SOCRATES: To its love ofwisdom. 15We must keep in mind what it grasps and the kinds of things with which it longs to associate, because it is akin to what is divine and im_mortal and what always exists, and what it would become if it followed this longing with its whole being and if that impulse lifted it out of the sea in which it now is, and struck off the rocks and shells 612a that, because it now feasts on earth, have grown around it in a wild, earthy, and stony profusion as a result of those so-called happy feastings. 16 And then you would see its true nature, whether multiform or uniform, 17 or some- how some other way. But we have given a pretty good account now, I think, of what its condition is and what form it takes in human life. GLAUCON: We certainly have. SOCRATES: In the course of our discussion, then, did we respond to the other points, without having to invoke the rewards and reputations of jus- tice, as you all said Hon1er and Hesiod did? 18 Instead, haVen't we found b that justice itself is the best thing for the soul itself, and that the soul should do what is just, whether it has Gyges' ring or not, or even the cap of Hades as we11. 19 GLAUCON: That's absolutely true. We have. SOCRATES: So, Glaucon, isn't it now at last unobjectionable, in addition, also to give back to justice and the rest of virtue both the kind and quantity of wages they bring to the soul, both from human beings and from gods, ' both during life and after death? GLAUCON: Certainly. SOCRATES: Then will you give we back what you borrowed from me in the course of the discussion? GLAUCON: What in particular? SOCRATES: I granted you that the just man should seem unjust and the unjust one just. For you thought that even if it would be impossible for these things to remain hidden fron1 both gods and human beings, all the same, it had to be granted for the sake of argument, so that justice itself w could be judged in relation to injustice itself. 20 Don't you remember? d 15 P!Jilosophia. 16 See 519a8-b5. 17 Eite polueides eite mo11oeid€s: having many elements or only one. 18 The reference is to the challenge posed by Glaucon and Adeimantus at 357a1- 367e5. But they, of course, are renewing the challenge posed by Thrasymachus in Book 1 (see 358b1-c1). 19 The ring of Gyges is discussed at 359c6-360c5. The cap of Hades also made its wearer invisible. 20 See 360e1-361d3, 367b2-e5. 317 Book 10 GLAUCON: I would be unjust if I didn't! SOCRATES: Well, then, since they have now been judged, I ask on behalf of justice for a return of the reputation it in fact has among gods and human beings; and that we agree that it does indeed have such a reputation, and so may carry off the prizes it gains for son1eone by making him seem just; since we have already seen that it does give the good things that come from being just, and does not deceive those who really possess it. e GLAUCON: That's a just request. SOCRATES: Then won't you first give this back, that it certainly does not remain hidden from the gods what each of the two is like? GLAUCON: We will. SOCRATES: But if it does not remain hidden, one would be loved by the gods and one hated, as we agreed at the beginning. 21 GLAUCON: That's right. SOCRATES: And won't we also agree that everything that comes to the one who is loved by gods-insofar as it comes from the gods themselves-is the 613a best possible, unless it is some unavoidable bad thing due to him for an ear­ lier mistake? 22 GLAUCON: Certainly. SOCRATES: Similarly, we must suppose that if a just man falls into poverty or disease or some of the other things that seem bad, it will end well for him during his lifetitne or even in death. For surely the gods at least will never neglect anyone who eagerly wishes to become just and, by practicing b virtue, to make himself as much like a god as a human being can. GLAUCON: It is certainly reasonable to think that a man of that sort won't be neglected by one who is like him. SOCRATES: And mustn't we think the opposite of the unjust one? GLAUCON: Definitely. SOCRATES: Those, then, are the sorts of prizes that come from the gods to the just tnan. GLAUCON: That's certainly what I believe. SOCRATES: What about from human beings? What does a just man get from them? If we are to assert what is really the case, isn't it this? Aren't 10 clever but unjust men precisely like runners who run well on the first leg but not on the return one? 23 They leap away sharply at first, but in the end 21 352a10-b2, 363a5-e4. 22 A foreshadowing of the doctrine of reincarnation introduced below. 23 The race is a sprint from one end of the stadium to the other and back. 318 TJ~e iVIytlt of Er they become ridiculous and, heads drooping, run off the field uncrowned. True runners, on the other hand, make it to the end, collect the prizes, and c are crowned as victors. And isn't it also generally what happens to just peo- ple? Toward the end of each course of action and association and oflife as a whole, don't they enjoy a good reputation and collect the prizes that come from human beings? GLAUCON: Of course. SOCRATES: Will you then allow me to say about them what you said about the unjust? 24 For I will claim that it is the just who, when they are old d enough, hold the ruling offices in their city if they choose, marry fron1 whatever family they choose, and give their children in marriage to whom- ever they please. Indeed, all the things that you said about the others, I now say about these. As for the unjust, the majority of them, even if they remain hidden when they are young, are caught by the end of the race and ridi- culed, and, by the time they get old, have become wretched and are show- ered with abuse by foreigners and citizens, beaten with whips, and made to suffer those punishments you rightly described as crude, such as racking and burning. Imagine I have dai1ned that they suffer all such things. Well, as I say, see if you will stand for it. GLAUCON: Of course I will. What you say is right. SOCRATES: Well, then, while the just man is alive, these are the sorts of prizes, wages, and gifts he receives from gods and human beings, in addi- 614a tion to those good things that justice itself provides. GLAUCON: Fine and secure ones they are, too! SOCRATES: Well, they are nothing in number or size compared to those that await each man after death. We must hear about them, too, so that, by hearing them, each of these men may get back in full what he is owed by the argument. GLAUCON: Please describe them, then, since there are not many things it would be more pleasant to hear. b SOCRATES: Well, it is not an Alcinous-story I am going to tell you, but that of a brave man called Er, the son of Armenias, by race a Pamphylian. 25 24 361d7-362c8. 25 Books 9-11 of the Od)'Ssey were traditionally referred to as Alkinou apologoi, the tales of Alcinous. Included among them is the story in Book 11 of Odysseus' descent into Hades. Since the \Vord translated by "brave" is alkimou, which is very similar to AlkittO!I, some sort of pun seems to be involved. The following is one attractive way to interpret it. Alkinou might be taken as a compound of alk€ (strength) + II OilS (understanding) and alkimou as a compound of afkf} + Mousa (a Muse). Socrates would then be saying something like: it isn't a tale that shO\VS strength of understand­ ing that I'm going to tell but one that Shows the strength of the Muse of storytelling. 319 Book 10 Once upon a time, he was killed in battle. On the tenth day, when the rest of the dead were picked up, they were already putrefying, but he was picked up still quite sound. When he had been taken home and was lying on the pyre before his funeral on the twelfth day, he revived and, after reviving, told what he had seen in the other world. He said that when his soul had departed, it traveled together with many c others and came to a daimonic 26 place, where there were two adjacent openings in the earth and two in the heavens above and opposite them. Judges were seated between these. And, when they had made their judg­ ments, they told the just to go to the right up through the heavens, with signs of the judgments attached to their fronts. But the unjust they told to travel to the left and down. And they too had on their backs signs of all d their deeds. When he himself came forward, they said that he was to be a messenger to human beings to tell them about the things happening there, and they told him to listen to and look at everything in the place. Through one of the openings in the heavens and one in the earth, he saw souls departing after judgment had been passed on them. Through the other two, they were arriving. From the one in the earth they came up parched and dusty, while from the one in the heavens they came down pure. And the c ones that had just arrived seen1ed to have come from a long journey, and went off gladly to the meadow, like a crowd going to a festival, and set up camp there. Those that knew one another exchanged greetings and those coming up fron1 the earth asked the others about the things up there, while those from the heavens asked about the others' experiences. They told their 615a stories to one another, the former weeping and lamenting as they recolleqed all they had suffered and seen on their journey below the earth-which lasted a thousand years-and the ones fron1 heaven telling, in turn, about their happy experiences and the inconceivably beautiful sights they had seen.

To tell it all, Glaucon, would take a long time. But the gist, he said, was this: for all the unjust things they had done and for all the people they had wronged, they had paid the penalty for every one in turn, ten times over for each. That is to say, they paid for each injustice once in every hundred years of their journey, so that, on the assumption that a hundred years is b roughly the length of a human life, they paid a tenfold penalty for each injustice. For example, if some of them had caused many deaths or had betrayed cities or armies and reduced them to slavery, or had taken part in other evildoing, they would receive ten times the pain for each of them. On the other hand, if they had done good deeds and become just and pious, they received commensurate awards. He said some other things about the stillborn and those who lived for c only a short time, but they are not worth recounting. And he told of even 2r' See Glossary of Terms s.v. daimon. 320 The A1yth qf Er greater wages for impiety or piety toward gods or parents, and for murder. He said he was there, you see, when someone asked where the great Ardi­ aius was. This Ardiaius had been a tyrant in a city in Pamphylia just a thou­ sand years before that, and was said to have killed his aged father and older brother and committed many other impious deeds as well. He said the one d who was asked responded: ''He has not come here and never wilL For in fact this, too, was one of the terrible sights we saw. When we were near the mouth, about to come up after all our sufferings were over, we suddenly s saw Ardiaius together with some others, almost all of whom were tyrants­ although there were also some private individuals an1ong them who had conunitted great crimes. They thought that they were about to go up, but e the mouth would not let then1 through. Instead, it roared whenever one of these incurably bad people, or anyone else who had not paid a sufficient penalty, tried to go up. At that location, there were savage men, all fiery to look at, standing by, paying attention to the sound, who grabbed some of these people and led them away. But in the case of Ardiaius and others, they bound their feet, hands, and neck and threw them down and flayed them. 6!6a They dragged them along the road outside, lacerating them on thorn bushes. They explained to those who were passing by at the time why they were being dragged away, and said that they were to be thrown into Tar- tarns. He said that of the many and multifarious fears they experienced there, the greatest each of them had was that the sound would be heard as he came up, and that each was very pleased when it was silent as he went up. Such then were the penalties and punishments, and the rewards that were their counterparts. b When each group had spent seven days in the meadow, on the eighth they had to move on from there and continue their journey. In four days, they came to a place where they could see stretching from above, through the whole heaven and earth, a straight beam of light, like a column, very closely resembling a rainbow, but brighter and 111ore pure. They reached the beam after traveling another day's journey. And there, in the middle of the light, they saw stretching from the heavens the ends of its bonds-for ' this light is what binds the heavens, like the cables underneath a trireme, thus holding the entire revolving thing together. Frmn those ends hangs the spindle of Necessity, by means of which all the revolving things are turned.

Its shaft and hook were adamant, while its whorl 27 was adamant mixed with materials of other kinds. The nature of the whorl was as follows. Its shape was like the ones here on Earth, but from Er's description, we must think d of it as being like this: in one large whorl, hollow and scooped out, lay another just like it, only smaller, that fitted into it exactly, the way nested bowls fit together; and similarly a third and a fourth, and four others. For 27 Splwlldlllon: the circular weight that twirls a spindle in weaving. 321 Boo/' 10 there were eight whorls altogether, lying inside one another, with their rims appearing as circles from above, while from the back they formed one c continuous whorl around the shaft, which is driven right through the cen­ ter of the eighth.

Now, the first or outern1ost whorl had the broadest circular rim, that of the sixth was second, third was that of the fourth, fourth that of the eighth, fifth that of the seventh, sixth that of the fifth, seventh that of the third, and eighth that of the second. That of the largest was spangled; that of the sev­ enth was brightest; that of the eighth took its color from the seventh's shin- 617a ing on it; that of the second and fifth were very similar to one another, being yellower than the rest; the third was the whitest in color; the fourth was reddish; and the sixth was second in whiteness. The spindle as a whole revolved at the same speed, but within the revolving whole the seven inner circles gently revolved in the opposite direction to the whole. Of these, the eighth moved fastest; second, and at b the same speed as one another, were the seventh, sixth, and fifth; third, it seemed to them, in the speed of its counter-revolution, was the fourth; fourth was the third; and fifth the second. 28 The spindle revolved on the lap of Necessity. On top of each of its cir­ cles stood a Siren, who was carried around by its rotation, emitting a single sound, one single note. And from all eight in concord, a single harmony was produced. And there were three other women seated aro~nd it equi- c distant from one another, each on a throne. They were the daughters of Necessity, the Fates, dressed in white with garlands on their heads­ Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos-and they sang to the accompaniment of the Sirens' harmony, Lachesis singing of the past, Clotho of the present, and Atropos of the future. Clotho, using her right hand, touched the outer 28 Plato's description of the beam oflight and the spindle is difficult. He compares the light to hypozomata, or the ropes that bind a trireme together. These ropes seem to have girded the trireme from stem to stern and to have entered it at both places. Within the trireme, they were connected to some sort of twisting device that allowed them to be tightened when the water caused them to stretch and become slack. The spindle of Necessity seems to be just such a twisting device. Hence, the extremities of the light's bonds must enter into the universe just as the hypozomata enter the trireme, and the spindle must be attached to these extremities, so that its spinning tightens the light and holds the universe together. The light is thus like two rainbows around the universe (or the whorl of the spindle), whose ends enter the universe and are attached to the spindle. The upper half of the whorl of the spindle consists of concentric hemispheres that fit into one another, with their lips or rims fitting together in a single plane. The outer hemisphere is that of the fixed stars; the second is the orbit of Saturn; the third of Jupiter; the fourth of Mars; the fifth of Mercury; the sixth ofVenus; the seventh of the sun; and the eighth of the moon. The earth is in the center. The hemispheres are transparent and the width of their rims is the distance of the heavenly bodies from one another. A convincing discussion is]. S. Morrison, "Parmenides and Er." The journal of Hellmic Studies (1955) 75: 59-68. 322 T11e Myth of Er circumference of the spindle and helped it turn, pausing from tin1e to time; Atropos, with her left, did the same to the inner ones; and Lachesis used each hand in turn to touch both. d When the souls arrived, they had to go straight to Lachesis. A sort of spokes1nan 29 ftrst arranged them in ranks; then, taking lots and models of lives from the lap of Lachesis, he mounted a high platform, and said: "The word of Lachesis, maiden daughter of Necessity! Ephemeral souls. The beginning of another death-bringing cycle for mortal-kind! Your daimon will not be assigned to you by lot; you will choose him. The one who has the e first lot will be the first to choose a life to which he will be bound by necessity. Virtue has no master: as he honors or dishonors it, so shall each of you have more or less of it. Responsibility lies with the chooser; the god is blameless." After saying that, the spokesman threw the lots out among them all, and each picked up the one that fell next to him-except for Er, who was not allowed. And to the one who picked it up, it was clear what number he had drawn. After that again the spokesman placed the tnodels of lives on the 618a ground before them-many more of them than those who were present. They were multifarious: all animal lives were there, as well as all human lives. There were tyrannies among them, some life-long, others ending halfway through in poverty, exile, and beggary. There were lives of famous men-some famous for the beauty of their appearance or for their other strengths or athletic prowess, others for their nobility and the virtues of their ancestors, and also some infamous in these respects-and sin1ilarly for b women. But the structure of the soul was not included, because with the choice of a different life it would inevitably become different. But all the other qualities were mixed with each other and with wealth or poverty, sickness or health, or the states in between.

Here, it seems, my dear Glaucon, a human being £:1ces the greatest dan­ ger of all, and because of that each must, to the neglect of all other subjects, take care above all else to be a seeker and student of that subject which will c enable him to learn and discover who will give him the ability and the knowledge to distinguish a good life from a bad, so that he will always and in any circumstances choose the better one from among those that are pos- sible. He must calculate the effect of all the things we have mentioned just now, both jointly and severally, on the virtue of a life, so as to know what the good and bad effects of beauty are when it is mixed with wealth or poverty and this or that state of the soul; what the effects are of high and d low birth, private lives and tuling offices, physical strength and weaknesses, ease and difficulties in learning, and all the things that are either naturally part of the soul or can be acquired by it, when they are mixed with one another. On the basis of all that he will be able, by considering the nature 29 Prophetes: a prophet. Here in the sense of someone who speaks on behalf of a god.

323 Book 10 of the soul, to reason out which life is better and which worse and choose e accordingly, calling worse the one that will lead the soul to become more unjust, and better the one that leads it to become more just. Everything else he will ignore. For we have seen that this is the best way to choose, whether in life or death. Holding this belief with adarnantine determination, he must go down to 619a Hades, so that even there he won't be dazzled 30 by wealth and other such evils, and won't rush into tyrannies or other similar practices and so commit irreparable evils, and suffer even greater ones; but instead will know to choose the middle life in such circumstances, and avoid either of the extremes, both in this life, so far as is possible, and in the whole of the life b to come. For this is how a human being bec0111es happiest. At that point our messenger from the other world also reported that the spokesman said this: "Even for the one who comes last, if he chooses wisely and lives earnestly, there is a satisfactory life available, not a bad one. Let not the first to choose be careless, nor the last discouraged." When the spokesman had told them that, Er said, the one who drew the first lot came up and immediately chose the greatest tyranny. In his foolish­ ness and greed, you see, he chose it without adequately examining every­ thing, and did not notice that it involved being fated to eat his own c children, an1ong other evils. When he examined the life at leisure, however, he beat his breast and bemoaned his choice, ignoring the warning of the spokesman. For he did not blame himself for these evils, but chance, dai- s mons, and everything except himself. He was one of those who had come down from heaven, having lived his previous life in an orderly constitu­ tion,31 sharing in virtue through habit but without philosophy. d Generally speaking, not the least number of the people caught out in this way were souls who came from heaven, and so were untrained in suf­ ferings. The majority of those from the earth, on the other hand, because they had suffered themselves and had seen others doing so, were in no "rush to make their choices. Because of that, and also because of the chance of the lottery, there was an exchange of evils and goods for most of the souls. Yet, if a person, whenever he came to the life that is here, always practiced philosophy in a sound manner, and if the fall of the lot did not put his c choice of life an1ong the last, it is likely, from what was reported by Er about the next world, that not only will he be happy here, but also that his journey from here to there and back again will not be underground and rough, 32 but smooth and through the heavens. 30 See 364d3, 576d8. 31 Tetagme11C politeia: see 500c2 where the forms the philosopher looks to in design­ ing the constitution ofKallipolis are also said to be orderly. 32 See 364d3,516e7. 324 The Myth of Er He said it was a sight worth seeing how the various souls chose their lives, since seeing it caused pity, ridicule, and surprise. For the tnost part, 620a their choice reflected the character of their former life. He saw the soul that had once belonged to Orpheus, he said, choosing a swan's life: he hated the female sex because of his death at their hands, and so was unwilling to be conceived in a woman and born. 33 He saw the soul of Thamyris choosing a nightingale's life, a swan changing to the choice of a human life, and other musical animals doing the same. The twentieth soul chose the life of a lion. b It was that of Ajax, son of Telamon, who avoided human life because he remembered the judgment about the armor. 34 The next was that of Agametnnon, which also hated the human race on account of what it suf- fered, and so changed to the life of an eagle. Allotted a place in the middle, the soul of Atalanta, when it saw the great honors of a male athlete, unable to pass them by, chose his life. After her, he saw the soul of Epeius, son of Panopeus, taking on the nature of a craftswon1an. Further on, among the c last, he saw the soul of the ridiculous Thersites clothing itself as an ape. Now it chanced that Odysseus' soul drew the last lot of all, and came to make its choice. Remembering its former sufferings, it rejected love of honor, and went around for a long time looking for the life of a private individual who did his own work, and with difficulty it found one lying ?ff somewhere neglected by the others. When it saw it, it said that it would have done the same even if it had drawn the first-place lot, and chose it d gladly. Similarly, souls went from the other animals into human beings, or into one another; the unjust changing into savage animals, the just into tame ones; and every sort of mixture occurred. When all the souls had chosen lives, in the same allotted order they went forward to Lachesis. She assigned to each the daimon it had chosen, as guardian of its life and fulfiller of its choices. This daimon first led the soul ' under the hand of Clotho as it turned the revolving spindle, thus ratifying the allotted fate it had chosen. After receiving her touch, he led the soul to the spinning of Atropos, to make the spun f:'lte irreversible. Then, without s turning around, it went under the throne of Necessity. When it had passed through that, and when the others had also passed through, they all traveled 621a to the plain of Lethe, through burning and choking and terrible heat, for it was empty of trees and earthly vegetation. They camped, since evening was coming on, beside the river of forgetfulness, whose water no vessel can hold. All of them had to drink a certain measure of this water. But those not saved by wisdom drank more than the measure. And as each of them 33 According to one myth, Orpheus was killed and dismembered by Thracian women, or Maenads. 3 " Ajax thought that he deserved to be awarded the armor of the dead Achilles, but instead it was a\varded to Odysseus. Ajax was maddened by this injustice and later killed himself because of the terrible things he had done while mad. 325 Book 10 drank, he forgot everything. When they were asleep and midnight came, b there was a clap of thunder and an earthquake, and they were suddenly car­ ried away from there, this way and that, up to their births, like shooting stars. But Er himself was prevented fron1 drinking the water. Yet how or where he had come back to his body, he did not know, but suddenly recovering his sight he now saw himself lying on the pyre at dawn. And so, Glaucon, his story was saved and not lost; and it would save us, too, c if we were persuaded by it, since we would safely cross the river Lethe with our souls undefiled. But if we are persuaded by me, we will believe that the soul is immortal and able to endure every evil and also every good, and always hold to the upward path, practicing justice with wisdom every way we can, so that we will be friends to ourselves and to the gods, both while we remain here on Earth and when we receive the rewards of justice, and go around like victors in the games collecting prizes; and so both in this life and on the thousand-year journey we have described, we will fare well. 326